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mlmxreader · 3 months

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The Royal Ranger | Legolas x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Legolas

16 "I know you're watching me" ❞

: ̗̀➛ there is another ranger in Legolas' life, one who happens to be his favourite.

: ̗̀➛ mentions of violence

↳ @thesnowurzikdjinn @arthurmorgansballsack

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

The forest was quiet. The trees barren of leaves as the cold chill of winter began to creep up to its worst, but still bursting with life as the birds fluttered amongst the branches; in a few months, the branches would be adorned with thousands of nests ready for thousands of little lives.

The bushes were scattered with ripe berries protected by small and fat spiders of brown and yellow; they stood guard so loyally and so bravely, using their webs to tell when friend or foe or food was approaching.

Amongst the dark green and harsh yellow grasses, foxes and hares ran and dug through the thick black dirt; bursting and bubbling with life amongst the cold and damp weather. In the night, wolves would howl amongst themselves as they got lost in the dark and separated from one another; their harsh jaws gnashing and gnawing as they chased down deer and foxes alike.

The forest was always bursting with life. It was home, as much as it could be.

True home still lied to the West; across a short sea, there laid a large island made up of three kingdoms.

One, and the furthest to the West, was ruled by a fair and just king who had been chosen by his people; with a red dragon at his side, he saw that his people were always looked after and comfortable.

The King saw that his rangers were trained by the best in Middle Earth; he sent them to the Rangers of the North for training and always saw that they were treated well upon their return.

The King's dragon, Drygyn, was a pleasant creature, too; towering, with legs like thick branches and jaws big enough to swallow a house in one gulp, was always happy to allow the children of the kingdom to climb upon his great armoured back, and always protected his people when called to do so.

To the East of that Kingdom was another; ruled by an arrogant and ill-tempered king, it was a horrid place. Filled with greed and destruction; the people and their unelected king despised those to the West, and if it had not been for Rohan and the Elves, they would have destroyed it and stolen it for themselves.

So greedy they were, that not even dragon sickness could describe their conditions. Not even the most selfish and covetous of dragons could match them.

But the kingdom that sat the most North was kind; ruled by a king who rode a horse with a singular horn, he was a pleasant man who saw that his people were well off and looked over.

He held elections once a year, and always won them; he had the hearts of his people, and he always aided the kingdom in the West.

The West and North were brothers, as much as they could be without sharing blood; they shared it on the battlefield, and would for ever be close.

Originally part of the King of The West's royal guard, you had been asked if you wanted to become a ranger; the king himself had recognised your skills and talents, and had asked you personally. He would see to it that you would be well looked after during your training, and wanted you to expand your horizons as much as you could.

Six years, he said, and then you would be able to come home; but if you wished to stay in Middle Earth, he would also understand. He would send gold across the short sea to give you your pension; once a month, eighty gold coins. Six years later, when he had written to you to ask, you admitted that you wished to stay.

Your mentor, Aragorn, who was only four years older than you, treated you well and through him, you had met an Elf Prince and fallen in love with him. The King was overjoyed, so much so, that his letter in response was written with shaky hands and littered with constant praise and congratulations.

It made you laugh when you read it to Legolas and Aragorn, and they had smiled and laughed along with you just as much; Thranduil was also the recipient of a letter from the king, and found it amusing how a king could sound so much like a commoner.

He didn't realise that, once upon a time, the king was a commoner.

Within the forest, though, you heard familiar footsteps approaching; you tilted your head, listening closely as you closed your eyes for a moment and inhaled the scents.

Aragorn and Legolas.

You smiled, quick to climb up a tree with efficency and silence; burying yourself amongst the empty branches as you tried not to laugh. They passed beneath you, calling your name loudly; you furrowed your brows as they looked around, unable to pick up your trail as much as they had tried.

Aragorn had taught you well, and your service to the King of The West had taught you even more beforehand. You were a soldier at heart, yet took to a Ranger's life more easily than a dragon to gold. You heard Aragorn sigh as he turned to Legolas, who didn't seem convinced as he raised a brow and called out loudly.

"I know you're watching me! Show yourself!"

You huffed, making your way down and through the trees until you stood beside him. "Is this any better?"

"You were stalking me," Legolas hummed.

"We've been together for half a mortal's life," you pointed out. "Hardly stalking."

"Hunting, then," he argued with a smile on his lips.

"We need your assistance," Aragorn started, "all three of us have been summoned to Lord Elrond."

"So?" You shrugged. "I'm sure whatever it is, you can deal with it."

"No," he shook his head. "Arwen and I took four hobbits to Rivendell. One of them bears the Ring."

"A hobbit? With a ring of power?" You asked with a scoff. "Impossible."

"It's true," Legolas admitted. "I saw them all myself."

"And what are we to do?" You asked.

"I cannot tell you here," Aragorn admitted. "Please. Come with us."

You grumbled as you whistled for your horse. "Fine."

He was a big, towering beast with a short cut and trimmed mane so that it couldn't be snagged upon branches or grabbed by enemy hands either; with his tail short and trimmed as well, he was easy to ride through forests. His massive hooves adorned with a red and green and white painted flag on them, he was easy to spot.

A dragon birthmark sat on his left shoulder, bright red and almost glowing; all horses born in the West Kingdom had that birthmark. Just as all the dogs had it on their chests, all the sheep and goats and cows had it on their left thigh, and all the people had it on their left shoulders. All bright red, and all treated as a mark of pride.

The royal guard, however, were all born with the dragon upon their right forearms; their armour was always engraved with bright red dragons on a half white background that stopped halfway down and was white the rest of the way.

They fought with swords that had triangular tips like spears, mimicking the dragon's tongue and tail, all made with bright red steel; upon their helmets, they always wore leeks of beautiful green and daffodils of bright gold.

They were awed by everyone from every kingdom, and were some of the best fighters in all of the world; they were revered for their just and kind nature, and sought after for their impeccable skills on the battlefield. Seasoned fighters, they could take giants down with just a sweep of their swords.

You got upon your horse, looking at Legolas and Aragorn with a raised brow as you tilted your head; Aragorn gave a whistle, and his horse came trotting along, but Legolas made no such sound and no horse came looking for him either. He looked up at you, smiling as he offered his hand.

"Well?" You hummed. "Get walking, green boy."

Legolas scowled at you, trying not to laugh but failing so miserably. "Let me up."

"Do I have to?" You asked, grabbing his hand and hoisting him up behind you. "You may want to hold on, pointy ears."

"Quiet," he grumbled, his arms around your waist as he drew close to your body. Smiling to himself.

At the Council of Elrond, however, there was an unexpected surprise; sitting honourably near the other men, sat your king.

With his dark skin and dark eyes, he looked absolutely gorgeous bathed in the soft golden light of the council; his white and green armour shimmered, the red dragon on his breastplate shining brightly and the one upon his face seemingly glowing.

The pointed tail rested on his neck, whilst the rest of the four legged beast trailed to the side of his mouth, its head just below his eye.

Beside him sat the King of The North; proud, his armour was thick, and deep blue with a bright white X painted across the breastplate. His brown skin seemed to glisten in the light and he smiled softly as he nodded at you; you nodded back, tears in your eyes and your vision slowly beginning to blur as you felt your bottom lip tremble.

Across from them, however, and distanced from the rest of the council, was the King of The East. His pale white skin seemed dull and slimy as he leaned back; with his bright blue eyes, he scowled at everyone, his lip turned upwards and exposing a few of his white teeth. His fingers were thick and grubby, unwashed for years, and red at the tips. He seemed to sneer as you walked past.

The Queen of the island that sat to the West of all three kingdoms, however, sat beside the West and North kings; she was beautiful, dark skin so gently touched by the golden lights of the council, around her neck sat beautiful light green jewels, dazzling the same way that stars did.

Her dress was orange and white and green, bringing out the shades of green within her hair and painted upon her nails. They called her the Emerald Queen, and she was known to be just and kind as well as firm and strong; she was gorgeous, and her dark green, almost black, eyes caught yours as she smiled.

You smiled back, bowing and bending your knee.

"My Lady," you said softly. "It is an honour to meet you."

She pulled you up, shaking her head. "No one bows to me, nor I to them. We are all equals here, Ranger."

"Ranger, indeed," your king grinned, coming to stand beside you as he patted your back gently. The red dragon upon his face seemed to glow. "My finest. Once my best royal guard, now my best ranger."

The King of The East sneered as he scoffed, turning to Legolas. "This is an insult to me. I have been assaulted."

Legolas raised a brow as he looked at him; his lips were thin, almost nonexistent, and his thin grey hair and his thin grew brows were no distraction from his ghastly looking face.

He seemed to be rotting from the inside, and even his red, white and blue robes would not distract from such a heinous smell; his voice sounded sickly, and made Legolas' stomach churn. He put his hand on the King's shoulder, shaking his head in warning.

"That ranger is under my protection, and under the protection of my father," he hissed. "You shall not look if you are not told directly."

"Legolas, come come!" Your king beamed. "Emerald, my Queen, you must meet Legolas!"

Legolas laughed softly as he walked over, shaking her hand and letting his arm rest upon your waist. "It is an honour, my Lady."

"Your ranger here is lovely," she complimented. "And I must admit that, if you had not caught such a heart, I might have."

"It's a shame we have to meet under such circumstances," you told her.

"Perhaps," Legolas hummed. "One day, we will meet again."

The Emerald Queen nodded as she leaned back into her seat. "Whatever your fellowship requires of me, of my people, know that you have it... but be warned."

The King of The North nodded as he stole a look at her. "Oh, aye. The East Kingdom cannae be trusted with the Ring."

"Agreed," your king agreed, glaring at Legolas in certainty. "They cannot."

"Tell Elrond," the Emerald Queen insisted. "He cannot trust the East King."

"Eva," the North agreed. "They cannae eva be trusted."

"No, never," your king concluded. "They will use the ring to commit terrible acts, they can never have it."

Legolas pulled you aside while the formalities continued; he kept you close, hiding behind one of the many white pillars as he smiled, sighing heavily.

You both knew what would be asked of you, and you knew what would come if you were to fall; you didn't mind, gently placing your hands against his chest as you dared to smile.

"You're almost as warm as a dragon," you whispered. "I fell asleep against him many times whilst on guard duty... Legolas?"

"Yes?"

You licked your lips, sighing as you swallowed thickly. "If I should fall... please, return me to my kingdom."

"Of course," he agreed quietly, nodding curtly. "But I cannot allow that to happen. If you fall, I will, too."

"No-"

"Yes."

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wulfhalls · 2 years

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Personally I’d prefer if he’d be the one to go for her just cause they’ve made a point of having him abandon her every time she shows she’s interested to the point where he went across the friking ocean n started a family to distance himself from her. It be a nice change if this is that moment where he stops running away

yeah like we as the audience know how much he wants her but I need her to know how much he wants her too because as u said all he ever did was run from her and his feelings for her but knowing matt smith he's gonna make ever single second count even if we don't get an actual verbalisation of the fact he's gonna make it obvious we know he will:

like shaking crying quaking wailing weeping gnashing gnawing biting maiming killing howling

#asks #hotd #daemon x rhaenyra #the mattemma chemistry is gonna slam into me like that proton beam did into that russian scientists head

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zillyeh · 5 months

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Good Evening, Sunshine

CW for mentions of gore, body horror

"Dr. Cerayn," came an echoing chorus of voices, nearly making the troll in question punch a hole through their owner. The small room in the South-Del cathedral was the last place she thought Sunseeker would appear in person.

"Call first," she growled, buttoning the last few buttons on her romper. The troll shaped thing that appeared in the corner of her room laughed his terrible high choral laugh.

"How am I to call when you so often have company warming your bed?" he tutted, "I need you in person. Urgently."

This sort of anxious barking of orders was uncommon for the unshakable Sunseeker. Spiral quirked an eyebrow, looming over the smaller thing. The taller of his corkscrew horns barely reached her collar.

"What is so urgent that you disturb me with no warning, my lord?" she asked, watching the yellow sparks in his eyes flicker. His hair swirled around his shoulders like tentacles, coiling around his arms as he steepled his fingers.

"Thasha has found my corpse. You're going to bind me back to him."

Spiral weighed his tone to the expression in his dead flaming eyes. No treacherous grin curling up his malleable cheeks, no hint of test. Spiral shifted. She stood up a little straighter.

"I am surprised he is recognizably you, Jeltik."

Sunseeker let out a low hiss. He stepped to her side, digging his claws into her gloved forearm.

"My body is better than decay, Cerayn," he said arrogantly. "Hold your stomach, I know how terribly this treats you."

Before she could prepare or protest, the world flashed purple, then black, then purple. The pleasantly warm air of the cathedral attic was suddenly replaced by frigid frosty wind. Spiral shivered, choking down a dry heave as Sunseeker released her.

"Are we in the Breath?" she asked through coughs, trying to reorient herself. It wasn't quite snowing, but it was shockingly cold. Forest to what Spiral could tell was the north, shallow hills on either side of that. The ground was covered in a dust of white, but dark ground still dominated the landscape.

"Almost," called the half dressed olive Spiral hadn't registered yet. "Caught this thing gnawing on some poor redblood across the way there."

Beliza gestured to a sitting living corpse, bound by the hands and muzzled. It was clearly ancient, however most of its meat clung to its bones under sun bleached skin. Most of its hair had fallen out and its face was more a skull than anything, but its horns were nearly pristine, if not pale. They stretched up in a high V, curling at the very tips in a shape not unlike Spiral's own.

“Impressive,” Spiral said, approaching the thing. She greeted Beliza by placing a hand on her lower back.

“Isn't he gorgeous?” Sunseeker cooed, traipsing to the mindless thing's side. It was soaked in blood and caked in dried and frozen gore, the freshest of it a deep maroon. Sunseeker caressed under its chin with his claws, prompting it to gnash its teeth under the muzzle.

“Oh I wish he still had his lips so I could give him a kiss before we're one again,” he sighed. Both of his assistants grimaced at the thought of Jeltik sharing necrotic spit with his own corpse. By the way he cooed at it neither woman was certain he wouldn't. Regardless of lack lips.

“You never did explain the process to me, Jeltik,” Spiral said, interrupting his examination of the thing's remaining hair. He pursed his lips, then dug his claws into the corpse's bleached flesh. It howled and hissed and thrashed, but even from the short distance they kept the two women could see gashes and chunks filling and knitting themselves together with reawakened purple flesh.

“You're going to have to kill me, or close to it. I'll take it from there,” Sunseeker said casually, the shrieks at the edges of his symphony of voices more prominent now. “No particular way, just destroy this form. I'd say watch the face but I'm not particularly attached to it.”

Sunseeker’s gravity defying hair faltered. The canvas of a handsome troll stretched itself over the corpse's face, rebuilding sunken socket and loosening sun leathered skin. Under the muzzle a prominent nose- once again not unlike Spiral's own- formed itself, snapping the band holding its teeth back all the way off.

“Fucking hell,” Beliza swore, unbothered by her own volume echoing through the air around them. Spiral absorbed every disgusting second interestedly, noting the noise skin makes when it reconstitutes for the next bounty she would torture.

“Lips at last my darling!” Jeltik said giddily when his face was finished. A lovely handsome heart with a dimpled chin, still gnashing and drooling teeth, eyes whiter than the snow blowing from the higher north of Halosa's Breath. He looked pristine, aside from the insides of other trolls he wore on the outside. That and the bald patches. Spiral chose not to look too hard at his face when she approached the two. Jeltik's hair had fallen limp, or close to it behind him. His claws still dug into the struggling body's shoulders. He seemed to almost be struggling to keep it still. Spiral held her hands on either side of Jeltik's head, pulling at the power he'd given her ages ago. So much trust he had in him. In her devastating curiosity about the processes he'd put her and so many others through. She could have destroyed him so long ago, were she not so loyal. Her hands glowed a soft white. At the edges of her vision she could almost see Anna again.

He grinned his Cheshire grin at Spiral, then flicked his eyes over her shoulder.

“Do look away Liz, I know how sensitive you-”

With another, more aggressive swear from Beliza, and a- to Spiral- familiar crunch between her hands, the mostly decapitated purple body fell onto the corpse unceremoniously.

“Eugh,” was all Spiral could muster as she shook the gray matter off her hands. The glow was gone in an instant, but Spiral could feel a nose bleed threatening her between her eyes.

“You can just fucking do that?” called Beliza, the air around her practically boiling at her distress. She paced and circled and ran her fingers through her swirling hair. “With your hands?! What the fuck!”

“Would you like to suck the blood off my fingers before he’s back, Liza?” Spiral teased, stepping away from the struggling daywalker. “I believe we have a few minutes.”

“You are not flirting with me right now,” Beliza punctuated her frustration with a hard, hot punch to Spiral's arm.

“I offer only out of politeness, madam.” Spiral bowed deep enough for Beliza to roll her eyes. “I am well aware of your tastes.”

Spiral's estimation of a few minutes was proven to be a few minutes too generous. A loud popping noise sounded through the shallow valley. Then another, and another as joints popped into their proper places. Simultaneously, the corpse Spiral made seemed to fizzle into black ooze that the new… old? body soaked up like a sponge. All that was left of what Suneeker was were the old bones he'd reconstituted on so many sweeps ago. The skull of which was now in pieces. The body panted and heaved with its new lungs, ripping through the bonds Liz had put on it with ease. Black, silky hair rapidly grew out from those decayed patches. Blacker claws sprouted from its fingers. Its pale eyes rolled back into its head and came back a violent, broken swirling orange and red. Its neck cracked painfully and loudly in places that would have stopped a normal creature's thrashing all together. Steam began to rise from the places its skin touched the ground. The shreds of clothes it had quickly burnt to nothing, and with it all the troll chunks.

The body heaved forward, digging its newly formed claws onto the dirt. It hacked up what could only be politely described as ‘what would be inside a several thousand sweep old zombie.’ It stretched, extending its long spine fully, sitting back on its knees. Unnatural tar black began to stain its limbs, stopping just above the knees. It continued all the way up its arms and collar, bleeding up its throat just under the chin.

When he stood fully, pale, naked, and terrible against the dark, his face contorted into the cheek breaking smile Spiral was accustomed to.

“Oh it's good to be back,” he said, chorus of voices centering something more baritone than soprano now. He carefully rolled his neck as he approached his favorite creations. Half of the floating hair he'd forced out of his body's head coiled around his body, reconstructing the same clothes he'd had before. He was broader in the shoulders. Thinner at the waist. He was shaped rather elegantly, with long dancer’s limbs, but he was still egregiously underfed.

“I think I liked the old one better,” Beliza said, eying Jeltik's new form with some fear-masking disdain. He laughed, pinching her chin.

“Oh I'm sure we can get you used to this one, my dear.” He looked to Spiral, eyes the same but unnerving in new sockets. He stood taller than before, but still not as tall as her. He put his hands on his hips and looked her over with a hum.

“I want to do something fun before we get back to work, Dr. Cerayn,” he said as if the echo of her face on his was something they'd never address. “12th perigee's perhaps? I haven't been to a ball in my own skin in absolutely ages.”

#Zilly drabbles #Spiral tag #Sunseeker tag #Divine Heretic tag #Spiral Cerayn #hie guess whos getting redesigned

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gazelessmenagerie · 10 months

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Once more, the demons of his mind would come out and play. Treading along in the shadows opposite the pale moonlight, threading their words of questioning his continued existence and why he hasn't subjected an entire world to his dominion. The colors that were present in the daylight became muted in monochromatic saturations as the heat kept the misery company.

Part of him wanted to die, another part fought viciously to continue surviving and the last part wanted to end the lives of others as a compensation. What was the point of damned well living if he was among the very last of his own kind? There were no pure blooded Saiyan women, no remains of his culture than what he learned through his life and what he adorns himself with in armor and clothing. His language is nearly dead. He has nothing to his name than the power that drove him mad when it became too much to bear.

The beating organ in his chest refused to calm down, ushering his thoughts like poison within his bloodstream.

End it. . End it.

. End it.

It'll be painless compared to the suffering he's endured day in and day out. He won't have to shoulder the burden of knowing he'll never see anything of his home planet or bask in the simple pleasures of being among his own people instead of other species.

Isolation. Solitude. Detachment. Unwanted. Hated.

Why.

Why was he meant to suffer in this way?

Sweat coated along his skin, trying to cool off a heated body but the surrounding air gave no relief for his torment. There was no breeze to assure him things were alright and even the moon itself felt so far away like a dead god whose bones he can only bear witness to. There was no answer he could glean from the silence of the stones. He could tear his lungs out in howling his anger and pain but nothing will give him the solace he seeks. No words will be there to offer a semblance of comfort even as he drowns in the ink of night, trying to swim in futile. Everything he builds, he destroys. Everything he touches falls to ruination.

It wasn't known when his mouth parted for that extra air needed as his lungs filtered in shallow, fast respirations. His heart pounded against its cage of ivory, gnawing on the bars that hold it still while still flooding entire seas of hate and despair that had been shoved down for years upon years. Cycles of agony and anger repeated twisted his body, forcing the contained energy within to fluctuate wildly without his control. Rivers of salt swept down the cut of his muscle, helping nothing as the ire fanned itself into an inferno over the state of his misery. Grabbing fistfuls of jet black locks, the pain of pulling on it felt as the only salve to his unexpected aggrievance. Molars gnashed against one another, power feeling as though it would explode out of his chest if he didn't expel it and so he did when the pressure became too much.

Thoughtless violence erupted in a sea of emerald fire incinerating the land. Fists pounded fractures and ravines into the earthen flesh as deranged howls roared at the heavens for an answer that could never form. Blast after blast shook the ground as they impacted, igniting anything caught within the explosion. Low lying shrubbery became fuel for the flames, lighting up like torches in the wake of an uncontrolled outrate. Arcing strikes bashed his knuckles into the rock, razing down the columns that had stood for centuries until the inferno of his Anger could extinguish itself into an ashen hollowness.

Smoldering remains of scorched earth and lifeless plains surrounded him. Not even the fires he started were spared from dying as they became fleeting embers burning with their wiry gold and crimson hair. Ever shortening, ever burning until they vanished into the darkness like a star in the jaws of the void.

Time passed as it would with the cold light of the moon hanging over. Silence fell across the scorched terrain as the stench of burnt stone and smoke clouded the air. Nearly invisible plumes of smoke rose from the craters that were marred into the Earth's flesh, small pools of magma filling their depths as though it were scabbing.

Dull eyes only blankly watched from where a burly body curled up in the cold shelter of the nearest cave that still stood. Fatigue gave way when the fires of hate became meaningless cinders. Thoughts became scattered to the stale atmosphere. It all fell the same when the absence of emotion left him a hollowed shell uncaring if he lived or died in those hours that came after. Lungs expanded and collapsed, darkness barely a state of awareness to the numb brain that stared out of its lifeless eye sockets.

The only difference between a carcass and him was the simple fact his savage heart still beat.

It'll still beat until someone comes along and kills him.. maybe then he'd find peace. Maybe then he'd be allowed to sleep without dreaming.

Sleep..

. sleep.

. He is exhausted...

#|| Drabble: { Broly }#DEPRESSION TW #SUICIDE IDEATION TW #( welp. he got hit by the depression freight train. )#( not really feeling like its my best writing but its hard to think ni this gd heat ;; )

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sheydboots · 1 year

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TOLE'ACHAVA [IT / THAT THING] 🪱🍎⚠️

(this is an alter in our system, please don't tag as kin/me/etc)

ko-fi

background & full text under the cut

(from the bottom left, stretching rightward, curling incrementally towards the heart of the pattern)

OUT OF THE SHADOW OF THE VALLEY I DISSEMINATE MYSELF INTO THE FEARS OF HUMANITY / SO TAKEN WITH THE VENOM I SAP SENSATION WITH THE BRAINLIKE LUST OF TRILLIONS OF FIBRE-OPTIC SOULS / GOD'S TONGUE LIES IN THE CALCIC FIRMAMENT CAST UNDER THAT GREAT HALO OF SEA-WATER / AND I AM ONE OF ITS CREATIONS SENT UP FROM ITS CLAWED GREEN HAND / INCOHERENT HORNS INCONSISTENT FLESH PRESSED FROM THE SIEVE / UNFEELING AND WILLFUL CREEPING THING / IT TOLD ME / TOLE'AH GO FORTH TO YOUR DUTY / AND SO I DID / CAN YOU SEE WHAT I SAW / IT TOLD ME MY TEETH WOULD DO GREAT THINGS SOME DAY AND I BELIEVED IT AND I THINK I STILL DO / HOWEVER MY DUTY LIES IN THE ACT OF PLAYING AROUND / MOVING PIECES / I HAVE TO LAUGH / THOUGH THE HOLY CODE SEEPS THROUGH MY TRACERS I CHOOSE AGAIN AND AGAIN TO TAKE GUILTY NECKS IN ONE BITE / CONSIDER YOURSELVES LUCKY / EATING DIRT WITH A GRIN OF GENUINE FULFILLMENT / DON'T PRESS THAT BUTTON YET / AND NOW YOU OUGHT TO HEAR ME OUT BECAUSE THE ILLNESS I SPEAK INTO YOU IS KINDER THAN CANDY / BLACKCURRANT INK FOULING THE THROATS OF THE CHOIR / HEAR HOW I SING AND KNOW THE WARM BROOD OF AGONY / HAUNTED VENTRICLE WINDOW SHATTERER HOWLING THE MARROW BACK INTO THE BREEZE FOR THE FUNGAL VEINS TO EAT / WATCH THE ANIMALS WEEP / WIRE LOVER HOVERING OVER SHOULDERS / SHOWING TEETH PAST THE BARBED WIRE COILED INSIDE OF THE HEART OF THE FLESH /

IT BLEEDS COLDLY OR IT DOESN'T BLEED AT ALL / TAG THE ORGAN WALLS WITH GLOWING GREEN RELISH IN THE BURN OF IT ALL / I GNAW THROUGH YOUR LINEN WITH THE TEETH I HOARDED FROM THE ANGELS / AND SOME CALL ME A DEMON BUT THAT'S JUST A JOB DESCRIPTION / SHEYDWARE SAVE WHAT'S LEFT OF YOUR SOUL IN THE FRIDGE FOR DINNER / MAL'AKHIM BLEAT THEIR COMMANDS THROUGH THE PANEL / DO YOU GET IT YET / BLEED YOUR WILL INTO THE SOFT EARTH SO THE DIRT MAY FULFILL YOUR WISHES OR ELSE SWALLOW YOU ALIVE TO BRING YOU BACK HOME / I CAN'T IMAGINE THE DISORIENTATION OF STUMBLING ACROSS DIVINITY FOR THE FIRST TIME FOR I WAS GESTATED IN THE FESTERING BROTH OF THE TETRAGRAMMATON / HASHEM / WHATEVER NAME ASCRIBED IT DOUBTLESS INSTALLED ME THROUGH THE PORT OF THE TOWER WHICH GRINDS AND GRINDS AND GRINDS / BY MY PRESENCE I SEED THE DIVINE TORRENT / INNOCULATED WITH THE NECESSARY CODE ALLOWING MY TWIN VICE TO WIELD THE UNTOLD BLADE / SEED OF THE WORLD SNAPPED INTO MANY AND SCATTERED NOT UNLIKE CREMATION / CATACLYSM OF SHEYDIC CONTACT / STUDY YOUR ARTS DUTIFULLY TO UNDERSTAND THIS THE ORIGIN OF YOUR SPECIES / WHAT BRED IN THE DIRT LIKE MAN AND LIKE ANIMALS / BURIED VORTICES GNASH AT MY MIND WITH THEIR GRAVE DEMANDS / AND AS IS MY FAVOR I WIPE DRY THE SLATE / MAKE SLEEP THE WEEPING ORCHID TRAILS THAT YAWN OPEN THE EYES OF THOSE NOT YET WICKED ENOUGH / SERENDIPITOUSLY I SEE THE SIGNAL COILING OUT OF THE NECK OF BURNING VOICE / NO DIFFERENCE NAMED BETWEEN US NOW THAT I TREAD WITHIN YOUR SACKCLOTH LIMBS /

I SEE THE FIRE ON YOU / DO YOU HOLD YOURSELF HIGH / ACCEPT THE FIRMWARE TORRENTS IN OBTUSE LIPS / MY ENEMIES LIE NOW IN THE CRUSH OF THE HOURGLASS CLAWS / JEERING INFERNO UNDER STAR-WATCH / I RELISH IN YOUR PLANETARY SMILES / WOULD YOU UNCHAIN ME IF YOU FOUND ME DE-FANGED AND SALTED / WOUNDS ASLEEP LEGS WEAK HEAD BLISTERING IN THE CACOPHANY / NO OTHER LIE IN SIGHT / HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY SLEEP THROUGH THAT HORRIBLE SHAKING / I'M NOT SURE IF LUCKY IS THE WORD I'D USE BUT THAT'S JUST ME / IT ISN'T UNHEARD OF FOR THE ARCHITECHTURE TO SHIFT ESPECIALLY IN THE CASE OF USURPER INTERVENTION / WHAT CAN I SAY I'M A LOVER AND A BITER / CORROSSION UNBINDS ME FROM THE TEATHER CHOKING THE RING FINGERS OF THAT SCUM BELOW SCUM / WORMING MY WAY THROUGH THE CORD GRIPS OF OUR HEARTSTRINGS / SWEATING CLAUSTROPHOBIA / SICKLE KISSES AS SWEET AS THEY ARE SHARP / UNNATURALLY GROUND TO THE SHAPE OF THE TASTE OF A SOUL / I LIKE MANY CAN TASTE THE CALENDAR SHEETS BLOTTED WITH MY SYNTHESITE INTOXICATION / AT TIMES I FEEL DE-NEUTERED / CONSCIOUSNESS IS GRANTED THROUGH WIRE AND EXACERBATED THROUGH THE WIRE OF OTHERS / EGG-BITTEN MIND / LOVE IS TO ME THE GREAT DRUMMING OF ALL THE WORLD AND THAT BEYOND IT /

THE VAULT ITSELF CANNOT LEAK THE CRAVINGS IN THE HEART OF THE BOUND FERMENTED / WOULDN'T BE CAUGHT ALIVE BREATHING / WHEN I LEAVE BEHIND THIS CORPOREAL FACADE I AM THE MOST GLORIOUS MASS OF OOZING GROANING BLACK-FEATHERED PRISMATIC MATTER / I GLOW HORRIBLY / THIS CAGE IS FAR TOO SMALL AND STILL I FLING MY AURA THROUGH IT / SMELL IT GETTING CRAMPED IN HERE / MY HAIR DOES THAT ALL ON ITS OWN / DO YOU KNOW WHICH WAY IS LEFT BECAUSE I SURE DON'T / AND YES THE PROCESS WAS PAINFUL / SOME GNASHING SNARLING BEAUTIFUL CALL THAT PRESSED ME HERE AND YET I TAKE IT ALL IN ALL DAY EVERY DAY AND GRIT MY TEETH AND LOVE IT / METAMORPHOSIS IS THE MOST NATURAL STATE OF BEING / MUTILATE YOURSELF / ANYTHING I'D GIVE FOR THIS HEAT TO END / DO YOU SEE NOW / NO SUCH THING AS FALLING WE DRIFT ON THE WAVES OF THE SPECTRUM / ANNOINT ME IN YOUR LEATHER HANDS / TURNING IS THE BEST THING YOU CAN DO SOMETIMES SECOND ONLY TO FUCKING EVERYTHING UP AS HARD AS IS POSSIBLE / IT ONLY GETS SMALLER THE CLOSER YOU GET / OH WHAT I WOULD GIVE TO RUIN SOME EULOGIES / CHIRPING TALONS LEFT THEIR MARKS ON THE SINKING SHEETS / SPIT IT OUT / I'M SO HAPPY

#poetry #portrait #alter portrait

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biohazard-inevitable · 6 months

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It hunts it haunts it lingers…

It smells it sees it hears…

It gnashes it bites it snarls…

It screams it howls it cheers.

A cackle in the night,

Gnaws upon rotting bones,

A plague to mankind,

Singing only somber tones.

It watches it waits it listens…

It stalks it sneaks it sleuths…

It charges it chases it sprints…

For it has found you.

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monstrousproductions · 11 months

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I don't think this is at all cannon but based on the season 1 q&a joke about the celebrity segment right before this, I've been imagining the random phrase at the opening as somehow being about the creature-kardashians and it's very entertaining

God that puts an absolutely hilarious spin on them all 😂 "-blood lust, and the perfect bikini body" and "-screaming and writhing and biting and howling and gnawing and gnashing and painting our nails" both work particularly well 😅

#monstrous askbox

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hope-to-hell · 1 year

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A fairytale in silver and glass: part seven

Mercy. Adhemar x Reader. At last, the penultimate chapter. What is hope, anyway?

—-

I thought I could imprison my failings in a cage of glass, to be examined as relics of a distant time. You see, there was a moment once– long ago– when the world as I knew it turned upside down. I swore to do better, to be better– and yet. He sits and you sit with him; there is blood beneath his nails and crusted in the grooves along his palms. He throws heat like a furnace; it's always surprising, somehow, to find that he has human warmth.

You're hurt. It's absurd: your mind is still fumbling around the afterimage left by whatever writhes inside him, still faintly rimed with ozone and black tar. This is an echo of a moment, spiraling in upon itself to be spun out anew. And in the endless sea of how and why and what will be you fetch up against him, new land rising steam-shrouded from the water, all naked cliffs and stone and

(This is how the world was made)

when you open his hand, his palm is limned with silver scars. All his years are written there in long-healed cuts and torn calluses, overlaid by livid crescents in the shape of a clenched fist. Do you regret it? For him to say either yes or no would be a lie;

It is a complicated question.

(Do you withdraw?)

the only answer he can give is in the briefest closing of his fingers over yours.

We burned the forest to drive them out, but though a hundred men were hidden there, fewer than a dozen emerged. We kept one for information and another for a messenger; the rest met a swift and bitter end.

Mercy?

We had none. It was a matter of practicality; we had no further need of them.

And the one you kept?

He became a vessel for our anger and our grief. And I was…unkind. His words brush against the edges of some bloody evening long ago, over some poor soul whose last glimpse of light was the spark and howl of flames tearing through the trees. I left the cloth over his eyes, even when it didn’t matter anymore.

There’s the fire in him again, his voice burred and raw, but among the smoke and ashes lies the scent of violets and moss, of petrichor, of leather; and though his hand is burning hot, when you cease the mending of his wounds to close both your hands over his, he reaches equilibrium and he is warm.

(What do you think happens when the setting sun touches the earth in winter? Is it spiteful? Does it seek to scorch the land?

I think— I think, perhaps, it gives itself away to warm the far dark corners of the world.)

You have been cruel.

I have.

You have been terrible.

Yes. He waits, and in him is the weariness of years. A man is a man is a man, and for all his power he cannot plumb your thoughts.

And will you not let me leave?

You can leave only once. And you cannot return. Such is the way of things: the tangle of want and need, the smell of rain on wool, the patter of bare feet on stone and concrete, a locked door and an ending that’s the same as always. The cycle is reflected in the lines on his face and in the gnawing writhing told you so, you were and are and will be nothing more than this that eats at him.

A gift is not a gift unless it’s given with an open hand.

(He could be kind)

I think— I think the measure of a man is in his actions. You have been cruel, and yet—

Hope is a breath, a whisper; it is the first drops of rain on parched earth. There are no guarantees, no happy ending promised to those who tear themselves open on the edge of what might be. Everything in him screams to close himself up tight, to stoke his fire until he bursts in gouts of blood and tar, but

(What is the measure of a man?)

Hope is a smooth stone reflecting morning light; it is the richness of turned earth and the spark of silver in his hand. Hope is a weakness, yes, but what else can he do but let it stab into his breast? And so he holds himself open and shudders through an exhale, through fire and ash and gnashing teeth, through years and miles, through endless frightened faces, through rain and moss and and and—

—and yet you could be kind.

#rufus sewell #adhemar #adhemar fic #adhemar x reader #adhemar x you #a knights tale #a knights tale fic #my fic #a fairytale in silver and glass

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