#desolate paradise

[livewildlivefree]

Happy Halloween Everyone!

Happy Halloween Everyone!

I hope you all have a Spooky Day!

#my fanmade au #desolate paradise #motorcity #wolf rain #motorcityxwolf rain #mike chilton #chuck #dutch gordy #Texas #julie #Jacob #R.O.T.H #my gif #happy halloween #creator wishes you all a Happy Halloween! #credits to titmouse for motorcity #credits to keiko nobumoto for wolf rain #don’t steal #don't repost #reblog is appreciated

[candyredmusings]

Panic Attacks In Paradise - Ashnikko

#musings #the self destructive #the broken bird #the desolate #the hopeless #the miscreant #the lowlife #source: panic attacks in paradise - ashnikko

[merakiui]

never-ending noctuary; love forevermore.

yandere!malleus draconia x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, somnophilia, non-con, overblot!malleus, obsession, breeding, baby-trapping, malleus is written to have two dicks, spoilers for part two of book seven note - and sitting powerful on his throne of thorns, omniscience at his fingertips, the lord of malevolence takes a bride.

An eerie, all-consuming quiet has fallen over Sage’s Island.

It is frigid and unfriendly like winter. Harsh and oppressive like silence. Painful and abrasive like brambles. Time has come to a swift halt here, and with it the people fall into never-ending euneirophrenia. Delights so dreamy shall inhabit the minds of all who sleep, the grandest gift granted to those unwilling. Like fate itself, wound around every living soul, it is inescapable. Inevitable like death—unfair and unforgettable.

But then it is also peaceful and secure. Quaint and warm like a blanket. Fluffy and floral like spring’s first kiss. Solace is far sweeter when spent in oneiric solitude, and so it will seem for one-thousand years. Forevermore, stretched taut into the future, the dream persists.

Is that not the best blessing? To those who wish to savor a fleeting moment just a second more, is this not a wish granted generously tenfold? Rather than immortalizing the past with photographs, it shall never come to pass. There is no need for bittersweet recollections or tearful farewells. The present will persevere, lived out in endless dreams.

Surely this is the correct course. Not just for Malleus, for he is a gentle, kind creature who recognizes the mutual desire for interminable merriment, but for the entirety of the island. Although in hoping for love forevermore, he has shackled himself to selfish, Epicurean pleasures. The type which normally lasts as long as a vision spent on cloud nine.

Currently, sitting proud and alone on a cold throne, Malleus knows of no greater joy.

The party may have fallen still as the grave, bodies slumbering in stiff propinquity, but it hasn’t finished. The food may have congealed, inedible and decaying, but it is there. A testament to spirits kept aloft, if only to ensure no one ever knows the desolation of endings.

Paradise is what you make of it. Thus, should you hope for it, you can walk on the clouds in your mind and never know of Icarus’s plights. You can shed insecurities and anxieties and taste delectable metamorphosis. You can be anyone and anything. You can be strong and wealthy. You can be fearless and heroic. You can be an impossible ideal.

You can be loved.

Malleus watches your seemingly lifeless form splayed on the sofa, limbs draped over that of Ace and Deuce. It’s a tranquil sight, a marionette freed from the strings of somber, suffocating life.

Under a roof of thorns, you are reborn.

Paradise is wondrous for Malleus, albeit a touch silent. He wonders what you might say if you were to stand at his side and observe this eternal slumber party. Would it fill you with awe? With appreciation? With abject terror?

Perhaps there is no use in theorizing. He doesn’t need to know, for you will love him even in sleep.

He rises, taking each step at a time. Thorny branches and roots part to make way for him, a groom traversing the aisle in search of his bride. You lie still, secrets sealed behind pretty, plush lips, and if he was not the cause for your current state he might assume you were late.

But there is no death here. It cannot reach. It will never reach because Paradise knows not of death or suffering.

Paradise is the garden before the infestation. Paradise is the body before bacterial devastation. Paradise is love before departed lamentation.

Malleus gazes at your restful face, leaning down to trace a clawed, blot-tainted finger along your cheek. There are no tears; you are a doll incapable of such sorrow, sculpted to portray perfect neutrality. He is most pleased with this development, his chest rumbling with a triumphant chuckle. Now you shall never know an ending ever again. Now you shall remain here, safe and stagnant in his arms, far from the mirror that may allow you to return home.

Gathering your body in his arms, he lifts you from the cushions. You crumble in his grasp, head lolling and arms noodling at your sides. Sagging dead weight, but he places his ear to your chest to listen to the melodic thrum of your heart. You’re alive, frailty shielded from the horrors of the world. Here, in thorny idyll, you will live forevermore.

Historically, all rulers must have someone to call their own. Whether it be by way of arrangement or convenience, strung together for the sake of conjoined power or out of obligation, this is an irrefutable fact. Historically, all rulers must bear an heir—someone to carry on the glory of an ever-present lineage.

Malleus refuses to bring a child into the world unless they are given the blessing of the one thing he was deprived of since birth.

A mother.

You fit in his embrace, a puppet tugged into a one-sided waltz. He steps over fallen bodies as he holds you against his chest, following the routine even though you aren’t awake to reciprocate.

Historically, a married pair must share the first dance. Or that’s what he’s read in fairy tales.

There are no rings here; promises are left unspoken. He won’t entertain rejection because there is no room for it in Paradise. Every unsavory, horrid thing—pestilence and pain, death and destruction, and sadness and sin—is packed away in Pandora’s box and shelved. Malleus won’t risk opening it to release the tiny shred of hope desperately clawing for escape. It’s not worth it.

He will foster his own hope if he must, and she exists in his arms—beautifully motionless.

The steps are executed with care, up the stairs and towards a lonesome chair. He attempts a twirl, lowering you into a dip. Your arms hang limply, eyes shut in permanence. Brimming with fondness, Malleus tugs you back up to press his lips to your forehead.

“Dearest one,” he mumbles, “may you know many fruitful fantasies in the arms of Morpheus.”

He reclaims his seat and situates you to face him while perched on his lap. You slump against him, near-boneless. He smiles at you, imagining the ruckus that would certainly come about from such a daring gesture. Sebek would squawk at you to have more respect and dignity. Silver would tut and shake his head. Lilia would look on in amusement.

These are small pleasantries, little wishes he hopes to witness someday.

Historically, a married pair must consummate their bond.

Malleus’s fingertips flit across your figure, feeling fabric beneath his palms. He tries to exercise restraint and take it slow—everything in moderation, Lilia would remind him—but he can’t contain his nympholepsy. Your clothes are discarded at once, shredded to scraps in his haste. He moves clumsily, following the searchlight of intrinsic ardor. You’re softer when bare, he observes, peeling your bra from your skin. A pallid hand presses down onto your breast, the pudge of which caves beneath his fingers. He withdraws and it bounces back to its shape.

Fascinating, he marvels with wide, enchanted eyes.

Claws tweak at your hardened nipples next. He’s careful because you’re notably weaker. Even in sleep, he must mind his hedonism. Too much and you will break. Too little and he’ll be left unsatisfied. Malleus watches your expression. It was mostly neutral, but now your eyebrows are twitching in response to his touch.

In sleep, you are the most vulnerable.

He knows this because he’s peered in from afar, admiring you through a glass barrier while you slept unaware in Ramshackle. He would never do anything without invitation. Though it may not be in writing, your body is oh-so-inviting. And he indulges because he’s only known this fervor in the deepest, darkest dreams.

Curiously, in his pursuit of passion, Malleus happens upon the special space between your legs. Delicate like a flower, it’s the prettiest part of your anatomy. If he wishes to connect with you, to tie himself to you in unholy communion, he must acquaint himself with this sliver of seventh heaven. He’s never seen one up close; the sight is foreign but very welcome. He drinks it in, burning your form into his retinas. Two fingers trace your labia, stroking along flowery folds in V-shaped strokes. You twitch in his arms, an unconscious, knee-jerk reaction.

At some point, in the middle of his experimental exploration, Malleus begins to hum. It’s a soft, genial lilt. Low and soothing, the lullaby fills the silent halls of Diasomnia’s common room like poison gas.

He contemplates whether this is enough. Can you feel these sensations even when you’re so deep in your dreams? Perhaps so, for when he brushes back the hood protecting your clit to rub at it you soak his fingers. Lubricious, your wetness shimmers on his fingertips when he pulls them away to admire the very essence of you. Without hesitation, he places his fingers on the pad of his tongue to clean both. It’s a divine taste, proof of pleasure.

You cannot speak, so instead your body does so for you. A most bewitching behavior.

Malleus’s hand slithers back towards home, his fingers sliding in with surprising ease. Gummy walls cling to slender digits, embracing the intrusion as if it’s meant to be. With each pump of his fingers, your body warms. The sinful squelch of scissoring fingers joins his humming in a salacious song. Every now and then, you spasm in his arms, your lips parting ever so slightly to release a sigh or a breathy moan. It’s musical, a whimsy he’s only just discovered.

“My beautiful bride,” Malleus croons, “you will know love in my arms. Love forevermore, here in this sanctuary. Fear not, for I have done away with all that may terrify and traumatize.”

Pressure is straining beneath the belt, an itch that must be promptly dealt with. Removing his fingers, he shifts you on his lap so that he may free his cocks from confinement. Twin monstrosities curve towards his stomach; perhaps you’d have been frightened if you were awake to behold them. His hand settles on the small of your back, steadying you as he lines one of them up with your body. The tip just reaches past your navel. For a moment, Malleus ponders whether he might break you.

Careful now, he can hear Lilia’s chiding. Impatience will lead to injury.

He heeds the unspoken warning, lifting you with both hands until the head of his cock is kissing your pussy. And then, slowly, he lowers you down onto him. Your pussy stretches around him, a snug squeeze that only grows tighter with every inch swallowed. Malleus pulls you flush against his chest when he’s halfway slotted, his breathing staggered. Your body quivers, walls fluttering around him, while his other unsheathed cock presses against your navel. Pre-cum smears on your stomach.

He’s determined to cherish you, thrusting all the way to the hilt after a few determined tries. It’s a firm fit, but it’s still bliss. Hissing through his teeth, brows knitted in concentration, Malleus wraps his arms around you and fucks. Mindless, mostly, but with the intent to reach the only acceptable end here: orgasmic ecstasy. He makes up for the lack of motion on your part by moving his hips to meet yours as he rocks you up and down. Whimpers slip past your lips; he shushes you with song, humming through groans and grunts.

This is love.

Malleus thinks so when he positions your hands over his other untouched cock. The illusion doesn’t last long because your hands are quick to fall away. Instead, he grasps your hand, guides it back to his shaft, and pumps himself using your precious palm for friction.

You’re bounced up and down in a parody of consensual copulation. Malleus dwells in imagination, picturing you in a wedding gown. He considers what you might say, the vows you would undoubtedly swear, and the sweet nothings you’d exchange late into the evening. He’d twirl you across an elegant ballroom while everyone looks on with tender adoration and reverence. He’d show you the stars hanging just within reach, and when you’re swept up in riveting romance the sky is tangible and dreams are spun from sugar.

He’d place you on his bed, stripping you of your dress, hands trailing up to tug the frilly garter from your thigh, and you’d smile at him, open your arms and welcome him with mutual affection. You’d bloom for him like a moonflower, your heart beating in sync with his, as he fulfills the final promise—one so bodily imperative. An oath to disturb desolate halls with noise. To hear the pitter-patter of tiny footfalls upon stone floors—he can’t imagine anything more harmonious.

You would soften throughout the months, bright with that foretold pregnancy glow. He would press his hands to your rounded belly and feel squirming within, restless kicks and nudges. You’d discuss potential names over breakfast, and he would hover even though he knows you’re plenty capable. But he worries because you’re so fragile and fleeting. So pretty. So round with child. He wouldn’t leave you alone for a moment; you’re far too enchanting. Perhaps, in some distant future, he’ll lower to the height of your stomach and sing to the baby.

A smile would tug at your lips and you’d reach down to pat his head, running your fingers over his horns. And then— 

Malleus cracks his eyes open, his breath hot against your face. His chest heaves as he comes down from the high of domestic daydreams to find your stomach spattered with cum. Swallowing thickly, he peers between your bodies at your pussy stretched around his other cock.

Oh, he came inside.

Unexpectedly. Or perhaps not, for this was his intention. But once is not nearly enough, and he must fill you until you’re fit to burst—until it’s biologically certain you’re pregnant.

An emotion flickers on your face. Malleus mistakes it for jubilation, the type which calls forth a sunshower on your cheeks. He kisses the tears trailing down your face, ending at your lips for a chaste peck.

This is not the finale. It is simply the beginning.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus draconia x reader #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus #n/sfw #tw: noncon #tw: breeding #tw: baby trapping #tw: somnophilia

[perlelune]

All Too Well | Rafe Cameron

A tragedy in your family forces you to return to the one place you fled from years ago. Your hometown of Outer Banks.

Warnings: NON-CON, Mom Reader, Pogue! Reader, Mentions of Abuse, Blackmail, Threats, Child Abduction, Gun Use

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

You sigh as you pass the familiar town sign. Welcome to the Outer Banks. Paradise on earth.

Right, paradise on earth. Until it became hell for you.

You let your gaze wander across the coastline, soaking in the crashing waves and glittering sand. The fresh sea breeze whisks inside the car, its soft, familiar flutter over your face bringing bittersweet memories alongside it. As you take in your surroundings, you’re struck with the realization of how little has changed over the years. Same houses. Same trees. And perhaps, you ponder wistfully, even the same people…

A mix of confusing emotion flows through you at that prospect.

Most of your life was spent here, precious memories having taken place on that very beach you just passed. Lazy days hanging out with your friends, doing whatever it is you wished. Hanging out, goofing off, getting high and enjoying endless summers.

Before mesmerizing blue eyes found yours at a beach party. It’s when your downward spiral began. How sweetly things started. How sourly they turned.

You can still feel the ghost sensation of his fingers around your neck, pressing until you could hardly breathe. Yet another fit of anger. Brushed off like so many until you couldn’t bear it anymore.

Eventually you grew tired of the whirlwind of emotions, of how he always had an excuse, some sort of twisted justification for his horrible actions. How somehow nothing was ever his fault. But yours. Always yours.

And once you found out that you had more than your own well-being to worry about…the decision was made for you. Of course, you needed to run like hell and never look back. It wasn’t just about you anymore. You had someone else to protect, from his mood swings and temper, but most importantly…from becoming just like him.

A heavy breath drops from your mouth as you clutch the steering wheel. The unpleasant flashes are chased away with a sharp shake of your head. You steady your rising pulse. You promised yourself not to not sink into that hole again. That hopeless, desolate place where you’re trapped in the dark and no one can hear you screaming. You’re stronger now. He can’t hurt you anymore.

This was four years ago. All that stuff is in the past. Buried and forgotten. Thankfully.

Your son’s hitch-pitched voice tugs your focus from the backseat.

“Can we go to the beach, mom?” he says, bouncing in excitement. “Please, please, please.”

You swipe a glimpse of him in the rearview mirror. Here he is. Your entire life, on the cusp of throwing a tantrum in the backseat of your car. Your three year-old son, Parker.

Your focus shifts back to the road.

“We have to go visit some friends first, sweetie.”

“Okay…” he pouts dejectedly.

“Once we’re settled in, we can go.”

He beams at that. A smile creeps upon your lips. While raising Parker on your own has been a challenge, you wouldn't change a thing. Seeing his bright, gummy smile everyday makes it all worth it.

You make a few more turns before finally reaching your destination. You soak in the striking sight of the house as you climb out of your car. It’s a lot bigger and nicer than the ones surrounding it, an uncanny sight in the Cut. It still surprises you that JJ didn’t move to Figure Eight. With his flourishing boat renting business, he can basically do anything he wants now. And you know he’d likely get a kick out of pissing off the 

Kooks by moving to their side of the island. So you’re a bit shocked that he chose to keep roots there. 

You suppose, in the end, he will always be a Pogue at heart. 

You pick up your son from the back seat. A yawn escapes from his mouth before he wraps his arms around your neck and begins to doze off. You can’t blame him. This was his longest trip since he was born. He clings to you as you make your way to the front door. 

The door opens, a familiar blond welcoming you with a bright smile.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” he drawls. 

“Are you sure it’s okay if we stay? We can go to a motel.”

JJ huffs his disapproval before ushering you inside. 

“Nonsense. Why stay in a motel when we have plenty of room here?”

Your eyes dart about the place. It’s clean and though the decor screams ‘bachelor’, homey vibes ooze from the space. Memorabilia from JJ’s travels are littered across the shelves as well as pictures of him and the Pogues beneath his surfing board. Melancholy hits you again. You’ve missed so much.

You shoot him a teasing grin.

“Plenty of room, huh? Sounds like someone’s gone full Kook.”

JJ rolls his eyes at your playful taunt. “Do you have any bags?” he asks.

“In the trunk,” you reply, handing him your keys. “I didn’t pack much since we won’t be staying long.”

He takes your keys, concern flashing in his blue eyes. “Which I still don’t get. I could kick his ass for you, so you don’t have to leave again.”

“It’s fine, JJ. Parker and I have a great life in Florida. I just got promoted. I’m saving up so we can move to a bigger place in a few months. Things are good. Really good.”

“I still think you should be here with us.” You supply no answer as he strolls to your car to get your things. You know JJ would tussle with him if you let him, has tried to in the past. He’s your best friend and has always been overly protective of you. It’s exactly why you need to leave once everything is handled. You refuse to let him get tangled up in your mess. It was never his to fix. 

You pad further inside JJ’s home. Astonishment flutters through you as you find another familiar face by the kitchen counter. 

Her long blonde mane swings at her back as she rushes to you. 

“Is that my nephew?” she whispers in an attempt not to wake up your toddler.

“Sarah,” you greet cheerfully.

She bends to get a better look at him. Her expression lights up.

“He’s gotten so big since the last time.”

The sound of Sarah’s voice tears Parker from his slumber.

He rubs his eyes, a broad grin appearing on his little face when he recognizes her.

“Auntie Sarah…”

“Hey buddy,” she chimes.

He jumps into her arms and the two of them giggle as she hugs him.

“I wish I could visit more often,” she says.

You nod in agreement. Sarah used to visit the two of you in Florida on a semi-regular basis, but she had to stop once a certain somebody became a bit too curious about the impromptu trips she was taking several times a year.

“Me too, but we both know it’s not possible.”

The two of you share a knowing look.

JJ reappears with your two bags in his hands.

“Shall I show you and your offspring to your chambers, m’lady?” he says, mimicking a horrible British accent. 

You shake your head at his antics. Though you’d never admit it aloud, you kind of missed them. A lot.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” 

He flashes you a broad grin.

“Hm, I think the word you’re looking for is wickedly handsome.”

“That is more than one word,” you deadpan.

He shrugs. “Just handsome then.”

You sigh as you follow him upstairs. Pleasant surprise courses through you at what you witness when he opens the door to the guest room. 

The interior is warm and welcoming. The blankets have rockets, moons and stars on them. There’s even a nightlight and a few toys lying in a corner. It’s a lot more than you expected and a swell of emotions mounts inside you at the sight. 

“You just had to go overboard, huh?”

His shoulders heave and fall in nonchalance.

“Only the best for my best girl.”

You plop down on the bed, drinking in the animal paintings on the walls. 

“Did you paint that yourself?”

He sits next to you, leaning back in a relaxed stance.

“I did. Mostly. Though Sarah, Kie and the others insisted on helping.”

“You know we’re not staying.”

He studies you, a small smile tugging his lips.

“A guy can hope.” JJ licks his lips, fingers dragging over the colorful blanket. “I just want you to know you have a home here if you ever decide to come back.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Blue eyes lock with yours, silence stretching between the two of you before he speaks again. 

“I really missed you.”

“Me too,” you say. “Are you and Kie still…?”

“We broke it off a few years ago.”

Your eyes round. They seemed so into each other at the time. Though you surmise, people can change over the years. You aren’t teenagers anymore after all.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. We’re better off as friends,” he states casually. He holds your gaze and smiles. “Some things just aren’t meant to be.”

“Alright Master Yoda, when did you get so wise?” you quip.

He joins his hands, his expression solemn.

“A stupid kid, I am not anymore.” You laugh and his smile widens. “Believe it or not.” He pauses, appearing lost in thought. He then offers, “You should come to the Bonfire celebration tonight.”

“I don’t know…”

Your brows knit. You returned out of necessity. Hanging out isn’t exactly at the top of your list of priorities. 

JJ gives your shoulder a light shove.

“Come on. It’s at the Boneyard, just like old times.” His expression turns serious. “Everyone’s really missed you. It’s not the same without you around.”

He gets to his feet. Your stomach knots when he retrieves an urn from under the night table and hands it to you.

Your chest tightens.

“Are those her…”

“Yeah. Her last wish was to be at sea. Maybe you could do it tonight?”

Your fingers press firmly around the curved edges of the urn, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I should have been there, JJ,” you mumble.

“It’s not your fault.”

“But if I-”

“No, you can’t blame yourself for every little thing. I won’t let you.” Noting your trembling fingers, he takes the urn from you, placing it over the night table. He cradles your face and wipes the tears spilling down your face. “She knows how much you loved her. That's all that matters.” He wraps his arms around you and you sink into his embrace, soaking his familiar sea-salt smell. It’s somehow barely changed since you last saw him. “It was an accident. No one could have done anything. Especially not you.”

You sniffle, swallowing a fresh surge of tears. You may not have been close to your sister, but you still resent that you couldn’t be together before she passed. She barely got to know her own nephew. 

She deserved a lot more from you. A lot more that you weren’t able to give, which you hate yourself for.

You just couldn’t risk it. Not when one look at him would suffice for most people to guess who Parker’s father is. Starting with those piercing blue eyes. The same as his father’s. 

Accidents are accidents. But you can’t help but wonder if being with her would have made a difference. No one even really knows what happened. Just that she was in her house - you parents’ house - and fell. Then she stopped breathing. By the time she was rushed to the hospital it was too late.

Your sister was gone. Ally is gone.

A harsh truth your mind is still wrangling with.

“I don’t know if I can come. Parker’s still so small-”

“I’ll watch him.”

Your head snaps up. You find Sarah in the doorway, your son in her arms. As soon as he enters the room, the little boy gets excited. He starts running around and grabs a toy from the pile to play with.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“Are you kidding?” Sarah exclaims. Her gaze softens as she looks at your son. “I missed the little guy so much. We’ll have a ton of fun.”

You peer at Parker. He’s found a dinosaur and a soldier and decided to have the two apparently fight in space. You have to admit, JJ’s house is much more kid-friendly than you expected. Perhaps, you can probably release him into his aunt’s care for a few hours. You have no desire to turn into one of those helicopter moms who need their children under perpetual supervision. Parker too, may benefit from some time with Sarah. He never gets to see her after all.

“Well, I guess if you don’t mind,” you say. 

Sarah perks up at your response. 

“See? Everything’s sorted out,” JJ says brightly.

The moment they see you, Kie, John B and Pope hurtle a ceaseless string of questions your way. Your life in Florida. Your job. Your dating life. The weather. How the beaches are there. No inquiry’s off-limits, too strange or personal. They constantly speak over each other, their excitement at seeing you again clear as day. You try to answer everything in between your laughs. JJ was right. It’s good that you came. 

You needed to see them. It doesn’t hit you until you listen to Kie’s bubbly, passionate rant about the foundation she created to clean up the ocean floors. You missed the Pogues. Deeply. You were so absorbed in being a mom that you never took the time to ponder that loss. 

“Guys, you have to give her time to actually answer,” Sarah jests. 

“It’s okay,” you say, waving your hand in nonchalance. Your handle on the urn between your arms tightens. “There’s something I need to do anyway.”

Quiet falls over the group, their lively chatter instantly dying. You see it in the Pogues’ eyes. All your friends are acutely aware how it guts you to do this. 

Kie takes a step forward. She hasn’t changed a bit. Brown curls cascade at her back. Her pretty face is scrunched in concern. 

“Do you want me to come with you?”

You shake your head. This isn’t something the Pogues can help you with. You glance at JJ who stands a few feet behind her. His expression mirrors hers. You’ve used him as a crutch enough times. Too many times. 

You give a tremulous smile.

“No I…I need to do it alone.”

She nods as you stroll towards the rolling waves. Your slow steps trail prints into the sand as you soak in the flaming sun spilling over the horizon. Diamonds sparkle above the mesmerizing water, lights dancing over the infinite stretch of blue. 

You open the urn. Water licks your toes as you move forward. 

As you watch her ashes swirl to the bottom of the ocean, a strange emptiness fills your chest. None of it feels right. She should be here laughing. Or doing something stupid with the Pogues. Doing stupid shit was her specialty. 

Her sunny smile flickers in your mind. 

You don’t notice the tears until their salty taste slips past your lips. You quickly wipe them as soon as you do. You can’t let Parker see you cry. He would ask why, in that sweet little voice of his. “Why are you crying, mommy?”

And you’d be stumped, incapable of producing a suitable answer for him. 

“Princess?”

You freeze. The deep voice feels snatched right out of your worst nightmares. You turn slowly, denial still keeping you mute. 

Your heart drops. 

It really is him, you realize, dumbfounded. He looks the same as the last time you saw him, dizzyingly tall and wickedly handsome in khaki shorts and a seersucker buttondown. A very Kook getup. Not that you’d expect anything less from Rafe Cameron. 

He chuckles at your reaction.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” His smile widens. You feel sick. He points at his chest. “Shit, am I…the ghost?”

Ignoring the rising tide of panic overflowing your insides, you brush past him. 

He follows you, his long legs easily keeping up with your hasty strides. 

“I was gonna offer my condolences but…Really? You don’t even say ‘hi’ anymore?”

“Hi, Rafe.”

Your stomps are halted when he stands in your path.

He bends so the two of you are at eye level. Your breath catches beneath his stare. You somehow forgot. How blue his eyes are. And something else strikes you as you look at him. 

Those are your son’s eyes. 

“There. Did you lose your manners in…Where do you live now anyways?” He snorts but there isn’t a hint of mirth in his tone. “It’s not like I’d know since you changed your number on me.”

Your stomach flips. “It’s good to see you, Rafe. But I was just leaving.”

When you try to get past him again, he grabs your arm to keep you from leaving. 

“Wait, wait, wait. Why the cold shoulder? After all these years…this is what I get from you, princess?”

A lump forms in your throat. 

“Let go of me, Rafe,” you say. 

You try to shake out of his grasp but his grip on you tightens. 

He gets in your face, his gaze narrowing. 

“I haven’t seen you in four years. And this is how you treat me? W-What did I do to deserve that?” You turn your head, tears gathering in your eyes. His fingers latch around your jaw, digging painfully into your cheeks. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Someone pulls you back from Rafe, sliding between the two of you. 

You gasp as you stumble back. 

“Leave her alone, Rafe,” JJ grits out, standing in front of you protectively. 

A derisive snicker bursts through Rafe’s lips. He glares up and down at your friend, disdain burning in his eyes.

“Still hanging out with those Pogues, I see.” He laughs as JJ crowds his space, his jaw clenching. “You tryin’ to get into something, Maybank?”

“Maybe I am,” JJ replies.

One could cut a knife through the thick layer of tension coating the air between the two men.

You wedge yourself between them. None of them looks away from the other, a nonverbal duel still occurring right before your eyes. 

You heave out a long sigh.

“Guys. We aren’t kids anymore. That’s enough,” you say. You unleash an annoyed sigh when they don’t move and grab JJ’s hand. “JJ, let’s go.”

“Still her little puppy dog, I see,” Rafe sneers. “Too bad she never gave you any treats like you wanted, huh Maybank?”

He blows JJ a mocking kiss, wiggling his fingers and openly taunting him. 

Sensing his urge to pounce on Rafe when he tenses near you, you tug JJ further away. 

“He’s not worth it,” you whisper.

“Good night, princess. I guess I’ll see you around,” Rafe yells from afar. 

“No, you won’t,” you respond, shooting daggers at him with your eyes. “Goodbye, Rafe.”

The events of the evening leave you rattled. For the entire night, you toss and turn in bed, the sound of Rafe’s voice, even deeper after all these years, invading your every thought. You thought you were safe. Freed. But frankly, one look from him had you feeling weak. Defenseless. It yanked you right back to four years ago. Back when you still hung to his every word and thought he held the moon. When you thought that, perhaps, Rafe Cameron was just misunderstood. And you, the only one capable of solving the riddle he offered. You truly were a naive teenager then. 

Guys like Rafe never change. It took you entirely too long to accept that fact. You'll never make such a mistake ever again.

In the morning, JJ leaves to run some errands, leaving you alone with Parker. You plant a kiss atop his head and stroke his blond curls. His tiny fists are curled against the pillow, his lids twitching while he lightly snores. It soothes you, the sight of him soundly sleeping. He’s innocent and happy. You would do anything to keep him that way for as long as possible.

You climb out of bed and make your way downstairs. You get started on breakfast for your son, mashing ripe bananas and oats as you follow along a tutorial online. It’s where you learnt everything when it came to caring for Parker. The internet has been a life-saver in more ways than one. 

You pause your whisking when the doorbell chimes. 

Your brows knit. You’re not expecting anyone. Neither is JJ. A delivery, perhaps? But he didn’t say there would be one today.

You flinch as the sound erupts again. 

Your heart starts to race. Something isn’t right. You can feel it. 

At first, you elect to ignore whoever’s on the other side. You’re alone with your son. You won’t let some stranger who can’t catch a hint inside the house.

But it doesn’t matter. 

The bell rings again. You’re paralyzed. You take tremulous steps to the entrance. Whoever it is, you plan on telling them to kick rocks. You suck in a wide lungful and nudge the door open by a tiny crack. Your eyes fly open in shock at who’s on the doorstep.

Immediately, you try to slam the door closed. He doesn’t let you, placing his foot against the doorjamb as his large hand curls around the wooden edge of the door to keep it open. Fear seizes your throat as he looms over you.

“Rafe? What are you doing here?” you say, trying your best to quell the tremor in your voice. 

He licks his lips and drinks you in.

“Well, we didn't get to finish our talk last night-”

Of course, this is the moment your son chooses to groggily drag his feet down the stairs. 

“Mommy, I’m hungry…” he complains while rubbing his face. 

Your heart drops to your feet. 

Rafe’s eyes grow wide. For a minute, he’s too stunned to utter a word, a million thoughts seeming to go through his mind. You use his surprise to nudge him outside. He doesn’t resist, shock still written on his handsome face. 

You close the door and slump against the wood. 

“Who’s that?” Rafe blurts out once he finds his ability to speak again. He’s pointing at the door as his breaths grow heavier. It doesn’t matter that your son is now out of view. Some doors can never be shut again once they’ve been opened. This is one of them.

Your shoulders heave and fall in feigned nonchalance.

“Nobody.”

His jaw clenches. “Don’t fuck with me, okay?”

You nod and show him the front yard.

“Let’s talk over there.”

He won’t let it go. Just like he never did with anything when you were together. You watch him pace across the yard as he grips his head. It almost seems like you’re not here, a spiral of emotions clearly sucking him in. You stand back warily. You remember those spirals, how destructive they could turn. 

“Fuck, Fuck…” he mumbles under his breath. He takes a deep breath and whirls to you. “You know what I’m gonna ask.”

You cross your arms, pulling the cardigan closer to your shivering frame.

“Rafe. I need you to calm down…”

He slaps your hand away when you try to touch his arm. 

“No you…Y-You don’t get to tell me to calm down, okay? Because it’s fucked. Fucked.” You jump as he gets louder, uncaring about anyone hearing him.  “How old is he? Three? Four? Is he my-”

“His father’s in Florida,” you blurt out. As soon as the words roll off your tongue, you curse inwards, your mistake dawning on you. Why did you say Florida instead of some other random state like Missouri or Massachusetts? You’re gonna have to move. Again.

Rafe’s jaw flexes before a chuckle of disbelief leaves him. 

“Really? You expect me to believe this load of crap? That kid in there looks just like me.”

“It was a one-night stand.”

He squints at you.

“I know you. You don’t do one-night stands. You’re not that kind of girl.”

“Well maybe you don’t know me as well as you think. Maybe I’ve changed.”

That mere suggestion seems to have his blood boiling. 

“I want a paternity test.”

Your stomach plummets.

“No.”

He gives a slow nod, a smirk blooming on his lips.

“Then I’ll court-order it, sue you for custody and make sure you never see our son again.” 

A chill creeps up your spine. Your voice quakes with fear.

“You wouldn’t.”

His face breaks out into a broad grin. 

“Try me, princess.”

You look at him. Really look at him. A determination is etched in his steely glare. One you haven’t seen in years. Not since he relentlessly pursued you until you yielded to his advances. It flattered you then. It terrifies you now.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he announces. “And don’t try to run away from me again, you understand? You won’t like what happens if you do.”

Your throat goes dry. When you don’t answer, Rafe’s hand shoots up and latches around your throat.

You whimper as he seethes, “Do you understand?”

“I-I understand, Rafe,” you stutter, your body shaking in his grasp.

He pats your cheek, seemingly satisfied. 

“Good. See you tomorrow, princess.”

Even as he releases you, your chest is tight with dread.

He starts walking to his Jeep. You remain glued to your spot, feeling as if a hole just opened in the ground and you were being swallowed in its depths. 

Rafe’s gaze rakes across your shuddering frame as he starts his car.

He bends over the window and smirks.

 “Oh by the way, you still look good…Didn’t get to say that last night,” he tosses flirtatiously before driving away. 

When night comes, JJ scowls at you while you’re frantically packing. Since he came back, he has tried to convince you to stay. 

But your mind is made up. You refuse to wait for him to have the confirmation he needs to force his way into your life again. You know exactly what the test will say. There’s been no guy other than Rafe. No one before or after.

He left you so bruised, so riddled with wounds that never closed, that you never opened your heart to anyone else again. And definitely not your legs. 

“You should have called me when it happened,” JJ says.

“Call you for what? So the two of you can swing on each other?”

You glance at your son, napping across the large bed. He has no idea what’s going on. No idea his father was here just a few hours ago. A silver lining amidst the dusky clouds threatening to rain hell upon your life. A life you cherish. A life you worked so hard to build. 

A life you just lost. Coming back here was a mistake. You knew it from the beginning. Had that sinking feeling all along. But you were so chock full of guilt about your sister that you didn’t have it in you not to fulfill her last wish. She deserved that at least.

…And now, you’re fucked.

“This doesn’t change anything. We can’t stay.”

“But…”

You whip your head up and whisper to not wake Parker.

“It’s his kid. You know how much sway he has now. How much he could fuck up our lives. Not just mine. But everyone else’s…including you, JJ.”

Annoyance flares in his eyes. You can tell he doesn’t like to be reminded of that. 

“But you don’t have to do this alone. I can-”

You clutch his arm and shake your head.

“No, I already involved you enough. If we go now, he won’t be able to find us, ever again. I’ll make sure of it.”

His frown accentuates. Unsaid words crowd the air. You feel their weight in his silence. Still, none leave his mouth. He heaves out a deep resigned breath instead.

“Just text me when you’ve crossed state lines, okay?”

“Of course. Tell Sarah and the Pogues I’m sorry. I’ll call her once Parker and I are safe.”

He wraps his arms around you. You sink into the embrace, committing that comforting warmth to memory. 

“I can’t believe you’re already leaving,” he says. 

You swallow the onset of tears tickling the back of your eyes. 

“Yeah…Me too.”

When you’re slinking down the road in your hatchback as stars twinkle above you, you genuinely believe you are out of trouble. You didn’t even wake Parker, just lifted him from bed and gingerly placed him in the backseat. Heavy sleeper as he is, your son did not stir. You believe the two of you are safe, sound and on your way back to Florida. That for once, you bested him. All's well that ends well, as they say.

But perhaps you escaped the frying pan to jump right into a blazing inferno. 

It is what occurs to you as you’re hailed by a cop car on your way out of town. The moment you get a glimpse of the sirens, the blood drains from your head. You can never catch a break, it seems. At first, you ponder if you should ignore it, keep on driving. You almost do it. But as the vehicle cuts right across your path, you’re left with no other option. Your nerves flare at the sight of the blue and red lights glaring in the pitch blackness, illuminating the large trees flanking the road.

As Officer Shoupe steps outside the car, your gut wrenches. He chased you and your friends across the island so many times when you were a teenager. You weren’t the most fond of him back then. Now you’re downright on the verge of soiling your car seat as he takes long, threatening strides towards your car.

He knocks on your window. You sigh and lower the glass. You place a hand in front of your face as he blinds you with his flashlight.

“Ma’am. Get out of the car,” he orders.

“I don’t understand. I wasn’t speeding-”

His hand ghosts over the holster of his gun. Your pulse quickens. The clear threat hangs in the night air, stifling your breath.

“I won’t say it again. Get out.”

You take shaky steps outside of the car, raising your hands the entire time. Your son’s in the backseat. You find yourself praying, hoping that he doesn’t wake up and see you like this.

Unspilled tears collect in your eyes.

As he speaks into his walkie-talkie, your heart stops. 

“I’ve got her, sir. You were right. She was trying to leave.”

It doesn’t even surprise you when you see a familiar Jeep arrive on the scene some time later. Of course it was all him. Of course he anticipated you running away, again.

A surge of queasiness mounts within you as his towering frame leaps out of the drivers’ seat and he stomps in your direction. You feel the bear trap closing in on you, the claws sinking deep. Inescapable.

He opens the door where your son is having an oblivious nap and barks at you, “Get Parker and come with me.”

When you refuse to move, he seizes the back of your neck and slams your face against your car window. You squeak as the coolness of the glass seeps into your cheek.

“I said…Get him,” he hisses, pressing something cold against the base of your spine. You go still. You never had one pointed at you before but you’re fairly sure you know what object is kissing your back right now.

As the muffled metallic click of the weapon ripples through the night, a stray tear skips down your cheek.

A gun. Rafe has a fucking gun. Disbelief floods your chest.

Not even your worst nightmares could you have conjured something this sick and evil.

His lips drag along your earshell as you sob. “Get our son,” he articulates. “I won’t repeat myself, princess.” As soon as he allows you some space, you rush to pick up your son from the backseat. He’s thankfully still asleep. You adjust him in your arms as you gulp down a sob, reluctantly making your way to Rafe’s Jeep. He instructs you to put him in the backseat. He then nudges the gun against your hip, quietly heeding you to climb into the passenger seat of his car. 

Your heart shrivels inside your chest as he hops into the car too and slams the door shut.

“All these years and you still haven’t learnt to listen,” he scoffs, irritation bleeding through his tone. His wrath is palpable. Sizzling, red, hot fury you feel all the way to your bones.

He hates you. Who knows what he’ll do if you provoke him any further?

Terror makes your voice slip out hoarse, hardly more than a whisper.

“W-Where are you taking us Rafe?”

The gun - the goddamn gun - is still in his hand as he pinches the bridge of his nose and slaps the steering wheel. 

“I should kill you for this, you know?” he hisses, turning the key in the ignition with his other hand. The engine revs as he turns the car around. He dives onto the road. Any fickle hope you harbored dwindles into the night. 

You lick your dry lips.

“Rafe,” you try again.

His eyes flare dangerously, the gun twitching in his hand.

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking.” A mirthless chuckle bursts through his lips. “S-So what now? You take my son from me, for four fucking years…and I’m the bad guy? I-It’s somehow my fault?”

You swallow past the thick lump in your throat. Tears flow down your face as shaky words bounce off your tongue. “You scared me, Rafe…sometimes.” You glance at the gun and sniffle. “You’re scaring me now. Please just…p-put away the gun.”

He slams his hand into the steering wheel as you gasp.

“Don’t fucking try telling me what to do,” he warns. He draws a long inhale, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opens them again, there’s a peculiar determination burning in his gaze. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna drop off our son.” The corners of his lips curl upward. “Then Mommy and Daddy are gonna go home and have a little grown-up talk.”

A chill shoots through you.

“Rafe, please. Don’t do this. I’m sorry. O-Okay, I admit it. I lied. But please, don’t-”

“Shut up!” he roars, causing you to fall quiet. “You’ve lied to me enough. I don’t want to hear another word coming out of your lying whore mouth until we get home.”

The commotion nudges your son awake.

“Mommy…”

Your nerves thrum in panic. You bend over the backseat and cradle his face, slotting a false smile onto your lips. “Go back to sleep, sweetie,” you urge. 

“Yes, Parker, go back to sleep,” Rafe repeats, his tone veering on sarcastic. 

“Who’s that, mommy?” your toddler inquires, tilting his head.

“Just go back to sleep,” you say, singing a tremulous lullaby to lull him back into slumber. Relief sits inside your chest when his eyes close.

He makes a first stop at his friends’ house. Your heart is ripped outside your chest as you watch Rafe’s friend - Topper or something you believe his name is - take your son away. They exchange words in the dark as you gawk in horror. You only have vague memories of Topper and now he has your son. A scream scalds the back of your throat, one you’re too terrified to let loose.

When Rafe returns inside the car, he is eerily quiet. You nearly find yourself wishing he’d talk, even if it’s to yell at you again. The silence is so unlike him, so profoundly unnerving.

But not another word escapes the confines of his tight lips as he drives.

Tannyhill comes into view and your heart sinks.

The persistent threat of the gun is the only reason you follow him inside. Whenever you drag your feet, he shoves the barrel into your back even more, reminding you what you’re risking if you don’t do as he says. You’re a sobbing, weeping mess by the time you’re in the Camerons’ lobby.

He places the gun on a nearby table and removes his belt.

“So, w-what was the plan exactly? Did you plan on never telling me?” You tense as he loops the belt around his knuckles, prowling forward. 

The golden ring on his finger glints in the low light of the lobby. 

“Did you plan on having that Pogue raise my son?”

“I…”

A sinister smile spreads over his face.

“You know what? I think we’ve been apart too long. I think I gotta remind you who the fuck I am, princess.” Your blood curdles at his words. You dart across the lobby but Rafe catches you, hauling you off the ground before slamming your body across the marble tiles without ceremony. Pain explodes through your limbs. He drags your limp frame to the railings. Your insides lurch as you feel leather bite into your flesh when he ties the belt around your wrists. He attaches the belt to the railings, restricting your arms’ range of motion.

Helplessness skyrockets inside you. A fresh wave of tears rolls down your cheeks.

“Rafe, please…”

Rafe pulls his zipper down. Impatience grunts leave him as he wriggles out of his pants and boxers, freeing his already rock-hard cock. He yanks your shorts and panties down until the bottom of your body is completely bare to him. 

His pupils swell at the sight of your bare cunt, leaving only a thin ring of blue in his dark gaze. 

He lines himself with your entrance, pressing his wet tip against your dry lips. He breaches past the tight ring of muscles as you stiffen. An immediate burst of pain scatters through you. Tears dot your lashes as heavy breaths rush from your chest. 

It’s clear it’s taking tremendous effort for Rafe to force himself inside your unprepared core. Sweat collects on his brow as he pins you with his broad frame. 

When he pushes more of himself inside you, your eyes roll back. You don’t think the agony could worsen but somehow it does. 

Your bound hands clench into fists, your nails sinking into your palms. 

“Rafe, please, it hurts,” you whimper. His fingers cinch around your throat in response. Your core burns, your lips parting in a soundless scream as Rafe bottoms out inside you. Your vision blurs with tears. Pure hatred oozes off his husky tone as he starts moving inside you. “You don’t get to complain. I don’t want to hear another fucking word from your mouth, do you hear me?” He drags his cock out and slams it inside your aching walls again. “This is what you deserve so you’re gonna fucking take it. Take my cock until I’m done with you.”

You’re in hell as Rafe grunts like an animal in rut above you, uncaring of the strangled sobs leaving your throat. 

The expression on his face is downright terrifying, empty of anything but burning rage. In every single thrust, you feel the intensity of his loathing for you. How much he craves to punish you for everything. 

To your utter disgust, your cunt grows slick around him, easing his crude assault. 

As he notes your arousal coating his length, he lets out a bone-chilling laugh. “So wet already, huh?” Hand still wrapped around your throat, he bends to whisper into your ear. “I always knew you were a slut.” Your breath hitches as he buries himself even deeper, touching a sensitive spot that sends a fresh wave of pain through you. “That’s why I had to keep you in line.” He drops a soft kiss on your cheek as you tremble beneath him. “Sluts like you need a firm hand.”

You’re nothing but a ragdoll under Rafe as he uses you as a vessel for his pent-up anger and frustration. Every time you graze your peak, your body jolting uncontrollably, he pulls out of you out of the blue, pinching your swollen clit until you cry out and reminding you that you’re not allowed to come, that you don’t deserve even a sliver of release.

You’ve always known Rafe was capable of terrible things. But this…This is worse than anything he’s ever done to you. This is the point of no return.

Every time Rafe ruthlessly pounds into you, a bullet-like sensation rips through your flesh, tearing apart any semblance of normalcy, safety that you had. Hot tears skip down your cheeks. You will never feel safe or normal again. 

“Did you fuck that Pogue?” he snarls, his warmth breath flowing over your face. You’re so dazed and fucked out, on the cusp of passing out, you can barely keep your thoughts coherent, let alone speak. 

“Don’t tell me I already fucked you dumb, princess?” he sneers, annoyance and a sick dose of mirth mingling in his hoarse timbre.

When you fail to provide an answer, he bangs your head against the railings. Pins and needles drill into your skull. He wrenches your head back, pulling on a fistful of your hair until your scalp stings.

“When I ask you a fucking question, you answer,” he seethes. His voice lowers as his eyes dive into yours. “Did you fuck that Pogue?”

“N-No, Rafe,” you wheeze out, your voice weak and defeated.

The marbled floor chafes your back as he steadily ruts into you again, grabbing under your thighs to fuck you even deeper as you weep in silence beneath him. 

“Good. You’re mine and no one else’s. Do you understand? That fucking pussy was always mine…and still is.” He unleashes a drawn-out purr, lips parting as you clench around him. “Fuck you’re tight. How the hell are you so tight?” he rasps, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He lets go of your neck to focus on your hips, corralling them firmly in his large hands so he can fuck you with abandon. “God, I missed this,” he moans. His gaze narrows. “Don’t think you’re off the hook just cause you’ve got a tight pussy.” 

His thrusts grow sloppier over time. Rafe chases his high while you pant helplessly beneath him. When his warmth spills inside you, a shuddered exhale leaves you. He remains nestled between your bruised walls, his heavy body covering yours as his spent leaks between your ass cheeks, pooling beneath you. He plants a slow, soft kiss on your lips, a disturbing contrast to what he just did to you. 

He cups your cheek and strokes the side of your head. 

“You took four years from me. And I intend to make up for lost time.” A devilish grin splits across his face. Dread fills you as he adds, “Maybe I’ll even put another one in you, make sure not to miss anything this time.”

“Mommy, mommy! Look at me,” Parker shouts from astride the majestic pure breed pony his father appointed for his fourth birthday. 

He waves at you and you return the gesture with a hollow smile. 

“I’m watching you, sweetie,” you reply from your lounge chair by the pool. 

Above the Cameron mansion, the sun shines bright, the sky a dizzying shade of blue. There’s not a cloud in sight, almost as if Rafe paid them off to steer clear on his son’s special day.

Parker trots around the yard with a big, ecstatic smile on his face, his dad cheering him on nearby. The little boy requested a pony ride for his birthday so, of course, Rafe Cameron made it happen.

There aren’t many things Cameron money cannot buy. A fact he loves taunting you with every chance he gets. 

Just like the ridiculous, over the top birthday party he put together, Rafe never misses an occasion to spoil his son rotten since they reunited. Almost as if to show you what you’ve been depriving him of all these years, rub his money in your face and make you feel like a terrible mom. 

You can’t deny that it works. Every time Rafe gives Parker something you never could have provided on your own, guilt chews at you. And it’s clear that he knows it, that smug grin always dancing on his face when he catches you looking dejected. 

One of the moms in the lounge chair near yours lets out a dreamy sigh as she devours Rafe with her eyes. 

“You’re a lucky bitch, you know that? Cute son. Hot husband. What I wouldn’t give to have your life.”

Your teeth clench as you bite down every hateful word searing your tongue. From across the yard, Rafe’s icy blue eyes find yours. He beams at you. A chill travels up your spine. You look away.

“Hm…yeah. I guess I am,” you answer, casting a sour glance at the diamond ring on your finger. The gigantic rock’s shimmer is blinding as it catches the sunlight. To everyone else on Figure Eight, the fancy silver ring is a display of Rafe Cameron’s boundless love and devotion for you. It makes women green with envy. It bruises men’s egos. But you see the exorbitant blood diamond for what it is…An expensive shackle binding you to your gilded cage. A reminder that you’re trapped and there is no safe haven away from him anymore.

Rafe hasn’t failed to find little ways to make you pay since that day. Treating you like an object to satisfy his needs behind closed doors while forcing you to maintain the act of the perfect family in public. Every day you awake dreading he found another way to torment you, some fresh hell to rain upon you.

He never runs out of ways to twist the knife he buried deep within you. Again and again.

When the evening reaches its end, all the guests having vacated the house, Rafe slips behind you as you’re cleaning dishes. 

His large hands sweep over your hips and you recoil.

“Rafe…I’m…Can’t we give it a rest, just for today? I’m still sore from the other night,” you plead, desperation making your voice quake.

Before he can answer, Parker interrupts, trailing down the stairs as he yawns. 

“Daddy?” he utters drowsily. 

The little boy is sporting a brand new pajama his father got him, as he didn’t allow you to keep any of the clothes you got him over the years, calling them low quality and cheap.

He approaches your son at the bottom of the stairs and holds his shoulders, giving him a bright grin. His expression turns fond and prideful as he considers his son. The way Rafe is with his son is a sharp contrast to the way he is with everyone else. The toddler’s become the center of his universe. It nearly makes you feel guilty for hiding him. Nearly. The bruises tattooed all over your skin are a wicked reminder of who Rafe truly is.

“Daddy’s coming soon to tuck you in, okay, P?” He kisses the top of his head. “So go back to your room.”

Parker nods as he lets out another yawn. “Okay.”

“That’s my boy,” he chimes, ruffling his honey blonde curls. 

Parker hops up the stairs. When Rafe turns to you, the smile on his face vanishes.

He rushes to you, his hand shooting up to latch around your throat. His deathly grip on your neck crushes your windpipe. You look at him with wide, terrified eyes, your mouth wobbling. An expression edging on murderous decorates his handsome face. 

He snickers. “You’re sore? You think I give a fuck? I’m putting Parker to bed, then I want you waiting for me upstairs in that red lingerie set I just bought you.” He leans over you, mumbling in a low, threatening tone. “I meant what I said. You owe me four years, princess.” He licks the errant tear sliding down your cheek. “And I plan on getting every single second back.”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfiction #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #pogue!reader #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine

[corvianbard]

#4471

Whether your ambition Lead you to paradise Or to your desolation, Challenge all just to rise.

#my poem #poem #poetry #ambition #desolation #paradise #4471

[the-punforgiven]

NA NA NA NA NANA NA NA NA NAA NA NA NA NA NA NA NANA (NA NA NA NA NA NA NA)

#IT'S THE END #TO THIS LIFELESS PARADISE #YOU DISGUISE #BE THE DAWN-BRINGER DEATH-RINGER GOTTA BRING IT DOWN TONIGHT #THE FINAL DOOR TO DESOLATION #FOR AAAAAL THE LIFE WE'VE EVER LIIIVED #IS THERE NOTHING MORE TO GIIIVE #TO TAKE THE FEAR BY DAWN #A PARADISE WORTH LETTING GOOO #YOU WILL NEVER EVER KNOW #I'VE LIVED MY LIFE FOR YOU-UUU #YOUR SONG BRINGS NO TOMORROW #LIKE A BULLET RIPPING THROUGH #Pun's text Posts

[rassicas]

Return of the Mammalians Log.exe, retranslated

There’s a handful of differences between the ENG and JP version of the secret final Alterna Log, Log.exe. Much of it is fine, but there’s a few things in the localization that I think are...not great. I’ll talk about it at the end I reused some of the wording in the localization that I thought was close enough to the JP, and some of it I rewrote. ok translation under the cut

Return of the Mammalians There were those of humankind who gave up on the desolate Earth. They placed many surviving animals in a cold sleep, put them on a spaceship- the Ark Polaris- and set it off into space. The mission: to search for a new planet to replace the Earth.

The Polaris had a smooth voyage...until it reached the edge of the solar system. It was at that point that debris struck the vessel, damaging its navigation system. The crew was able to turn the ship around and and head back toward Earth, but the effort was in vain-there was not enough fuel to attempt a landing. The Ark Polaris drifted in Earth’s orbit for over 10,000 years.

Eons passed. The once-stable orbit of the Polaris decayed over time until the ship found itself in the inescapable pull of the Earth's gravity. All the humans and animals aboard perished, save one. Bear #03, an experimental subject who had retained consciousness within his cold hibernation, miraculously survived. For 12,000 years he had been thinking, dreaming of the planet he would emigrate to. From this, he gained a very high level of intelligence.

Upon waking, Bear #03 discovers that he had not landed on a new planet at all. He was back on Earth. An Earth dominated by marine life, with not a single mammal in sight.

In the course of his search for a single fellow mammal, Bear #03 used navigational equipment from the wreckage of the Ark Polaris to discover Alterna, located deep within the Crater. Its inhabitants had gone extinct, but upon examining the facilities, he discovered that the thoughts of humanity were burned into the liquid crystals covering the inner walls of Alterna. Thus, Bear #03 repaired Alterna's facilities and began researching the crystals...

This research bore fruit when Bear #03 compounded some of the liquid crystals with his own fur. The experiment created an entirely new substance capable of transforming any living creature into a mammal. As the only surviving mammal, He decided it was his job to restore mammals to the Earth. He aimed to mammalianize all life by using Alterna’s rocket to spread Fuzzy Ooze from the sky.

Bear #03 set out to gather Golden Eggs, indispensable in both the creation of the Fuzzy Ooze and for launching the rocket. For this, he took on the name of Mr. Grizz and founded Grizzco Industries.

Thanks to the assistance of unsuspecting Inklings and Octolings, Bear #03 secured a massive quantity of Golden Eggs. He was ready to take the final steps to set his plan in motion...

My comments:

-The “plotting and dreaming” line bugged the hell out of me, because “plotting” has some connotation of an “evil long term plan”, and Grizz had no motivation to carry out his mammal restoration plan until AFTER he woke up. The JP version is more clear about what he was dreaming about, and it doesn’t sound as evil. -the paragraphs about Grizz discovering Alterna and Fuzzy Ooze are interesting in how they’re a bit different from the ENG version. Not a fan of the “mammalian paradise!” line I thought it sounded kind of like a idiotic cartoon supervillain there. I mean he kind of is and his plan fucking sucks, but the original line makes his motivations sound a bit more reasonable-taken-to-an-insane-extreme rather than just cartoonishly insane. JP Grizz sounds more level-headed and deep in thought. -I invite you to compare the second to last paragraph, as the changes in this part are what inspired me to retranslate this. The localization left out the crucial information that the eggs are rocket fuel, and instead added in some fluff about ORCA being not-so-omniscient that wasn’t present in the original.

#splatoon #splatoon 3 #mr grizz #return of the mammalians #mr. grizz #splatoon translations #rotm

[animatronicthing]

🎙️ ;; # ANGELIMORVID ;;⠀『⠀ ANGELI- MORVID⠀ 』 .

A gender related to being an unholy , fallen angel. A corrupted saint whose hands are covered with blood & sin, & that now roams through the earth. It may come with great feeling of desolation , missing the holy paradise it once belonged to , but still has that same morbid desire of doing wrongful & impure things that got it excluded from heaven. ,.

🪽⠀REQUESTED BY ; NO ONE !! . Coined by Freddy . ⋯

⠀ ⏕ tagging @accessmogai for image ID . @laylalita , @dollgirlsmind for the sillies ,, .

[ PT: Angelimorvid. Angeli- morvid.

A gender related to being an unholy, fallen angel. A corrupted saint whose hands are covered with blood & sin, & that now roams through the earth. It may come with great feeling of desolation, missing the holy paradise it once belonged to, but still have that same morbid desire of doing wrongful & impure things that got it excluded from heaven.

Requested by no one. Coined by Freddy.

Tagging: @/accessmogai for image ID. @/laylalita, @/dollgirlsmind for the sillies. END PT. ]

#⠀ ᵎ { 🧨 } ⌗ . ┅⠀The MADNESS Never Ends． #⠀ ᵎ { 🎬 } ⌗ . ┅⠀ Doing Good Is Boring． #mogai coining #mogai gender #mogai flag #mogai term #mogai #liom coining #liom label #liom gender #liom #xenogender #xenogender coining #xeno flag #angelimorvid #posting old terms

[rippersz]

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

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(Rebel Angel who somehow doesn’t know who Lucifer is)

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It seemed that the Almighty had reached his limit. His breaking point. His last straw. You exhausted him- worried him- pushed him too far and he had had enough. Too many broken rules. Too many annoyances. Too many thises and thatses and one or the other. So many complaints… so many arguments… so many accounts of general public disruption…

God never allowed insolence. God never allowed anything less than perfection.

And you were terribly flawed.

That was the reason- surely- as to why you found yourself waking up on a dark cold marble floor instead of in the cool holy waters of your ivory bath.

The wings at your back ached and something in your chest was bruised, swiftly gathering atoms of divinity to weave the pain away. Too, your hands were red when you turned them over - stinging with the remnants of a hard fall. And your knees were skinned; epidermis peeled back and raw. It looked as though you’d been brought to the pearly gates and pushed off of the silver city’s edge. It felt like you’d been brought to the pearly gates and pushed off of the silver city’s edge.

“Stuck up- bastards-,” you grunted, pulling yourself up onto your hands and knees.

The fucking lot of them - every other single fucking angel up there in those clouds… they were morons. Idiots. None of them knew how to have a good time. None of them knew how to have fun. There were no parties in Heaven. There were no parties in paradise. There was no difficulty in Nirvana. And you loathed that. Hated that. For years you sat on your ass, from childhood to adulthood, watching with wide bright eyes as the world went on around you. Your parents made you the way you were, keeping you sheltered and happy and strong while the other little angels played outside and were born with glowing lights around their bodies. They learned all sorts of things out there - mingling in the ‘real world’ - watching as guardians.

But your human died one day after being born - and you had no one to guard. And God sort of looked at you after that and thought ‘Meh. Do what you want with her.’ and that was the end of it. From that point on you were just- there. A distraction for the others. A nuisance for most. A good time for few. But it seemed God decided you’d fucked around for the last time - and he cast you to-

…well. You weren’t exactly sure where you were.

Unlike Eden, the place you were in was dark. Desolate. Lit with something… unsettling. The air smelled of sulfur and burn - and you swore you could see ash float about in the nonexistent wind. There were no clouds either, and no subliminal gentle hum that typically played on a loop within the city - meant to carry the angels and souls through their hours. Inspiring joy. Happiness. Obedience. The tune was bloody annoying was what it was - you’d always held some type of disdain for it. But there, surrounded by a very sudden eerie quiet, you wished you could hear the choir singing again. It would, perhaps, only slightly lessen the sudden feeling of being entirely out of place. The metal bowls of flame fixed between long marble columns… the strange fire-pit you faced upon standing on your feet and shakily turning around… the- oh… the color of the sky… no such phenomenons existed in Heaven. Flames were rarely seen. And the sky was never- well you would have remembered if it were ever red. Or a weird mix of fiery orange and black. Or even grey. But it wasn’t. You knew it wasn’t. There were no silver pathways leading from this place to the other; and there was no distinct shine to the universe itself. No… divinity. No divinity at all.

So where in the Lord’s name were you?

“How peculiar…” a voice purred, “…an Angel? In my realm?… It appears you have fallen quite a long way.”

You turned, body tensing with discomfort. You didn’t know anyone else would be present. You hadn’t even heard them come in. Yet when you looked around, searching and curious, having to do a complete 360, you found there was someone present.

Something present.

The fire in the great pit that separated you had grown into an inferno. You could barely make out the creature’s face through the heated disruption. The blonde curls, you saw. The way they fell just so across a pale forehead. And the wings… by God, the wings. You were drawn to them almost instantly. A set far different from your own, laying poised behind the thing’s strong back. Dark, you noticed. And sharp. Leathery? Yes - definitely. Nearly… bat-like… and powerful, without a doubt. You squinted, trying to see through the flames, but it was to no use. The stranger was tall but drowned in shadow. Hidden, almost - even though you could see the midnight color of their silk robe.

How intriguing… You blinked, wondering if there was a chance that you were possibly hallucinating (and ignoring the fact that angels couldn’t hallucinate), but you weren’t. It was real. And it was silent. And you were staring.

“Who are you?” The volume of your tone made you wince. In Heaven, everyone had to raise their voices over the soft din of the choir, eventually giving them the natural disposition of talking loudly. But in the silence of that strange land, it sounded like the ‘gunshot’ some humans described when first stepping into the silver city. Noisy, booming, and honestly embarrassing.

Though the creature didn’t seem to mind. In fact, they didn’t seem to care. Not at all. Instead, you noticed the slightest shift in the robe’s sleeve and could just barely make out the velvet outline of long fingers floating delicately through the ashen air before the fire in front of you- the fire separating you- the only thing keeping you strangers and safe- disappeared. Went out. Settled into heated coals and sizzling sounds. And thus, revealed the monster.

The very… very… very… very attractive monster. The handsomest of monsters. The most beautiful monster. With shining crystal eyes, blue like the holy water you rested in during times of sleep, and soft pink lips, putting human flower petals and sunsets to shame. And with a pale pallet, nearly… nearly glowing…

“I am in no mood for games, little Angel,” the pretty monster hummed, tilting its head as it began moving.

Slow step by slow step, you watched in awe as it grew closer… and taller… and more glorious. You’d never seen anyone like them. No soul, no divine thing, no creature in the silver city looked like that. Looked so- so- well you didn’t even have words. Literally and figuratively. Your mouth dropped open and you floundered, searching for something to say, trying to find your sense as each thought in your mind began fraying - destroyed by their proximity. Destroyed by the soft hard line of their jaw and the curve of their chin and bridge of their nose. So glorious… so holy…

“I-” your voice croaked, “I don’t- I don’t know… who you are,” you confessed, voice softening into something innocent.

It was the truth - the honest truth! - but for some reason you felt… stupid. For not knowing what it was or who they were. From a young age, angels were expected to know everyone and everything. Nearly every other angel’s name by heart; every religion and each God; every world and all things in between. Including greater entities. Anomalies. Beings with great power - like Dream of the Endless and his friend, Desire. And most angels did know such things. Most angels did retain such information. But of course, as it goes in any walk or form of life, one must always slip through the cracks. And that was you. There were many things you didn’t know and many things you didn’t care to know. But standing there in front of them, below them, looking up to see the way some stray beacon of light made their fair curls shimmer, you realized you probably ought to know them. Their presence felt so… intoxicating… it was hard to understand how you hadn’t come across anything like that before. Especially when you felt your hands shake as you realized just how much they loomed over you… Like Azrael. But they- it?- was not Death. You knew Death. You had tea with Death once… before trying to poison them. Just to see what would happen of course! Just to know. (Nothing happened, unfortunately. They just sort of blinked and gave you an exasperated look and told you to go away. There was no more tea after that.) But despite not being Death, they still held that air about them. That distinct aura of doom. Of glorious defeat. It swelled in the pits of those icy eyes.

And such glorious icy eyes they were. So beautiful. So intense. You felt frozen beneath them, any hint of scorn directed at the Almighty suddenly gone in the face of the new creature. Entirely overshadowed by morbid curiosity… and the tiniest hint of fear. You’d never really felt fear before. But the rushing in your heart, and the sound of golden blood in your ears, and the whimper that nestled in the depths of your throat could only mean terror, couldn’t they? You watched realization slowly dawn on the creature’s face. You watched their brows furrow slightly, then you looked down to see those peach lips parting - slowly, softly, god-like.

“Intriguing…,” their breath smelled of wine and dying stars, “…you really have no idea, do you?”

Their tone was lilting; their accent sublime. So pronounced, so gentle, sounding almost like a song within the crackling silence of the fires going on around you. It had you leaning closer, drawn like a foolish sailor to a siren’s whims. Just utterly transcendent. Just inexplicably marvelous. It had a weight to it that you’d only seen in God… but the creature before you was most certainly not God. Not in any religion. No, it was something else. Something more abstract. Something darker. But you couldn’t place even a single fingertip on it.

“No, no clue.” You sounded breathless.

Hearing that seemed to please the creature in some odd way. There was a glimmer to their eye that wasn’t there before - and they appeared… delighted?

“Well,” it sighed, sculpted pale hands poised in front of a soft abdomen. “I believe that calls for an introduction.” And then there was a pause. An ominous, strange pause - as if the being was silently telling you that you had one last chance to be honest; coaxing you into admitting a truth that you didn’t know nor understand. But when you just blinked at them, hanging onto their words for dear non-life, quite unsure of what they wanted, they seemed to finally accept reality and internally concede.

“Lucifer,” they cooed, voice ringing and smirk evil, “Morningstar.”

Morningstar…

…The Morningstar.

The one whispered about… the one gossiped about… the name passed from one seraphic mouth to another… the occasional ‘talk of the town.’ Everyone seemed to know about them but you. They were formidable, yes, but that was the extent of your knowledge. Their origins were unknown. Their story was a shot in the dark. Perhaps that’s why you felt so odd within their presence - like a sweating blushing thing that wasn’t sure of its place in the Heavens. Or in any realm, for that matter.

You sort of felt the need to bow. It tingled in your shoulder blades, wormed beneath your ribcage, but refused the instinct. You were an Angel. You bowed to no one but God, and even then you rarely did so. Everyone in the clouds knew you to shirk such an honor. A brave few even murmured about the Morningstar and how you’d ‘fall’ just like them. At the time you ignored them, having no clue what they were talking about. But looking around you then, feeling the weight of the burning air, you knew you were a long way from Heaven. Perhaps in its very antithesis, though you had no name for that just yet. Did everyone in that realm have a figure like Lucifer’s? Did all of their hair shine like that? Were all of them fair-skinned and untouchable? Was it Heaven reversed?

You couldn’t control the way your eyes slid over to their wings. They were far larger up close… and taloned, you noted. Was there a chance they were soft? They looked soft. Leathery and strange, with skin stretched over bone, but soft nonetheless. And as if sparked by your thinking, they twitched, flaring for just a moment before relaxing once again. You looked back up into Lucifer’s eyes, not at all surprised to see the lingerings of malice. They did not look like they wanted to kill you, but they did not exactly look welcoming either. No, there was no warmth there. Just curiosity. And openness. You were no threat to this being… and that irritated you. Every religion knew to respect the angels. Every religion knew to understand that they did the bidding of God. Every religion knew to welcome them with open hands and a smile.

But you were not welcome. Not with open hands and certainly not with a smile.

So how dare they? How dare it? How dare this- this- Lucifer? You felt your back straighten, renewed with energy as you found your mental footing. The ache in your body was gone, whatever wounds you’d sustained just faded memories of some minutes. That’s right - you were angelic. Divine. This Lucifer had no idea who it was speaking to.

“And I am Y/n,” your voice was hard, “I’d say it’s a pleasure, but it doesn’t feel like it.”

You were expecting bared teeth. A growl, maybe. Perhaps the full extension of those glorious wings. A hand around your neck would have done enough all on its own. But the only response you inspired was the slightest twitch in the Morningstar’s right cheek. It tugged at the corner of their lip, making them smirk and sneer all at the same time - but only for a moment. A very quick moment that wouldn’t have happened at all if you hadn’t been watching. And just as swiftly, they were back to neutral; a pleasant little expression on their face as their eyes suddenly ran over your body - from top to bottom and back again. You were grateful that you were still wearing your toga; pristine and white, draped over your one shoulder and tucked under your other arm, tied tightly at the waist with a thin golden band - divine in nature and very handy. Your feet, on the other hand, were bare. And the golden cuffs that usually graced your wrists were gone. You felt disheveled. You felt less than pristine. You looked… exactly as you had always felt. Like a mess. Like a bright glimmering mess. Like a pile of abstract art that existed among the carefully carved statues of Heaven. You felt… you looked… far more beautiful than you ever had before.

It was hard to tell if Lucifer agreed.

“No I suppose it doesn’t,” they hummed, referring to your earlier response. “Though I should hope you know that’s the point.” The Morningstar spoke nonchalantly- as if they weren’t the most strangely intriguing thing you’d ever come across.

Their words, on the other hand, were confusing.

“No. I don’t know where I am,” you glanced around for a moment, still stuck without a clue, “so I wouldn’t know. Care to enlighten me, Morningstar?”

“You will address me as ‘Your Majesty’ or you will lose your tongue,” they replied quicker than light, voice deep and sharp enough to cut.

It felt like the air changed then, becoming nearly suffocating in its depth. It crawled into your lungs, into your veins, making you swallow around a sudden lump in your throat while your eyes started to water. Clearly, Lucifer was powerful. Not someone to be messed with. And not nearly as patient- nor ‘kind’- as God. At the brief thought of him, you glanced up; like you’d suddenly see the city gates open again and you’d be welcomed back and lightly chastised before being sent on your way around the clouds; like you’d somehow be saved. But there was no reckoning. There was no call. There was no miracle. There was only Lucifer.

“Do you wish to return to the silvery city, little Angel?” You turned back to those calm frozen eyes, resisting the urge to get lost in them.

“Yes, of course,” you said as though your answer was obvious (which it was).

“Interesting,” they hummed, tilting their head to the side slowly - like a hungry snake, “…I felt that way once, too.”

You frowned. Just what in Heaven’s name was the Morningstar talking about? No, you’d never heard of angels being cast from Eden, but you assumed that it was maybe like a one time thing? Like a mini punishment and you’d be summoned in any coming minute? For a second there you even considered the dark marble and flames and strange domed ceiling and weird cave walls were all part of an odd dream. But the sincerity in the Morningstar’s hushed tone said otherwise. Like they- like it was the truth. Like they truly had done what you did (though many more times) and looked to the sky in hopes to hear the choir once more. Like the weight of whatever happened to them would become a similar weight for you. Their words sent your head in circles.

“What do you mean?” You finally demanded, crossing your arms over your chest.

That seemed to amuse them as they smirked, eyelashes fluttering slightly. “I fell too. Once upon a time,” they paused, watching your eyes for any understanding. When they didn’t find it, they continued. “Right after succumbing to defeat.” A flicker of something dark rushed through their gaze. It unsettled you.

And sparked more outrage.

“What- what are you talking about?!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in clear exasperation.

What ‘defeat’? What ‘fall’? How long ago was all of that? What even happened? How did they get those wings? Who were they really and what were they capable of? And honestly, dear God, would someone just tell you where the fuck you were?!

“Ah,” they pursed their pretty lips, “It’s no surprise you’re here now. Angels are not meant to be so foolish,” the Morningstar declared, still lilting and song-like and beautiful and terribly insincere.

Their insult had your blood boiling. Who the fuck were they to say that? They were no Angel. They didn’t understand a damned thing. They didn’t know you and they didn’t deserve to know you. No matter how sublime a creature - such glory only existed on the outside.

“You wouldn’t know a fuckin thing,” you spat, giving them the best glare you could, “you’re no Angel.” A sneer painted your face.

“Foolish and blind, it seems…,” they mused as they began walking around you, lining your arms up at one point before continuing their small trek around the round bowl of the fire pit.

They paid you virtually no attention as they went, keeping their eyes trained on what appeared to be a balcony a few feet away. Interestingly enough, although their realm was warm, they seemed to be ice cold. There was not an ounce of heat that passed through the silk of their robe when they brushed past you. The proximity to something so powerful again had that feeling of needing to kneel traveling up your spine, but you pushed it down and worked on keeping the Morningstar in your sight. If you stopped looking at them, it was only a wonder as to how easily they could catch you by surprise.

“But you don’t look very…,” you trailed off, knowing you were going to say ‘angelic’, but realizing that you were… well you were wrong. Quite wrong.

Lucifer kept walking, not caring to stop for your reconsideration. But you didn’t need long. Those curls actually seemed rather… familiar. The way they surrounded the head, covered the ears, accentuated the cherubic features, glowed despite there being no light; and the willowy glide of their body, slow, methodical, full of undeniable beautiful grace; and their voice, distinct and delicate and precious and captivating; and their height- and their jaw- and their lips- and eyes- and proud nose- and perfect posture- and heavy wings- and… well… every bit of them seemed almost… holy.

Seemed almost like… like… like something you’d seen before. Briefly. In a painting and in a scroll. Only once or twice.

“Samael.”

It came out as a whisper but the monster still heard. And it made them stop in their tracks, wings swaying while the world paused.

You sucked in a heavy breath, feeling a very small shot of fear run down the curve of your neck.

They were Samael. Or they used to be Samael. God’s favorite. God’s best creation. The wisest, handsomest, strongest, most glorious Angel to ever be. The staple of divinity. The most beloved and the most cherished. There was a time once where you walked past an elder and heard them murmur about Samael. They had called you the antithesis. They had called you, in short, the most un-divine angel. If the fallen Samael was the best, you were the worst. And though you did not fully understand the story, though you did not know how they fell or when they fell or why they fell, you knew that their power had changed. The light had gone out and made room for the dark. Their wings shed their feathers and their skin lost its warmth. And they changed. They rebelled.

You frowned, feeling a tug in your heart at the sight of them standing there - glorious and tall and never beaten down. Never one to be truly defeated. They chose that risk - they knew of the consequences. But you? You? You were young. You were not wise, no, but you were clever. Smart. Hot-headed. Wasn’t Samael hot-headed once too? Wasn’t Samael flawed once too? Your small pathetic acts of rebellion were nothing in comparison to all that the Morningstar did.

So why did you wake up in their realm? What did God mean to say?

“Things have changed, little Angel,” their voice grasped you by the throat and brought you back to the present, “dwelling on the past reaps no benefits.”

“But I-” you swallowed, looking around wildly, finding that the gravity of what happened had begun to sink in. “No. No no no, I don’t belong here. I didn’t- I didn’t choose this. I don’t belong here!”

“Why shout when he has closed his ears to you?” The Morningstar asked, turning to face you with curious innocent eyes. “Why fret when you know what you’ve done?”

You squinted, confused, finding yourself taking panicked steps backward.

“That’s the thing, I didn’t do anything!” You insisted, hands clenching and unclenching into fists at your sides. “I didn’t lead a- a- a fucking rebellion against God! I didn’t hurt him! I’m- I’m pure! I want to go home!”

Lucifer stared at you, face blank.

“…This is your home now.”

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:) - Ripley x

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#fanfictionwriter #fanfic #rippersz #fanfiction #sandman #the sandman #the sandman netflix #sandman netflix #lucifer netflix #lucifer morningstar sandman #sandman lucifer #gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie lucifer #samael #lucifer morningstar #x reader #reader insert #one-shot

[livewildlivefree]

Desolate Paradise - (Colored) Mike Sketches Ideas

#my fanmade au #motorcity #motorcityxwolf rain #wolf rain #desolate paradise #mike chilton #the burners #colored sketch #my art #oc rose maiden #sketches #doodles #pose practice #expression study #drawing #art #artwork #digital art #don’t steal #don't repost #reblog is appreciated #credits to me for art #credits to titmouse for motorcity #credits to keiko nobumoto for wolf rain #credits to me for rose maiden oc

[candyredmusings]

............................Telling myself that this is fine. I'm having the best time of my life.

#musings #the facade #the despondant #the desolate #the broken bird #source: panic attacks in paradise - ashnikko

[yaksha-lover]

hi i hope you’re doing well :)

could you do a fic on cater or jade in the vampire au?

thank you <3

I went with Jade for this one! Thanks for the request, I’m sorry I took a long time with it <3

cw: slightly mean/manipulative jade, vampire things (blood drinking), minor wounds (cut), suggestive(ish)

“Oh dear, there’s no need for tears~” Jade says, half-patronizing as he strokes your hair. His condescension almost makes you pull away, but his other arm is locked tight around your back. You aren’t sure if the act is more comforting or distressing; maybe a mix of both.

It’s a bit humiliating that he treats you like a sulking child, but you’re greatful that he at least allows you to bury your face in his shoulder. It’s nice to know he can’t see your messy cheeks and puffy eyes, even if he can imagine it from your desolate state.

“Trouble in paradise, my dear?” he teases, after your heaves have turn to soft sniffles. It’s annoying that he acts as though he doesn’t already know the answer; it’s hardly the first time you’ve sought his comfort. Or rather, the first time he’s caught you in this kind of state. No, the sudden bursts of dread feel like they’ve been going on forever.

“Something like that,” you mumble, lifting your head enough from his shoulder to wipe away any stray tears. You turn to face away from him as you separate from his chest. Thankfully, no one else in the mansion ever comes in this wing. You can feel Jade’s curious gaze examining you from his place beside you on the couch; you suppose you owe him at least an explanation for your state. “I’ve just been thinking about my home. I…I want to go home.”

Jade’s arm stiffens around your back almost immeasurably, but you’ve finally been around him enough to spot the cracks in his veneer. His free hand comes to rest on your own and for a second you believe you might experience a moment of genuine connection with him: “I am truly sorry to hear you’re missing home, darling,” Jade says, voice free of mockery. “But,” he continues, fingers tilting your chin to face him, “You know Lilia would never allow such a thing.” His tone may be neutral and disinterested, but Jade’s eyes are sharp and cold, completely unfitting his sympathetic words.

“I know,” you say, unable to separate your annoyance from your tone. Jade doesn’t take too well to your newfound feeling; he really only seems to like the emotions that leave you crumbled in his arms.

“However, I do believe he could be persuaded. Perhaps Azul may even be inclined to help you out. ”

-

Azul continues his paperwork as he replies to your request: “How about a night on the town? If a taste of freedom is what you’re seeking, I could make that happen. Lilia does owe me for setting up the supply of blood that gets delivered to the mansion, after all.”

“Alright,” you reply. “What’s the catch?”

“It will take a certain price. As a magic-less human, you don’t have much to offer me,” Azul says, flashing you his best customer service smile. “Except, perhaps, the only thing you have that the others don’t.”

“How much?”

Azul’s smile widens: “Only a pint, no more than you would give at a human hospital. It’s perfectly safe, I promise you.”

Figures Azul would be the first one to get his hands on your blood. You’re not even sure what he wants to collect it for, but you don’t have many options left.

“Deal.”

-

“How did you know?” you ask Jade, sitting across from him in the restaurant booth.

“I know many things, dear. You’ll need to be more specific,” Jade says, sipping elegantly at his drink.

“That I wanted to come here. I don’t remember telling you about this place.” You look around at the mahogany tables; the restaurant is small so there’s only a couple of them. The quiet was one of the things you’d loved about this restaurant.

“Not me. You have told your little friends though. Ace was quite happy to tell me all about your favourite places at the right price.” Jade’s face remains neutral as he scans the room. “This place is quite cute. I can see why you find it endearing.”

“You extorted Ace into telling you about me?!”

“Extorted? No, we made quite the fair deal. Ask him about it later, if you wish. I only did so to make you happy, MC.”

It’s hard to argue with him on that; despite his questionable means, Jade often did have your best interests in mind. You felt frustrated at the rush of heat to your cheeks. Even though your mind knew better, it was hard to keep your heart from stopping the affectionate warmth when you thought about what Jade had done for you.

“Well. Thanks then, I guess.”

Jade smiles gently behind his glass. “You’re very welcome, my dear.”

The waiter comes to take your orders, and you find for the rest of the night that being out with Jade really does take your mind off of things.

-

Jade corners you against the wall as soon as you enter the mansion together.

“Azul has gotten his payment already, but I don’t think I have. Don’t you think I deserve some equal compensation for what I’ve done for you?”

“I-I don’t have anything to give you. What do you want?” you ask, half-dreading, half-excited for his response.

Jade brushes a hand over your hair, until it lands at the base of your neck. He leans in close until you can feel his hot breath on your skin: “Oh, I think you have plenty to give me. One might even say you’re greedy, keeping all this intoxicating blood to yourself.”

“I can’t, I already gave some to Azul! If I give any more today I’ll pass out.” You say, although you know rationality is a lost cause if Jade has decided this is what he wants. Your own rationality is steadily slipping away, too, being replaced by the desire for him to give you something else to distract you.

“You know, Floyd has told me all about how tasty you are~ There’s only so much a vampire can take, my dear. You curl into my chest, holding me for comfort and spreading your sweet smell so close to me…” Jade scratches his fangs gently across your skin, not piercing the flesh but still sending a shiver down your back. Just as you close your eyes and brace yourself for the prick of pain, Jade has removed himself from you entirely.

When you open your eyes, Jade stands in front of you. He seems to stifle a sound of amusement: “Kidding, of course. You didn’t really think I would take blood from you, did you? I would never harm you, my dear. Well, not unless you wanted me to.” Jade says with his typical deceptively pleasant smile.

“I wouldn’t.” You reply flatly, brushing past him to the kitchen. You don’t know who you’re more irritated at: him, for acting like he wanted to take your blood, or you, for wanting him too.

“Ah, I am sorry, I see my jest may have frightened you more than I intended. Perhaps I can make it up to you.” Jade says, picking up a small bag you hadn’t noticed him place on the floor earlier. “I had to make a deal with him, but I got Azul to find a supplier for these fruits for you. I know they’re your favourites.”

It’s both endearing and terrifying to realize how well Jade actually knows you. He offers to prepare them for you, but you decline: “I can do it. You’ve…already done too much for me today.”

Jade pats your head. “If you insist.”

You ask him to wait on the couch while you go into the kitchen with the fruit. Lost in thought with ambivalent feelings about the vampire you’ve spent all day with, the knife slips and makes a small cut on your finger. You hiss and go to the sink to wash it but Jade entering the kitchen stops you.

“Hm, so clumsy, it seems I’ll have to keep a closer eye on you.” Jade says, catching your wrist. He rotates your hand until he can see your cut, popping your finger into his mouth. You hate that when he looks back up at you, still sucking on your finger, he smirks at how flustered you’ve obviously become. He finally releases you a few moments later. “Vampiric saliva does have healing properties, but it’s best if we further clean and disinfect it.”

When you don’t protest, Jade pulls you out of the kitchen and onto the couch. He comes back a couple minutes later with supplies. After disinfecting your cut, he places a bandaid on it.

“Thank you, Jade.” For all his faults, he has taken good care of you.

“You’re welcome, my dear. It’s getting rather late, let me walk you back to your room.”

“Yes, because the mansion is so incredibly dangerous at night.” Jade gives a polite chuckle at your statement, but his grip on your hand doesn’t lessen.

“With you being so…accident-prone, it seems better to be safe than sorry, no?” Jade says.

You refuse to argue with him anymore, so the two of you continue on your way. It’s only when you’ve arrived at your door, ready to say good night to him, that he whispers in your ear: “Floyd wasn’t exaggerating it seems. Your blood truly was addicting.”

With that he’s gone back down the hall, and you enter your room, heart racing.

#damn ​finally made it out of the drafts #jade leech x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #jade leech #azul ashengrotto #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland vampire au #twst vampire au #twst jade #twst jade x reader

[stillness138]

where are characters from the first Hades game now, and some other character-centric theories:

inspired by this post by @thebuttsmcgee

so from the technical test gameplay stream we learned that Chronos straight up took over the underworld and kidnapped not only Hades, but Zagreus and Persephone too. out of the underworlders from the first game, Charon is still doing his thing in secret, Skelly returns in a new coat, the Wretched Broker is back too, and Hypnos is the only other guy from the House who's hiding at Hecate's hub, but he's also fast asleep...

personally, i think Hypnos might be cursed or something like that. Chronos using Hypnos's schtick against him? lose time by sleeping through it all? or maybe he just wakes up a bit later. hell, maybe he's always asleep during the test but not the final game because he would've dropped a spoiler or something.

so what about the rest?

assuming they're not all imprisoned somehow,

-Nyx and Thanatos: they could've fled to Chaos. a narrator's note at the Crossroads says that it houses 'those still loyal to lord Hades', but doesn't necessarily say 'all of them'. Nyx visits Chaos in the first game once their relationship is mended, and like the post i linked said, Than would've probably tried to protect the family and the House for as long as he could. but in the face of no other option, i think Chaos would be a viable place to flee to for the two of them, out of Chronos's reach similarly to the Crossroads. Than also visits the surface though, so maybe he'll show up at the Crossroads at some point? maybe in a plot point, trying to help Mel free Zag and the fam? both of them are important enough to warrant an appearance.

-the Furies: my idea is that all three of them were forced to serve Chronos. they're a very important part of security and upkeep down there, i think he would've wanted the realm's employees on his side. i don't however think they're going to be the bossfight between Asphodel and Tartarus. they, or Meg alone, should have some presence however.

-Sisiphus: it would be kinda cute if the furies went behind Chronos's back and helped to tuck Sisiphus away somewhere safe, given that he is loyal to Zag/the family and maybe that'd mean they were ordered to torture him again. depends on what Chronos's rule over the underworld looks like for the different shades there, but Melinoë speaks to the few that hang around at Crossroads in an almost comforting manner, so i imagine Chronos is trying to rule by fear and get shades on his side that way. Bouldy's gonna be sad, but fine. i hope. but at least a mention would be nice.

-Achilles and Patroclus (and Theseus&Asterius): ...they're probably separated again, aren't they... brainstorming now, i like (pain and) the idea that they're both in Elysium, just not together. because i think Elysium would've risen up as an army of sorts trying to oppose Chronos, given it's all warriors and heroes. separated by war. Nemesis having Stygius with her makes me believe Achilles could be wielding Varatha. additionally, Theseus being forced to step up and put his vanity aside, delicious idea i think. also, Mel arriving to this supposed paradise only to find it in a desolate state. all of them, i think, should be at the very least mentioned too.

-Orpheus and Euridice: they could be both hiding or imprisoned or forced to serve, but. what if this time it's Euridice who's looking for Orpheus. he's at the house and at Chronos's whim, while she makes it to the Crossroads and asks Mel for help. it'd be a shame if they were never heard from again.

-Cerberus: probably locked up with the fam :( orrr he's running wild all around the realm and Chronos is literally incapable of taming him. that would've been fun. Cerberus bossfight tho... nah. no way he wouldn't see something familiar in Mel. but it could be fun too if done right. he definitely has to reappear.

-Dusa: wild theory time but she's hiding in the rafters, spying on Chronos. :D. if the situation is much more dire, she's either also forced to serve, or even banished into Asphodel to be with the other gorgon heads. either way i think she'll pop up again in some capacity.

-House Contractor, Head Chef, Resource Director: probably unwillingly continuing their jobs under Chronos's rule. although the chef might've lost his job, depends if Chronos like, eats normal food. well mostly onions and fish but still. alternatively, the chef will also show up at Crossroads like the Wretched Broker does.

-THE GOOD SHADE from Elysium: okay war hero good shade arc when? i'm sorry, but i love them.

some other ideas, theories and wishes:

-the obvious one is Hera, like many others i also hope she will appear as a major boon giver.

-i have a feeling, however, that Hermes might not. it seems a bit that Artemis and Selene are filling up his role as the little bit specific boon giver, but maybe i'm wrong. Artemis provides crit boons just like in the first game and Selene has a bit more of a Chaos vibe to her. let's see.

-i do think, or would like it if, Chaos shows up, but not as a boon giver. but i believe they would definitely have something to say about Chronos's actions.

-back to Hermes though... there's that sealed staircase that leads upwards from the Crossroads. people have already been theorizing this, but there might seriously be a section of the game taking place on Olympus, or at the very least somewhere under it. still, i don't think Hermes would be a boon giver either if he does appear. i would however like to see him interact with Charon.

-the Fates will, i think, remain obscure, even if Moros has more of a connection to them. maybe they'll be mentioned and explored a bit more, but i wouldn't count on them appearing by themselves.

-i would however like to see at least one more of Nyx's kids. originally, i also hoped Erebus himself ever shows up personified, but i like what they've done with it as a place.

Eris is i'd say the biggest contender, given that she's namedropped in the first game through a weapon aspect and a purchasable item. maybe she's even boss material (again, if Nemesis has the sword, Eris may wield the rail).

-same thinking can be applied to Ariadne (she lives with Dionysus on Olympus, does she not?), Talos (giant robot made by Hephaestus, how cool is that), and Lamia (snake lady with personal history with Zeus and Hera, would even make for a cool boss too i think, although i always viewed her as a more melancholic figure. but i'm just spitballing here). there are also Atlas, Prometheus and other names on Charon's many items, those are less likely to make an appearance imo.

-Talos also obviously has a weapon aspect in the first one, and then there's Chiron. in myth, he is the son of Chronos. the juiciness of that situation, given he has a relationship with Achilles and Patty as well... perhaps he'll be Elysium's miniboss in the spirit of Asterius? or straight up a main boss? or actually a friendly? i really hope they did something with him, the potential is so very there.

-i think Daedalus will remain present just in name and spirit.

-now that i'm on the weapons though, for all we know there might not be such a thing as weapon aspects (at least not tied to specific figures) in Hades 2, but if there are, including hidden aspects, i'd like to see nods to more of other world mythologies/histories/cultures, like Egyptian, Japanese, pre-columbian American or Slavic.

-this brings me to keepsakes and companion plushies, if they're in the game at all and if so, who gives them out.

keepsake-wise, beside the olympians, Hecate is obvious, as well as Odysseus, and Nemesis and Moros are too. Arachne and Skelly also. Charon seems likely, so does Dora. maybe Hypnos if/when he wakes up. Selene, probably.

i'd say, if companions are a thing, it's also up to Nemesis and Moros, Odysseus, maybe Hecate, likely Arachne, and if there's 6 of them like last time, the final one will be from either Dora or someone we haven't seen yet. or Hecate doesn't give one (she's pretty op for a summon) but Skelly does.

-this also ties into romance! it's been deduced a long time ago, right when the trailer came out, that Nemesis and Moros are very likely romanceable. i also see the appeal and potential of romancing Dora, and from the technical test, i like Melinoë's friendship with Artemis. Hypnos's presence at the Crossroads is interesting from this point too, but i wouldn't guess he'll be romanceable if/when he wakes up.

there are more details to speculate about, especially in gameplay and resources (boss room rewards! the equivalent of nectar/ambrosia to give characters!) but i wanted to keep this mainly about the npcs.

honestly curious what other people are saying!

#hades the game #hades 2 #shut up elis #this got longer than i anticipated

[estro-gem]

Jax x Gangle (Situation-ship): Raptors and Reptiles

The Amazing Digital Circus AU: Oasis

Author's note: Thank you all who showed your support for my previous fanfic! I didn't expect people to actually enjoy it, but I'm not complaining at all. You all made me blush like crazy! I'm really flattered.

Welcome to the Gangle-centred fic! These events happens after those of the previous oneshot, but you don't really need context for it to still make sense.

This story is a little less of a series of events and a little more of a descriptive narrative - definitely not everyone's cup of tea - but at least you get to see unhinged Gangle, I guess... And a little bunnydoll is sprinkled in there too....Maybe a speck of Zooble x Gangle to wrap it all in a nice little bow.

Ths fanfic is very much a situation-ship, instead of a romantic ship. I love the concept of Jax x Ragatha too much to break it in this AU. We are all free to ship whoever; we are all here to have fun!

I hope didn't make too many distracting mistakes in the grammar.

Warnings: Angst, easy on the fluff. All characters and the story of The Amazing Digital Circus belong to Gooseworx!

SUMMARY:

Gangle meets Jax in the hallway right after his long visit to Ragatha. It's been a hard day with a new face arriving so suddenly and Jax looks a little worse for wear.

One look at Gangle's face was enough to have him on edge again.

Please enjoy!

RAPTORS AND REPTILES

In the desert, there is a bird that, despite their wings and the ability to hunt mid-flight, nests beneath the very ground.

The burrowing owl.

It’s small, it’s quick, and it’s silent. The Amazing Digital Circus was a desert, inhabited by characters who banded together to form their own paradise. It was far from flawless, but together, they made a desolate hell into an inhabitable home.

The owl was fleeing back to its burrow after stalking the delicious fresh meat that graced them with their arrival earlier that day. The new arrival was known as Pomni and she had unfortunately proven to be a nuisance to their beloved Ragatha. Minutes prior to the raptor’s flight to her burrow, she spotted the jester loudly blubbering from the hall while standing just outside the ragdoll’s door. She can only imagine Ragatha’s face upon hearing Pomnni’s voice frantically try to apologize.

Of course, Ragatha wouldn’t let the jester in so soon; just as the owl suspected. Pomni had a lot to learn and a lot to prove before she was going to be accepted. The soft sobs that the burrowing owl had heard from Pomni’s mouth, before walking through her new room's door, gave enough of a clue for the raptor to find that the jester seemed to realize that.

But that was enough spying – she had a burrow waiting for her.

“We really need to get you a bell.”

Gangle halted at the sound of Jax’s voice. She was almost startled by it since she just passed his door without hearing it open next right to her. His voice came from further down the hall. Based on the today’s event’s, the petite character could easily deduce that the male paid a nice, long visit to Ragatha. She had the suspicion that he would, but it was nice to receive confirmation.

When Gangle turned around, she almost missed how he stiffened in alarm.

Jax’s smug expression was fixed, and he seemed to be the personification of ‘unbothered,’ but she knew better. When it came to one’s headspace or emotion, she always knew better – call it a blessing from being born with 2 faces.

Jax was deeply disturbed, but he wouldn’t show it. It was understandable, she thought to herself. Today was a rough day and they had fresh meat to worry about. The ribbonoid girl suffered greatly under the brutal bullying of Jax, with tears practically staining cheeks by the end of it all. She should’ve been broken down and crying. Jax was prepared to see her sulk until the following morning, but he wasn’t prepared for her to present as she had in her current state.

Jax wasn’t prepared to be faced with Gangle’s bright smile.

“Someone has a pep in their step.” He quipped sarcastically, “One wouldn’t be able to say that you spend the entirety of the day with tears streaming down your face.”

It didn’t matter how easily Jax was able to fool everyone. Sure, it wasn’t all a simple façade; he really did enjoy being the menace that would ruin anyone’s day, but to call him incapable of caring would be a crime. The snake struck because it was his role – his nature – and the snake was arguably the most dedicated to his role in the oasis.

She saw the rabbit shift into a wider stance as he suddenly took extreme interest in one of his now torn gloves. Gangle didn’t notice that little detail before – something must’ve gotten his skin. Him reacting the way he did, meant that he was immeasurably uncomfortable.

Something within her shifted. If anything, the sight of his torn gloves and the fact that he just left Ragatha’s room, prompted the burrowing owl to come out of its shelter.

She suddenly craved the meat of a reptile.

“I was crying all day…” Gangle slowly took a step forward. She wanted to see him squirm a bit more before she struck her talons into him, “No thanks to you, of course…”

“What can I say? My theatrics tend to bring people to tears.” Jax kept up his aloof demeanor. He didn’t seem to quite catch on to what had her ribbons in such a twist. All he could do in the meantime, was suppress the shudder that crawled up his back while witnessing Gangle’s positively, unsettling smile.

It’s one of the only ways she could express anger, after all. It was bone-chilling.

“Judging by the state of you gloves and your previous whereabouts,” the girl used her head to motion to the door behind Jax, as he did his best to block her view of it, “I’m assuming that you were responsible for tears other than mine, yes?”

THUMP

Now that did it.

Jax was so adorable when he lost his temper. Being the only ‘animal’ in the circus, Jax tended to revert to his feral instincts when he was overcome with emotion. Gangle always found it so queer.

“Cut the crap.” Jax spat, averting his gaze in embarrassment, before glaring back sternly, “I didn’t do anything to her. I wouldn’t!”

“Your outburst doesn’t support your case, Bunny~” her voice chimed smoothly as Gangle’s smile stretched inhumanly wide in response. She knew just how to drive into her personalized predatory charms. As a burrowing owl, it’s impossible to believe that Gangle was above anything. She spent most of her time stalking underground, below their feet. Unnoticed, until she revealed herself.

And reveal herself she did.

“You know that only I do what I have to do – nothing more!” Jax’s grin widened in kind, like a snake baring his fangs as he poised to strike. He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, “Our little dolly needed some special attention. Since you were M.I.A. I bit the bullet. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Gangle’s eyes narrowed to slits, “I dealt with Caine to get my mask fixed. He drew it out more than necessary. I was about to pay Ragatha a visit before I saw you slip into her room.”

“And you figured that 2 is compony and 3 is a crowd, right?” His sarcasm never let up, even when he was rattled by her unwavering gaze.

“We both know that you just loved every minute you had with our sweet Ragatha…” Gangle leaned in closer, until she was too close for comfort. She intended to bait Jax into losing himself. If he did, she could take it… until she could wrap her ribbons around him as restraints. She would scream for someone to help; to check on Ragatha. Until then, she needed him to give her reason to do so, “Want me to believe that it's a chore for you to manhandle your doll?”

“Want me to wipe that smile off your face, Ribbons?”

Silence.

Tension.

Feral looks that could kill.

All, but no violence. No claws or teeth. Jax was perfectly composed, despite being as disheveled as he was. Yes, the rabbit was on edge and oozing with anger and frustration, but I kept his hands to himself, and his claws retracted. He only displayed his wide, feral smile – inches away from Gangle’s face. The snake’s threat display.

That was all Gangle needed to calm her racing mind.

Jax was still sane and merely acting within his role. Nobody got hurt, despite Jax having felt the need to bare his claws at some point this evening. A wave of relief washed over her as she allowed herself to pull back and deflate her stance.

No need for talons to sink into snakes tonight.

Jax drew back as well, mirroring her stance. Gangle could see his eyes soften slowly, upon realization that she was just fulfilling her role as his was fulfilling his. Unbeknownst to the ribbinoid, Jax heart swelled as the moment lingered. He felt the urge to display his appreciation to Gangle for wanting to protect their Ragatha.

Their precious water spring.

Sure, he was offended that she would think him capable of even thinking of harming the ragdoll, but it was the sentiment that won him over. Gangle was the raptor with the bird’s eye view, after all.

She poked and prodded; she searched and tracked for anything and any sign of Jax falling out of line. The masked girl’s mind was racing and calculating, as she was assigned to; with a brilliant mind such as her own. A certain gleam in Jax gaze had Gangle deduce that his mind was called back to a fond memory of them, operating in sync.

Maybe back to when Gangle first arrived in the circus…

Since no one could remember anything before entering The Amazing Digital Circus, Gangle considered her memories to be precious. She was prone to cling to as many as she could.

Her memory was actually brilliant. The mess of ribbons she was, with nothing more than a mask for a head, would leave one thinking that Gangle’s mind was as empty as the space behind her mask was, but her memory was practically photographic. Every shift, every twitch, every mannerism and every micro-expression along with the extensive description of what it all meant – enabled Gangle to easily read and understand her peers.

She could practically read their minds with a single glance.

She’d recall almost anything to the finest detail, but no one needed to know that. It didn’t concern them… and being frail and weak in stature, means that her mental ability was her greatest strength.

Her only strength.

She could still precisely recall her arrival in this forsaken hellscape.  

When she first arrived in the digital realm, she ripped off her comedy mask – thinking that it was her headset that she put on moments before.

However, instead of escaping the new virtual reality that she ungracefully stumbled into, she was just overwhelmed with an undeniable sense of dread and sorrow. The negative emotions brought her to her knees as she scrambled to maintain her grip on the smiling mask. Back then, she didn’t know that it was just because of her tragedy mask fronting. It wasn’t until she saw herself in the mirror, when she could fully comprehend her masks’ ties to her emotions.

Ragatha remained by her side throughout her first day, gently providing a safe space for Gangle to breathe. She did her best to shoo away the chaos that always possessed the tent, whether it be the NPC's the Caine cooked up for them or the other's curious, prying eyes. Gangle couldn't voice it then, but the doll was her saving grace.

They all thought that the ribbinoid wouldn’t last a week.

It felt like hours as Gangle sat in front of that mirror, wearing and removing the respective masks… growing used to the internal waves of emotions that ebbed and flowed from joy to sorrow. It was uncanny how she could feel an indescribable, undeniable joy in the most unfortunate circumstances.

A part of her wanted to believe that she had already lost her mind... but she could never experience the full range of emotions all at once. Maybe, for that reason, Gangle held out for so long.

Maybe she couldn’t abstract, no matter how hard she tried to.

Can one experience a mental breakdown if you already had 2 heads?

One mask would always nullify the other – and that, in itself, was Gangle’s own personal hell. As time progressed and days went by, she’d wear her comedy mask for the kick of it. A close friend abstracted? She’d pop that bad boy on and revel in the horrified faces of her fellow inhabitants as she laughs and smiles like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

That little trick had even brought Jax to unadulterated unease.

She was addicted to the control she had in her self-expression, as it was the only control she believed to have at the time. A smile amidst that tragedy. It drove everyone around her to the brink of insanity. She apparently left them to question the urgency and distress of the ones they lost by the day, but that only had her bursting with uncontrollable cackles.

Nothing mattered anyway.

Everything was so much funnier and lighter with her comedy mask – a high she couldn’t live without at the time. Upon having it broken by Jax for the first time, forced a tsunami of the pent-up negativity to crash into her being. The bunny presumably couldn't stand another minute of living with the girls cold, chilling smile.

This was when Gangle realized that any of her emotions were banked until she wore the relevant mask to let them out.

It was a never-ending dive from the previous high.

Once she recovered after days of crying, screaming, and wailing in fear, agony and sorrow, she accepted and welcomed the bitter melancholy of her existential crises. For the first time since she woke up in the digital world, Gangle found comfort in sadness.

And she realized her need for Jax.

He was the panic button she needed but didn’t always want. He was happy to bask in her tears. She knew that he would be on the prowl to hunt her down, desperate to still the ever-growing hunger he had; to be the greater evil. Gangle would always welcome him with open arms, because in the end, she couldn’t trust herself anymore. She needed her friends.

Because without them, she would turn to that undeniable happiness once again – and she would lose herself in it. This was the very beginning of Jax’s new role of ‘snake’ and her new role of ‘owl.’

Jax and his charming, fiendish stunts operated the groundwork by biting everyone in an attempt to be the occupational hazard. Gangle and her bird’s eye view could oversee it all and silently direct or divert Jax to and from suitable victims. She was the only one who could unnerve the bunny into having him take someone seriously. She was the only one whose eyes and mind he could trust when reading into their behavior. The owl snatched the snake who carelessly parades his antics.

On the other hand, Jax was the only one that could read her state of managing her… ‘addiction.’ He was the only one who would dare bash into her shield – her comedy mask - because the snake strikes the owl weighing heavy with neglect of self-reflection.

Two predators with each other as prey.

Gangle blinked to find Jax searching for something in her expression. Even though their dispute was quietly resolved, Jax still seemed to be bothered by something. The girl made quick work to figure out what it could be – starting with today’s events.

He took such good care of her, Zooble and Kinger today.

This day was stressful and disorienting with Pomni’s arrival. Gangle felt the phantom urge to reach for her comedy mask; her smiling shield of denial. By some devine intervention, her mask was broken due to unfortunate circumstances and without her consent or control. At least, when Jax broke it, it was because it was her choice to plead for his intervention with her eyes – desperate not to fall into old, destructive habits again.

Today, her mask broke, because of her clumsiness.

Her mistakes.

Luckily, Jax was quick to fix that! He purposefully stepped onto it, effectively rubbing salt into the fresh wound. Suddenly, it was him that was the problem! Yes, he didn’t need to do that - that was just evil!

The greater evil – the menace.

Throughout the day, Jax kept them under his heel and stomped on them for good measure. The day’s stress and uncertainty regarding the arrival of Pomni and some fake exit door was gradually drowned by Jax’s antics, and they all fell into routine once again. It was a crying shame that Ragatha had to suffer alone. If only they could’ve done something more…

Something clicked.

Gangle paid attention to Jax’s face again. He looked so tired, but desperate all the same. The masked girl blinked again and suddenly she knew exactly what he needed. What he yearned for.

He needed to see that he’d done enough.

...

With slow movements, Gangle reached for the edges of her comedy mask and removed it from her face. Jax fixed his gaze on her current, sad expression and found no suddenly overflow of tears, no uncontrollable sobbing and no screaming. It was just Gangle’s calm, sad, yet content expression staring back at him. There was no repressed emotion for her to show.

“You asked me if I want you to wipe the smile off of my face...” Gangle spoke, voice wobbly due to her sad expression, “It’s not necessary, I don’t need to be smiling to be ok.”

Jax eyes widened by a fraction, but that was all she needed to understand that he was truly surprised, as if he didn’t expect her to really be content and coping.

She gave a bitter smile; the friendliest one she could muster on her tragedy mask, “You won’t see me crying, though. You’ve already done enough of that today.”

You’ve already done enough.

To an outsider, Gangle's words would sound bitter and petty, but with the way she looked at him, she wanted Jax to feel nothing but reassurance.

You've done enough.

Gangle wasn’t surprised to see Jax stare at her in disbelief, but she was surprised to see sudden, spontaneous tears sprout from his eyes. She almost missed it with how quickly he ripped away his gaze. She couldn’t say or do anything fast enough, before Jax swung around and ripped Ragatha’s door open, entered, then throw it shut just as fast. The ribbinoid stood awestruck in the silent hallway.

She wasn’t upset; she felt honored.

She’d savor this moment until the day she’d abstract, like so many of them had before her. Brief worry flashed in her mind, but it dissipated upon looking at Ragatha’s face on the door. Jax was where he needed to be at this very moment. Although she couldn’t hear Jax sobbing into his arms as he sat against the door with his knees brought to his chest, she was sure that his doll sat right next to him.

Even though Ragatha would be tired and drained after today’s events, she would always make room for someone in need to wash away their sorrow in her clean water.

Knowing the doll, Gangle could only guess that Ragatha ended up eavesdropping on their whole encounter - biding time before splashing into action once things got too heated.

Gangle loved Ragatha for that.

She turned slowly, still dumbstruck and touched by what she had witnessed from Jax and then walked down the hall without a worry in the world. Maybe she will pay her beloved Zooble a visit before retiring for the night. She'd love to let her guard down.

She'd love for something to wrap around.

Gangle looked down at her comedy mask, smiling at her. It felt like a warm, welcoming smile... and she couldn’t help but feel content.

She didn’t feel like wearing a smile anyway.

Oasis: TADC AU list

Masterlist

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc oasis au #fanfiction #tadc jax #tadc gangle #tadc ragatha #jax x ragatha #jax x gangle #situationships #platonic #unhinged gangle #touch averse jax #they are all traumatized #zooble x gangle #jax needs therapy #jax got therapy... kinda #gangle is just a little scary #gooseworx #unhealthy coping mechanisms #toxic positivity #bad analogies #one day i'll learn how to tag #angst #fluff #angst and fluff

[greedyhoneyz]

Paradise Kiss

.ೃ࿔*:･pairing: benjamin pavard x reader

.ೃ࿔*:･synopsis: summer fun with the girl of his dreams.

.ೃ࿔*:･cw: fluff. brief slapping.

.ೃ࿔*:･authors note: used google translate. some of the translations have me like 🥴 so please don’t drag me im trying. i seriously need to get better at describing kissing and romance in itself. didnt proofread.

Underneath the sweltering sun, primrose sand stretched out alongside the shore. It gleamed golden as the sea-blue tide glistened and twinkled along waves rolling in and out in rhythm as steady as a thumping heart.

The beach had welcomed Benjamin and (name) a day before when the sand was damp and the sea had churned to become a deep inky blue. However, as the evening sun settled beneath the horizon, welcoming night, the early morning sun brought a day of sunlight and hot spells. The beach, once desolate, invited its guests and residents along the coast to its clear waters and granular land.

The sand looked clean like sugar spread out for miles as it squished between Benjamin’s and (name’s) toes. Hand in hand, the couple trudged along the beach, a cluster of their belongings hooked underneath Benjamin’s arm.

The warm air was moist and humid; waves crashed quietly against the shore, dampening the beach surface with artefacts of sea shells– the beach house had long vanished into the distance.

It was clear outside and not a cloud lingered in the sky.

Music, loud chatter, the shrieking screams of children playing in the ocean, and the squalls of seagulls hovered above lurked in the air as (name) and Benjamin entered the swarm.

The essence of human life brightened the beach; people accustomed themselves to the toasty sand beneath their feet and the spirited ocean or rested beneath beach parasols and chairs, away from the scorching sun.

Benjamin drew his foot across the sand, scoring a line, and wrestled with the parasol perched into the sand. He decorated their claimed space with beach towels and the rest of their belongings whilst (name) watched, a portable fan held to her face.

“Voila!” Benjamin exclaimed, producing their newly decorated seats. He helped (name) to the floor, beneath the shade and settled beside her. 

He studied her quietly, his eyes closely daring to her hands and the restful expression worn across her face as she forced her fan into his hand. “Tenez ça.” (Hold this.)

Rummaging through her beach bag, (name) fiddled through her belongings, pooling whatever she caught into her lap. 

She turned to Benjamin with a smile and flapped her fingers, urging him closer. 

He leaned in, squeezing his eyes shut as her full lips pulled together to form a pucker. He shuddered at the gentle wind that puffed out through her nostrils, bristling against the hairs on the top of his lip. He smiled meekly, his lips trembled, and slowly brought his forehead to hers.

They settled into a bubble of silence, the beach sounds muted beneath the gentle winds as (name) lathered her hands together, a mischievous smirk quirked at the corners of her mouth.

She caught Benjamin by surprise as her hand rose to blemish his cheek, smearing him with sunscreen. The force she exerted was so strong, it sent his head flying, along with splatters of white.

(name) burst into a fit of giggles, hobbling onto her knees. She hovered above Benjamin who lay awestruck on his beach towel, grinning maniacally, and crept her hands to his face. “Vous avez oublié de mettre de la crème solaire sur votre visage.” (You forgot to put sunscreen on your face.)

Dampening her hands, (name) worked her fingers along his face as Benjamin lay still beneath her, a hand on his swollen cheek. 

His awestruck gaze bored into her face whilst her fingers gently motioned across his forehead and chin. 

“Ah, c'est très bien.” (This is nice) Benjamin mewled quietly. He shut his eyes and blew a blissful breath between his lips. 

“It’s nice for you,” (name) retorted sharply, dropping her hands. She hobbled away from Benjamin, laying back on her beach towel, and threw her sunscreen to him. “My turn.”

Slowly opening an eyelid, Benjamin turned his gaze to (name) as she settled herself beneath their beach umbrella. She laid on her stomach, crossed her arms and rested her chin on her hands, waiting. 

Benjamin sat up leisurely and picked up the bottle, beginning to quietly lather his hands. 

Perched on his knees, his figure casting a dark shadow over (name) as he brought his hands down to her back. Benjamin smoothed his hands across her skin, sculpting the lotion into her curves and along her thighs. 

“Je suis bon pour ça, n'est-ce pas?” (I’m good at this, aren’t I?) Benjamin mused as (name) rolled onto her back. He rubbed her stomach tenderly and ran his palms up along her collarbones and neck.

“Oui, tu as des mains douces.” (Yes, you have gentle hands.) (name) hummed, shaking her head. She flashed a smile at Benjamin and blew a relief breath whilst he worked down her figure. He rubbed along her legs, applying extra care to her thighs before wiping his hands clean on his swim trunks.

Plopping flat beside (name), Benjamin closed his eyes, tucking his arms behind his head, and tuned to the heartful chatter and screams around him. Beneath the dark, shadow cast by their pergola, stillness came as the wind suddenly quelled, and a torrid wave of heat pervaded the shore.

Benjamin peeled his eyelids open, briefly glimpsing at the pergola above him and quickly stood to his feet. He fixed his swim trunks and gently called to (name) as she scrolled through her phone. “Ma douce,” (My sweet,) He cooed, his foot lightly pushing her beach bag aside. “Je vais nager, viens avec moi.” (I’m going to swim, come with me.)

“No. I want to stay here.” (name) cried playfully. 

“Porqoui?” Benjamin frowned. He shifted his weight on his left leg and propped his hands on his waist, furrowing his brows together. 

(name) shrugged, setting her phone on her chest. “Il fait trop chaud pour bouger.” (It's too hot to move.)

“Donc? L’eau va vous rafraîchir.” (So? The water will cool you down.)

“Help me up then.” (name) held her arms up and nodded for Benjamin to come closer. He shuffled towards her, crouched to his knees and curled his arms beneath her armpits, hoisting her up onto her feet. 

“Thanks.” (name) muffled. She placed a kiss on the corner of Benjamin’s lips and fixed her bikini bottoms. 

Hand in hand, both Benjamin and (name) sauntered through the golden grains of sand towards the ocean. The small crystals of sand that cushioned their toes, lay damp beneath the white foamed waves that gently broke at the shoreline. 

The ocean was like a gentle blanket of brochure-blue, its horizon edged with a golden tint as it stretched along the horizon, and mingled with the silk sky.

Dipping into the ocean, Benjamin swam thoroughly through the water with (name) tightly hooked to his chest. He submerged deeper and deeper as the ocean reflected an emerald green and gawked in awe as (name) broke free. She glided forward, kicking her feet, and speedily twirled to Benjamin. She waved at him and managed to express a cheeky grin beneath her puff cheeks before swimming off to the abyss. 

Benjamin tailed after her, crawling through the abyss as (name) twirled and spun around her. She toyed with him, swimming below him, tugging at his legs before he snagged her in a smooth attempt, and luged them both to the surface. Breaking through the rollers of gem-blue waves, the two fought for grasps of air. 

Benjamin exhaled heavily and whipped his hands through his drenched locks as (name) reclined herself in her surroundings. He gaped at her and wadded towards him, her swiftful movements caught her attention. 

She jeered her head to him and beamed from ear to ear at the awe-struck look in his eyes. 

Not a word was muttered as Benjamin held his hands to her face, and slowly leaned in. His nose bristled against hers, their foreheads lightly tapped each other as his lips moved to take claim. He kissed her tenderly, his hands cupping the sides of her face and moaned euphorically as she shifted her lips in battle with him, luring him closer.

The beach horizon was a hook of gold that twinkled behind the gentle ripples of the ocean and stood muffed beneath the song of the waves. It glistened at a distance and watched fleetingly as both Benjamin and (name) floated away from the shore, hazed by their love and compassion.

#benjamin pavard x reader #benjamin pavard imagine #benjamin pavard x black!reader #black!reader #football fanfic #football imagine #football x reader #football fanfiction

[doumadono]

For shonen sonnets! Can I please ask for something sad with Dabi? ilysm doll ❤️

SHONEN SONNETS

Touya Todoroki, a silhouette of sorrow, Yearning for a brighter, uncertain tomorrow. In the abyss of his struggle, shadows persist, A tale of woe, where the heart can't resist.

In the mirror, he meets a fractured reflection, Haunted by the weight of familial rejection. A quest for freedom from an oppressive reign, Yet yearning for a warmth that's drowned in pain.

A father's tyranny, a brother's icy touch, A legacy of torment that hurt him too much. Yet, within the storm that raged deep within, Touya clung to a desire, an urge to win.

A family fractured, shattered like ice, Touya yearned for freedom, a distant paradise. His father's chains, a relentless vice, A burden so heavy that soul paid the price.

Visions of liberation danced in his dreams, Of severing ties, breaking silent screams. A burning desire, tearing at the seams, To escape the prison of familial schemes.

His heart, a battleground, a war waged within, Against the ghosts of the past, a tale of sin. But shadows deepen, as he walks a lonely road, Haunted by the echoes of a familial abode.

Moonbeams caress his anguished face, Reflections of pain in a desolate space. A symphony of sorrow in the midnight air, As he grapples with demons, an endless affair.

#doumadonos shonen sonnets 🌸 #my poetry #poems on tumblr #short poetry #my poems #spilled ink #poems and poetry #dabi #dabi angst #touya Todoroki #endeavor #bnha dabi #mha poems #mha angst #dabi mha #dabi my hero academia