#and by the end of this I’ll definitely have a chasm

[thehopefulwonderlandcollector]

Me realizing exactly how scary Chapters 4-5 of The Mage and The Master will be

#the mage and the master #archive of our own #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #stranger things #writing process #not an April Fools prank seriously #y’all are in for a terrifying time #and by the end of this I’ll definitely have a chasm #LOL #hang on tight #not that chapters 2-3 aren’t good but 4-5 are really going to stand out #leo & eleven friendship

[sunkendreams]

Idk exactly what to ask for, but I have an ✨idea✨

Dwayne who seemingly has a penchant for choking his SO. He just loves the little whimpers and moans they make, and the way they squirm.

Really basic, ik 💀. You can take this and run, or simply enjoy this thought with me, but I wanted to share 🥰

moving in stereo.

( dwayne x fem!reader. )

➾ pairing ; dwayne x fem!reader.

format: one-shot — requested.

word count: 5.9K.

warnings: SMUT (mdni), making out, dirty talk, cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), bloodplay (he’s a vampire), breast-play, biting, hair-pulling, scratching, breeding kink, scent kink, p in v sex, missionary position, rough sex, begging, unprotected sex, mating press (a little bit), choking, bruising/marking, dwayne is hot

author’s note: i am so obsessed with him, it’s not even funny ngl :’) also, I have a couple of other fics/drabbles that I’ll probably post tonight too, I’m definitely feeling very inspired! If you haven’t voted on my poll, please do so! thank you guys sm for your continued love & support !! ❤️

Beads of blood filled your mouth as you absentmindedly chewed at the skin of your cheek, flesh taut between your back molars — you hadn’t intended to bite down as hard as you did. A singular glance at Dwayne’s hands had contorted into shameless ogling, smitten hues discreetly flickering over the veins and smudges of grayish grease coating his fingers.

He had a way with machinery that transcended you — he often claimed that it was simply natural instinct, but your running theory was something buried in his past life. Dwayne was known for his stoicism and quiet demeanor, neglecting to educate you on his background.

It must’ve been a life of hard work — otherwise, his hands wouldn’t have appeared so rough and calloused. They weren’t smooth and spindly like Marko’s, or pretty like Paul’s. They were taut and thick, dexterous and built for destruction, if he let it.

Hands that had held you many times before, touched you in ways that you longed to feel again. A shudder rolled down your spine as you daydreamed, mind floating into a fantastical haze of lascivious thoughts. If it weren’t for the presence of the other boys, a tendril of drool might’ve leaked from the corner of your mouth.

“It’s fucked, isn’t it?”

Paul’s agitated groan reverberated throughout the cavern as he crouched beside his boombox, slapping a palm against the top of the speaker, as if that would cure all ailments. His brows furrowed together, lip curled in annoyance as he knocked his hand against the machine a second time — for good measure.

“You’ll ruin it if you keep it up.” Dwayne’s monotonous remark echoed from the opposite side of the lobby. He was entrenched in repairing his motorcycle after it had gotten vandalized by a Surf-Nazi who didn’t live to tell the tale. Paul’s beloved stereo was the least of his concerns.

“How are we gonna listen to Alice?” A begrudging sigh escaped Paul, whose theatrics weren’t out of the ordinary. He huffed, falling in a dramatic heap along the edge of the dilapidated fountain. “Can’t you fix it, Dwayne?” He asked, peering toward his brother, who seemed entirely uninterested.

Silence filled the chasm between them, prompting you to stifle a smile. Dwayne didn’t enjoy being bothered whenever he was working on a project — he was always one to see it through until the very end.

David and Marko emerged from their abysmal resting place. Once the sun disappeared behind the ocean and dusk consumed dawn, the boys became wildly active. “Paul,” David’s voice carried, always domineering without even trying. “Let’s go.”

Disappointed in the lack of closure for his treasured boombox, Paul relented, rolling off of the stone bannister with an exaggerated sigh. He ruffled your hair in passing, and smacked Dwayne on the way out, who didn’t flinch or move a muscle. He simply exhaled — you could sense the twinge of irritation in his sigh alone.

Paul snickered, hopping up the ledge alongside David and Marko. “See you later, bud.” He sneered, waving at you as he departed with his brothers. Once the trio slunk away into the moonlight, it left you and Dwayne by yourselves in the cave.

You could’ve watched Dwayne work for hours, captivated by the way he dismantled the machinery, handling the finer pieces with nimble digits. He was wrist-deep in the grease-laden guts of his motorcycle, surrounded by a myriad of scrap and parts. His dark brows were furrowed together in stark concentration.

Intrigued, you abandoned your perch — a rickety, velvet-cushioned chair that had come with the hotel’s ancient wreckage. Paul’s stereo was sitting along the ledge, awaiting a tune-up that you knew Dwayne would inevitably provide. You sat down, inspecting it for any damage — it looked unharmed, on the outside.

“Do you think it was a user error sort of thing?” A burst of laughter escaped you as you opened up the hatch for the cassette tapes, noticing a rather banged-up copy of Alice Cooper’s Constrictor from ‘86. It was a good choice — you had to commend Paul’s taste in music.

Dwayne’s soft, bemused huff was all you needed to hear, prompting you to smile. You never mistook his tranquil, halcyon demeanor as indifference — he was a man of very few words. Even his temper wasn’t violent or tempestuous, like that of Marko or David. His placidity in most things was what drew you to him in the first place.

Being a human amongst a den of rancorous vampires wasn’t your intention, but you were happy — happiest with Dwayne, above all. He was the best boyfriend you’d ever had, not that it was a lengthy list. You idly fiddled with some of the switches on the boombox, removing and reinserting the cassette before closing it up.

Much to your chagrin, the stereo didn’t work — maybe it wasn’t Paul’s imagination after all. You gently nudged it back along the ledge, abandoning it for now. “How come you didn’t go with the others?” You inquired, folding one leg over the other, tapping the heel of your boot against the dusty stone.

There was a slight shift in his body language — a mere shrug of his broad shoulders, accompanied by the noises of metal clanging, gears twisting, and then he grunted. “I’m not looking for dinner.” Dwayne replied, matter-of-factly. He was in the midst of replacing the engine on his bike, placing the damaged part aside, hands stained in dark ichor.

With a soft hum, you pushed yourself off of the ledge, wandering over toward Dwayne’s scrapyard — a rather cluttered corner of the cave that acted as a makeshift garage. You sat along one of the flat outcroppings of rock, opting to watch him fix up his motorcycle. It would intrigue you more than messing with the boombox ever would.

His pearlescent teeth clenched around a wrench, clutched between his maw as he focused on putting the new engine back in. There was a quiet appreciation that he held for you — you were always respectful of his hobbies, if this even counted as one. Dark eyes flickered toward you, sitting there in your billowing sundress like some statuesque angel.

Dwayne appraised you in his usual silence, eyes carefully raking along your physique, as if he were undressing you through gaze alone. His jaw tensed, a fire beginning to spark within his chest, threatening to spread like an encroaching wildfire the longer he ogled you.

Sundresses were a hot commodity — and they never lasted, either. Dwayne made sure of it, and once he got his hands on you, that pretty fabric shielding you from him would cease to exist. He made it up to you with the gift of another, but rest assured, it would be shortlived.

It was a mutual feeling, the silent staring. His keen hues settled along the supple curves hiding just beneath that thin veil of fabric while you were captivated by the visual feast of strong, capable hands and taut forearms. You folded your hands within your lap, beginning to absentmindedly chew at your inner cheek again.

Your scent wafted throughout the short distance between the both of you, heavy with hints of your favorite perfume, a saccharine concoction that Dwayne had grown accustomed to. He loved your smell — it was unique to you, invading his senses as he continued his work.

Those strong, muscled hands of his were buried in the underbelly of the motorcycle, carefully placing the new engine back inside. He began to fasten it all into place, removing the wrench from his mouth, quickly fixing it all up with a series of bolts, screws, and metallic plates.

“I’ll teach you sometime.” Dwayne was, oddly enough, the one to shatter the comfortable silence between the both of you. He prided himself on playing mechanic — his ability to handle such equipment and repair it was rather renowned. Once he was satisfied with the job, he sat back, peering toward you.

Warmth oozed from those earthen-brown hues of his, coupled with a subtle adoration that only he possessed for you. Your smile only served to further it, the only thing to make his dead heart pump to life again.

“I’d like that,” You mused, canting your head to one side. “I think you should fix Paul’s stereo, too.” Even if Dwayne had brushed him off before, he would fix it and have it ready for him whenever he came back. It was the right thing to do, anyway.

Dwayne huffed, lips twitching into a threadbare smile, wrought with traces of amusement. He didn’t say anything — he didn’t need to. He wiped his hands off along the crimson cloth he carried in his back pocket, ridding his hands of engine grease and oil.

He stood, filling in his full height as he bent down to give you a kiss, hand carding through the back of your skull. It never failed to make you shudder, haplessly squeezing your thighs together as you reached for his forearm. Powerful, taut muscle flexed underneath your fingertips, and his kiss briefly intensified before he withdrew.

That familiar aching sensation flickered to life between your legs, a dull arousal pooling within your stomach. You wanted nothing more than to cling to him, beg for another kiss, but Dwayne was already over to the stereo, inspecting it for any damage it might’ve had.

For Dwayne, your mind was exceptionally loud — he could read your thoughts, hear them screaming from afar, which he happened to smile at from where he stood. The feeling was mutual, but he wanted to make you stew in it for a little while — it heightened the experience.

As he dismantled the stereo, you decided to go elsewhere — to Paul’s nest, which wasn’t the brightest idea, but he had an impressive collection of cassette tapes. You began climbing toward the rocky slope that led off into alcoves, using some of the ropes hanging about to pull yourself up.

“Where are you going?” Dwayne asked, seemingly finding the source of the boombox’s disarray — there were pieces of tape stuck in the machine.

“To see what Paul has to listen to,” You mused, nose wrinkling in amusement. “It’s the least that he can do for you since you fixed it. We should go listen to music.” Truthfully, Dwayne owned that stupid stereo just as much as Paul did — joint custody, you’d called it.

Hawkish, dark hues drank you in from afar, and Dwayne decided that he’d indulge himself in your wishes, picking up the boombox by the bottom. The handle had been broken off long ago — courtesy of Paul, once again. He simply trailed behind you, briefly pressing his hand against the small of your back when you made it up the incline, keeping you steady.

Paul’s nest was notoriously cluttered — in a very fascinating and macabre manner. It was littered in trinkets, things he’d taken from people he fed from, bones and all, or general thievary. The boys were all like this, but not to Paul’s level.

Posters of hair-bands and metal groups hung all around the rock, illuminated by flickering candlelight. It smelled faintly of marijuana, decorated by a patchwork array of tapestries, clothes, and stolen jackets. The guitar he’d lifted off of a traveling rock group sat on his bed — he always talked about starting a band.

A mountain of cassette tapes lay in a semi-organized heap, many of them taken from Videomax or anywhere he could find them. Dwayne simply stood at the fringes of Paul’s nest, watching as you picked through his extensive collection. You smiled at the handful you’d grabbed, rejoining Dwayne as the two of you made for his nest.

In an amusing juxtaposition, Dwayne’s nest was noticeably simplistic — yet, his personality was scrawled all over it. He liked to read, keeping a trunk of books, tools he’d taken from garages, and some trinkets stashed away in a large piece of a drawer.

He hadn’t bothered to invest in a bed for several decades — not until he got entangled with you. When Marko had mentioned it to you in-passing, it was rather intriguing, but you never asked Dwayne about it.

With the stereo now placed at the foot of his makeshift bed, placed atop a rather rickety wooden trunk, you ejected Alice Cooper from the hatch and put in The Cars, instead. Dwayne happened to regard this choice with curiosity, sitting along the edge of the mattress.

Moving in Stereo began to drift through the alcove, and you promptly fell back against the plush surface, tucking your hands atop your chest. “This song reminds me of you.” You murmured, gazing at the cavernous ceiling, focused on the jagged edges and outcroppings of rock.

Dwayne seemed curious, twisting slightly to face you. Even when sitting, he towered over you, indomitable and immovable, a wall of sheer strength and muscle. “Why does it remind you of me?” He wanted to hear your answer, eyes flickering toward your exposed stomach.

You smiled, somewhat embarrassed, but you decided to answer him anyway. “I don’t know,” You began, rolling over onto your side, propping yourself up with one hand. “Just a bit of a mystery, but alluring. It’s pretty magnetizing.” With a soft exhale, you began to pick at a stray string on one of the blankets that covered the mattress.

“Magnetizing,” Dwayne echoed, withholding the urge to smirk. Instead, he joined you, laying on his side as he mirrored your position, face mere centimeters away from yours. “You got a way with words, girl.” His chest shook with a brief huff before he leaned in to kiss you.

If a kiss could have destroyed you, this was it — Dwayne’s mouth consumed you, intensified by your seemingly innocuous words. He tasted good, like spiced smoke and the faint bite of copper.

You were eternally grateful to The Cars — Dwayne was careening into you, broad chest flush against yours, veined hand grasping at the base of your skull. Thick digits massaged at the nape of your neck, coaxing you close until there was no space left between you, lips voraciously tangling with yours.

He ripped all wisps of air from your lungs, as cold as ice as he shrugged off his jacket. Arousal reactivated inside of you, no longer dormant as your warm hands reached for his chest, feeling broad muscle underneath your palms. He felt like a god — chiseled, forever perfect — you were sometimes in-awe of his beauty.

In awe — Dwayne smirked against your mouth, unable to help himself when it came to your overactive imagination and racing thoughts. He pushed his hand underneath your shirt, fingers tracing along your curves as he began to feel a familiar tightening in his jeans.

Your scent thoroughly intoxicated him — your natural musk, the cling of perfume, the arousal coalescing between your thighs — it was a perfect amalgamation. Dwayne exhaled, sitting up and taking you with him, hands hooking into the hem of your shirt as he peeled it off of you.

His lips were on your flesh again, hands tearing your thin brassiere apart with ease, reveling in your warmth. Dwayne pressed a string of kisses along your neck, feeling the thrum of your pulse point pound against his mouth. The shorts you wore still clung to your frame, but they wouldn’t be for much longer.

“Dwayne,” You sighed, The Cars becoming nothing more than atmospheric background noise. Liquid heat pooled between your legs, a shiver rolling down your spine as he laid you down against the mattress, covering you with his body. Your eyes locked together as he stared down at you, gaze boring right through you. “I need you.”

Dwayne kissed your neck, sucking enough to create a hickey before he traveled to the base of your throat, peppering kisses across your collarbone. “Where do you need me, sweet girl?” His husky, warm baritone made you shiver in delight. Those eyes raked over you in rapture, full of reverence.

“Everywhere,” You whimpered, goosebumps coalescing along your spine. Dwayne’s huff of laughter made you smile, and you quickly urged him closer for another kiss. His mouth crashed against yours, passionate and blistering, full of an unrestrained want. “I’m yours.” A sweet moan tore past your lips.

A wave of possessiveness swelled up inside of him, coupled with that innate desire to keep you all to himself. Dwayne didn’t have an issue sharing with his brothers, but you? No — you belonged to him, and him alone. A growl rippled across his broad chest as he tore his lips away, returning to your sternum.

There was a prowess to him that the others didn’t possess — Dwayne was emotionally intelligent, just as vicious in the same breath. He was an enigma of so many things, drawing you in with his arcadian charm. Your fingers reached for his dark tresses, perusing through as he kissed your chest.

“You’re beautiful,” Dwayne’s affectionate baritone rumbled across your flesh as he continued his slow, deliberate string of kisses, making his way to your breasts. He trapped one nipple between his lips, gently suckling on the sensitive mound, the other hand tugging at your shorts. “Perfect.” He uttered.

You sighed, fingers tangling within his mane of black tresses, pulling and carding through. It felt silky between your digits, like velvet. Those veined, calloused hands gripped along the meat of your hips, strong and unwavering as he lifted you to discard your shorts.

Arousal pooled between your legs, honey-thick as it toyed with Dwayne’s senses. He wanted nothing more than to drown himself between your thighs, devour you until you were a trembling, mewling mess. Your thoughts shamelessly echoed that sentiment, prompting him to reach toward the apex of your thighs, hand breaking past the waistline of your panties.

Dexterous fingers languidly slipped along your slick cunt, making a line right for your clit. Your body responded in a near-violent fashion, hips jolting up into him, hands curling within his hair. “D—Dwayne!” You whimpered, chasing after the friction his hand provided. Those dark hues hadn’t left you, transfixed on your smitten countenance as he kissed your stomach.

He looked big when his body was spread over yours, but when he began to slink toward your thighs, he was hulking, a massive wall of muscle. Dwayne’s kisses continued, littered all across your pelvis and thighs, fingers still winding you up as he pushed in between your legs with those broad, bronze shoulders.

His visage was rugged with a fine layer of dark stubble, tangible as it scratched against your inner thighs. He curled his hands into your panties, and instead of removing them, Dwayne simply tore them asunder, leaving remnants of fabric behind. The alcove reverberated with the sounds of material being ripped apart.

A thin sheen of arousal painted your cunt, scent stinging his nose in the most pleasant way possible. The velveteen flesh of your inner thighs were layered in faint bite marks — his own, from the past. He looked to you for approval, thumb lazily circling around your clit.

“Please.” You huffed, head bobbing up and down in an idle nod as he moved his lips toward a patch of flesh, unmarred by any bites. Dwayne was always very sensual, and even when he fed from you, it felt so lascivious. Your body jolted, hips writhing closer as he began to bite down.

Dark, earthy-brown hues melted away into pools of a golden-red, unnaturally vibrant. The initial sting of his bite made you wince, but he was always gentle with you when it came to feeding. As sharp teeth drew blood, a low growl reverberated throughout his chest, causing you to shiver. Your fingers continued to trace through his mane of black hair, a myriad of moans escaping you.

Restraining himself from taking this further, he had his fill, kissing over your now-healing bite. Dwayne licked his lips, effortlessly tossing both of your legs over his broad shoulders as he tugged you closer. You were somewhat folded at the hips, but you didn’t care.

Dwayne’s gaze was incendiary, intense — he stared you down from his perch between your thighs. You were visibly flustered, staring right back, nearly shrinking away altogether. He kissed your thighs, mouth dangerously close to your aching cunt. “You ready, girl?” He asked, inhaling another gust of your scent.

You nodded, feeling every fiber of your being scream with desire, and you wanted him terribly. “Yes,” You whimpered, hands having splayed out at your sides instead, no longer buried within his hair. “Dwayne, please,” His deliberation made it worse. “I want you so bad.” Your hips wriggled again, desperate for his mouth.

A warm, hearty chuckle emerged from his lips, making his herculean form shake between your legs. “Just relax,” He soothed, noticing how coiled and poised you were. Those strong, veined hands wrapped around your thighs, keeping you spread apart. The flat of his tongue lapped across your slit in one long stroke. “Relax, Mama.” His voice made your head swim.

Relaxation wasn’t exactly your forte — you were too wound-up, too drunk with desire to simply sit still and melt into the mattress. Dwayne’s tongue began to lap you up, greedily consuming every drop of your sweet arousal, working along your cunt. His fingers clamped hard, enough to leave behind the inklings of bruises, etched into your flesh like his personal brand.

Your thighs threatened to squeeze at his head, but he kept your legs firmly planted on his shoulders, pinning you down and rendering you immobile. Your taste saturated his tongue, and he only chased after it, dutifully lapping at your slit as his nose absentmindedly grazed against your clit.

Dwayne was relatively silent — and you didn’t mind in the slightest. The only ambiance happened to be The Cars, your delighted moans, and your boyfriend’s deep, rumbling grunts. His tongue worked wonders on your aching slit, cunt clenching pathetically around nothing as he lapped you up, gaze flickering towards you.

Your countenance was a vision of beauty, all contorted into an expression of complete and utter bliss. Your hips writhed, with very little room to go considering that Dwayne had you locked down, arms bracketed on your thighs, keeping you caged in against him.

A heavy fire burned bright within the pit of your stomach, demanding to be extinguished. Throaty, noisy moans escaped you in droves, vocalizing your delight as Dwayne vigorously lapped at your cunt. He alternated patterns, between soft and exploratory and recklessly needy. His mouth occasionally brushed over your clit, causing you to shiver.

Each time he ate you out, it was almost like the first time all over again — blissful, filled with a lust-infused passion that threatened to swallow you whole. Dwayne was beyond attentive, savoring you as if you were the most delicious meal he’d ever had.

He lowered himself toward the mattress, musculature flat and poised between your thighs. Those strong, thick arms kept you held in-place, keeping you locked in as he continued to lap at your core. His hips rocked forward, harshly grinding against the bed to relieve some of the friction.

Much to your surprise, Dwayne got off on pleasuring you above all else. There was something intimately carnal about it, knowing that you only made those sounds for him, only let him touch you. Your hips jolted forward, met with a barrage of an eager tongue and mouth as he lapped at your cunt.

Dwayne grunted, lips opting to purse around your clit, instead. Your reaction was visceral, moans ascending to an excitable crescendo as your hands flew toward his hair. He grunted again, attempting to vocalize his own satisfaction of you pulling and tugging on his dark tresses as if they were reins.

A burnished-gold coloration had swallowed brown irises whole, flickering down towards your blissed-out visage. Your body had a mind of its own, twitching and writhing as his mouth relentlessly assaulted your aching cunt. Pleasure licked acros your frame, burning along your sensitive nerves. He was vigorous and attentive, throat itching with a dull, familiar ache.

Hunger could wait — Dwayne merely placed that feeling into the recesses of his mind. His tongue continued to cascade across your slit, lapping at your arousal before he returned his attention to your clit, suckling on that bundle of nerves. He steered you towards your orgasm, mind swimming with a thick haze of lust, overwhelmed by your heady scent.

“Dwayne!” Your voice carried above the nest, echoing throughout your cavernous surroundings. Fortunately, you were alone — you had little desire to mask how you felt about him. Needy digits gripped at his tresses again, hips bucking into his mouth until you were simply a pile of mush, unable to respond.

You were lost to the white-hot heat of your release, an explosive sensation that caused you to quiver and spasm in delight. A glittering perspiration danced across your hot flesh, sparkling from the glow of the candlelight. “Dwayne,” You huffed, a whimper emerging from the back of your throat as he dutifully cleaned you up.

He released your hips from his ironclad hold, crawling along your body until his broad frame nestled between your thighs. That taut, muscled hand rest against the base of your throat, digits gingerly squeezing on either side of your windpipe. You initiate a rather tantalizing kiss, able to taste yourself upon his tongue.

A clattering sound resonates in your vicinity, Dwayne wrestling his belt off of his hips as his jeans sag upon his frame. He’s swift, wrangling his pants aside with one hand, the other clutching onto your pretty throat like a vice, evoking a string of sinful noises from your mouth. You kiss him with a desperation that he matches tenfold.

His hips brush against yours, and the distance is nonexistent, closed by your stoic paramour, whose normally-cold gaze reflects with a semblance of warmth. Your hands clamor for his broad shoulders, sinking into the expanse of bronze skin, nails clamping down when he drags the head of his cock against your cunt.

“Speak up, sweet girl.” Dwayne grunts, lips ghosting above the shell of your ear. He thoroughly enjoyed your begging on occasion, with this happening to be one of those occurrences. His lips briefly press against the side of your face, stubble grazing across your silken complexion.

With an agonizing pace, he continued to toy with you, pushing his cock against your entrance, but declining to go any further. A pained whine escaped you as you tilted yourself closer. The hand around your throat squeezes, effectively commanding your attention.

“Please,” You sputter, squirming in delight whenever those veined digits tense around the slender expanse of your jugular. “Dwayne, please,” Your simpering pleas are met with a hiss as he sluggishly sinks into you, inch by inch. He lets out another shallow rumble when your fingers brazenly dig into his shoulder. “Please move!”

Cold-blooded and dangerous — but not to you, not now. The icy temperature of his flesh swallows the warmth wafting from you as he invades your space, musculature eclipsing any light. His shadow falls across you, visage awash with his own carnal delight. You’re tight around him, aided by your arousal.

Another satisfactory snarl rips forth from his mouth, echoing next to your ear. You wrap your legs around his broad hips, gasping when he began to move. His cock hit new depths, pulling halfway out before Dwayne pushed himself back in again. His pace was rhythmic and passionate — not sloppy or too rough.

The pad of his thumb draws circles along the curve of your jawline, the rest of his hand tight around your windpipe. You moan, legs locked like a vice as he continues to roll his hips forward, cock battering its way into your cunt with a domineering force. Dwayne was taking it easy on you — if he lost control, it wouldn’t be very pretty for either of you.

His lips find yours, kissing you fervently as you reciprocate in a flurry of passion. Heat bled from you, arousal seeping from your core as Dwayne continued to rut into you, one hand splayed beside your head. The sparkling sheen of his ring glints in the lower light, mouth relentlessly assaulting yours in a barrage of kisses.

Dwayne grunts into your mouth, but the entanglement is shortlived as he moves to cover parts of your neck in kisses — whatever parts aren’t covered by his hand. You feel the sudden scrape of razor-sharp fangs drifting over your flesh, testing your resolve. You shudder, eyes fluttering shut as you grip and pull on his hair.

Sometimes you simply forgot that he was a specter of the night, a fanged creature who had the capability to rip you apart at any moment. His fangs continue to hover across your neck before they retracted, lips replacing them as he kissed your pulse point. There was an added element of thrill and exhilaration as you whimpered, his name spilling from your mouth over and over again.

You nearly see stars when he pistons himself into you again, slow and savoring you, enjoying the sluggishness of it all as Dwayne continues to drag out his thrusts. Your cunt clenches pathetically around his length, prompting you to whimper and moan, goosebumps coalescing along your spine.

“More,” It was incoherent, a string of needy babbles that escaped you in droves. “Dwayne, please,” You whimpered, chewing at your lower lip. In the midst of his own pleasure, Dwayne’s calculating stare flickered toward you — it wasn’t a good idea. “Please, please fuck me.” You begged, hearing the growl that echoed deep from within his chest.

“You sure?” Dwayne didn’t want to hurt you, but he was inclined to obey your needy command. Another grunt escaped him as he steadily rutted away into your tight cunt, deliberating in the midst of it all. “Won’t be gentle.” His stark warning was concrete, you knew this — you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into.

Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, you nodded several times over, digits gently curling around his wrist. “Yeah.” You panted, chest fluttering with a tight sensation as he gave you a hasty, passionate kiss, a parting gift as he squeezed at your jugular. That steady rhythm began to pick up instantaneously.

Dwayne made sure to watch you closely, gaze hawkishly trained upon your body as he began to fuck you. The intensity and the heat rose like a tidal wave, consuming the both of you as he pounded away at your poor cunt. Your legs rattled like leaves, attempting to stay locked around his waist.

The taut muscles of his shoulders and abdomen worked in-tandem, body effortlessly exerting strength. For him, it was nothing — for you, it was a different experience entirely. He was rough, manhandling you with one hand as he grabbed at your hips, enough to leave behind faint impressions in the form of bruises.

Moving in Stereo still swallowed any background noise, encompassing the whole of Dwayne’s nest. You were a complete and utter mess, devolving into a puddle of sweet moans and needy whimpers, especially whenever he applied pressure around your throat. He squeezed whenever he thrust into you, force akin to that of a barely-restrained battering ram.

Even in his self-proclaimed roughness, Dwayne was still executing some measure of restraint. “Mine,” His thunderous voice swarmed you from all sides as he fucked you into submission, gritting pearlescent teeth together as he approached his climax. You kept nodding, back arching into his touch.

“Dwayne,” Dwayne — it feels like the only word you’re capable of saying, rolling from your tongue with a wanton moan. You tug on his tresses with an urgency, feeling his hips grind against yours, flesh kissing flesh with unyielding thrusts. His cock continues to bury itself deep inside of your needy slit until it can go no further. “S—Shit! Right there!” You cry.

He huffs, musculature flat against you, chest to chest as you coax him in for another kiss. You whimper into his mouth when his tongue tangles with yours like a heat-seeking missile, teeth breaking the thin skin of your lower lip. Pearls of crimson trickle onto his tongue, fusing lust with hunger — all for you.

Dwayne didn’t stop, showing no signs of stopping as he fucked the both of you through an orgasm, painting your cunt in hot ropes of seed. He doesn’t pull out, a sensation that the two of you feed off of. If it weren’t for his vampirism, you’d be round with his children — the fantasy would continue to linger on for as long as he pleased.

“Shit, Mama,” Dwayne’s strained baritone sends shivers throughout your body. He rarely talks during sex, and this felt like a treat as he continued to thrust into you, feeling your nails dig angry crescents into his shoulder. He groans, savoring the feeling of your constant tugging on his mane of dark tresses. “You’re perfect.” His voice tapered off into a possessive growl.

You want to scream, a raging fire surging throughout your body before it finally comes to an end, extinguished by Dwayne’s rough rutting. He could’ve kept it up, continued all night long with his cock stuffed inside of you, but humanity was both a blessing and a curse. Your thighs shook underneath his grasp, and he began to slow, pressing kisses along your collarbone.

His hand left behind a searing brand around your throat — whether or not the imprints are visible, it’s the sensation that refuses to leave. Your windpipe feels a little sore, but it’s a pleasant burn as he comes to a crawl, nestling his forehead against yours.

The excitement and blissful thrill of the moment steadily begins to fade, composure replacing a very heavy lust. Your heart thrums beneath your breast, beginning to crawl to a more uniform beat as you nudge forward, kissing Dwayne again. Your lips are swollen, split down the middle with a patch of dried cruor.

Dwayne’s exhale of relaxation comes after, and the tension within his body unfurls. He kept himself inside of you still, feeling your poor cunt clench around his cock when he adjusted his position. His kiss is astoundingly tender this time around, able to taste the pang of copper upon your lip, accompanied by your natural sweetness.

A sense of euphoria overwhelms you, body feeling wonderfully heavy as Dwayne peppered kisses all along your jaw and collarbone. “You alright?” He murmured, making sure that he hadn’t pushed the limit with you. It was easy to become lost in the moment, forget about your humanity.

You nodded, wincing slightly when he pulled out of you, resting his head against your stomach, arms encircling themselves around you. “Better than alright,” You mused, tracing your fingers throughout his hair. “You think Paul will mind that we borrowed his stereo?” Laughter burst forth from your mouth.

A bemused huff escaped Dwayne as he reached over with one muscled arm, hitting the ‘NEXT’ track on the boombox. He pulled you close, nose wrinkling in disdain as Drive by The Cars came on — it wasn’t exactly his taste in music.

“Like you said,” He rumbled, peering up at you with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. His arms effortlessly tugged you down to his level, lips twitching into a faint smirk, rare for Dwayne yet mesmerizing all the same. His mouth brushed above yours. “Joint custody.”

#the lost boys x reader #the lost boys x you #slasher x reader #slasher x you #tlb dwayne x reader #dwayne tlb x reader #the lost boys fanfiction #the lost boys #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic #slasher fandom #slasher x y/n #the lost boys 1987

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 2: [DRAGON AU] mammon / first encounter

ao3 link

note: requested by @whensam! i have to admit, i was hoping this'd pop up. i know i can write what i want, but i always feel i need an excuse anyway. you didn't indicate a preference for pov and i also just ended up wanting to do both, so this is a little longer than expected as a result!

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

Baker's children don't make good hunters. We’re used to carrying sacks of flour, not sprinting across fields with pitchfork-wielding mobs in hot pursuit. We don't make good kindling, either, but that hasn't stopped about half the adults in the village - for shame, I'd say, if I had the breath to speak.

Here's the thing. Our village isn't exactly a popular spot by any definition of the term. We're too far from any big cities to make good business, we don't make much worth selling, and the people certainly aren't charming enough to warrant a detour.

More important, though, are the creatures we share land with. Through the grassland that border the crop fields, there are invisible lines drawn in the soil - ones that no one crosses.

These lines mark dragon territory, and everyone knows that a dragon would sooner eat you for breakfast than stop for a reasonable conversation. Reasonable conversation is not something I have the luxury of at the moment, which is why I’m already several hundred paces over the line.

Just fifty already takes you into the forest. I don’t hear footsteps in pursuit anymore - they’d have to be mad to follow me so far in, which is exactly what I'd been banking on. The issue now is that, rather than being pitchforked, or burnt at the stake, I’ll probably just get eaten instead.

I pick my way through rotting leaf litter and ridged roots before collapsing against an old oak, wondering if the moisture dripping from overhead is safe to drink - or at least to wash my mouth out with. Gnawing through rope seems like a clever idea until your teeth start bleeding.

I can’t stay here, I think. Dying now would be like letting them win. Then Dad will have smacked the alderman for no reason.

Just as I get back to my feet, something whooshes overhead. I freeze. Those wings were larger than any bird I’ve ever seen.

Surely it couldn’t see me through the leaves. I crouch low to the ground and try to hide in the undergrowth - the wingbeats disappear until all I can hear is distant birdsong.

At least they’re having a nice day. I duck my head and trudge through a hedge - and come face to face with a dragon.

“Argh!”

I leap backwards. Bad move. The sunlight falls across its pointed face just in time for me to watch its pupils expand into full moons, like a cat on the hunt.

It doesn’t pounce. It doesn’t charge, snap or growl. It creeps slowly, eyes fixed on me the whole way forward, as if making sure I know that I can’t escape.

Nowhere to run. I press my back against a wizened old pine and shut my eyes tight - throwing out an arm, as if that might shield me.

Nothing happens. Then something cold presses into my palm.

My eyes snap open. The dragon blinks down at me. Its eyes are such a deep shade of blue that it’s almost dizzying. Oh. Oh, okay.

Its - his? I wonder, noting the ridges on his nose - snout rests carefully in my palm. He seems to register me staring at him, and snorts. The hot air is just on the brink of scalding, but not quite enough to hurt.

Then, almost experimentally, he opens his mouth - a yawning chasm of teeth, poised as if to ever-so-gently bite off my head. Except he doesn’t do that. There’s no pain - no crunch of broken bone or split sinew - far from it. The dragon leans down, carefully hooks his teeth into the collar of my shirt, and takes off.

I’d have screamed if it wasn’t for all the air leaving my chest at once. The forest shrinks to a dark blanket beneath us faster than I can even register it happening, and I realise very quickly that I’d be dashed to bits if I so much as slipped.

Wyvern, says an unhelpful voice in the back of my head as we soar. The dragon’s white-and-gold wings blot out the sun, but they’re so brilliant that it’s hard to tell the difference. They’re good fliers.

Before long, the dragon lands - legs first, digging his talons deep into the soil as he skids to a stop. After a moment, he huffs, then (strangely gently) drops me in a heap on the stony ground.

There’s a rumble, a swoosh - then several thuds, a swoosh of wings. I watch a shadow fall over my field of vision, then slowly raise my head.

Oh, I think a little faintly. 

All sorts of colours, all sorts of demeanours. One in particular steps forward - dark, with crimson eyes, and the sort of air about him that tells me he's the leader. Boss, I'll call him, if only to settle my own nerves. The dragon that brought me here (Goldie, I decide, still trying to settle my breathing) steps forward with a sort of chirrup in greeting.

It's a spectacle, if nothing else. Here are seven dragons, horns and wings and all. I've heard cautionary tales and horror stories, but they never really tell you how majestic they look in real life - scales shinier than any jewel I could imagine. Marvels of creatures, really. If only I had the wits to appreciate it.

Boss is growling now - there's a sort of heat rolling off him in waves. Some of the feeling coming back to my numb legs.

If only I knew what they were saying...

-

It isn’t often that the forest bears treasure - usually it’s all very boring things, like meat and berries and leaves. To be fair, Mammon's used to treasure of the shiny, golden kind - not this weird little critter crouched against a tree.

It smells faintly of smoke and burnt wheat. He stalks closer, but he's testing it more than anything - it doesn’t look like any prey he’s familiar with.

When he gets close, it sticks out a little starfish-shaped appendage and closes its eyes. He smells bitter fear now.

Is it greeting him? Telling him it isn’t a threat? That’s smart. He thought only dragons could be smart, but it’s not behaving - nor does it look - like any dragon he's ever met.

So he returns the greeting with his snout. He half expects to be stung, like the time Asmo brought that little spidery thing home, but all the critter does is look up at him fearfully.

Interesting. On a whim, he scoops the little round thing off, and decides to take it back home.

The weird not-prey goes still as soon as he takes off. Once home, he lets it disembark (drops it on the floor, though he tries to be gentle), then looks up to face his brothers as they land around him.

The others decide to keep their distance. Lucifer is the first to plod forward and investigate.

He sniffs carefully at the air, then makes a crackling noise somewhere at the base of his throat - which isn't usually a good sign.

“That’s a human, Mammon," He says, glaring at the little critter. It’s still sitting, frozen.

“It’s a what?”

“What’d you bring that for? Stupid.” Belphie settles back on his haunches, blowing out a puff of frost. “Can’t go around snatching humans. We’ll get hunted. Stupid.”

“Shut up,” He grunts. “And I didn’t snatch it. Found it walkin’ around in the forest.”

“That’s impossible,” Satan says nearly immediately. His tail swishes back and forth - slow and deliberate, an analytical glint in his clever eyes. “They don’t let their young anywhere near us.”

“Well, whaddya call this, then?”

The human - apparently - suddenly seems to regain use of its limbs. Springing to its feet (Levi shrinks back, crest flattering over his head), it stumbles for a moment, then abruptly ducks under one of Mammon's wings.

The rest of his brothers - who'd similarly drawn back - relax again with a simultaneous murmur of vague confusion. Mammon blinks. Then his tail starts flicking at the end - like it always does when he's pleased.

“...you are not keeping it,” Lucifer says, looking as if he'd very much like to fly off into the sunset.

“It might have a disease!” adds Asmo.

“I don’t care what any of ya say,” Mammon says stubbornly, snapping at Beel when it looks like he might creep in for a bite. “I’m not sendin’ it back to the forest. It’ll be dead in a day.”

"It might be dangerous," Levi hisses. "It's totally giving me the evil eyes."

"Stop scaring it, then,” Mammon says loftily. “Relax, ya big baby - You’ve got teeth bigger than its whole head.”

“You are not keeping it,” Lucifer says again, as if repeating himself will make him sound more in charge.

“Pfft. Can’t tell me what to do.” He snaps at Beel again. “Oi! No bitin’! Go raid your stash or something.”

Beel’s horns seem to droop a little. “...fine. C’mon, Belphie.”

“I was busy,” complains Satan with a huff as the twins flap off. "This is boring. I've seen deer carcasses more interesting than that weird little thing."

"Go look at your stinkin' carcasses, then," Mammon shoots back, fighting the impulse to spit something at him.

Satan does exactly that. Levi soon slinks off as well, apparently still intimidated - and Asmo seems to have disappeared as soon as he decided the human wasn't going to make a good accessory.

Lucifer, meanwhile, stands his ground. His tail is beginning to lash in agitation. If Mammon’s lucky, maybe he’ll even start spitting fire.

“I'm not gonna eat it,” He says stubbornly.

“I wasn't going to tell you to,” Lucifer replies, but he sounds very much like he’s considering it. “Belphie was right. If a hunter sees us with one of their young, they’ll take it as a threat.”

“Like we wouldn’t win,” He scoffs, sitting down with a thump. "Anyway,don't ya smell the fire on it?"

A single scarlet eye narrows a little. Evidently he hadn't - though Lucifer's always smelling smoke, by virtue of the literal furnace in his chest, so he can't really be blamed for not noticing.

The human is peeking out from beneath his wing with a little more bravado now. Lucifer eyes its round little face as if it might start spitting poison at him.

"...humans don't usually try to set fire to their young," Lucifer says after a moment. "You're sure she doesn't have anywhere to go?"

"Wouldn't've been in the forest if it— uh, she did." He glances down. "C'mon! Not like we don't have the space."

Lucifer is silent. Then he gives a long-suffering sigh - sending a plume of dark blue smoke into the sky - and bends down to the human’s eye level again.

“Will you behave?” Lucifer asks her severely, as if she can understand dragon-speak.

The human child blinks up at him. Then she reaches up and plants a hand on his snout.

Mammon holds his breath. After a moment, Lucifer’s wings flutter, then settle.

“I’m not having any part in this,” He announces, stepping back. “This is to be your responsibility only. Don't make any trouble for your brothers. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, yeah,” He says dismissively, occupied with keeping his triumph from showing in his tail. Got it.”

Lucifer glances down at the human one final time. “...take care of her.”

And off he flaps - to attend to his usual nighttime duties. He says he's keeping watch for danger, but mostly they seem to involve gazing darkly into the sunset.

With his brothers dispersed, Mammon takes a moment to actually consider his situation. He doesn’t actually know what taking care of a human child involves. He doesn’t know much about humans in general - it’s not like he usually pays them any attention. Maybe some of his brothers could give him some advice… if any of them were interested in the kid’s well-being, at least.

They’ll come around, He decides after a moment, unfurling his wings and attempting to nudge the human in the general direction of their living caves. First, I gotta figure out what these things eat…

#3rd anni event #obey me #writing #dragon au #i mentioned this in the ao3 notes but it's crazy to me that it's been two years since dragon au started #like woa. time passes #jtta aus #obey me mammon #jtta ik #obey me brothers #(won't tag the others individually since they're not as prominent) #whensam

[nsewell]

tw: brief discussion of religion

North America, 1935. They’ve done a twenty-four kilometer dead sprint circumference of the farmland that borders a desolate inkspot on Nat’s map of the Texas Panhandle, and it’s all rows of cultivated fields and nothing, nothing, nothing. At a copse of cedar elms there’d been a cage lodged into a flaky patch of mud, but that was all that remained of the Trapper caravan that had passed through this area. They’d since moved on, taking their captives with them, and from the tarnishing metal, it seems they’d done so a while ago. Somewhere vaguely westward is all they can gauge.

Ava kicks the cage in frustration, hard enough to crack a bone that mends before the pain can topple her, and then says with mustered control, “We need to be quicker. We need to get back on the trail.”

“We need to rest,” Nat returns patiently and it only takes that for Ava to concede, exhausted with sun and hunger and loathe to deny her. 

They slouch in the weeds and the sun burnished grass together and sip from their canteens of blood, replenishing energy expelled in the chase. Nat’s half ration reserve beads down her chin as she drinks with always just a tinge of desperation, and tells Ava about a drought to the north. She talks like this sometimes, just to talk. Relays to Ava current affairs that she’s read in a paper, and does not expect her to answer. 

The sky is a yawning chasm above, the heat a brutalizing line on their necks. They’ve kicked up enough muck and dust to coat their bodies entirely, and warrant a thorough washing before reconvening at the inn with the other half of their team for the next leg of their journey. They end up tracing their steps back to a lake that they’d passed, and when they get there Nat says, “Oh,” with a wary eye on the wide waterline and her arms tucked against her sides and Ava understands. As if in a desire to be clean and cool she had forgotten the manner to achieve it. 

“I miss the Turkish bathhouses,” Nat sighs. “We’ve traded mint leaves for river reeds.” Ava thinks it a rather meager attempt to cover her trepidation when she can see the way the curve of her wrists are shaking against the fabric of her blouse. Instead, reaches over to grip her shoulder in a reassuring squeeze and lending of strength. 

“You philistine. Come to the shore, and I’ll help you.” 

Ava wades calf deep to fill her empty canteen with water and returns to Nat who is watching her from the pebbled bank, all willowy grace like a river nymph, or else a specter at the water’s edge. Who will go no further. She directs Nat to kneel low enough so she can douse her face clean, and the younger vampire emits a soft chuckle when Ava presses her thumb into the divot of tender skin behind her ear and hold her gaze to the sky.

 “What’s so funny?” Ava asks.

“Just a thought I had. This feels baptismal.” Nat crosses her arms across her chest in an affected, reverent gesture.

Ava lifts a brow. “Were you baptized?” It means nothing to her and she isn't sure why she has a notion to ask. In the swathe of wide topics that have carried them debating through the centuries, religion has never come up.

“Yes, of course. I was born into a self respecting Anglican family of the gentry. Or half of one at least,” Nat recalls, and her accent slips a touch to the cadence of palatial drawing rooms and garden soirees. The one she'd had when they'd first met. “My mother and step-father didn’t want to illegitimize me further, for all the good it did my soul.” 

Ava takes a half-step back and carefully watches Nat's face. “You don’t believe that.” They’ve dealt with hauntings, yes. Banshees, ghouls and the like. Things that have slipped through the perilously thin cracks of the Echo World. Never something that was an inclination of the human soul, evidence of a life beyond this one. “After all you’ve learned and seen.” 

“In the soul? I’m not sure. I’ve thought a lot about it. Sometimes. Aren’t we as vampires spirits by definition? Left behind imprints of a human that once walked the Earth. If we die do we leave a trace, or has the trace already been left?”  

“If you’re going to philosophize you can do this yourself,” Ava tells her wholly fond.

A thread of warm laughter always underscores any teasing that Nat does and this one melts into the dry breath of wind sweeping the north Texas plains. Genial and tender. “There's a very old adage I'm sure you're familiar with, even with all your reclusion, my friend-you started it.”

#my writing #UM idk what this is or where it came from such a random premise. just a dumping ground of prose bc i've been in screenplay format all week #i might take it and turn it into something larger and cleaner at some point we shall see....this feels very abridged

[ratcatcher0325]

A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #22)

HELLO! 🎃HAPPY HALLOWEEN!🎃 What’s spookier than goblins and ghouls??? Returning to a fic after 8 months of completely unintentional hiatus only to come back and drop the angstiest chapter so far! 👻 But I am so happy to finally return to telling Alexander’s story. I missed him and I hope you did too!

Can’t thank @not-a-space-alien enough for beta reading and giving me some great feedback on this one! You rock!!

Seriously though, this chapter is angsty as hell. He is mistreated and dehumanized and it’s all very stressful for our poor hero. But don’t worry, It’ll all be okay in the end.... Just not this chapter! YOU’VE BEEN WARNED!  

Chapter #22. Alexander’s life is a horror movie. Happy Halloween I guess??

Previous: Chapter #21

Next: Chapter #23

Word Count: 6,606 Read Time: Approx. 41 mins

CW: adult language, extreme angst, dehumanization, infantilization, fearplay, injury

Tag list: @gatlily @grbene @patrocolus3 @beautifulunknowntrash @titan-god-420 @andraimeide @themarlo @cup-o-chai @lucentbliss @raccoontoaster @tolsizedlove @not-a-space-alien , @thegodmother007, @honey-olive,​ @bittykimmy13 ,@aceouttatime, @imvenusasaboy, @liminaldaze, @windshield-patent, @joxter-coded, @rosella35, @narrans, @rubeau-art, @littlescaryinternetguy, @jae-from-discord, @kitn-underfoot, @secretly-small, @writing-forever, @iinogongju

Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list! I feel like I definitely forgot to tag some people here!

_____________________

A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #21: Morbidities

[Alexander’s POV]

In the bent, scratched surface of the reflective swinging door, I could just discern the pastel multicolored blob that appeared to be me. My hair a streak of straw color against the overwhelming purplish backdrop of the human’s scrubs which surrounded me like the edifice of a living, breathing building. At a foot or so away, suspended in midair by the palm of this young woman’s hand, there may as well have been a mile of distance between me and any hope of returning to the room I’d just occupied. 

Still, in spite of the emptiness of the gesture, I leaned forward, arm outstretched in the chasm of open air between my pathetically little hand and the barrier between myself and the only human I’d come to tolerate. I pictured her warm eyes boring a hole through the selfsame door on the opposite side. As I leaned forward in fruitless desperation, quelling my rising desire to call for her by name, the air was suddenly chased from my lungs as two fingers slammed over my abdomen and chest, yanking me back and forcing me to catch myself with a hand to keep from being forced into a prone position. I wrenched my shoulder away at the touch, coughing slightly from the pressure on my throat, as she mused, her voice lilting and sickeningly sweet, “Awwww careful there, little one, let’s not give ourselves more of an ouchy than we’ve already got…” 

I felt my vision go red as I whipped my chin upwards to meet her eyes, pointing a sharp finger as I spoke, trying to ignore the hazy whiplash it gave me, “Do not touch me more than is absolutely medically necessary and never speak to me with that condescending tone, again, or I’ll—“ 

My voice was quickly drowned out by boisterous laughter. My platform shook as she shamelessly laughed, pulling me before her eyes. All in a rush, two  latex-clad fingers surrounded either side of my face. I snarled, and writhed, but for all my efforts, there was no hope of breaking loose. She smiled broadly, flashing bright white teeth, “Oh my god, you’re one of those grumpy little guys aren’t you? You know we have a name for that? It’s called ‘Little Man Syndrome’. You’re just all mad cuz you’re cute as a little button… yes you are!!” 

She shook my head, trapped between the massive pads of her two fingers as she emphasized her words, speaking in a most infuriating tone of voice. I scowled as I felt my cheeks burn. I clawed at her rubbery, gloved fingers but to no avail. Drawing breath to verbally eviscerate her, I felt my stomach, suddenly, drop out from under me. She lowered me down, in one terrifying rush, sending my heart flying into my throat and causing  pain to blossom throughout my nervous system. My vision clouded as I felt myself on the precipice of losing consciousness. As much as I vehemently desired to put this woman in her proper place, I bit my tongue, recognizing this all would be far worse if I couldn’t even advocate for myself.  

Blood pounded in my ears as she began to take a jostling step forward. I felt as though I had cotton stuffed inside my cranium, as the world seemed like a dulled, hazy blur. I could hear her voice, seemingly miles above, as she cooed some meaningless nonsense about how she’d “...take me home, if only she could”. I grit my teeth at the asinine comment before focusing on regulating my heart rate. 

My cardiovascular and nervous systems went into overdrive as my brain instructed my body to fight for survival. The air here was sharp, acrid, and cold as it entered my nasal cavities. A chill ran down my spine as my hair stood on end. As soon as she began to bound away from that portal which separated Natalie from me, a mere few inches of hinged metal, sliding across a cold, peeling linoleum floor, I felt myself grow more and more uneasy. 

As much as I did not care to touch her, I found myself clinging to the latex which wrinkled around the curves and undulations of her hands, just to keep myself steady. My stomach was already twisting in knots, but whether that was from anger, or motion sickness I couldn’t tell. 

As my vision returned to a somewhat clearer focus, I glimpsed at this drab space full of aluminum surfaces: machinery with display screens, lights, knobs and switches. With a quickening pace of my already racing heart, I noticed and, then quickly tried to ignore, the wall of dim, little kennels stacked one on top of the other along the furthest wall. I had no desire to see what might be held in them. Overall, this place was blindingly bright, each piece of equipment sharp in its angles and edges, cold and unwelcoming. I could hear a cat howling behind a closed door. My skin crawled. I hated with every fiber of my being to admit it, but as I was throttled with every footfall of the human who held me, I was….dare I say it, terrified. 

A pallid wash of overhead fluorescent light cast unflattering purple and blue shadows under the eyes of the humans my captor was approaching. They seemed to be fellow technicians, both young, both despicable to me by their mere existence. While being thrashed around, I had a hard time discerning their individual characteristics, but the moment my captor was upon them, she stopped in her tracks, causing me to lurch forward, again, and be dubiously smacked across the chest by not so gentle fingers… again. I wrenched away from her touch. 

As she approached, garnering for her co-workers’ attention she spoke shrilly with far too much enthusiasm, “Hey! Look at this one we just got back…. Look, he’s a grumpy little thing, watch!!” Suddenly I found myself with an audience of three looming over me like intrigued onlookers in a curio shop, as if I were some kind of fascinating, entertaining object. 

Three giant faces took me in as I snarled back at them, “I’m not grumpy…. I’m in pain. I need… I need medical care…” my breathing was labored, my brow slick with sweat. My pride was far more injured than my leg, from having to ask for help. I couldn’t keep from gnashing my teeth, as I felt the immediacy of just how little, and, consequently, helpless I was. 

The countenance directly above me, looming overhead and all around, belonged to my captor: with a sharp, pinched face, a choppy bob of raven dark hair, she didn’t exactly cut the expected image of a veterinary technician. In front of me, dominating the rest of my, admittedly limited, field of vision, were the others: the face closest to me belonged to a young man with broad shoulders and a strong chin. Finally, a fraction of a step behind the hulking figure, but still separate enough for me to tell at a glance she was less in league with the others, was another young woman: eyes slightly obscured behind lenses, her expression was less utterly delighted and more quizzical. Perhaps, by human standards, her features would be considered less traditionally attractive than her counterparts… but I paid attention to none of that, beyond a momentary cursory glance. What I observed next was far more important to me: a glimmer of compassion in those huge, hazel eyes. I desired more than anything to be in her grip over these other two moronic musketeers. I swallowed, staring at her with an infinitesimal softening as I willed her to see me as these others could not. It was the only possible hope, so far, that I could cling to.

However, I found my moment of pleading for mercy was cut short, as I was suddenly wrenched through the air. Held aloft between finger and thumb, both of which jammed into the thin flesh of my ribcage, I was soon face to face with one, icy-blue eye belonging to the hand I was captured in, charcoal makeup surrounding its lid. “Isn’t he adorable!?” The squeal of delight made me growl. I snapped and snarled, wincing from the ear-shattering volume. I prepared to retaliate with an ever-intensifying fervor, when another voice, human, female, beat me to the punch. 

“H-Hey… you shouldn’t be doing that. He’s showing clear signs of distress…” Distress is a bit of an understatement, at this point, but I’ll take what I can get. The voice belonged to the compassionate one, her delivery far from commanding. 

It seemed the other humans were as unconvinced as I was. Instead of heeding their co-worker, they scoffed, the male siding up next to that clear blue iris, his massive, thick finger hooking beneath my chin and forcing my gaze towards his. My whole body stiffened against his touch, I set my jaw, baring my teeth, writhing as much as my sore and aching body could, “Awww, nah, she’s full of shit, isn’t she? You little guys love getting loved on, dontcha?” Still held by the soft underside of my throat, a female finger descended upon the crown of my head to tear at and ruffle my hair. I was weak, I was afraid, and I knew, despite my boiling rage, I had little to no control over what happened to me next, but I couldn’t stand it anymore: I lashed out. 

“TOUCH ME AGAIN WITHOUT MY CONSENT AND I WILL NOT HESITATE TO BITE YOU!!! LISTEN TO ME YOU THICK-SKULLED, DIM-WITTED, DULL-EYED CRETINS… I WILL REPEAT MYSELF ONLY ONE MORE TIME…. I HAVE AN INFECTED BITE WOUND THAT NEEDS IMMEDIATE MEDICAL ATTENTION. IF YOU CANNOT BE MOTIVATED TO SIMPLY DO YOUR JOB I WILL NOT HESITATE TO ENSURE THIS PLACE IS STRIPPED OF ITS LICENSES AND CLOSED PERMANENTLY!!” 

They pulled away, their fingers, thankfully, removed from my head and face. I was still dangling aloft, high in the air, but I finally had enough space to breathe. I was puffing after screaming my lungs out like that. They stared at me. All three. And for a pregnant moment, there was nothing but stunned silence and the rather sickening sound of a whirring saw in the far off distance. I felt, with acute sensitivity, a bead of sweat as it trickled from my scalp and down my brow, the tattered and laborious sound of my own, broken breathing, the rush of blood to and from my heart as I hung, literally, in suspense, to see what they would do next. 

They exploded with laughter, painfully loud at this intimate distance. I darted my eyes beyond the shaking shoulders and twisted, mirthful countenances of the man and woman before me, to lock eyes with the third party. She was wringing her hands, clearly torn between her conscience and fear of conflict. It was painfully clear that the other two held her in no high regard, likely because she actually seemed to be at this job for the right reasons. She stared back at me, brow furrowed. 

“Did you hear that? He’s gonna shut us down!” I watched through clenched teeth, as the young man pointed and held his own split sides. He  was practically crying from thick, belly laughter. 

“Hey… guys, you should really stop fucking around… Dr. Greene will be back any minute, and—“ I wished the only one here with any sense had a fraction of my resolve. Couldn’t she just push them aside and take me in hand? The adrenaline was wearing off and I was feeling less than adequate, to put it lightly.

“Shut the fuck up, Lindsey,” the retort came from the sharp, biting tongue of my black-haired captor. The intended target of the verbal wound, winced. It was clear the power dynamic here was stacked far out of my favor. I jutted my chin and puffed my chest when those blue irises bore into me, once more. I would not let her see me tremble. She broke into a bright, delighted smile, “Awww, look at that grumpy little face! You upset with me? Hm? Was I not giving you enough attention? I’m sorry!” She jutted out her lower lip in a mock pout, “Got any other big words you feel like yelling and screaming?” 

Lindsey, the only one to seem to care about my well-being at all, stepped forward, hand outstretched, reaching for me,  “No, I- I mean it, Nina, you should really stop! He clearly doesn’t like it and you’ll hurt him holding him like that much longer!” I swallowed hard, waiting and watching. It was all I could do.

“Oh my god you’re so annoying! Can you just be cool for, like, five minutes?? We’re not doing anything but having a little fun! Isn’t that right, little guy? We’ll take great care of your fucked up leg, there, don’t worry, we just wanna love all over you first! Lindsey doesn’t know anything about that, does she?” Before I could wrench away, my face was pressed between two fingers once more. Despite all my efforts to resist, she easily took control of my head, and forced me to shake from side to side as if expressing a negative sentiment, “No, she’s just got a big stick up her ass about fucking every little thing, doesn’t she?” She beamed, positively gleeful at this newfound form of humiliation. 

“Let go of me! I won’t stand for this!” 

“Awww, sweetheart, of course not! You’re not standing, I’m holding you! Silly little thing, did you forget?” She puppetted my head up and down to nod in the affirmative. I growled and writhed, to no avail, “What’re you so mad about, huh? We just think you’re adorable! What’s so bad about that? C’mon, cheer up! Lemme see you smile! Let’s see that pretty little smile!” The gigantic pads of her fingers started to pull on either side of my mouth. I gnashed and writhed, but was unable to sink my teeth down on her latex-covered flesh. I burned white hot with rage, my skin slick with sweat, my muscles aching from being suspended like this. 

“Nina! Cut it out–” 

“Oh, don’t even start with me! I know it was you. You’re the one who filed the anonymous complaint about Greene botching the surgery on that pet, you tried to make it look like it was the client who complained, but I know it was you. You were the only one actually paying attention to surgery rotation that day. There was information in that report only you could’ve known. Don’t fucking lie to me. I’m not as dumb as you think and I don’t have to keep that information to myself. I’m happy to go tell him right now and get your ass fired, or you can calm the fuck down and let me have a moment of fucking joy at this godforsaken job. What’ll it be??” My heart pounded in my throat, but the resulting silence was all the answer I needed. My stomach flipped. Lindsey cast her eyes down to her shoes. Nina scoffed. 

The thin flesh on either side of my ribcage was bruising and awash with pain as she continued to pinch me, her fingers stronger than any muscle in my body. It was painfully clear, I was trapped. What was all that about botching surgeries? I couldn’t help but quake. I wanted to cry but I would never give them the satisfaction.  I felt the defeated party’s eyes on me but I refused to turn to her, she wasn’t going to help me after all, so what was the point? “Now,” my captor continued, “Where were we? Oh! Yes! You were bitching at us about getting us all fired! How cute!!” She caressed my chest with a finger tip and she paused over the smiling unicorn, about the size of her nail. She seemed to really notice my shirt for the first time, “Okay what comedic genius put him in this??”

Jason leaned in to get a good look,  “Ha! Oh my god! Look, at his dumb little…. Is that a unicorn?? Amazing! You look great, bud!” 

 She gasped, making me jump, “Oh, look, it sparkles! It’s so stupid!!” She pinched between thumb and finger and pulled on the fabric, wrenching my head and neck forward. 

I burned with rage, “Stop it!! Treat me with dignity or I’ll—“ 

“—Or you’ll what?? Oh wait! That gives me an idea, come here. Jason, get me some paper from the printer…” She turned her back on the aluminum examination table and headed for another corner of the room, where a dusty, disheveled old desk sat. The lopsided swivel chair behind it was held together with duct tape and a prayer, looking ragged and torn. Besides a computer, the desk was littered with paper clips, sticky notes, folders, and a bobble-headed dog figurine, among other things. It was an obscene mess. Did this place really have so few resources that they had no spare room for a separate administrative office?? Natalie really had taken me to the bottom of the barrel hadn’t she? 

Natalie. Did my heart skip a beat when I thought of her? Did I mind that? Was she still waiting for me? Was she worried? Did she have any idea I was being thoroughly humiliated back here? Would she do something if she did know? I genuinely thought she would. For me. I had someone who cared enough to fight for me. Her words echoed in my pain-dulled grey matter, “I know you aren’t going to let them do anything to you without a fight. So let them have it if they deserve it. You’re quick on your feet and incredibly smart. Use that to your advantage. Remind them how similar you really are to them.”

My heart beat faster; this time not from fear, but, rather, dogged determination. For once that bumbling, well-meaning fool of a human was absolutely right. I was vastly more intelligent than them, and I’d use that for all it was worth. Besides, I’d never been one not to make a fuss when necessary. I found myself being placed down on the surface of the desk. My bare feet landing on a single sheet of crisp, white, printer paper. 

“You think you’re so smart? Go on, file a formal complaint and we’ll make sure it gets sent up the proper channels… See? Lindsey, we are respecting his boundaries. Happy now?” she was looming over me, her hands on her knees, that black hair falling about her face in such a way that made the angles of her cheekbones somehow seem sharper and more sinister than before, “Awww wait, you’ll need something to write with won’t you? Someone taught you how to read and write, didn’t they? I’m guessing so, since you talk like an angry little thesaurus…” as she spoke, she leaned over me, past my head and far away to the other side of the desk, showing off just how much bigger she was than me, as her outstretched arm cast a shadow over where I stood. With deft fingers, she snatched up a hefty, cobalt blue ballpoint pen, likely the heaviest she could find, before  placing it squarely at my feet, “Well, go on. Pick it up. I wanna see you try.” She flicked at the pen with her finger, it rolled over, landing just before my toes. I crossed my arms tightly over my chest and flatly refused to move. My leg burned with pain, and I leaned as much of my weight off of it as I could, but I was determined not to let her see me falter, “Awww come on, you don’t wanna prove what a big, strong boy you are? Come on! You can do it! It’s only as tall as you!”

As I whipped up to meet her gaze, my rage boiling over as I grit my teeth, I saw she had her phone in hand. Was she documenting this?? I flew off the handle, kicking the pen as hard as I could in her direction and barked back. 

“What sort of childish, pathetic little game do you think you’re playing? Unlike every other creature in your care (if it even deserves to be called that) I can report back on my service at this facility. I’m not some living doll, put on this earth to amuse you! Do you hear me? I’m a person, no different than you and your slack jawed boyfriend over there! And beyond that, I’m a patient at this institution. I will not participate in this cycle of humiliation you seem so bent on enacting. Frankly, you’re embarrassing yourself… this type of behavior is beneath you. How old are you? Early twenties? You’re far too old to find the torture of small creatures to be an acceptable pass time… although it is a harbinger of other psychiatric problems… is all this a cry for help? Perhaps you’re the one who most needs to be seen by a doctor…” 

Her phone clattered to the surface of the desk as her gloved hand rushed me. I barely had a moment to blink, before I was engulfed in a crushing fist, “Oh fuck you, you little bastard…” 

She jabbed her free index into my chest, but I wasn’t even listening, I just started screaming back, “I will personally see to it that you are sued for willful negligence, and animal rights abuse! You’ve no right to treat me this way…” 

Her voice was joined by both Jason and Lindsey, all four of us fighting to be heard above the others. His first addition to the cacophony, a painfully late response to my insult, “Wait? What’d he mean by slack jawed? I have a great fucking jaw line, right, Nina?” 

The bespectacled woman shouted, “Okay this is getting way out of hand! Everyone just stop yelling!!” 

Nina continued, squeezing me about the middle and dragging her finger across the exposed parts of my body, “Who the fuck do you think you are?! Huh?? You ought to learn how to be sweet. Humans would like you much better when you’re sweet and cuddly and cute. All this anger and yelling is just gonna get you in trouble, little fella. You understand?” I watched her finger with hawklike precision, and as it traveled closer toward my face, I opened my jaws and bared my teeth ready to bite down hard. Just as the latex brushed against my chin, and I prepared to pounce, the slam of a heavy metal door and a boisterous voice made all four of us stop, dead. 

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?! NINA! JASON! LINDSEY, YOU TOO?? HOW MANY TIMES MUST I TELL YOU, THAT IS A PATIENT NOT A PLAYTHING. Do what I’m paying you for and get back to work!” Doctor Greene stood in the opposite corner of the room from where I’d come in, he’d entered from the door where I’d heard animal screams and machinery. My blood ran cold at the sight of him. I could just see him over Nina’s shoulder, as she turned to look. This broad, barrel-chested man stood with his hands clasped in front of him, the blue latex doused, his white coat and scrubs splattered, with bright crimson. I couldn’t help but shudder at the sight, “Hello?? Did you hear me?” 

Lindsey managed to mumble a hasty, “Yes sir…” as the other two crossed back to the examination table, with me in hand. He tore the gloves off and threw them in a nearby trash can, before peeling off his coat, and holding it aloft. 

“Lindsey,” he bellowed, “I don’t need all three of you to take vitals. You’re on laundry duty—“ 

“B-but, Doctor Greene, are you sure I can’t stay on this case? You have Nina on blood work in a few hours and Jason's on lab results after 3pm. It would make the most sense for me to–” Both the raven haired girl, and her gruff employer arched a brow and gave her a threatening stare. 

“Remind me, Lindsey, who makes the schedule? You or me?” She crumbled under the pressure, taking the blood soaked garment, with a hesitant hand. She met my gaze, her brow furrowing in concern, as her lips moved ever subtly in a silent “I’m sorry”. 

The veterinarian crossed behind the table and halted before the door across the room, turning over his shoulder to address the two techs who were left, “You two: I expect the initial prognosis to be done as soon as I return. And Nina? Stop wasting company time posting patient photos on your Insta-book, or whatever site you’re on these days. If I catch you doing it again I’ll dock your pay. Get to work… NOW!” 

With the creaking of hinges and shuffling of feet on polished concrete, I was left all alone with my tormentors, and completely at their mercy. I was expecting to be splayed out on the icy aluminum tabletop, but instead I remained in a fist as the human it was attached to turned round and stepped back toward the desk. What on earth was she doing?? 

I was trapped in her hand, her thumb pressed across my chest, her index and middle middle my shoulder blades and spine. Her other fingers curled round my torso, but with less pressure. While my right arm was pinned to my side, my left was propped over her thumb. Squirm and writhe as I might, her grip was unwavering. The last thing I wanted was to endure poking and prodding from this maniac. I needed out of here. The infection didn’t seem so bad anymore. I needed to escape. She leaned against the corner of the desk, and retrieved her phone, pulling it toward her and blocking her field of view from me completely. She tapped a few times with her thumb and then, with a furrowed brow, appeared agitated. “Fucking gloves….” She grumbled under her breath, as she set the phone and, to my surprise, me, down on the surface of the desk. Could she really be that stupid? She started to peel them off, when a male voice behind her, captured her attention, “Yo, Nina, what’re you doing? Doc said to get to work…” in the split second she turned away from me, I bolted, ignoring the agony in my leg as I repeatedly pounded down on it with my full weight. 

“He’s not gonna tell me what to fucking do…” 

“I mean, you really think that’s a good idea? He seemed pretty pissed…” 

“Dude, what’s your problem? Did Lindsey rub her goody two shoes act off on you? Lighten up— ah, ah ah! Where do you think you’re going?” She clicked her tongue as her, now bare, fingers descended with ease around me. I had only gotten a quarter of the way across by the time she noticed. Damn my leg. She jabbed me in the lumbar making me tumble to the hard surface of the desk, I did everything I could not to directly land on my torn knee. With an uncaring precision, she flipped me onto my back and pinned me down with one finger over my chest. She held her phone out before me, and I heard the shutter click as she took a photo. “You, little sir, are going in my Hall of Infamy album for very naughty patients… now come here…” Without looking up from her phone, she tapped away, using her other hand to reach for my ankle…. On my bad leg. She pulled. I screamed. She reached to pick me up by the collar of my shirt, I bit down on the ball of her thumb as hard as I could. She screamed. I grinned wickedly, hot blood tasting of iron and sweet success, before scrambling to my feet and taking off again. 

“He bit me! The little motherfucker bit me!” I ran all the way to the opposite corner of the desk, skidding to a stop, as I reached the edge. Now what?? The computer cables were behind me, too far to get to before she could make her way around. I, frantically, looked about for an alternative solution, “Ha! Didn’t think that far ahead did, ya? Looks like there’s nowhere to run….” I sucked in a deep breath, closed my eyes…. And jumped. 

Both humans gasped in surprise, but they hadn’t seen what I had: below me, the bottom filing cabinet drawer was open just enough that if I aimed carefully, I could dive into the folders and keep myself from a sudden and painful demise. It all happened in the breadth of a heart beat, I flew through the air, and landed, not inside of one of the hanging folders stuffed with documents, but along the wire frames of a few, which knocked the wind out of me and made my head spin. 

Admittedly, I was grateful for adrenaline, because I should have long since passed out by now, except by sheer will to survive. The raking of the hard wire surface against my knee was excruciating but as I heard the hurried footsteps of both humans coming around the corner, I bit my tongue to keep from screaming. I knew I had one more task at hand to make my disappearance complete. Wasting no time at all, I flipped onto my back, balancing carefully on the, luckily, largely empty files toward the front of the drawer. I reached behind me for the lip of the drawer above, while I hooked my one usable foot onto the underside of the locking mechanism of the drawer before me. 

Clenching my jaw and mustering what little strength I had left, those pounding steps resounding in my ears, I knew I only had milliseconds before they’d spot me. I pulled, using my own body to close the drawer from the inside. I only had about 2 inches or so to go, but at my size, it took plenty of muscular effort just to do that. I slid further inside the folders as the space grew smaller and smaller. My body was soaked with sweat and every muscle quaked as I got it almost closed, but not enough to lock it, which would’ve been another disaster entirely. When it was close enough, I dropped all the way inside, now huddled in the absolute obscurity of a metal drawer, inside a file, my heart in my throat as I listened for warning signs outside. As I lay, curled up, trembling in the dark, listening for activity beyond the walls of my hiding place, I couldn’t help but grit my teeth at the irony of it all. I’d been jammed into cramped, pitch black quarters, hidden from view, countless times in my old life. Now, here I was enacting it all over again. This thought made me shake all the harder. It seemed I was just in time, as, no sooner had I escaped my reverie and returned my thoughts to the present danger, I could hear their footsteps come to a halt mere inches from where I lay.  

“What the fuck?!? What the fuck?? He can’t have just run off that quick… that fall should’ve at least broken his legs… where did he go?!” 

“I think we fucked up…. Like, really fucked up. If we lost him, we’re dead.” 

“Goddammit….Hey…. Hey, whatever your name is… Andrew? Fuck it, I dunno, I didn’t read the chart… come out, come out, wherever you are. We were just having fun earlier, we aren’t gonna hurt you…. Come here and we’ll get you all fixed up and back home in no time. You need our help, don’t you?? We can’t help you if we don’t know where you are…” 

“Is he hiding somewhere, in plain sight? I mean he’s pretty little, right? He could…” my blood ran cold. How was the dumbest of all of them figuring it out? 

“Wait, yeah… maybe you’re right… who was the last one in the filing cabinet this morning?” Sweat trickled down the back of my neck as I shook, in spite of myself. 

“Uh… me? I think? Didn’t I have to pull the file on that black lab with the ear infection?” 

“Doesn’t Greene always yell at you for leaving the drawer open?”

“He does. Daily. So? What’s your point?” Well, he still held first place as the greatest dullard of them all. 

In another split second, the sound of metal grinding assaulted my ears as my whole body was jostled violently and light flooded in. I’m a dead man. 

Snaking fingers snapped open files one by one. I could hear her getting ever closer to where I lay. What would she do when she found me?? Then all at once, a giant face loomed above, blocking out the garish, fluorescent light. 

“There you are…” Instead of picking me up directly, she clutched the whole file and splayed it open on the surface of the desk. I scrambled to sitting, marking with a cursory glance, the black ink on white paper which stretched beneath me. The format of the document seemed familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. “Look at what you did…” she shoved the pad of her thumb right in my face, showing the single drop of dark crimson that had bubbled to the surface,  “You should know better than to bite people.” She pressed her thumb over my chest, slamming me down against the desktop, her blood soaking into the shirt and seeping through to my skin. I squirmed beneath her. I couldn’t take much more of this, my body was starting to give up, as my mind went hazy with pain and my breathing became labored again. 

“Please. Enough. Enough, already.” I hated how my voice shook. 

“You’re right, it’s time we made you the ideal patient… Jason, get me .2 milliliters of Buprenorphine, please…” An anesthetic. She was putting me under?! 

I couldn’t help but whimper and wail, “No!! Please, no!! Don’t! I’ll behave, I promise. Restrain me if you must! Just keep me awake! Please! You can’t do this!” I shook like a leaf. All those cases of death from improper dosing of anesthesia and medical negligence flooded my brain. I didn’t want to go under. I didn’t want to die. 

“I can, and I will… it’s part of my job. I thought you’ve been screaming at me this whole time to do my job, and now you’re suddenly unhappy? Jeez! Make up your mind!” That wicked smile made my blood freeze in my veins. Suddenly we were interrupted by a voice across the room.

“Uh, Nina? You sure it’s Buprenorphine and not Meloxicam? I thought we used Meloxicam on, like, mice and stuff.” 

She turned back to her counterpart, annoyed, “He’s not a mouse, idiot. Just, goddammit… The fuck if I know! Lindsey’s the small animal nerd. Just…. Go with Buprenorphine, it’s an opioid, it’s fine.” 

“You sure? That dosage seems kinda low…”

“Well, I don’t wanna fucking kill him, do you?”

I broke down and did what I promised myself I’d never do again: I groveled, “Nina? Nina, right? Please… Please, Nina. I want to go home, safe and sound. I’m relying on you to make that happen. I know we’ve had our differences, but… I have a desire to live just as much as anyone else. You can’t blame me for that ! Please… let me go. I won’t run. I’ll let you do whatever tests you need to. I’ll be the model patient. Just please don’t put me under…”

“Oh shut up, will you? I’m tired of hearing your obnoxious, naggy little voice. The whole reason I wanted to become a vet in the first place is so I didn’t have to talk to patients all day long… Jason? You almost done? I’m waiting… impatiently…” 

I cast my gaze across the wide expanse of the room to see the young man slowly filling a syringe with a very small amount of liquid from a glass dispenser. It was as though everything went into slow motion as I desperately willed time to slow to a stop and to be spared from what was to come next. Each ragged breath and unsteady beat of my heart, marked the time like some weak and faulty drum. Jason strode across the room, each stride easily covering a hundred of my own, he was beside Nina in no time at all. I debased myself, begging with them, but it was no use. Jason pinned my chest and pressed and finger to my jaw to keep me from biting. He used his pinky to immobilize both my ankles. Nina, with ease, pinned each of my wrists down, and I watched as the massive needle, longer than my entire arm, sank deep into my flesh, stinging and burning as medicine was administered intravenously. I didn’t even have the energy to scream anymore. 

“Night, night, you little fucker. That’s what you get for biting me. See you on the other side….” My eyelids grew heavier and heavier as my tongue went numb inside my mouth and my vision began to darken at the edges. Her hand, spider like, and all consuming, overwhelmed me on all sides and peeled me from the desktop, slowly, slowly lifting me up. My head lolled backwards with no support behind it. I blinked hard to chase away the blur as I finally got an aerial view of the paper I’d been lying on. I knew it’d seemed familiar! At a cursory glance, I recognized it as an American Animal Hospital Association form outlining compliance for the adequate treatment of creatures like me. I’d stared at versions of this document hundreds of times in my previous life. I’d helped the old man contest the legal validity of this very form in multiple court cases. I was going under, with no time to spare, my eye darted down to the bottom corner, the most vital section. 

My vision swam as I struggled to read the official assessment, upside down. I caught only snatches of information, “Anonymous report… Doctor Richard Greene… less than adequate result… cotton left behind inside sutures…resulting in infection…severing of nerves and partial paralysis in Homo brevis… required, by law, to be made publicly available for full client consent… Suspension of surgical care… one calendar year… ”  With wide, horrified eyes, I began to thrash and writhe. The date listed for the duration of suspension was only from a few months ago. They were violating state and federal law by accepting me as a patient. Not only that, but if this recent incident was anything to go by, I might be permanently disfigured or even killed by remorseless negligence! 

My tongue was like a thick, lead weight in my mouth, I tried desperately to cry out, scream, beg, “Wait! Wait! Stop! You can’t legally treat me! Please, don’t hurt me!” But, instead, all that came out were desperate, inarticulate moans. My heart was ready to explode from my chest, even as I felt the anesthesia take control over my ebbing consciousness. 

“Shhhh…. Shhhh… go to sleep, you little bastard….” She laid a thick, heavy finger over my lips. I couldn’t even shake my head. I just stared back, eyes half lidded, as I lost the fight, “Yeah, there you go, sweet dreams….” The last thing I saw was her looming over me, that wicked grin plastered on her face. In the next, ever-slowing heartbeat, I was out, cold. 

#He's back and he's here to suffer #So sorry little nightmare #It WILL get better for you #Alexander vs 3 vet techs #Thanks for reading! #oc: alexander #a fraction of justice #g/t angst #g/t writing #Giant/tiny #g/t related #g/t fearplay

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Choices - a TMA x Malevolent crossover series, taking place in the Dark World

The Dark World can be very dangerous. One dark night, hiding from predatory crows, Jon and Martin—and John and Arthur—have an important talk.

A Malevolent x TMA crossover. Part of the Just a Little Sidequest series.

Okay, I've started a new AU, and it's thanks to @captaincravatthecapricious. We are now following the adventures of John, Arthur, Jon, and Martin in the Dark World as they try not to be tormented by The Horrors… and try to find Faroe. Yes, this is Jasper's fault. Enjoy.

AO3

QPR John & Arthur.

This is taking place in the Dark World, so understand, they are all dead - but they are also together, and that's what matters.

You don't have to see anybody die.

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

“Hey, Jon?” Martin’s voice was quiet, though that was likely pointless; the pecking thrushcrows on the roof definitely knew they were there. 

“Yes?” said Jon; his eyes (all of them) moved constantly, studying what dug relentlessly at their dwelling, what made the nightmare sounds.

Martin shifted. He knew it was silly to hide under the blanket; it wouldn’t stop even a normal crow from pecking him, never mind one of these things. It still felt better.  “We need to eat. We can be injured. I got a sunburn, preparing the place for these birds. I… I’m sorry. I know you’re busy.”

“It’s all right, Martin.” Jon’s voice was doubled, deepened, echoing the way it did when he was keeping an eye (ha-ha) on too much. “Ask your question.”

Martin shifted again. He thought Jon was lovely like this (so esoteric, so removed) and suspected it meant he was a little messed up in the head, but that was the least of his worries. “Those birds could kill us.”

“Strip the flesh from us,” Jon corrected, no emotion in his voices now. “Stain their beaks with our blood. Steal whatever they can peel off our forms and fly away to make gristly nests.”

Martin had heard all this before. Jon had been very clear when he’d gotten his vision, shouting instructions across the Chasm. It still turned his stomach. “Then what’s the difference between life and death, anyway, if we can just die again?”

Jon came back into himself. He turned toward Martin, extra eyes closing, green glow fading, and all the strange, inhuman polish disappeared as he turned toward his love.

Then it was just Jon. His softness, his gentle eyes, all for Martin. “We can’t die again,” he said. “We can be reduced to shredded veins like spaghetti in this place, but we can’t die again. There’s no escape. That’s the difference.”

Martin touched Jon’s cheek, swallowing hard. The birds banged on the roof and the walls, almost as if trying to make such sound as to panic their prey into running. “So we can suffer?”

“We can suffer. But we don’t have to.”

“Are there safe places in this Dark World?” said Martin.

“Yes. But so far away, Martin. So far. It’s going to take us months to get there when we finally decide to leave.”

Martin sighed, cheeks puffing out. “So it’s about staying healthy until we can go.”

“Yes. Preparing. It’s why sometimes I insist on legal tender instead of goods when we’re bartering.”

“Do we age?”

“Only if we believe we should,” said Jon.

Martin swallowed. “I don’t know how to not do that?”

“I’ll do it for you.” Jon drew him near. He was the smaller man, slight, significantly lighter; but that didn’t matter now. “I won’t let any harm come to you.”

“Forever is a long time,” Martin said.

“When you’re done here, we’ll go elsewhere. All the worlds end here; all their histories and peoples, arts and sciences and foods. We will never run out of things to see. I just want to be sure….”

“Sure of what?”

The beaks were like cruel rain all around them, startling, uneven. 

“I want to be sure we have… options. That they can’t separate us, or force us into some… eternal menial job, or worse.”

“So all of that sounds horrible,” Martin said softly. “What you’re saying is you want to lean into this god thing that Kayne guy keeps telling you you are.”

Jon fell silent.

Martin kissed him. “I don’t care, you know. Whatever weirdness is going on. It’s you I love, and you are very much still you.”

“Warts and all?” Jon’s smile was weak.

“Warts and all.” Martin’s smile faded. “Do you think he’s right?”

Jon sighed. “I don’t know. I can’t see myself. Apparently causing the apocalypse, killing your maker, and then dying by your lover’s hand isn’t the usual method of obtaining, but I seem to have hit some kind of metaphysical lottery.”

Some angry thrushcrow banged the boards nailed around their windows. Martin jumped. “Lucky us.”

“We are. We’re together. We have a leg up, thanks to whatever is going on. We’re going to be all right.”

“What about our neighbors?”

Tha answer came at once. “So will they. Whatever that John is… he’s growing. From what they’ve said, I don’t think he could do that back on Earth; it was too separated from magical folderol. But here? He’s absorbing it like… like…” Jon hesitated. “The… Hulk and gamma radiation?”

Martin laughed. “Gods, I love you. I accept your ridiculous analogy.”

Jon harrumphed. “It wasn’t that terrible. anyway. It’s only a matter of time before he’s back to full godhood—and whatever he is is significantly more impressive than whatever I am.”

“I disagree.” Another kiss. “John can go hang.”

They both chuckled, a sweet sound under the cawing like frustrated screams. “Be nice.”

“Never again,” said Martin loftily, then sobered. “And Arthur?”

Jon laughed softly. “I almost pity anything that might come after him once John’s come into himself.” He sighed a little. “That will be such a sight to see.”

“Sounds like we need to stick near them so you can.”

“I’d like to.” Jon snuggled closer.

“So would I.” Martin didn’t know how he’d do this without Jon. He also knew he wouldn’t have to. “I know this, though: I see all I really need right now.”

Jon wrapped around him. They shared air, and quiet kisses, and eventually fell asleep to the sound of rhythmic, futile pecking on the roof.

#

Arthur lay in their bed, windows boarded, room secure, but the pecking and cawing of the thrushcrows on the roof pinged at his nerves, making him tense as one of those boards.

It was still wrong, hearing the things the Archivist had described, and not even being able to peek. It was still unfair, that whatever death meant gave him back the strength of his youth, but not his sight.

“Hey, John?” Arthur’s voice was tight.

What? said John, whose attention was split, who gripped Arthur’s sleep-shirt in a tight fist as though to keep him from being carried away. 

Arthur’s jaw clenched. He knew he’d only see the ceiling of this bedroom in this tiny, two-story house, and not the crows that wanted to eat them—but he still resented the darkness tonight. “Did you know about these things last time you were here?”

Yes. John always had a particular tone about the Dark World from before they’d met. It was so grim. 

“Did you hide from them?”

No. They got me. Along with so many other things. 

“Got you?” said Arthur, voice jumping an octave.

The thrushcrows’ calls and sharp attacks grew wilder, briefly like a hailstorm, and Arthur gasped.

You’re all right. They can’t get in. They can’t get you.  John’s hand left the shirt and gripped Arthur’s hand, tight.

“What did they do to you?”

Exactly what the Archivist said. Strip your flesh. Leave you shrieking and wishing you could die.

“You went through all of that,” whispered Arthur. 

That was the least of it. You’d heal then and… it would start again. Like I told you—we can’t die again. 

Arthur swallows. “You had a body.”

Of… some kind. I’m sorry, Arthur—I’ve forgotten. I don’t remember how to do that, or even if I can anymore.

“I don’t care.” Arthur placed his hand over John’s. “I’ve got one for both of us. However it works.”

We’re responsible for however it works, but I don’t remember how to change that.

“You remembered how to taste through my tongue, but not how to give my eyes back.” Low.

Yes.

He wasn’t trying to blame Kayne anymore. They both knew this was somehow because of Arthur. Because of something in his head or heart. Their physical forms were created from their own perception.

But thinking of that made him think of Kayne’s final offer.

The last thing Arthur heard before being killed.

There, there, don’t cry! It’s almost over.

No! No! I’m not ready!

Shhhh-shh-shh. You’ve entertained me, Artie. I’m inclined to give you a choice. You don’t want to throw that away.

(John, shouting, but Arthur couldn’t make out what he said.)

Wh… what choice?

Arthur had never faced anything as inevitable as Kayne. So cruel. That choice…

We’ll find her someday, Arthur, John said, because he knew by now that’s where Arthur went when quiet.

Arthur swallowed repeatedly; the pecking and glass-sharp calls of thrushcrows pierced him the way Kayne’s fingers had in the end, in that final, dying moment. “I don’t regret my choice.” But he did.

Yes, you do. 

Yes, he did. “No, I don’t. Fuck you.”

He made you choose between us. I…. I can never pay you back for what you did for me. Now, John’s voice was tight. We will find her. I know what this cost you.

“No, you fucking don’t,” Arthur snapped between clenched teeth.

The thrushcrows responded to his anger. Their cries rose, maybe summoning more birds, maybe just performing nightmare-multiplication, hunger splitting in two, and the banging—roof, doors, boarded windows— grew.

John did not tell him to calm down. So that was good.

Arthur gripped John’s wrist and could not keep in one single sob.

We’ll find her. We’ll figure out how to do it.

“She could be getting eaten by fucking birds. ”

No. No. Remember the wording of his choice. She’s not.

Oh, Arthur remembered.

It’s simple! I mean, you’re bleeding the fuck out, so we’re gonna keep it simple. (Those fingers dug in.) Either I drop you at one end of the Dark World, and you’ll be in a better place, and in spitting distance of Faroe… but John gets dropped at the other end, alone. In an even worse place than the first time.

(Arthur makes a sound. It might have been a sob. He knew where this was going.)

OR… I drop you together. In still a pretty bad place , but… together. Just really fucking far away from her.

Kayne, please!

Shhhh-shh-shh. The way you dealt with Larson’s kid? Fucking delicious. The way you handled Epiales’ bastard? Gods, I couldn’t have predicted any of it. You get this one choice. Thank me, Arthur.

(Arthur sobbed.)

Thank. Me.

(John shouting, words smeared.)

(Could he even live with himself if he chose—)

Waiting, Artie. Do not spurn my favor.

(Hardest words) Th… thank… (words like bricks and vomit and regret) Thank you.

Good boy. Now, choose.

And Arthur had chosen.

Those fingers in his chest—they’d hurt. So much. They didn’t hurt anymore, but even here, he could feel those new scars, five indents over his heart.

Arthur. She’s at the other side. She’s where there are cities and systems in place to handle children who died.

That makes it both better and worse. Arthur chokes another sob, but his anger is dimmed.

We keep working. We figure out your sight, and my strength, and what we can do. We prepare ourselves so we can make this journey. Then, we will fucking find your girl.

Arthur pressed John’s hand to his lips. He was shaking.

Outside, the thrushcrows suddenly flew away, enormous wings slapping the air, caws dropped in favor of eerie, airborne silence.

They spotted some poor fuck, said John. We should be safe now.

“I’d rather wait until Jon—the Archivist—says all-clear.”

Me, too. Besides, it’s like… fuck-o-clock in the morning.

Arthur snorted. “That an official time?”

Clocks don’t lie.

They had no clocks. Arthur laughed weakly. He was still leaking a little from the eyes, but he believed John. 

They’d find her. Somehow. Some way.

John stroked his hair. Go to sleep. I’ll keep watch.

“I know you will.” And Arthur slept.

---------

NOTES:

Epiales was the Greek god of nightmares. Wild guess who that might be referencing.

#tma fic #malevolent fic #the dark world malevolent #crossover #just a little sidequest series #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #qpr #qpr john & arthur #jmart #teaholding #jonmartin #kayne malevolent #tma au #malevolent au

[chidoroki]

182 Days of TPN - Day 36

Chapter 36: “Action, Part 5”

Bro season two demons wish they looked this good. Straight up terrifying and none of those wacky ones we did get to see. Of course I don’t include Mujika & Sonju in that mix. They were perfect. But damn, “part 5” for this escape plan huh?

Could you imagine if the kids went through all that training, preparing themselves to cross the cliff like Norman planned, but ended up trying at the wrong spot because they couldn’t figure out the exact place Norman suggested? That would be so horrible.

It takes serious guts to volunteer first to zip-line across this chasm without even know how well it’ll work out, so many kudos to Don here. I’d definitely wait until more people cross to see if it’s safe enough.

Ah hell, I’ll give praise to everyone here, whatever! I know they practiced a whole bunch, but that was on a much smaller scale! It was just down a small hill and there was definitely no bottomless pit below that you had to worry about! Sure Rossi seems shaken up but he’s still going for it! These kids are crazy.

They all just did so well.. and it really sucks we couldn’t seem them slowly improve their skills over those two months since this was all supposed to be a surprise for us. And Ray. And I’ll be damned, it certainly was a sight to see them attack this whole escape plan fearlessly, especially for their ages.

Smug Norman is one of my favorite kinds of Norman and I love this is how Ray thinks of him in his mind.

The fact that Isabella doesn’t even need to think that long about how else the children will try to escape and wastes no time in continuing her pursuit. Though I do wonder, if she figured out their method of escape, or at least where they were gonna attempt it, did she also think of it during her attempt? Or way after, since she kinda got up the wall with very little supplies or knowledge of how to continue?

Big brother Ray coming through to help his precious younger siblings find the courage to cross the big, scary cliff! Aaah, it’s all so adorable. He’s the best. Also, the HEAD PAT!!

(Yup, that’s some Nozel type energy right there, hahaa.. oohh I love how easily I fall for characters once they show any similarities to Ray.)

Yes sweetie, you can 100% seek out a better future! You deserve it just as much as anyone else, if not much more!

I.. have a clear bias towards how the whole wall-encounter was handled in anime rather than the manga. One reason is very obvious and I’ll gladly scream about it next chapter, but I prefer the anime more because it also shows that mom was capable of catching up to the kids fast enough and knew exactly where they might be to begin with, which of course contributes to how all-around amazing she is, whereas the manga shows her arriving a bit too late. Before that though, you get the stare down between her and Emma on the wall and it makes the whole atmosphere so tense as you anticipate what Isabella might do. It kinda surprised me when all she did was beg Emma not to leave since I was half expecting her to drag Emma back by force, like Isabella was so determined to catch them and here she is, watching them make their own choices and walk out of her life. It’s what makes her confession to Grandma Sarah in ch38 hold so much more weight when she admits that the escape was her fault. It’s not like she didn’t get there in time, like the manga portrays it, but because she simply let them go.

Favorite panel/moment:

Nat and his many sparkles!!

#the promised neverland #tpn manga #182daysoftpn #chidoroki used chatter

[longroadstonowhere]

yeah, definitely managed to stop myself playing earlier than last night (well, earlier by virtue of time played, not earlier by virtue of the clock, but you know)

did a fair bit of running around doing little of import, as expected, but i did manage to do a few cool things as well, even went back to the chasm a couple of times

also finished up the goron quest - very fascinated at the potential fake zelda or evil zelda being presented, no idea what’s going on with that yet, and the glyph memories haven’t been particularly elucidating as of yet (especially with this whole immortal dragon thing that it seems like zelda wanted to do at some point)

WHICH REMINDS ME

so obviously we had the three dragons in botw, and i remember seeing one for the first time (without being spoiled about their existence because i played botw as fast and as hard as i’m trying to do totk right now for that reason) and just being in such complete awe, but after that first time (and especially after the whole grinding them for equipment upgrade ingredients thing) i got used to them and they’re cool, but i didn’t expect to be surprised, you know?

so i’m playing tears of the kingdom, i end up over by lake hylia for the glyph and also the bridge monster (i have a special place in my heart for gleeoks because of the original zelda - still haven’t fought any in totk but definitely got pictures), and i see the electric dragon (whose name i’ve forgotten) loping through the sky and i’m like ‘oh right! that’s his pattern, he flies through the skies in this direction, cool, nice to know they haven’t changed that’

i figure out some way of getting up on his level so i can get some random ingredient off him (think i ended up with a horn piece?), and i didn’t have anything else i immediately wanted to do so i figured i’d hang around and see where he went - there’s a big ass whirlpool in lake hylia for some reason, maybe he goes in there? that’d be fun

nope

he flies into the fucking depths

i honestly couldn’t believe it at first, i had to open my map and be like ‘yup, nope, that is definitely a chasm entrance, he is just flying straight down into that chasm, holy shit’

so of course i run over and jump down the chasm with him cuz holy shit??? dragon in the depths????? and i didn’t follow him down there, but i did trigger a nearby lightroot so i can teleport there if i want and also better visibility for the next time i’m in the area, but just..... i did not expect to have such a fun moment with the dragons again, and i’m so glad it worked out

the only thing that could’ve made it better would be if i’d been down in the depths already, just toddling along, and suddenly there’s just a fucking dragon flying above me, like what the hell, i don’t even know what i would’ve done about that

at some point, after i finish all the main stuff, i’m gonna follow him through the depths just to see where he goes because hot damn that is fascinating

anyway

other than that i just did the goron thing like i said, found a few more geoglyphs (the purah pad, the molduga, and the octorok i think), activated a few towers and found one where the dude who will fix it for me said something about a cave and mushrooms but i went and looked in the only nearby cave i could find and there wasn’t anything special to do so i don’t know what he’s looking for from me??? anyway that’s something i’m figuring out later, for now i’m in kakariko village (it was very nostalgic being around the dueling peaks stable), looking forward to learning about ring ruins, and then i’ll probably go to the zora quest at some point soon

oh i also found a sky island that is just permanently waterfalling at a visible distance and i wanna know what’s up with that so bad but the island is too far for me to reach via tower jump and i have no zonai fans on my person (i have what feels like a dozen of every other item but no fans, gotta go back to the sky gacha machine as opposed to the one in the depths i found that wasn’t giving me any fans at all)

but tomorrow i’m dropping by my parents to give mother’s day stuff so i have to do hygiene things before i go (hopefully in the morning), and then i have work on monday, so the pace of gaming will be slowed a little until monday evening when my vacation truly begins

[bergens-adventure-tours]

Week 12: May 1st – 7th, 2023 // It’s all a blur

We’re just going to jump right into things this week!

--

Monday was spent as a proper “get my life together/organized.”  With tomorrow being my first day back to work after a few months jobless (but thriving I’ll add haha), I had quite a bit of general life admin stuff to check off, with final work forms to fill, grocery shop, computer clean out, van tidying, cooking, emails, etc.

--

Initially Tuesday was meant to be the first official day of training, but because work was still waiting on a few other trainees to get into town, myself and another trainee, Jono, got to go on the West McDonnell’s tour for the day!  We had such a fun day with our co-worker, Felipe, leading the tour – getting to visit some really beautiful sites and future swimming locations when the weather gets warmer.  We stopped at Simpsons Gap, Standley Chasm, Ochre Pits, Ormiston Gorge, Ellery Creek Bighole (my personal fave), and Flynn Memorial.    I ended up heading to the hostel my boss owns to get set up for the next couple weeks, and met some other coworkers + fellow tour guides from other companies (Takk (coworker), Tye, Troy, and Ash. All super lovely individuals).

Today was also a spider-experience filled day lol.  It was pretty funny and ironic, and I’m pretty sure I jinxed myself.  During one of the walks on the tour I was telling Jono how I was pretty surprised that in 3 months in Australia, I hadn’t had any notable spider experiences or seen any of the “crazy” spiders you always see on the internet, and how I kept telling family/friends it just really isn’t that bad here. And he was replying “yeah it’s not too bad but you know, you definitely do come across them eventually – like that one right there” then proceeds to point not even a metre above my head, a huge golden orb ___ and I freaked! LOL the timing was just too good and I was not expecting it to be as close as it was.  We had such a good laugh about it before I was finally collected enough to get a proper look at them.  They make those crazy matted messy looking webs that just feel all the gaps between the trees and branches (they look terrifying).

Then, when I was getting ready for bed I found a spider on my pillow (wasn’t anything big or bothersome) and it was beginning to feel like a message being sent by the spider gods because what came next I swear gave me a damn near heartattack.

Once I was ready for bed, I was just sitting on the floor in my van next to my door, organizing things, when all of the sudden, not even a foot away from me was the most terrifying spider emerging from between the door seal.  I was absolutely shook and had NO idea it was just a huntsman (these are quite common and completely harmless – aussies love these guys as they get out all the bugs. Some jokingly keep them as “roommates”).  In the moment I was very certain this thing could kill me if they wanted to because they looked SO scary (and mine was a small guy compared to how big they can actually get…).  Thankfully they didn’t run in to the van, so I was able to open the door a swoosh them out with my shoe, but when I tell you I had troubles falling asleep that night… I mean I spent the next hour worrying I would wake up to at least two in my van around my head somewhere lol.

Thankfully there have been no other spider encounters since (yet).

--

Wednesday we had our first training day, and got to meet the rest of our training group (Lynda, Cata, and George).  We spent a full day going through all the super dull, dry, typical onboarding stuff. Afterwards, Takk and I did a quick grocery run, and met up with Cata+Jono back at the hostel for some beers and ice cream.  The rest of the evening was spent making dinner and  hanging out with everyone!

--

The rest of the week was honestly pretty brutal.  Thursday we had another full day of dull training and I ended up getting sick with the flu… so the next 3.5 days were spent dying in the van as I burned and slept off the sickness.  Was pretty sad because I missed out on the groups first trip to Uluru and a trip to the climbing gym, but thankfully I’m making pretty decently quick recovery.  Still have a pretty bad cough and some congestion, but managed to start feeling well enough to get out and functioning again Sunday evening – got to meet another new trainee co-worker, Pablo!

One highlight while being sick though was I got to watch the count down for and listen to Ed Sheeran’s new album release on Saturday hehe.

--

I’ll be honest in that while this week was a lot of fun connecting with new people, the energy is still real low as I’m finally come out of the woodworks.  I’ve kept this week’s descriptions quite minimal as I’m still recovering from being sick all weekend, and brain fog is still hanging around.  There will be lots more fun updates to share next week!

Stay passionate and curious, Hunter♡

05/08/2023

[valkyrie-of-the-rising-sun]

First Draft

Okay, so I finally mustered up the motivation to finally write my Pokemon Rejuvenation fanfic, and the first draft of my prologue is done! I’ll be editing it over time, but I’ll post it up here so people can enjoy it as well. I also like hearing from you guys, so if you liked it please do provide some constructive feedback on how I can do better. So, without further ado, here’s the beta prologue chapter :D Words: 1,415 words C/W: None so far

Phantasmal Arboret was a strange land, many would say.

It is not a place that you can find on any map, nor is it somewhere that can be reached by mundane means. Only those permitted by its sole inhabitant could hope to enter the mystical realm. And the process of gaining her approval was not an easy feat, for it is only once in a blue moon would she willingly appear before humans. Even then, she does not and will not hand over this privilege lightly, for she is highly particular about the people she lets into her beloved abode.

It is, for this reason, that Phantasmal Arboret had been untouched for centuries. Millennia, even. Until tonight, that is.

For tonight, beneath the watchful gaze of the dazzling full moon, Phantasmal Arboret welcomes its first visitor in a very long time. A girl of sixteen years, all but dead to the realm atop a bed of flowers in a mist-filled clearing.

She stirred, roused by the gentle caresses of a soft breeze, yet did not wake. Only when her ears caught what sounded like a voice did she arise, dazed, eyes still bleary with sleep. She glanced around, silently taking in the tranquillity of her surroundings, until something - several, actually - dawned upon her.

One, she’s in a forest.

Two, she lived nowhere near a forest. Nothing significant, except for the fact that she called a tropical region home. And there are no forests in such climes - only jungles and rainforests.

And three, there was not a soul in sight. So whose voice did she hear?

Jolted awake by shock and urgency, she hurriedly rose to her feet, almost stumbling over in her haste to get up. There was a faint giggle in the air.

“My, did I startle you?” teased the Voice, though she could detect a hint of sheepishness in her words. “Apologies. That is not my intention.”

The girl said nothing, opting to simply shake her head.

“Do you know your name?” asked the Voice politely.

Her brows furrowed at the innocent question, but it isn’t clear whether it was done out of deep contemplation or a genuine distress borne from not knowing the answer. Perhaps it had been somewhere between the two possibilities. Either way, she did not respond immediately, letting the question roll around in her mind for a while before she spoke.

“...Hauyne,” she said, hesitantly. “That’s my name.”

“Good,” the Voice breathed a sigh of relief, though she wasn’t exactly sure why. “I had feared that your time in the chasm had worn your mind away to the point of no return. I’m glad to see that this isn’t the case.”

Chasm? What chasm? Why had she been in this chasm, whatever it is?

Countless questions swirled within Hauyne’s mind, though she made no attempt to voice it out despite her confusion. She was certain that she hadn’t been any chasms; after all, the last thing she remembered was settling in for the night, still buzzing from the victory of finishing her latest challenge run of her favourite game: Pokémon Rejuvenation.

How could she not, when the run would’ve ended in failure if it weren’t for a timely critical hit from her Togekiss’s Dazzling Gleam? It was still a spectacular win, even if it was sheer dumb luck that saved the run in the end.

…The point is, she definitely did not recall leaving her house. And she was pretty sure that she didn’t have a history of sleepwalking.

“...Ah, but where are my manners?” rambled the Voice, startling her back to reality. She had almost forgotten that she was in the middle of a conversation with a disembodied Voice.

Without warning, the whole world was engulfed in an endless sea of white. Then, just as quickly as it appeared, everything returned to normal. Or, at least, as normal as it gets for someone stunned by the abrupt change in brightness and still blinking stars out of her eyes. By the time she recovered from the unexpected flashbang, there was now a woman standing in her midst, her hands folded in front of her.

“My name is Variya,” the woman introduced herself with a genial smile, acting as if she hadn’t just given her guest vertigo with her flashy entrance. “And I have a proposal to ask of you.”

“Variya?” she repeated, a glint of recognition in her eyes. “You’re…”

“I see that you’ve heard of me,” mused Variya, a thoughtful look crossing her face. Then, she smiled. “Well. That makes things easier. You are fully aware of what I am about to request of you, yes?”

Hauyne nodded. “To assume the role of the Interceptor and save your world, right?”

“Indeed,” Variya inclined her head slightly, her countenance taking on a serious demeanour. “Soon, a great Calamity shall befall my beloved home, and only the Interceptor may deliver it from its fate. You are our best candidate for the role.”

“Why?” asked Hauyne, frowning. “I have no stake in this.”

“Quite the contrary, my dear,” Variya countered with an odd, enigmatic smile. “You have something we don’t. Something that could very well turn the tides of this conflict. Do you know what it is?”

Hauyne’s eyes widened, a sense of understanding dawning upon her. Then, she frowned. “But that doesn’t explain why I should accept your proposal. Nor does it tell me why of all the players out there, you chose me.”  

“Let’s say you accepted my proposal and became the Interceptor,” began Variya. “With your metaknowledge and the ability to defy fate without suffering the consequences, what’s stopping you from altering the fates of those you care about? Perhaps you could have given them the life they never could have.”  

She would never admit it, but the offer was starting to get tempting. Call it foolish sentimentality, but she had gotten attached to those little pixels representing the main cast on her screen as she travelled Aevium. The notion that she could help them secure a better future than what was previously plausible had been planted in her head, and there was no way Hauyne could have shaken it off now. It was simply too tantalising for her to dismiss it.

“As for your second inquiry,” continued Variya, either oblivious to or ignoring Hauyne’s contemplative state. “I called for you, simply because you were the only one who heard my pleas for help.”

Hauyne said nothing, only offering a quiet nod in understanding.

“So what will be your answer?” proposed Variya, looking at Hauyne with anticipation. “Do you accept, or will you refuse?”

“Let’s say I refuse,” said Hauyne, crossing her arms across her chest. “What will you do?”

Variya seemed taken aback at the hypothetical she suggested, if the sudden flinching was of any indication. Her verdant eyes gleamed with some emotion she couldn’t identify, or perhaps emotions, and for a moment Hauyne feared that she had somehow gotten ahead of herself. Before she could even spit out a hasty apology, Variya spoke.

“...I will return you from whence you came from,” the woman said carefully, speaking with a measured pace as though afraid that she would lose her composure if she were to go any faster. “And I shall select from the remaining candidates in the hopes that one will accept their role. You may wash your hands clean of this affair and carry on with your life, whatever it may be.”

Hauyne said nothing, but one could plainly see the turmoil of conflicting emotions raging within her eyes.

“I will ask again: will you become the saviour that my world needs?”

“...Yes,” Hauyne replied, after a moment of hesitation. “I have nothing to return to, so might as well.”

Variya beamed, this time a genuine expression of joy and gratitude. “Thank you.”

A familiar sigil illuminated from beneath Hauyne’s feet, bathing the entire clearing in holy light. She jumped back, surprised, yet she couldn’t help but stare at the sigil underneath her in awe. It was the sigil of the Core: the source of the Interceptor’s powers, and also the heart of the planet that  Pokémon call home. With it, she could…

“Interceptor, oh great Interceptor,” Variya said, reverence in her tone as she bowed imploringly at Hauyne. “Please deliver the world from its fate.”

Brilliant light erupted from the sigil, engulfing everything into a sea of white. Then, darkness, and the sensation of falling… falling… falling…

Until Hauyne felt herself hit solid ground.

#pokemon rejuvenation #rejuv fanfiction #original character #oc main character #variya pokemon rejuvenation #constructive criticism is appreciated :D #the more feedback i can get. the quicker i can get this published in ao3

[bh-reports]

DUDE

That was a good drafting session. I originally wrote Chasm what feels like a long while back but couldn’t have been any more than 2 months.

It’s funny how much time I’ve invested into What’s the Catch? only to be like… yeah, nah…

Like I could start there but it doesn’t feel quite right. I like starting so I have a rough baseline for Hamish.

It just makes sense. I don’t want to start too depressing, I’d rather build up to it.

The backstory is interesting but honestly not as interesting as the middle bits.

Here’s my idea of Chronology

Spin Me a Yarn (background)

Those Aren’t My Car Keys

Chasm

What’s the Catch

Spin Me a Yarn (present)

.

It’d be pretty hard to move on writing wise from What’s the Catch without going back to Spin Me a yarn. My best bet is that it will end up background mostly finished before I get to the present version of Spin Me a Yarn since the past inspires too much of the future.

No way to tell exactly how I’ll handle all this. I’m mostly focused on writing Those Aren’t My Car Keys.

Chasm 1.0 definitely will be trashed canon-wise. I don’t plan on deleting it. It feels like a testament to how far I’ve come.

Plus I find it hilarious how paranoid I was about the Tubular chapter which will inevitably be scrapped. I just have a feeling that there might be force food involved but I doubt that it would be that unintended s3xual connotations . My bet is that Crane would do something that makes Hamish choke before it’s like that. It’d be a far quicker chapter. Or it would be frequent forced meals. Or it would simply not be Crane doing the forcing.

He would more likely report to Skull that Hamish is avoiding it than actually doing it. Maybe he’s use you as a teddy bear, happy about your distended belly because that meant you wouldn’t die.

Perhaps when you overflow with magic Skull would admit: yeah, my bad.

But it’s already pretty fucked by that point.

The extra nutrients prob would last Hamish during a starving bit so they could clear their head before talking again.

#cave horror #undertale fanfic discussion #_ufd

[versesverapierrespen]

A Tragic Story

I met you. A rocky start, but that’s okay. A year, a dynamic, and then we went our separate ways, But that’s okay.

But once again, we found our way, From a little "hello" or a "hey", To "Do you ever think about your soulmate?" And "Why are parents part of the people we hate?"

At 3 a.m., when the world is dead and it’s just us over text. From, "Oh, I’m learning so much about you", To, "I knew it! I know everything about you",

Two broken kids, although one still clung to hope, That fed her delusion around her neck like a rope.

And I believed our connection, was mutual, We were definitely past the point of casual.

But the delusion didn’t end there, The noose, it tightened, Because you made me believe, That you’d love me, no matter what happened.

So, I took off my robes, and let you see me nude, Because delusion, she said I’d too see you bare and shrewd, But all you did, was take off your shoes, You need more time, I thought, like I didn’t have any clues.

I hand you a scalpel for precision cuts, And the noose tightened till I almost couldn’t breathe, Because you thought I’m pretty inside.

But you’ll love me anyway, I have nothing more to hide.

You cut me open and the stench was foul, Flies burst out, putrid pus oozed down, Maggots fed on a rotting heart, And you realized you didn’t like it.

You saw in me a brutal war, and fallen men, Blood stained weapons, burnt and a barren field, Crying mothers, and vicious beasts that won't yield. And you realized you didn’t like it.

I can’t blame you, how can I? When I know nobody likes a rotting corpse, With rotten views, and a rotten heart, I warned you, I’d told you from the start.

What did you think you’d find? Spring flowers, and sunshine? Serene water, a breeze that was kind? A warm sunset beach, and wine?

I’d understand if you’d told me then, You can’t stand me, That the pus that dripped after you stitched me up, It repulses you, it makes you want to flee.

But delusion met trust, When you told me over and over again, That it was no big deal, that I was normal, That you still loved ugly me, that was certain.

The poison inside you, boiled, bubbled, bitter in taste, All the while, you kept a sweet face, Until one fine day, you couldn’t take it anymore, And down my throat, you poured.

The wound from then is open again, Because I wouldn’t stay in my place. I picked at the half-healed scab in the rain, I don't let it heal, it's always a bleeding disgrace.

I tried to show nothing, say nothing, be an empty face, A chasm of empty space, A contented blank slate, But you perceived what I left unsaid.

Heavy words on the tip of my tongue, Added to the list of regrets too long for someone this young, You read them anyway, this is nothing new, Because no one is more fluent in me than you.

Today was the first time I saw you in 477 days. Today you saw me for the first time in 477 days. Shock, surprise, awkwardness, repulsion, disgust, Avoidance, avoidance, avoidance.

Have I really repulsed you so much, That you can't bear to even look at me, When I'm standing right here, A few inches from you?

You’re looking at a wall, Instead of looking at me. I pass by you, but if you'd call, I know I’d crawl back to you, on my knees.

I had almost forgotten I was a corpse. Almost. Almost. Almost.

But you reminded me, now I’ll remember, Two corpses, one buries the other, Where I’ll burn your flesh, And your bones I’ll devour.

Now, you’re six feet under, Sometimes, I’ll come by to leave you flowers, But no more will I reminisce, nor wonder, “What would’ve happened if…” for hours.

I see that we hid behind Pride, All while Pride called us cowards. Tragically, we’re both to blame, For something beautiful between us that soured.

—Vera Pierre

[moonxbat98]

Kingdom Fall

Her New Beginning

Crazy

Eric’s POV 

This girl is crazy.

“First jumper! Mallory!”

Four’s voice echoed back to Eric and the other initiates from below.

He must have mistaken the initiate for an Amity, because she certainly did not act like one. She looked like Amity though. The bright, loose clothing. Her very long hair that nearly covered her ass. 

It’s a shame it would have to be cut. 

There was an edge to her posture and energy no one would have imagined or thought she’d have about her for an Amity. Eric zeroed in almost immediately on the sharpness of her gaze, the clench of muscle in her cheek. 

The bruises on her wrists. 

Her neck. 

Barely visible, a few days old. 

Either she didn’t notice or didn’t care, but for a second their eyes had met and he knew she would be trouble.  

His next thought was that she may be Divergent. 

But he shook it from his head, a laugh coming out of his mouth. It was not a happy laugh, but instead low-pitched and clipped. A laugh of cold, biting amusement laced with a hidden threat. 

He’d have to watch her closely. 

“So, who’s next?” 

Eric clapped his hands together looking over the remaining initiates, “Come on. The Amity went first for fuck sake. None of you other transfers got the balls?” 

The first Candor boy pushed through the crowd with a prideful sniff, “Just wanted to make sure the best of the us wouldn’t die. This year’s lot is pitiful.” 

This initiate was right about that. 

The Candor boy was second to drop. His excuse pitiful.

Eric rolled his eyes and glanced down over the ledge, seeing first the net shining dimly in the sunlight and then Four standing beside it with Mallory hovering beside him. 

She wasn’t paying attention to Four though and fortunately, Four didn’t pay her any mind either. He was focused on helping the Candor boy, who proclaimed himself to be Crusher (stupid name), out of the net. 

Mallory looked like a little girl that got lost in a candy store, her head moving this way and that as she observed everything around her. Soft-looking, pale blonde hair brushed across her hips with every twist; every turn. 

Shame. 

He was sure there were a lot of secrets this girl was keeping to herself. 

There was no way in hell she came from Amity. 

It didn’t make any sense. 

The Amity people were known for their acceptance, peace, love, and all that happy bullshit. So why would she, one of the hippies, choose Dauntless? She would be pushed to her limit, possibly beat down before being broken down. Sure, there had been transfers from Amity before, but all of them had been males. Even they could not pass initiation. 

Some failed. 

Others gave up. 

A couple of them threw themselves over the chasm. 

Eric was definitely going to be keeping an eye on the first jumper.  

Mallory’s POV 

I can’t believe I just did that. 

I basically turned my back on everything I’ve ever known and jumped off the edge of a building  ⎯  without thought.

After jumping onto a fast-moving train, then off the locomotive onto the gravel rooftop of a building with a gap about six feet wide (as well as several stories high) nothing seemed to stop her.  

I am no longer scared, little Anna. 

My name is Mallory. 

I’m Dauntless.

Once the other initiates were gathered around Four he clapped his hands, “Welcome to Dauntless. My name’s Four and I’ll be your tour guide. Follow me and don’t get into your head, I don’t make it a habit repeating myself. Hopefully you will all try your hardest to get through initiation and become Dauntless, for real.” With a subtle tilt of the head Four turned on his heel and walked off, continuing on in his tour-guide voice.  “Right now we’re coming up on the Pit, center of life here at Dauntless. You have your cafes, your shops, bars, clubs. It’s quite endless, but don’t go too far along the Pit. You may end up lost. Soon we’ll reach the chasm and it’s bridge which leads to the other side of the Dauntless faction, which is where you’ll be training.” 

Mallory followed behind closely at Four’s back, hoping to earn brownie points for eagerness. Her muscles were slowly starting to get over the ache of the unexpected train ride, but there was a slight burn across her back. 

Must’ve hit the floor when I landed in the net. 

A shoulder bumped her behind them and she narrowed her eyes to see Crusher had taken the lead of the initiates. He glanced over his shoulder and grinned cheekily, “Nice try.”

What a stupid name. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, initiate.” 

Mallory smirked as Crusher’s nostrils flare in annoyance, but the smirk faltered when she was grabbed roughly by the arm. For the second time in one day she tugged her arm out of the hand that gripped her elbow, whirling on the perpetrator. 

Eric. 

Had she already pissed off one of the leaders? 

There was a sneer on his clean-cut face, which wasn’t a good sign. 

“I’ll be seeing you in training today.” 

Oh, great. 

“Hey, what’s so special about her? She probably won’t even last an hour.” 

Eric and Mallory both turned to the voice. 

It was almost accusing, but most of all whiny. It came from the second Candor, who made the good choice to keep his birth name. Zeke. 

“What’s so special about you? Was anyone speaking to you, initiate?” 

Zeke gulped and had no time to step down before Eric crossed the distance between the two of them, looking like he would start pissing in his pants. “N-no, sir. I just happened to overhear.”

Eric got into Zeke’s face with a snarl, “What gives you the right to eavesdrop on a conversation one of your leaders has with another initiate? What if I had been talking to another soldier of Dauntless? Another leader? I suggest you focus on yourself, initiate, and work on how you want to become one of those Dauntless soldiers.” He cracked his knuckles, watching Zeke’s eyes drop to the floor.

Zeke practically shook in his shoes while everyone stared, even Four who seemed like this would usually be the type of situation he’d step in between. “Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again, sir.” 

“Damn right it won’t happen again. It doesn’t matter who I talk to, hell it doesn’t even matter who Four talks to, because we are here to make sure you don’t screw up and that we don’t screw up should we ever take in your sorry ass.” 

Four finally spoke up, glaring at Eric, “That’s enough. Don’t you have other duties to attend to before you’re required to pop in during training to check in with the progress of our newest initiates? Or rather, torture and terrify them.” 

Another rivalry, she noticed. 

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Now get these initiates out of my sight.” 

The Erudite girl, who also changed her name (from Avery Maddox to simply Maddox), cleared her throat. “May I ask a question, sir?” 

Eric inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly, “What is it, initiate?”

“Where are we going to be sleeping?”

The cold, stone-faced leader chuckled. “I guess you’ll be finding out pretty soon.”

Mallory shook her head as the initiates regrouped around Four and Crusher snickered at Zeke, “This will be interesting.”

I hope Maddox and I don’t have to share living quarters close to the boys. 

That would most definitely be interesting.

And by interesting, she meant horrifying. 

. o . o . o . o . o . o . o . 

Okay. 

She could get through this. 

It isn’t that big of a deal. 

But it was not an idea she was fond of. 

Boys and girls dorm. 

One big room, filled with six hopeful Dauntless initiates. It was going to be okay though, there was no need for her to worry. Mallory no longer had to worry about Andrew, nor did she have to worry about him bursting in (possibly wielding a farming scythe) and laying into her for whatever it was he thought she had done wrong. 

And she had probably pissed Andrew off on a whole other level when she chose Dauntless over Amity at her choosing ceremony. But it was her choice all along. 

Not his. 

Not her mother’s. 

Mallory chose the cot closest to the toilets, having surveyed the area before picking out where she would lay. The showers were close to where the two Candor-transfers picked to sleep (while glaring at each other), the middle of the room taken up the cute couple from Abnegation whom she didn’t want to be near (in case they decided to try anything sneaky while assuming everyone is asleep), and the Erudite-transfer was still trying to make a decision on where to lay.

She hoped, while changing out of her Amity clothes and into the training uniform laid out on her chosen bed, that Kimberly isn’t suffering too bad.

“Whoo, check it out. Amity has curves in all the right places. Is that some muscle too I see?” Crusher leered from across the room, closest to the entrance into the boys and girls dorm. “Guess we’re gonna have to watch our backs.” There was no seriousness to his tone, all humor designed to get underneath her skin. 

Mallory only glared at him, zipping the cool-feeling leather jacket up to her collar. She knew from past experience that her chest was the first thing other men saw when they first met her. Though most women in Amity never wore bras because they was viewed as rejecting the Lord’s creation (you) Mallory hated them because they were confining. 

Curse her mother and her genes. 

There was no getting under her skin when it came to the body, for Amity were generally very loving and nurturing people. It was something that Mallory was capable of, but didn’t make use of often. Insecurity has also never been a problem for her before and it was, of course, not at all a problem for the other women / men of Amity. There were a lot of fucked up beliefs the Amity had that Mallory did not agree with or particularly like, but of course every faction has their faults. 

So what are the faults within the Dauntless?

Maddox finally strode up to her, looking less than pleased, “Do you mind if I sleep on the cot beside you? I promise you that I don’t snore. But I don’t feel comfortable on that side of the room.” 

She must not want to be around me because I’ve done ruffled a few feathers between our leaders and the other initiates. But she obviously did not like the idea of being around the Candor-transfers or the Abnegation-transfers. 

“Sure, why not? I don’t bite.” 

Maddox almost smiled, but just as Mallory caught the flicker of a smile her lips tightened into a thin line as she turned her back on Mallory to change. 

[carolap53]

“Now grace was given to each one of us according to the measure of Christ’s gift.” Ephesians 4:7 (CSB)

Do you ever find yourself defining life by “before” and “after” the deep hurt?

The horrific season. The conversation that stunned you. The shocking day of discovery. The relationship you hoped would go the distance, but it didn’t. The day your friend walked away. The hurtful conversation. The remark that seems to be branded on your soul. The day everything changed.

That marked moment in time. Life before. Life now. Is it even possible to move on from something like this?

I deeply understand this kind of defining devastation in such a personal way. I also know how the Christmas season can magnify all of that pain.

People who are no longer a part of our lives are missing from holiday traditions. Ornaments and photographs that should bring joy stir up feelings of grief instead. Memories that were once sweet now serve only to widen the chasm between what was and what is.

So what are we supposed to do with all of these mementos and memories? The ones where there was some good there at one time, there were some beautiful things, and there are some good memories even if the good turned bad and an ending was absolutely necessary … Do we go through our homes and throw everything out? Is there a way for us to walk away holding on to our integrity? Is there a way to let someone walk away from us without hating them? Is there any way for a bad goodbye to be a “good” bye still?

It’s interesting that the original phrase in the late 1500s was “God be with ye.” The contraction of that phrase was “Godbwye” which eventually became “goodbye.”

I’ve recently sat with the thought of goodbyes being more of a sending off with God rather than a slammed door, a contact deleted and a puddle of angst. Is it possible for a goodbye to be more than a good riddance with a huff of disgust? I wonder. When Jesus watched the rich young ruler walk away, what was the look in His eyes? (Matthew 19:22) I wonder. When Peter denied Jesus and abandoned Him just before Jesus went to the cross, what was the goodbye like? A goodbye Jesus surely whispered through a busted-up body and a broken heart? (Mark 14:71-72) I wonder what it was like when Judas, with a heart full of betrayal, kissed Jesus’ cheek, sold Him out and then ended his own life. (Matthew 26:47-49) How did Jesus say goodbye? I’ll never really know on this side of eternity.

But I have a thought. I think Jesus said goodbye the same way He lived all the days before the hurt, betrayal, rejection and abandonment. While the relationships certainly changed, He didn’t let the goodbye change Him. He let people walk away without letting go of who He was. Even when people turned on Jesus, He didn’t let a goodbye turn Him into someone He was never meant to be.

And while I’ll be the first one to admit I’m nowhere close to the purity and perfection of Jesus, I also don’t want goodbyes in my life to make it look like I’ve never spent any time with Jesus at all.

I haven’t been great about this in the past. But I’d like to get better.

Friend, can I whisper something I’m learning?

Staying here, blaming that person and forever defining your life by what they did will only increase the pain. Worse, it will keep projecting out onto others. The more our pain consumes us, the more it will control us. And sadly, it’s those who least deserve to be hurt whom our unresolved pain will hurt the most.

We can’t edit reality to try to force healing. We can’t fake our way into being OK with what happened. But we can decide that the ones who hurt us don’t get to decide what we do with our memories. Our lives can be a graceful combination of beautiful and painful. We don’t have to put either definitive label on it — it can be both-and.

Maybe that’s part of what’s hard about moving on: the letting go. But what if it’s possible to let go of what we must but still carry with us what is beautiful and meaningful and true to us? And maybe this less-severe version of moving on is what will ease us to a place of forgiveness, allowing God’s grace for us to flow freely through us like today's key verse talks about. (Ephesians 4:7)

There’s been enough trauma. So because I don’t want anything else ripped or stripped away, I need to decide what stays and what goes.

This is what I need. This is what I want. I’d like a little more “God be with you” in my goodbyes.

Some of the memories of what happened will probably always be painful and not good at all. But the thought of “God be with you” has really stuck to something good in my heart. And it’s sneaking into my thoughts and my processing and even my conversations as Christmas is approaching.

And then the other night I literally just closed my eyes and pictured Jesus’ hands. I mentally started placing all the memories, one by one, into His strong, carpentry-calloused, nail-pierced, grace-gripped hands. I asked the Lord to help me whisper “God be with you” over each memory.

It didn’t settle everything yet. But it was a start, and I believe that Jesus is working in me and healing my heart.

I want this for you, too, however this translates within the context of your pain, those pictures, those memories, those times of togetherness.

This isn’t easy, sweet friend. But let's determine today that we don't want to let pain write our future.

God, You understand so very personally and deeply the heartache of watching someone You love walk away. As I look back at what was and look ahead at what will be, I know You are a refuge and safe place to process my feelings. Thank You for being so close to me during this time. I am looking to You and believing that today I can take some steps forward and whisper “God be with you” to those who have left wounds in my heart. This isn’t me saying I’m OK with what they did — I know You will eventually hold them accountable for their sin. But it is me saying I want to fully live again. You can bring eventual good in all things, and today I trust that You absolutely will. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Biblegateway

[saintarchie]

Cluster One

So now what?

Exploring Caldisla, it really does appear to have reverted to the state it was in prior to the first chapter. The only difference is an addition to the weapons on sale, and Edea & Ringabel hanging out at opposite ends of the town. According to them, Agnès just left, possibly en route for the Great Chasm. Since there doesn’t seem to be anything else going on here, I can only assume Tiz is meant to follow.

Let’s do that then. Interestingly, it seems that while the world has been reset storyline-wise, the enemies appear to have been scaled up compared to where they were before. The things I’m running into now definitely weren’t here the first time around, and are strong enough to pose a threat, even with Tiz at level 60.

Upon reaching Norende, Tiz finds, to his despair, that the chasm is indeed still there. Shortly afterwards, he himself is found by Agnès, who asks Airy why her plan doesn’t seem to have worked. Airy doesn’t know, or at least claims not to. Based on the fact that the chasm is still here, the seas have rotted and the points of light on her brooch have gone dark, she surmises that the world has reverted to how it was before the crystals were awakened.

Agnès agrees with this analysis, but notes one important difference: They are not the same people they were at the start. Tiz agrees, noting that they could probably do it all again if they had to, and after a brief philosophical detour, he and Agnès decide that their best course of action is to do exactly that. Of course, that will mean re-recruiting the rest of the party, so back to town we go.

Talking to Ringabel, it seems that things aren’t quite the same as they were last time; nobody remembers having met him before, even though by this point in time he should have been in Caldisla for a few weeks. This relates to something that’s been bothering me, namely that Ringabel and Alternis both seem to have been staying in Caldisla at the same time. Which can’t be possible, unless they somehow never ran into each other the entire time. However, the present situation might provide an answer: If Ringabel is indeed Alternis from a timeline prior to the previous one, and he went back in time by the same method, then it would seem to follow that this would be the moment that he appeared in the previous timeline, i.e just after Ominas burns down part of the town, when the player meets him for the first time. The Ringabel who was running around Caldisla before that was Alternis doing his undercover work. I don’t know if that’s right, but it seems to fit what I know at this point.

Of course, it doesn’t explain why no one remembers him this time around, unless we assume that for some reason, Alternis didn’t infiltrate Caldisla this time. Which could be the case, although I don’t know why that would have changed. Speaking of Alternis, the other party members have questions about why he and Ringabel have the same face, and, since his memory hasn’t returned, so does Ringabel, although he’s not yet up to thinking too hard about it.

He does agree to come and re-awaken the crystals with the others, bringing the party back up to three. Before going after Edea, they discuss the two journals that they now have, noting, as I did, how they start out almost identical, before diverging. Ringabel seems to be on the verge of some kind of revelation, but then loses sight of it. I’m starting to wonder if the thing that blocked out his memories might also be preventing him from trying to figure out what happened to them, like some kind of defence mechanism. Guess I’ll find out.

That leaves Edea. She’s over by the graveyard, pontificating on the fact that things don’t quite fit the way they ought to if time had simply been rewound. Ringabel concurs, referring back to the fact that no one here remembers him. Notably, he says he spent “close to a week” here, but going by the dates in the journal, it should have been at least two weeks by this point, which would seem to be further proof that Ringabel didn’t arrive until after Alternis left.

Leaving that aside, Edea agrees that restoring the crystals again is probably the best option, and so the party is back together. After this, the party have another conversation, that seems to confirm my theory: Agnès remembers her first meeting with Ringabel (from the day before Alternis left) and says that he seemed like a different person from the current Ringabel, while Ringabel himself recalls Owen talking about going boar hunting “again”, despite his having no memory of having done so. Yeah, I think I’m on the right track with this one.

Back at the inn, the discussion continues, with Ringabel noting that while the world has reverted to an earlier state, their possession of items like the Vestal Garb means that they have not, and that something else is going on here. The conversation is interrupted by further proof of this, in the form of Datz, who it seems has also returned to the past. Talking to him reveals that Zatz and the Proprietress have as well, and that they brought the Grandship with them(!)

Well that’s going to make life a lot easier.

It does stand to reason, they were all there at the Holy Pillar as well. Are there two Grandships now? That’s going to raise a few questions. Which leads me back to the question of where this timeline’s version of the party is. Given the other differences to this timeline, (specifically the absence of Ringabel from people’s memories), it might be the case that they never made it here this time. But then Karl did remember Tiz, so he must have been here. But then why isn’t he still here? And how did he get here if Ringabel/Alternis wasn’t around to pull him out of the river? Might be best to just chalk all of this up to “lol, time travel” and move on for the moment.

Back on board Grandship, the party similarly agrees to leave theorising about what just happened to one side for the moment, and focus on re-awakening the crystals. With access to the ship from the start, that should be a lot easier, though the more difficult enemies I’ve already encountered lead me to suspect that it won’t be that simple in practice.

#archie plays bravely default

[readingshenaniganss]

They Both Die In The End

First on the list of books I read back in June but didn't actually write about, They Both Die At the End by Adam Silvera.

So I expected something titled like this to not be an exactly happy book. I was prepared for that. I however was not expecting it to reach straight into my chest, rip out my heart, then make direct eye contact as it crushed my still beating heart.

I loved it.

And yes, I know I’m late to the party, okay! But when I had heard about this book back when it first came out it sounded like an interesting but potentially devastating read and I wasn’t in the mood for trauma. So I didn’t immediately pick it up. I just went ‘oh yeah, I’ll definitely read that at some point.’ Cut to June of this year when I decided to start this blog, and I was browsing the ebooks my library had for queer books. I went ‘Oh yeah, this book! I meant to read this. When did it come out again? Oh dear gods, 2017… Yeah, you can come out of TBR hell.’

So for those who are also late to the party like I was, They Both Die at The End is a YA novel by Adam Silvera. It takes place in a world that is almost exactly like our world, except for one small detail. On the day you’re supposed to die, you get a call to tell you that fun fact about yourself. No information on how you die or exactly when you’re going to die that day, just that in the next 24 hours you will die. And on September 5th Mateo and Rufus, two total strangers, both get the call that makes their worlds collide.

This book was such a fantastic and wonderful read. I don’t even know if I have any complaints about it. Besides did it have to attack me like that but that’s besides the point.

They Both Die at The End was such a lovely, thought provoking read that I will highly recommend to everyone to be traumatized by. It’s a multiple POV story that never had me annoyed at the switch in perspective, had world building that was logical to how humans would react to this piece of technology being introduced to our lives, and was just in general a wonderful snapshot of people and what makes us tick.

Mateo is our first character we’re introduced to. He’s an anti-social nerd who likes living in his little bubble, but wants to try to break out and be someone else on his End Day. Rufus is a more adventurous person who due to a slew of bad circumstances has ended up with no one to be there for him on his last day. So the two both download the app Last Friend to find someone to spend their last day with.

Rufus I didn’t originally like just because he came off as an arrogant and self-centred person. But by the next chapter or two from his perspective you pretty much realize that our intro to him is him at his lowest, which he fully admits. It actually made me appreciate our intro to him because of this duality. I also won’t say he’s exactly a daredevil, throw himself into any situation out there kind of person, because he wasn’t. He was maybe a little more out there then the average person, but otherwise not the craziest thing to happen, which I felt was good. It wasn’t like the two had to meet for a chasm, more like a big river. Tough, but doable.

The two were a bit of a mismatch pair though, and I don’t know if I exactly saw the likelihood of them developing feelings for each other by the end of the story. That said I was still happy to see it cause once they were together they were cute. Also the two definitely went through more than enough together that while the personalities were a bit mismatched, I’m sure trauma bonding was more than enough to create fertile grounds for feelings that allowed them to get together. Plus they were on a timeline so not like there were a super lot of options.

I want to take a second to talk about the multiple POV’s that popped up in this book. I went in expecting it to be a to just be a dual perspective, but instead found numerous. This is a very risky move for me, as for many others, as you risk annoying the reader by ripping them out of one narrative to toss them into a completely different one. This did not make me feel that. Instead it made me appreciate all the different stories and how Silvera masterfully created a tapestry where they all connected to each other, from major events to the little ones that only gently brushed up against each other, making up the backgrounds of each other's stories. It captured both the experience of living in a bigger city where the population means there are going to people who you maybe meet briefly who you have no impact on their lives, you just make up the scenery. And others who, even though an interaction can be brief, it can change your day or evening you life.

I could maybe make a post just about that aspect, but I’ll control myself.

One of the things I do want to talk about is just that I was very intrigued to see not only the integration of the Deathcast, the name of the company calls people to ‘herald’ their deaths, but also the lack of focus on it. In this world this technology has only been around for a little under a decade, so it’s interesting to see how this world has adapted to it. There are hashtags for it, services designed specifically for people who have one last day, and apps. Our two characters meet through Last Friend, essentially a tinder account but for friends who want don’t want to spend their last day alone but may not have anyone near them.

But this story never explains how this techonology came about, how it works, nothing. Several characters even bring up the question of how this is even possible, but it’s never even hinted at. The most we get are the type of conspiracy theories friends make hanging out on a Friday night. Because the story doesn’t care about that. It’s not a sci-fi novel trying to unravel the great mysteries of the universe. It’s just a story about people.

I loved that Silvera really thought about how people would react to this new world, because he really thinks about all of it. The funny, ridiculous bits, like people using Last Friend to see if anyone wants to give their stuff away because it’s not like their going to use it, right? The hateful bits, where when someone gets the bad news they decide to make it everyone's problem. Even the cynicall, as we see from one woman how to get through her job at Deathcast where she gives people the bad news she admits that every person she calls she no longer thinks as a person, cause they’ll be dead soon anyway. And the wonderful bits, where people decide to still try to reach out and be there for people, like Gabriella, a girl who constantly uses the Last Friend app to be a spot of comfort for people’s End Day.

One of the last things I’ll note about this book is just how much it can get you to think and to wonder. About how people react and handle the news, about what our world would like like if this happened, about the possibility of it. For me though, my biggest question was is this a good thing? This story made no joke about pointing out how once people got the news they would then do things they wouldn’t normally do, in which case, was they’re death absolute? Or could it have been avoided? Some people do crazy things their last day, which then causes their death. Some people stay home to avoid the outside world, but then when they would have been out at work or school is when they’re home when an electrical problem happens at home and causes a fire.

The ending was brutal because of this, because if the two main characters had lived their lives as they normally would they wouldn’t have died. But then they wouldn’t have met at all, which they both said made the day worth it for each other. It leads to the question is it worth it if you get one day to be your authentic and realest self in such a way you never would have in the first place? For our protagonists, the answer is yes.

Silvera didn’t have to attack me like that though.

My last point is just that I really loved this book because of how much it seemed to be a love story not about the two main characters, but about human nature in generally. About how messy, caring, angry, depressed, loving, hateful, and hopeful people can be. It’s probably one of the reasons I like the POV’s instead of hating it. Silvera knows what the focus of his story is and that’s people. Ridiculous, despicable, wonderful people.

10/10 and a tissue box

As a side note, he has written a prequel that comes out this October and I’m not ready to be traumatized by this man again.

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