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rinbowaman · 10 months

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S E 7 E N : S A T A N P A R T 1 N E

sorry for the wait! Here we go. So I had to type this while I was out and about, using my phone, and I didn’t get to proof read this so pls ignore mistakes. I’ll tap back into all chapters to make corrections. For now, enjoy.

Warnings: Death by internal decapitation, breaking limbs, breaking bodies, religious references, demons, angels, archangels, devil, smut....i think that's it.

After you got dressed and had a cup of your favorite tea, you felt rather chipper compared to the latter days when your mood was down, all due to your upcoming execution.

It was strange, it was almost like you were welcoming death, was it because he was going to take you? Surely you couldn’t be looking forward to dying at the hands of the ‘angels’…or maybe it was….

‘Am I just done with everything? Am I just too tired to go on after everything that’s happened?’

Perhaps you were going through some type of effect from the trauma and shock of being selected, or being told repeatedly that you are the bride of the Devil. You had wondered if you’re going out of your mind and perhaps, your brain is going blank and emotionless.

Either way, you hadn’t felt this calm since before the incident with the Senator and being selected, so why not just remain as such, it was better than thinking about dying…in the next 96 hours.

‘Three days….three days is all I have left…’.

Following Jake’s orders from a note that he left beside your bed, you were instructed to wait inside your apartment for the next brother to come meet with you.

‘Wonder who it will be this time around…’

…….

You stood by in your apartment, the clocked reached the hour of mid-morning, and you remained patiently waiting for the next brother. As you sat at the dining table, you dabbed your finger into the teacup, just a tad bit to wet the pad of your pointer. Sailing the pad of your index along the rim of your cup, you basked in the glazing rays of the sun as it shined through your window, the silk and short camisole that you had remained in felt loose and comfortable as the thin straps loosely falls off your shoulder, revealing the contours of your collarbone.

Your exposed legs displayed the expansion of your glowing skin kissed by the sun, all the while your hair drapes and frames your upper body, you looked breathtakingly ethereal, yet certain features expelled a dark sensual hint that contrasted from the purities from your other characteristics. You were the standing image of Heaven and Hell, a perfect mixture of innocence and lust, combined into one.

As you set your gaze out the window, your hair flaring a hue of vivid color, the blushing shade of your cheeks heightened from your complexion, and the dark stained crimson lips, you became distracted by the beauty of the baby blue sky, and the blanket of clouds that comforted it.

You gazed, admired, and became deep in thought as you maintained a peaceful mentality…so in depth with your thoughts and the view out your window, that you had no idea he had appeared off to the side, admiring you a few feet as your face was turned away in the opposite direction.

…………..

He didn’t make a sound. He didn’t want to make you aware of his presence, for if you had looked at him with those beautiful eyes that he dreamt about for the last 7 thousand years, he wouldn’t have been able to control himself. He needed to wait as there were two brothers left to finalize the preparations in molding and formatting your soul and mortal body….all so you can eventually withstand Hell…you soon to be new home.

With the lace mask that gently rests against his eyes, he stood, his breathing heightened and became slightly shaky as he focused on steadying it…he can’t believe he was feeling this way. It was only with you.

The way you smelled, the way you looked when you stared, how immaculate your form appeared when you breathes deeply, as your breasts would rise with a depth that called out to him…as if they were begging for him to kiss and caress them with his tongue.

His heartbeat increases in pace as the flush of his blood flowed with impulsive intensity.

You are so perfect….and he knows why….he knows. You were exactly what he needed…what he wanted….though he never would have expected to get it in the manner of which, was you.

‘He knew I wanted revenge…he knew I wanted to destroy his light…he knew I wanted to destroy….him…I wanted to ruin him….I wanted to kill off every last bit of his holy glow….knowing that….he gives me…..you….’

Gently and quietly reaching over, his finger tips lightly…ever so lightly, lifts a small piece of your hair as he admired it.

You were still gazing out your window when you felt something from the back of your head, which caused you to snap your head around….only to find nothing was there.

‘Weird….it felt like someone was touching my hair….was it them one of the brothers?’

You thought internally as you scoot your chair back, got up, and walked over to your bedroom to change.

‘It must be the next brother, I should go change now.’

Yet you couldn’t have been more wrong. For as you walked away from the dining area, past your living room and into the door leading to your bedroom, watching you from behind…was him....

....................

‘For you….I would shift planets…create moons…and throw stars…I would never let you fall. I’d bring the sun to you, just to see the rays stream through the waves of your hair. You could never understand…that the beating of my heart was a lost drum…it was looking for a rhythm…a harmony….and it found you. I can make your best nights last forever, and make the worst disappear by dawn….I can make all your demons begone, and make angels kneel to you. I can do all….yet….I could never do what you do. You, who can make love out of nothing…and it’s the best gift of glory…it cost nothing, it doesn’t require the issue of blood, flesh, or tears…yet it’s priceless. you’re making it right now, yet you don’t even know you’re doing it. I could never make it without you…I’d crawl….i’d fall…I’d perish. For me to be happy…for me to live…for me to breathe in peace….I have to have you by my side….i wonder if he knew that all this time…that is after all, why you’re here…my y/n. My mortal queen. The one thing I was dead set on destroying…is the one thing I needed the most….fucking clever bastard…’

He chuckles silently at the last bit of his thought, his masked face displaying a sly smile as he watches you disappear into your room.

The moment you open your door and emerge out with casual clothes on, he was already gone. Not a sound nor whisper was made as he disappeared, leaving you unaware that he was present for a moment, admiring you…further fueling his desire to take you away. You belonged to him, he knew it…God knew it…everyone knew…everyone but you, knew the truth. How ironic that you would be the last to know the meaning behind your existence.

‘I’m done…you can go see her now…Sunghoon.’

………

“Hello….y/n.”

You turned around to face the voice that slightly startled you. You saw him standing against the wall, his arms crossed and his feet slightly crossed in a relaxed manner. Of course like his brothers before him, he was dressed primarily in all black, and he looked just as smooth and slick. He had dark hair that was nearly combed, and a traditionally handsome face.

“Did I scare you?” He chuckles.

“Mm a little…I’m sorry….” You apologized though you’re not sure why. These men…these 7 Princes of Hell, they had a habit of intimidating you even though they weren’t displaying themselves in such a manner. Even while being affectionate and sweet, there was a sense to never cross them or cause them anger as their ruthless demeanor could still be seen behind those dashing smiles and loving gaze.

“Oh don’t be…it’s me, who should apologize…” he walks over to you as his arms remained crossed. Leaning into your ear, he whispers…

“Forgive me…doll.” Retracting his head slightly back, he tilts it slightly to look at you sweetly for a response.

“Uh…yes….it’s alright.”

“Good giiiiirlll…” he croaks out with a deep inflection in his tone.

“So…doll…what should we do today?” He asks as he reaches up and caressed your cheek. “So beautiful…how fitting for a queen.” He smirks.

“You’ll make your king so happy…” he issues as he gently taps the tip of your nose.

You didn’t know how to respond, yet it didn’t matter as he didn’t mind for one, instead, he insisted for the both of you to go out and explore the city.

“Let’s go…doll…pretty pretty doll…” taking you be the hand, he places a gentle kiss atop of it as he walks you out of the apartment.

“Oh uh…I left my keys inside…” you remarked. Yet the moment you issued your statement he gently pulls you against him and caressed you. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

Reaching up with his hand, he snaps his fingers and you hear the series of clicks as the bolts and locking mechanisms secure in place.

“…oh…thank you.” It never ceases to surprise how incredible these men were. After everything you’ve seen, you still became enchanted whenever you met the next brother.

“You’re welcome doll. Come, let’s go. Where would you like to go?”

You weren’t entirely sure where, you hadnt really planned on stepping out. Yet, since you both were out, you asked if he had or enjoyed coffee.

“I do like coffee.”

“Would you like to go to my favorite cafe?” You asked.

“I would love that. Let’s go beautiful.”

Just like his brothers, he walks you by his side, with a high level of guard and protection, though you’re quite certain that after what was displayed by the warnings of his brothers, you weren’t worried about running into the members of Forras’s group. You also knew they found it pointless to kill you seeing as you were going to die…though how and by whom, they didn’t have any knowledge of.

“I almost forgot, what is your name?” You asked.

Smirking, he dazzles out a smile as he calmly tells you.

“You can call me Sunghoon.”

.......................

Entering inside the cafe, everyone, including the baristas who you were familiar with, all stood quiet and stared at you.

At first you thought it was because of the devastatingly handsome man by your side, yet the moment you greeted one of the baristas, you realized that it was you that they were issuing shocking looks at.

“Y-y/n…is it true?”

Looking up at him, you gave a puzzle look as Griffith, the barista who was also a friendly acquaintance, stuttered out his question.

“Is it true that you were selected to be executed? That you caused great sin against God?”

You stood slightly wide eyed as your mouth began to part open. “H-how…do you know that?” You softly questioned.

“It’s true then! What have you done?” He scolds.

Griffith had been a long time member of the cult, one of the first to join, yet, despite you never pledging and be aiming a part of the group, he was always sincere and kind to you. Yet this time around, he started to take a harsh tone against you, as if you had offended him.

“How could you y/n? First Lily, and now you?!”

Your eyes started to glisten with tears at the mention of Lily’s name.

“….stop…don’t…don’t say her name…not like that.” You issued with a steady and somewhat stern tone. Lily was not a sinner. Especially after everything you’ve witnessed, not to mention what you were piecing together through the efforts and aid by the 7 brothers, the whole concept of Heaven cleansing the world of its sinners, just as Forras had ingrained in the brains of the public, became severely questionable as your hint of doubt, which had been there from the first moment the world came shattering down, had only enhanced and became certain in your current state of mind.

“She was a sinner! And now you! Why y/n? How could you?….I’ve waited….I was so patient…”

You looked at him confusingly as he continued.

“All this time you refused to join us, I never pressured or urged you like the others did, I tried to show you how patient and understanding I was…now I see…I should have pressed the issue when I had the chance. I could have saved you…the we could of…we could have already been married with the senators blessing.”

You raised a brow with a hint of irritation and disgust. Rule of thumb was, for any couple to be married, the blessing of Senator Forras needed to be issued, and both members of the relationship needed to be granted members of the cult.

Despite you being slightly aware of Griffiths feelings for you, based off of what Lily would tell you, you merely thought it to be a simple crush. For crying aloud, the boy was always seeing flirting and dating a myriad of girls since you’ve known him…yet here he is issuing you words of reprimand as he claims that you both ‘should’ have been married by now.

“What…are you talking about?” You stepped back from the counter.

“Us! Us y/n, us! I even had asked the Senator about it, and to help me convince you to join.”

“W-what?…when did you…”

“Nearly a week ago!! That’s why he came to visit the library five days ago!”

Your eyes widened…

‘So that’s why he gave me his card….and asked me to come by….’

Though it wasn’t hard to tell, that the Senator had developed his own intentions with you once he saw you. Initially, he may have had Griffith’s request in mind as a reason to expand his cult and getting you to join…yet after he saw you, he too fell under the effects of your appearance and your aura…he wanted you for himself.

“Why…why did you do that?” You started to raise your voice. “You have any idea what you had caused?! What he was trying to do? All because of what you did!”

“Stop y/n, now you really are sounding like a sinner…lying through your teeth. The Senator did say you were begging for him, yet he asked us to welcome you openly and to aid you….but you…you’re just a whore looking for a high position…you were attempting to use the senator and-“

Your expression jolted to a look of shock and fear as Griffith flew back, crashing into the stock load of cups and coffee ingredients. Yet, no one was seen pushing or thrashing him.

“Hmph…you know…I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt…trying to see if you would shut up and listen to her…but it looks like he wasn’t willing to give you that same courtesy…and after what I heard, neither am I.” His voice deepens, you watch as Sunghoon walks steadily over to the counter and leaps effortlessly atop the counter, nearly levitating as he did so, gently landing on his feet as his arms remained crossed. He looked so demeaning and yet suave with the way he moved. It earned a series of gasps and enchanting gasps from the women inside the cafe.

“Do you have any idea who you just disrespected? Hmm?” Peering down at Griffith, Sunghoon narrows his eyes.

“You don’t….yet still, you’re brazen and I’ll mannered. I have a preeeetty bad temper, and I’m trying my best to not let it get to me…but when I see idiots like you….” He grits a chuckle through his teeth as he finishes “it reminds me why I always resort to wrath.”

“Y-you! Get the fuck outta-“

“I told you to shut up…” Sunghoon cuts Griffith off without raising his voice, yet the tone reached a level of dangerous anger as he stood still, his stance remained unchanged. “I guess now I’m going to have to tell to ‘shut the fuck up’ since you seem to have trouble following orders.”

Sunghoon glares our a smirk before he speaks.

“Tsssssk….fucking idiot.”

He grabbed onto Griffiths hair, lifting him from the ground by his harsh hold, Sunghoon drags the man outside, taking you by the hand and pinning you to his side as he gently gets you to depart with him.

“W-what are you…what are you going to do?” You asked as you checked back at the wincing Griffith being dragged by the hair.

“Just taking him away from the crowd, I hate useless screaming and I don’t need to draw attention to you.”

“What do you mean?”

Taking both you and Griffith to a secluded alley way, he gently leans you against the wall and kisses you, all the while still having a harsh grab on Griffiths blonde locks.

“Don’t worry…just stay here…you can close your eyes and cover your ears if you don’t want to watch this…”

You slightly panicked as reached up to Sunghoon chest.

“Wait please! What are you…?”

“He insulted you.” Sunghoon smiles, though the dashing essence was no longer present, instead, there was a flare of a twisted glint in it. Looking at it, you shuddered as your breath slightly hitched.

Though you didn’t appreciate Griffiths actions, or his displayed arrogance and contempt toward you in front of public view, he wasn’t deserving for such a punishment. Forras and the high profiled members of the cult was a different story, you could get by in seeing them being held accountable to the worst type of punishments, considering they were by far the most horrible of men you had ever faced. But Griffith was just foolish and presumptuous, you couldn’t help but allow your moral standing to interfere.

“Please no! I agree he was stupid but he shouldn’t die because of something so meager.”

“Disrespecting you…is not considered meager y/n. Especially in Heeseung’s book…he wants him to burn…and it will be my pleasure to do it.” Sunghoon caressed your face as he tries to reassure you.

“N-no please….I don’t like him either but this is…it’s too much. He’s not an terrible person like the senator is…please…” you nearly begged.

Sunghoon raises a brow and softly tells you, “you’re a good balance of light and darkness….but im sorry to tell you…this goes beyond my distaste for the rudeness he acted towards you….I have too y/n….Heeseung is my brother…but he’s also my ruler.”

Your mouth quivered.

“Please wait! Just…there has to be-“

Suddenly you felt a pair of gentle hands firmly grab your waist from behind. You didn’t have the chance to turn around and see who it was, as they shifted you around to face the wall behind. Your hands instinctively raise as you felt the strong frame pressing against your backside, pushing you against the brick wall sternly, yet it wasn’t at all harsh or rough.

With a deep and eerie whisper, your breathing stopped the moment you heard it tickling your ear.

………………..

“Shhhhh…preeeeettyyyy….”

P A R T 2 W O

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captain-mj · 1 year

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more spoils of war

if you ever wanna see your tibia again

Send the tibia to my po box

Soap let himself get ordered around, relaxing because it was Ghost yanking him around. He had his mask back on and they were outside for the first time since Soap was taken. Weird to think about.

The sun felt wonderful on his skin. Ghost’s hand was so firm on his back, leading him to the horse.

“So we’ll go visit your sister so I can show you they’re fine.”

“Can I meet your friends?”

“Uh… maybe later.” Ghost looked shy at the prospect. His eyes darting away from Soap.

Soap smiled at him. “Aye. Want to see my lil sisters anyway.” Ghost helped him onto the horse and then sat behind him. His arms went around Soap and suddenly, he understood why all the lassies thought this was so romantic. He could hear Ghost’s heartbeat like this.

“I promise to introduce you when we get back.” He shook the reigns and his horse started walking. Soap’s hands were tied in front of him, loosely and only for show since they were in public, so he leaned into Ghost to prevent himself from falling.

“I got you sweetheart.” Ghost mumbled in his ear and Soap flushed.

“You’re a fecking menace.” Soap growled to a very confused Ghost.

Once they were out of the town, Ghost pulled the rope and set Soap free. He rubbed at his wrists and grabbed the horse more firmly, finally relaxing.

“How long are we going to be traveling?”

“Just a couple of hours. Tell me if you need a break.” Ghost put one of his arms around Soap to keep him steady.

“I’ve ridden a horse before.”

“Fucking hell, I just don’t want you falling off and hurting yourself.”

“Uh huh…” Soap got more relaxed, or as relaxed as he could be riding a horse. He hummed softly and picked at the fabric holding Ghost’s gear together.

The ride was mostly silent, with the occasional conversation or them pointing out an animal and then stopping to stare at said animal.

They had managed to see a fox, a rabbit, a fallow deer a hedgehog. Most of them ran away as soon as they appeared, but some lingered, as unbothered by them as they were the sun beating down on them. The thought passed between them to kill one for food, but there really wasn’t a need and that day felt too peaceful for there to be bloodshed.

Eventually, they arrive and Ghost hopped off first.

“Need help?”

Soap didn’t want to admit it, but it had been a while since he had done anything as taxing as riding in a while. He hadn’t exactly worked out or done any training while staying with Ghost.

“Fuck off.” He jumped down, almost immediately stumbling from how sore his legs were. If he grabbed on to Ghost’s arm to stay steady, Ghost knew better than to say anything.

They marched into Valeria’s… castle?? She had a castle?? Soap grimaced. If his sisters were being used for fucking labor or mistreated or…

Davina ran over immediately. “Johnny!!” She collided with him, wrapping her arms around him. He immediately hugged her back, a little surprised.

“Davina…” Soap squeezed her hard. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Has she been treating you nicely??”

“Lady Valeria is very nice don’t worry! You made her sound so mean when you talked about her before.” Davina pulled back and smiled at him. She looked a lot like him, dark hair and blue eyes. She was the baby of the family though and she looked it. Unlike his sister Roisin, she was tiny.

“I’ve been so worried about you! How could I not! Were you not worried about me?”

“Val told me not to worry about you and I trusted her. Clearly it was a good choice.” She hit Ghost’s shoulder who stared awkwardly. Soap could see the tension in her shoulders. Despite how she was acting, it was clear to him that Ghost set her on edge.

“Nice to meet you too.” Ghost got out.

“He sounds like a villain in a play.”

Soap laughed before quickly stifling it. “Don’t be mean to him. He’s a nice guy.”

“Uh huh… Right…” She said it with a half smile, casually glancing at Ghost. “Anyway, Roisin is busy right now, but she should be out soon.”

“Busy? With what?”

“Oh, her and Valeria hang out alone sometimes. I don’t really care. I’ve been enjoying this bread they have.” She started to walk and the two men followed.

Soap leaned into Ghost and whispered. “I swear if Valeria is fucking my sister.”

“I had nothing to do with this. I promise. But like… is it any worse than us?”

“Yes!! Valeria is a blood thirsty monster and…” Ghost had continued to stare at him. “Okay, but my sister is a….” He and Roisin had the most in common.

Goddamnit.

“Look, I just think… she should’ve been talked to me first.”

“And I was supposed to talk to your dad or something?”

“My dad is dead. I’m the man of the house and Valeria should’ve talked to me!!” Soap groaned.

Ghost was clearly trying not to laugh. Soap wished he wasn’t wearing the mask. He loved Simon’s smile.

Ghost stared back at him, eyes softening just a little.

“You guys done?” Davina whispered and they both glared at her.

“Anyway, where have you been staying?”

“Lady Valeria gave me a room to stay in. Though I spend a lot of time in the kitchen. There’s this nice guy down there that slips me extra food.” She showed them where her room was.

Soap reluctantly agreed that it was a rather nice room. She had tons of pelts and blankets, an actual a mattress and just general it wasn’t too bad.

“I suppose… Valeria… isn’t too bad.”

“I was a little worried when she bought us but she’s cool.”

Ghost tapped Soap’s shoulder. “I’ll be back. You two can get… caught up.” He left them alone and Davina immediately changed. She dropped the happy go lucky act and immediately showed exactly how worried she had been.

“Are you okay? Has he done anything to you?” She hugged him again, though it was a bit tighter this time. “When he grabbed you that day I was so scared for you.”

“I’m fine. Simon actually is a nice guy.” Soap reassured. “I know that was probably… alarming.”

“Yeah. I heard of how cruel he was on the battlefield and…” She buried her face in his chest. “I was so worried. Val kept telling me that he wouldn’t hurt you but I was still just…” Her hands tensed on his arms.

Soap squeezed her. “It’s okay, kiddo. I’m fine. He hasn’t hurt me.”

“What happened to your hand?”

He glanced at the still healing wounds from where the knife had slashed him open.

“An accident. I dropped a knife.” Easier than explaining. “He’s nice. I like him.”

“You and Roisin started dating people?? Why couldn’t I meet someone here?” She groaned, clearly teasing. Her gaze traced him though, following down any skin she could see as if looking for bruises or something.

Soap was so glad he told Ghost not to make any marks on him the night before. Hickeys may have been hard to explain.

“I really am okay. Despite his… everything, he’s a really nice guy.” Soap smiled.

Davina nodded and hugged him again. “Do you think we can go home soon?”

Oh.

Soap hadn’t thought of that in a while. He had given up the moment he had ended up alone and beaten.

Would Ghost let him?

Part of him doubted that Ghost would do that to him. If he asked, he was certain Ghost would let him go.

But could he do that to Ghost?

Just leave him?

And what about Shepherd? Could he leave Ghost to deal with him alone?

“I don’t know. I’ll see okay?”

Davina nodded against him.

After a few moments, they separated and he found Roisin. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him.

Johnny held onto her a moment, relaxing into her. She fussed over him, very differently from Davina. Roisin didn’t care if Ghost was just a few feet away talking to Valeria.

Soap looked at him, making eye contact. He just sorta shrugged and Ghost waved him off, as if saying he understood how siblings were.

Did Ghost have a sibling? What a wild thought.

#call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #mw2 #soap call of duty #johnny soap mactavish #soapghost #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #spoils of war

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wiypt-writes · 2 years

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Rock ‘n’ Roll People, In A Disco World

Part 17: Disco Dancing With The Lights Down Low

1: No, You Can’t Take Your Goldfish

Summary: You and Paul take an ‘adults’ only trip to Mexico. Sun, sea…and all the other things beginning with S…

Warnings: Bad Language, NSFW (18+)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction. I do not own any characters contained within, bar the reader and any other OCS that may be mentioned. I do not give consent for my work to be reposted/translated to any other site. Reblogs are fine and are my jam, baby!

W/C: 4.6k

A/N: Okay, look… this is just one huge big smut fest and I’m not even sorry. Part 3 will be the Paul Diskant entrance for mine and @spectre-posts Kinktober. As always, thanks to her for being a wonderful beta.

Rock N Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 16

“For the last time, no, you can’t take your goldfish!” Paul groaned as Jack stared up at him, his face mutinous, little arms folded over his chest. “He’ll be fine; he has his vacation feeder, just like CJ’s.”

Jack pouted and opened his mouth but Disco was quick to shut him down. “No, end of discussion. Now come on! We got ten minutes before we need to drop you off.”

With a final groan, the near three year old moved towards the little tank and peered into it. His precious goldfish, which CJ had won for him at the fair, was swimming amongst the upturned, chaotic assemble of ornaments. “Be backs soon, Batman.” He sighed. “Don’ts died.”

“He won’t die.” Paul rolled his eyes, his hand falling to the back of Jack’s head, herding him out of the room.

They made their way downstairs, where CJ was sat in the lounge, Woody sprawled on the sofa next to him.

“How comes Woody goes, nots Batman?” Jack challenged immediately.

“Because he’s a dog and can’t live here alone, the fish can. Now, enough. Sit down so I can put your sneakers on.” Paul arched his brow as he looked at his youngest.

Jack did as he was told, looking up as you walked into the room, checking your purse.

“Passports, tickets…” you closed it with a deep breath, “okay…we’re good.”

You glanced at CJ who was watching Paul with Jack before his eyes turned back to the TV. He seemed a little quiet, and it was setting you on edge.

Since CJ had been born, your vacations in tropical locations, with a cocktail in your hand and a sun lounger or the sand beneath you had been swapped for family camping trips or visits to places which were packed with activities you could do with the boys. Even your day trips were centred around them, planned with near military precision. And, whilst you and Paul loved every second of it, Paul had decided that for one week this summer, you were taking an adults only trip to Mexico to be Paul and Y/N. As such, the boys were being watched by Paul’s parents for the week and yours for the weekend.

You were looking forward to it, of course you were, but you were nervous. You’d left the boys before for the odd date night, and a couple of overnight stays at the hotel you’d gotten married in, but this was the first time you’d stayed away for more than one at a time. And the fact that your two sons at times could fight like cat and dog worried you. A lot.

CJ had grown better at tolerating Jack, and you knew he loved his little brother. At times, the pair of them were inseparable. However, at others, when Jack misbehaved or persistently irritated CJ for one reason or another, all hell would break loose. This would result in tears, tantrums and time outs, normally for both of them, which CJ found highly unfair. You took great pains to explain to him that his behaviour when he pushed or hit Jack, or yelled horrible things at him was equally as unacceptable as the actions that has caused his reaction and he was starting to understand. But still, you knew he found it hard and in all honesty, sometimes you couldn’t really blame him.

Jack, however, was a lot less sensitive to any form of punishment than CJ was, or ever had been for that matter. You and Paul had both caught your youngest once in a time out, stripped down to his waist, doing some odd hip thrusting dance to music only he could hear. Both of you had tried so hard not to let him see you laughing, hastily closing the door behind you. However, later that evening, when you’d had time to think about it, it made the pair of you groan and ponder what exactly you had to do to make Jake realise his behaviour at times was not to be tolerated. And you were loathe to admit it, but you had to agree that the nickname Paul had given him, Kevin (after the well-known hell raiser from Home Alone) was well earned.

Both Dot and Jim found all of this highly amusing. Whilst you saw Paul in CJ, both looks and his sensitive yet often stubborn demeanour, they saw nothing but Paul in Jack. Apparently, your husband had also been a little shit, regularly wreaking havoc upon his parents and elder brother until eventually calming down around the age of eight. Which gave you hope, until you realised if that was true for your youngest, you had another five and a bit years of this to put up with.

You took to standing in front of your eldest and squatted down to his eye level. When your hands rested upon his knees, his daddy's eyes looked back at yours. "Hey, you wanna tell me why you look so disappointed?"

CJ looked at you, then he shrugged. “I’m just…I don’t wanna share a room with Jack.” He took care to lower his voice a little, his hands tangled in Woody’s fur. “I likes my own room.”

“Well, Grumpy and Nanny have two spare rooms.” You reasoned, “you can just ask to sleep in the other one. I’m sure they won’t mind. It doesn’t have a TV though.”

"That’s okay, I can take my book, or colors."

“Then there’s no problem then.” You smiled back at him.

“You and daddy wonts be mad?”

"No, baby, of course not." You sighed. "But remember, please don't get upset with Jack if he wants to nuggle. He's still having bad dreams sometimes, okay?"

CJ took a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Ceej?” Paul spoke and Connor turned to look at his dad. “You wanna grab your shoes, buddy? Then check you got everything you need?”

"I gotta go to my room. I forgot my colors and books." He scooted off his seat and scurried upstairs.

You winked at Paul as you stood.

“Right, cases are in the car, kids rucksacks are here…” Paul looked around, his hand running over his once again freshly shorn buzz cut. “Just gotta load them and Woody and we’re set, Sugar. Couple of hours and we’ll be on the plane.”

You sighed with contentment. "I'm ready, I wasn't as far as late last night, worrying about the boys and them getting along while we're gone, but, I'm so ready, Stud."

“They’ll be fine. As dad always likes to point out, they never put a foot wrong when they’re there.” Paul smiled, his hands falling to your hips.

You gently smiled, "I know." Your hands went to rest on his biceps. "Did you pack everything you need?"

“I did.” He grinned. “Two pairs of Speedo’s, sliders and a toothbrush. Oh. And the cuffs…” he winked as he leaned down to kiss you.

You kissed him gently. "Speedos? You own a pair? Two pairs?"

"And the cuffs." He purred into your neck.

Jack made a retching noise at your display of affection, something you knew he’d learnt from Barnes and Steve. Disco snapped his fingers and Jack rolled his eyes. About that same time, CJ brought his things down, his hands full.

"I'll help you," you slipped away from your husband and moved to take a couple of things out of Connor’s arms. Disco turned to Jack who hopped off the sofa grinning.

“Grumpy’s?”

“Yup, let's go, Kevin." Paul snorted as he went to direct the three year old towards the garage door from the entry. He whistled and Woody trotted right behind him.

Your departure and the drive to Dot and Jim’s went smoothly and to time. Once the boys stuff was unloaded, you had half an hour or so to make sure they were settled in before it was time for you to head to the airport. The time went too quickly, and soon you were saying goodbye with a little wobble in your voice.

"Be good, please," you picked up Jack and hugged him close.

“I good boy. Pwomise.”

"Okay, baby," you kissed his cheek and let him down, not sure you totally believed him.

He ran over to Paul who was holding CJ in a huge hug. He set his eldest down, who made his way to you as Paul scooped Jack up.

"I love you, Mommy," CJ hugged you tightly.

“I love you too, Ceej. Look after Jack, okay? My big boy.” You kissed your five-year-old son’s temple.

"Okay. I promise."

“Thank you. And remember, if he’s being naughty or upsetting you, you ask him firmly but nicely to stop. If he doesn’t…”

“Tell Grumpy or Nanny, don’t react.”

"Good, bub," you kissed his cheek. "I love you, baby.'

He smiled and hugged you again before you set him down, and turned to make a fuss of Woody.

"You ready, Sugar?" Paul stood beside you.

“Yeah…” you stood up after giving your faithful dog a final scratch and nodded. “Let’s go.”

"Have fun, relax," Dot grinned.

“I’ll try.” You laughed. “Please call us if there’s any problems. My dad will be here Friday midday to collect them.”

“And don’t take any of their crap.” Paul instructed.

"They're at Camp Grumpy, there won't be any crap!" Big Jim smirked.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the look your boys exchanged.

"We gotta go, baby," Paul encouraged.

“Okay, okay…” you nodded, casting one last look at your sons. “See you in a week, be good.”

"Bye-bye, Mommy," Jack called out with a wave.

You waved back as Paul ushered you out of the house and into the car.

“They’ll be fine.” He gently took your hand and pressed his lips to the inside of your wrist.

"I know." You nodded.

With a smile, he reversed the car from the drive and set off back up the road.

In less than twenty minutes, you were dropping your car off at the long-term parking lot and hitching your shuttle to the terminal.

Thanks to the express check in that Paul had paid for, your bags were taken and you were through and settling at the bar almost an hour to the minute you’d left his parents.

Paul insisted on first class and all-inclusive from the moment you'd begun planning this trip. It was special to him, to spoil you and show you how much of a queen you were to him. The sap promised he'd handle everything and you were hesitant at first, given how his work load had been of late, but he was relentless. You finally agreed, but made him promise you decided on a location together and that was fine by him. The rest, he could take on.

You sighed as the bartender gestured around the lounge and told you to help yourself to the various spirits, wines, beers and fizz that lay in fridges dotted around, or if you wanted something a little more special, he was happy to whip up a cocktail.

"What is it?" Paul didn't miss the extra huff of air.

“Honestly…I’m just trying to decide what to have.” You chuckled.

He grinned, "well, we're Mexico bound, so I'm going with a Cadillac on the rocks."

“Hmmmm okay, let’s make it two…”

Soon enough, with cocktails in hand, you and your husband sat in a comfy two seat couch. He leaned over and kissed you gently, before clinking his glass to yours. “To our first week away alone in years, Mrs. Diskant.”

"To us, Stud," you smiled brightly.

****

Thirteen hours later, including one quick layover in Houston and a two-hour private chauffeur drive, you had arrived at your all-inclusive resort in Tulum, Mexico. You couldn’t help but whistle at the gorgeous lobby as you waited whilst Paul checked you in.

Eventually, you saw him walking back towards you, key card in his hand and a grin on his face. “They’re gonna take our cases and then come back for us. Be about ten or fifteen minutes. Drink whilst we wait?”

"Yeah, let's."

He took your hand and you made your way over to the bar area just off the right of the lobby. You should be exhausted, given the journey time, but you’d managed a good sleep on the overnight flight, thanks to the reclining first class seats, and your adrenaline from the excitement had kicked in.

You both ordered a beer, before you sat at the shiny, mahogany bar and Paul turned to you.

“Even better than it looked on the photos.”

"It's stunning, really. Feels like another world," you observed and sipped your beer.

Paul smiled, "we deserve this, Y/N. No spared expense. We've saved for this. I can't wait to show you our room. It's phenomenal. Private, romantic as fuck."

“Like you, huh stud?” You grinned at him.

Paul simply winked and shrugged, "Anything for you, sweetheart."

You chuckled and then reached out to cup his cheek, the fingers of your left hand scratching through his short beard. “I know…and I love you for it.”

He shuddered under your touch. "A week of just us, fuck, Sugar, I'm so happy right now."

You chuckled and dropped your hand to his knee. “Anyone would think you couldn’t wait to escape our boys.”

"I love our kids, you know I do, but we just, well, you do so much for them, bringing them up...” Paul gave you a soft smile. “I know at times it’s a relentless task and yeah, one we totally signed up to as parents but, well, I felt we just needed this, you know?"

“Yeah, I get it.” You nodded, “I was just teasing. And we do so much for them. You bring them up too, you know. Ain’t just me.”

"Certainly hasn't felt like it lately." He sighed and finished off his bottle.

“Yeah but that’ll pass,” you soothed, “it’s been a busy time, lotta bad guys to catch. And you’ve been picking up those extra shifts for the beat as well, helping cover…” you shook your head, “just part and parcel of the job.”

"Yep."

“Hey…” you squeezed his hand, “have you missed a single one of Ceej’s soccer games?”

"No, I haven't," he said honestly.

“Exactly. Last week you came in at like 3am, had what, 4 or 5 hours sleep and got up to take him. You’ve also not missed a single beat with Jack when you’ve promised to take him places either. You work so hard to make sure they never go without, especially since I only work three shifts a week.”

“No, I know but…well, we’ve-“

“Don’t worry about me.” You shook your head. “I’m fine. We’re fine.”

Paul smiled and then he snorted. “Hey, did I tell you when we were out on our walk round the reserve the other day, Jack announced he wanted to do karate?”

"Not a bad idea. I'll look into it when we get back." You nodded. “Not sure what age they can start from, though.”

“Really?” Paul snorted, “you wanna reach him to hit people?”

“Might help him channel his energy.” You laughed. “But seriously, he’s no interest in soccer at all, so it would be good for him to have something.”

“Oh god what if he wants to play baseball.” Paul suddenly paled, “and they give him a bat…”

"He does love his Dodgers like his Daddy. So does Ceej, I always thought that would be his sport but…well, we got Barnes to thank for his soccer obsession.”

"Not a bad thing." Paul leaned forward and kissed you.

A concierge patiently cleared his throat as he stood before you, dressed in all white linen clothes. "Mr. Diskant, your villa is ready."

At that you blinked before you looked at Paul. “We’re in a villa?”

Paul simply winked and stood as you did, looking to the concierge. "Lead the way."

With a nod, the two of you followed him to an awaiting golf cart and sat on the seats. He drove a bit away from the main lobby towards the water's edge. And within minutes, stopped in front of a palapa roofed building.

"Here's your home for the week, enjoy," the man said in a thick Spanish accent. "Should you need anything, don't hesitate to call."

"Thank you," Paul tipped him and as he drove off, your husband took your hand, "right this way, Sugar."

With a click of the key, you set foot into the two-story open floor plan villa. You found yourself simply gaping as you took it all in. It was ridiculously opulent, every single inch you could see was gorgeous. Ahead of you was a beachfront terrace with private hammocks hanging from the upper deck's frame. The jewel blue Caribbean crashed into the white sand beach beyond that. Just behind you, among the entry just to its left was a patio, emersed in the jungle of Tulum and outdoor soaking pool.

“Holy shit,” was just about the only thing you could think of to say.

As you set foot up the open stairs, you found the master bedroom and you gasped. The most majestic room you'd ever seen was laid out in front of you. The seven meter elevated palapa roof, an unforgettable bathing tub, and a king-size bed that could roll onto your expansive private terrace would allow you to sleep under the stars.

“Paul…” you whispered as you headed over the terrace to check out the view, the early afternoon sun lit up the sea, like millions of tiny sapphires.

His big arms wrapped around you from behind and his beard rubbed against your cheek. "Surprise." He whispered.

You laid your hands over his forearms and leaned back into his chest. “This is unbelievable.”

"We've got all week to do nothing or everything."

“Yeah…” you closed your eyes and took a deep, content breath as Paul kissed your neck.

“So, whaddya say we freshen up, change into something a little more vacation chic and head for something to eat. Then grab a few drinks, lay on the beach…”

"I like this plan," you couldn’t help the smirk as you turned in his arms. "I shopped specifically for this trip."

“Yeah…so why don’t you give me a show, huh?”

"Hmmm," you kissed him, "Alright."

“And I suppose I should manage your expectations…I don’t really have any Speedos.” He sighed, dramatically. “Sorry, I know that’s gonna disappoint you but…”

"Do we even need suits?" You said with a rasp.

“Well, not whilst we’re here…I suppose. Might raise a few eyebrows on the beach though.”

You giggled and shook your head, opening the closet to find your case.

"Restaurant opens at six, so get that bikini on, mama," Paul noticed on the bedside flyer.

“Yes, sir, officer.” You winked.

Paul headed off and came back with two beers from the fully stocked complimentary mini bar and as you drank them, you spent a little time unpacking. Then you both took a shower, which turned into your first vacation fuck. Paul easily held you up against the tiled surface, your legs wrapped around his waist as he buried himself inside you. When you finally got round to actually showering you did so reasonably quickly and, shortly after, the pair of you dressed ready for the beach. Together, hand in hand you headed out and down the pathway to the white sand where you located a pair of loungers not far from the little beach hut bar.

Your black suit was hidden under your blue sarong dress as your tan straw hat was atop your head. You busied yourself getting your things laid out whilst Paul headed off to grab you both a drink. When he came back, he set the ice-cold beers down on the little table between the two loungers and made a show of peeking over the top of his glasses at you as you pulled off your sarong dress.

"Jesus," he hissed.

You arched a brow at him, “what?”

"Damn, Y/N," he glared, "you look...."

“Behave…” you felt your cheeks heat, as you glanced down at yourself, “ain’t like you’ve never seen me in a bikini before.”

"Yeah, but not one like... like that. Your boobs look great.”

“It’s not that different!” You laughed as you flopped down and sighed, grabbing your drink and sipping it. "This is insane. A week of this? I'm spoiled."

Paul grinned as he whipped off his t-shirt. “I promised you paradise, babe.”

"It's been hours and so far you've come through," you smirked.

You drank and snacked on ceviche until the sun started going down. You soaked in the rays and took in the crystal clear water until you fell asleep on the lounge.

A soft kiss roused you and you gave a gentle hum of contentment.

“Hey, Sugar…you wanna go get dinner?” Paul was hovering over you, his nose brushing yours.

"Yeah," you whispered. "Something light? Casual?"

“Sure. We don’t have to go to the restaurant, we can grab something from the snack bar to take back if you like?”

"Mmmm, I'm easy," you stretched.

“Well don’t tell everyone, they’ll all want a piece and I don’t share.” He hummed against your mouth and then nodded as you blinked a little sleepily. “Okay, I’m calling it. We’ll take something back, sit in our pool or on the terrace and get an early night. It’s been a long day or so.”

"I'm okay with this plan." You smiled at him. As he pulled back, you kicked your feet into the sand and grabbed your sarong, tying it around your waist this time and topping your head off with your hat.

Paul helped you gather your things and you headed up to the hut and ordered a selection of nachos, tacos and fries to take back with you. To your delight, they offered delivery to your villa and you were thankful you didn’t have to wait.

You both strolled home, your chat easy and full of laughter and soon you were back at your villa, sitting outside as you overlooked the ocean, more drinks in your hand. Your food arrived and you ate, and both of you found yourselves then absolutely whacked and ready to fall into the bed.

So you did just that, calling time on what had been a perfect introduction to your Mexican getaway.

****

After your arrival day, your trip moved with an easy nature and you felt lucky for that. Your first full day was spent with breakfast in bed followed by a morning of planning a few activities, which you booked through the excursions desk in the hotel lobby.

The first of which took place the next day, an excursion to Muyil, some fifteen kilometres from the resort. You arrived just after lunch and were treated to a ride through the ancient Mayan canals and calm and easy floats down its lazy rivers. Come sunset, you were provided a picnic overlooking the huge, ancient lagoon itself.

As you sat against the setting sun with your drinks in hand and the meal provided for you, you looked to your husband, "this is amazing.”

"Never seen anything like it, that's for sure." Paul agreed.

You smiled and sighed happily. “I really was tempted with the jungle trip but, well, I don’t wanna kayak or bike.” You chuckled.

“Totally, we get enough of that type of stuff with the kids.” Paul nodded.

“Although the Howler Monkeys sound cool.”

“Again, I refer to my previous point.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. "Speaking of which, they seemed happy when we talked to them. Don’t seem to be driving your parents nuts or fighting like they do.”

“It’s Grumpy, he has the magic touch. And speaking of which…what massage you gonna get during our spa morning?”

“Ooooh, I haven’t decided yet, I got a couple of days.” You winked. “What about you?”

“Probably the deep tissue one.”

“Well then, I’m looking forward to listening to you moan like a bitch afterwards about how much it hurt.”

“Why do you think I suggested the Mezcal for that afternoon? Numb the pain.” He winked, causing you to laugh before you placed your lips heavily against his.

“Thank you. For all of this. I’m…well, I’m just really enjoying the time with you. Unplugged, disconnected and just us!"

Paul beamed, “me too, Sugar.”

Your eyes peered into his, despite his shades covering those magical blues. "Tomorrow just the sun, sand," you leaned forward more so you could whisper, "a good fuck or two, maybe three, defiling our room."

“We’ve already defiled it pretty well, babe.” Paul grinned. “Or have you forgotten how I woke you up this morning?”

"Oh no, absolutely not. Why do you think I'm finally sleeping naked for the first time in years?" You flicked your brows.

Paul grinned, “yeah. No little cock blocks to run in, demanding breakfast at stupid AM.”

You chuckled. "You know you love it though."

“You’re right, I do. They’re a handful at times but it’s the best thing in the world.” He beamed. “My little disco balls.”

You smiled at the nickname he'd given your boys. It always warmed you to watch him parent or talk about your kids.

With the sun now down, it was time to head back. The open-air jeep ride to the hotel and your villa found you cuddled into Paul as the warm summer air swirled around you both. But upon your return, you and Paul skipped the bath and went for a soak in your private pool with a couple of drinks in hand.

One thing led to another and before you knew it you were in his lap, stuffed full once more and moaning his name as the pair of you defiled another spot in your villa.

The jungle was your backdrop and while you were in a private villa, you gave yourself the challenge of keeping quiet outside and it only made Disco growl in your ear and rail you at a feral pace.

“C’mon, Sugar…” he coaxed, his teeth nipping your collar bone, “I know you wanna scream…”

“Oh, ou, outside...." you whimpered.

“So?” He grunted as he gave a tilt up of his hips, grinding against you.

"Close..." it was all you could do to form the word.

“Let ‘em hear…” he reached up and gripped your neck at the back, pulling you down for a filthy kiss, “let ‘em hear how well I fuck my wife.”

You were gone, a pitched wail coming from you as you came.

“Oh, baby…” Paul groaned as his face pressed into your cleavage, “baby, baby, baby…”

Your whole being shook in his lap as you kept rolling your hips to ride out your orgasm.

“Fuck, Sugar…” his hands gripped your hip as he leaned back, thrusting up into you harder, “…so fuckin hot.” His feet planted on the floor of the pool, his hips continuing to rise and fall, a fast and frantic rhythm. You’d barely come down from your first orgasm when you could feel a second one already sparking deep in your core.

“Oh, yeah…” Paul coaxed. “Cum again, sweetheart, wanna feel you.” He watched your face, and soon he saw and heard that "oh" that put your lips in a perfect circle as you came and it wavered as your body now quaked.

“Fuck, Y/N…” Paul’s jaw clenched as his brow furrowed. “Imma…shit…oh…god…” His face screwed up in pleasure, his eyes closing momentarily, his mouth opening in supplication as he came, clinging to you.

Chests heaving, you both stilled for a moment, waves from your soaking pool sloshed around your bodies. Paul gave a little chuckle as he leaned up to kiss you softly, the tenderness a stark contrast to the desperation with which he’d been fucking you.

You hummed a little chuckle as a lazy, serotonin smirk spread your lips. "Wow...."

“Yeah…wow.” He licked his lips and allows himself to sag back against the edge of the pool, taking you with him.

"Fuck, that was good, Stud."

“Glad you thought so.” He grinned dopily.

***

Part 2

#rock n roll people in a disco world #paul diskant fan fiction #paul diskant x you #paul diskant x reader #paul Diskant #street kings #street kinks more like #chris evans characters

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poppyseedoncaffeine · 10 months

Text

More incorrect quotes cuz art blocks a bitch

Lunar: We have to plan, we have to figure something out. Monty: Lunar, when have any of our plans ever actually worked? We plan, we get there, all hell breaks loose.

Moon: No, this is not a mess. You know what I consider a mess? Foxy: Your life? Moon: I- well yes, but-

Lunar: I am very small and I have no money, so you can imagine the kind of stress that I'm under.

Monty: Unpopular opinion, not all dogs are good boys. Foxy: Blocked. Monty: Sometimes, they’re good girls! Foxy: UNBLOCKED!

Sun, wiping tears from their eyes: If you love someone, set them free. If they come back, it’s meant to be… Moon: I’m literally just going to the store.

Sun: We wouldn’t last two minutes without Earth. Sun: Sun: Don’t tell them I said that.

Sun: Why do you keep a diary?! Monty: To keep secrets from Computer.

Lunar: Why aren't there friend pick up lines? Pick up lines to make friends like- Lunar, to Earth: Hey, that's a cute outfit. You know where it would look better? On nobody else, because you're a beautiful individual. Monty, to Foxy: Be my friend or I'll set your entire family on fire. Moon: There are two types of people.

Moon: We can't eat. Why are you making pancakes? Sun: For the cats. Moon: Why are you making pancakes for the cats? Sun: They don't know how.

Monty: Y'know, I once knew a man who said to me: “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” He also had a pair of sideburns that would cause even Jude Law’s face to weep in forfeit. You put those lemons in a sack and beat your enemies with ‘em! And maybe if you beat ‘em hard enough the bag will split open and lemon juice will spray into their eyes, causing intense burning pains as you crush them into a citrus-y pulp! Foxy: Wait, wait, wait, wait. Their heads or the lemons? Monty: Whatever caves first!

Sun: How the hell are you still alive? Bloody & Harvest: Honestly, I’m just as confused as you are.

Moon: It's not like I try to blow things up, exactly. It just sort of happens. You've got to admit though, fire is fascinating.

Bloody: Thank you for not saying "I told you so." Harvest: When you’re as right as I am, you don’t have to say it. *Both look at the fiery inferno before them as Sun angrily emerges from the flames holding a Barrel and a dead Eclipse*

KC: The saying “it is better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission” no longer applies to Bloody & Harvest.

The only proper way to lie to Lunar:

Lunar: Can I have some? Monty, mouth full of cheesecake: It's really spicy, you wouldn't like it. *Proceeds to buy a huge ass cheesecake for Lunar*

Monty: Watcha doin? Sun: Stealing my neighbor's cat. Monty: Scandalous. Monty: Can I help?

Sun: It’s Pride Month, you know what that means! Lunar: I get to eat as many Skittles as I want? Sun: What? No! What has Monty been telling you? Monty, walking in, pouring Skittles into their mouth: Taste the rainbow, bitch.

KC: I'm having a baby. Rays: Oh, congradu- Bloody & Harvest wanting a better version of Eclipse, slamming adoption papers onto the table: It's you, sign here.

Demon: Hey, I took your soul last month and- Monty: No returns. Demon: sobbing But it's making me sad…

Monty: Sorry it took so long to bail you out of jail. Lunar: No, it was my fault. I shouldn't have used my phone call to prank call the police station.

Lunar: Can I go to the pool? Monty: Sure, we’ll go as soon as I’m free. Lunar: No, can I go by myself? Monty: You don’t want to go with me? Lunar: You just go around challenging random people to cannonball contests. Monty: It’s the only way to establish dominance.

Eclipse: I’m not so sure you’re stakeout material. Rays: I’m a chronic insomniac, I was born for this.

Rays: Moon won’t come out of their room! Lunar: Just tell them I said something. Rays: Like what? Lunar: Anything factually incorrect. Rays, shrugging: If you say so. Moon, arriving moments later: Did you just say the Pluto is a Star?

Monty: slams books down in front of KC Monty: Boil up some Mountain Dew. It’s gonna be a long night. Moon: You could of said literally anything else. Monty: Cauldron boil and cauldron bubble, Baja Blast to fuel my trouble. Moon: I’m going to just stop challenging you when you say random shit. I won’t win. I realize this now.

Eclipse: Be careful, I thrive on negative attention.

Moon: I've connected the two dots. Rays: You didn't connect shit. Moon: I've connected them.

Lunar: Why isn’t the statue smirking at me? Eclipse: It isn’t smirking at anyone, they’re all just imagining it. Monty: Three of us saw it, Eclipse. How do you explain that? Eclipse: points at Sun Sleep deprivation. points at Monty Paranoia. points at Moon Delusional personality disorder.

Moon: We need a plan to beat Eclipse. Rays: Okay, listen up. First, we fill their shoes with wet cat food. Moon: Rays: Judge me all you want, I get results.

Lunar: Tell them to eat shit, Rays. Rays: Tell them yourself. Lunar: Eat shit, asshole. Fall of your horse. *Rays nodding behind Lunar*

Eclipse: What are you talking about Monty? You love it here! Monty: I'm not sure I do, I think I've just developed Stockholm syndrome.

#sun and moon show #sun and moon show eclipse #sun and moon show lunar #sun and moon show kill code #sun and moon show earth #sun and moon show montgomery gator #sun and moon show sun #sun and moon show moon #sams good eclipse #Foxy

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nessieart · 10 months

Text

Teeth pt. 8

|| Before the Fall pt. 1 ||

WC: 3.7K

AN: Thought I'd post this for Steve's birthday today! its been sitting in my drafts for a few days. its fitting i think! Thanks for coming along with me on this journey! it means a lot to me.

Warnings: Canon level violence, made up fantasy elements prob’ly, cursing, no y/n used.

Eventual Tony x Reader

Summary: You meet up with an old friend and then travel to see a very familiar face you haven't seen in almost a year.

Master List

<< Previous || First || Next>>

-*-

It’s been a week since Christmas Eve. A week since that horrible man put that chemical in your body. A week since you’ve seen hide or hair of Tony Stark or Pepper Potts. Tony had told you that your scent was off, like charcoal and dried flowers. It sent you into a panic and you left as soon as the two of you returned to California.

You’ve shifted a few times since Christmas, your normal oversized coyote form a balm to your wounds. You thought constant Shifting would get rid of Extremis, and it seems you were right. It’s all but gone now, and New Year’s Eve is tomorrow.

You haven’t been home in a couple decades, the snow is fresh and more than you’ve seen fall in a long time. The Grand Canyon was always your siblings favorite place to stay growing up. It reminds you of simpler times; chasing hares, terrorizing the locals and tourists alike, the clearest nights’ sky filled with billions of stars. You won’t let anyone tell you there’s more beautiful places on earth, because for you, it’s right here.

The Canyons are painted in purples, oranges and yellows as the sunsets. Reflecting the image of the sky back to the earth. The snow reflects the shimmer from the setting sun as it gets blown from the wind, and you can’t tell the difference between stars in the valley below or the night sky that’s breaking through.

“Thought it’d be another age a’fore I saw your tail again,” a voice says from behind you. You smile to yourself, but don’t turn to greet the newcomer.

You sigh, your breath floating away in the wind, “Didn’t think I’d ever come back.” The figure steps up to stand next to you, you both overlooking the Canyon. You glance at him, he looks taller than the last time you saw him. “What are you doin’ here, Leon?”

Your twin turns to you, a sad smile on his handsome face, “Felt it. Whatever happened to you,” he reaches his hand out and you take it, twining your fingers together and holding tightly. “What the hell happened to you, Flowers?”

His childhood nickname for you made tears spring to your eyes. So you tell him. Leon waits for you to finish your story, from the months leading up to you being in New York, to you being here with him. You can tell he’s holding back his anger as you tell him about last week. Being a twin, and a supernatural one at that, you two have always been able to feel the strongest emotions and pain in each other.

His eyes are glowing amber when you finish your story, there’s a low growl rippling through his chest as he heaves in a few steadying breaths.

“I’ll kill him,” he growls out, his lips pulling back from his teeth in a snarl.

“He’s dead, Lee. Everything’s fine now,” you assure him. He looks down at you, his eyebrows furrowing. You bring your finger up to smooth the crease between his brows and he sighs.

“Poppy…?” He flicks the loose collar around your neck, his head tilting to the side.

You may have left out some important information. Like finding your mate, and said mate being in a relationship already. “It’s…complicated,” you say, he raises his eyebrows at you. “My, uh, mate,” you cringe when he squeaks.

“I always thought we smelled similar,” he’s grinning. Leon’s face gets serious after a moment, “What happened that you aren’t with them now - your mate?”

You look out at the Canyon again and sigh, “He’s with someone. And he told me my scent has changed - since Extremis. I didn’t want to be around him and his girlfriend while they sort their life out now that their house was destroyed.” You look back at your twin, tears welling up in your eyes, “Like charcoal and dried out flowers. Like death.” You whisper the the last of your sentence.

Leon hushes you and pulls you in for a hug, resting his head on top of yours. His large hands rub up and down your back, trying to soothe you.

“Well, you smell fine to me,” he mumbles in your hair. You both chuckle a little. You missed your brother so much, and you always forget it used to be you and him against the world.

You inhale his scent, he still smells like wild flowers, pine, and summer sun. “I missed you so much, Sunny,” you mumble the nickname into his chest, you both hug each other a little tighter.

-*-

You stayed with Leon well into Spring. He lived in a small cabin not too far from the Grand Canyon. It reminded you of the house you all grew up in, too small for the litter of pups your parents had, but also homey and well lived in.

You spent the last few full moons running around the Canyon with our brother. You felt more free running with him than you have in a long time. And you wonder why you ever left his side to begin with.

One evening, while you wait for Leon to return home, there’s a small ding that comes from your collar.

Miss Poppy JARVIS is speaking quietly, the blue light glowing in the dark and pulsing with every word he says.

“Hi there, JARVIS, it’s been a while,” you respond. Subconsciously thumbing over the grooves of the name tag.

Indeed it has. How are you doing, if I may ask? Always so polite. You wonder if Tony really made the AI or if JARVIS just picked a personality all his own.

“I’m doing a lot better since the last time we spoke,” you sigh. “Can we cut to the chase, J? What did you need me for?”

He doesn’t respond right away, and you wonder if he’s trying to think of the right thing to say.

It’s to do with Sir and Miss Potts. He stops again, and you hum in acknowledgment. They are no longer in a relationship. Hope beats in your chest for a moment, you could go to him, and everything would be great. Or amazing. Everything you’ve ever wanted. Or…

“Why are you telling me this, J?”

I thought you would like to know. Given your feelings toward Mr Stark. And his feelings for you. Oh you cheeky AI.

“I don’t think it’s that simple anymore, is it?” You’re both silent for a moment. You think he might have gone but then the light comes back on your collar.

“Poppy?” You inhale sharply. Tony. He clears his throat, “I, uh, sorry about JARVIS. Meddlesome AI. What’s a genius to do?” You think you can hear a smirk in his voice. It’s been almost 5 months since you’ve heard his voice.

“How are you, Tony?” You ask, because you genuinely want to know. Want to know if he’s feels as empty as you have since Christmas.

There’s an audible sigh over the comms, “Oh you know,” you think you can picture him waving his hands about, feigning nonchalance and you smile to yourself. “Keeping busy. Trying to keep this teenage menace out of trouble.”

“Oh. Are- are you back in New York?” You cringe a little at your question, don’t be stupid.

“Yep,” he pops the ‘p’ at the end, “Settled in a few months ago. Y’know, if you want-“

Your name is called from behind you. Seems like Leon’s home. “What are you doin’ out here, Flowers?” He’s walked over to you, you’re sitting in the backyard on a rock. The sky above is cloudless and the stars look like they go on forever. He notices the light on your collar, and tilts his head, his eyebrows furrow. “Everything ok?” You nod, eyes wide as you look at him. He hums. “Well, I brought dinner home, whenever you’re ready. I’ll be inside.” He turns around and begins to walk back towards the house.

You sigh, “Sorry about that. I’ve been stay-“

“It’s fine,” Tony cuts you off. His tone clipped short. Was he upset? “I need to go, Bruce just walked in,” he says your name and the light goes out on your collar.

“Tony? Wait! Ugh! JARVIS?” There’s no reply and the light doesn’t come back on. You groan and put your head in your hands. “What the fuck was that?”

Back inside the house, your shoulders are slumped and you huff when you sit at the small table in the kitchen with Leon.

His smile is small as he looks at you, “What was that all about?”

You take the collar off and place it on the table, “Tony. His AI contacted me and wanted me to know that Tony and his girlfriend broke up.” You sigh and put your forehead on the table.

“Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it? Now you won’t seem like a homewrecker if you pursue your mate,” he grins at you when you lift your head to glare at him. He chuckles, “What? I’m just saying.” He shrugs his shoulders.

After dinner, you and Leon are sitting in his living room, the fireplace doesn't get much attention now that it's warming up outside.

Leon turns to you, his eyes big and bright. "Come to D.C. with me," he says.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, "what?"

"I have a job that needs seeing to," he rubs the back of his neck and looks around the small living space. "My boss called me in for something. It's a small thing. No need to worry. But, I think getting back into actual civilization would be good for you."

He shrugs a little bit, giving you a hopeful smile. "I also hear they have a Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian."

Your face heats up. Of course he'd use your childhood crush of Steve to get your attention.

"I've met him, y'know," you tell him, smugly. Leon's jaw drops as he stares at you.

He tosses a pillow at your head, "No way! I don't believe you!"

-*-

For the last 2 weeks you've tried to get in touch with JARVIS and Tony, but every time you try, there's no response. You decide to turn the collar into a bracelet, cutting and sewing the fabric to fit your wrist perfectly. You even added elastic to it so the material could stretch with you when you Shift.

You accompany Leon to Washington, D.C. He told you his boss needed him to "show up for once", and he decided to take you with him. Leon has always been good at distracting you when you get too lost in your own head.

It's nearly sun up one morning while you explore the quiet of D.C.

"I don't think I've been here since the late 70s," you tell him while you walk around the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool. "Not much has changed has it?"

Leon hums, "Maybe not a whole lot." He then points to a figure jogging around the Pool, and another one with ungodly speed. Your eyes widen as the taller figure comes into view and he's gone just as fast.

"Steve?" You say, it's barely above a whisper and you notice his feet falter and he looks over his shoulder and sees you.

Steve's jogging backwards when he lifts a hand in playful salute to you, giving you a wink, he turns around and continues his sprint.

Your brother nudges you with his elbow, "no way that just happened!" He's starstruck as he looks off to where Steve is running.

"I'll introduce you when he stops. If he stops," you grin. The man that Steve has passed comes jogging by you both and he nods his head in greeting.

It’s about an hour later you see Steve talking to the man that was also jogging around the Memorial. Steve looks like he hasn’t even broken a sweat, whereas the man on the ground is covered in it.

As you make your way closer, Steve glances over at you and smiles, his hands on his hips. He calls your name with a little wave. When you near him, he spreads his arms out and you walk into him and hug him. He hums. How is it that he smells nice after running for so long? A throat clears behind you and Steve steps back, his cheeks and the tips of his ears pink.

Steve holds his hand out to your brother, “Steve Rogers,” he offers his name.

“Oh! This is Leon,” you say as the two shake hands, “my brother.” Steve’s eyes widen ever so slightly and he glances at you, and you give him a smile.

“Pleased to meet you,” Steve says as he retracts his hand and gives Leon a nod.

Leon is grinning as he puts his hands in his pockets, “Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Captain.” He winks and you elbow him in the side.

You look at the man who has been watching the whole interaction with an amused expression on his face and you wave at him and offer him your name.

The dark skinned man turns to you, he has a flirty smile on his lips, he extends a hand, “Sam Wilson,” he nods to your brother and then turns to Steve. “You must miss the good ole days, huh?”

Steve tilts his head to the side slightly, thinking. He looks far more relaxed since the last time you saw him. “Well, things aren’t so bad,” he smirks. “Food’s a lot better - we used to boil everything,” you and Leon chuckle a little. “No polio is good. Internet - so helpful - been reading that a lot, trying to catch up.”

It’s then you realize that you forgot that Steve hasn’t lived through the turn of the century like you and your brothers have. You kind of feel bad that he’s had to figure out all this mostly by himself. Leon must sense your distress, he puts an arm around your shoulders and brings you into his side. You give him a small smile in return.

“Marvin Gaye, 1972 - Trouble Man soundtrack,” Sam says, “everything you missed, jammed into one album.” As he’s speaking you notice Steve pulling out a little notebook.

“I’ll put it on The List,” Steve says as he jots the information down Sam gave him. You wonder what else he has written down.

Leon’s phone chimes with a notification and you feel him tense. And not even 5 seconds later Steve’s phone chimes as well. Your eyebrows furrow, as Leon pulls away to check his phone.

“Alright, Sam,” Steve says as he shakes the man's hand, “duty calls. Thanks for the run - if that’s what you call running.” He smirks.

Sam scoffs, “Oh, that’s how it is?” They’re both chuckling at each other, conversing as you turn back towards Leon.

“I’m sorry, Flowers,” Leon says to you as he puts his phone away, “Bossman needs me earlier than I thought.” He puts a hand on your shoulder and gives you a sad smile. “I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can, ok?” He waves goodbye to Sam and Steve and jogs off down the road.

Steve comes over to you, “Flowers, huh? I thought that’s what I could smell on you.” Your eyes widen and lips part as you look up at him, and before you can respond the rev of an engine meets your ears as a sleek black Corvette pulls up to the curb near you all. The window on the passenger side rolls down and you see a beautiful woman with fiery red hair in the driver's seat.

She leans forward, “Hey, any of you know where the Smithsonian is? I’m here to pick up a fossil,” she smirks.

“That’s hilarious,” Steve deadpans. He brings his forefinger to your chin and tips it up, gives you a wink and walks towards the car. When he’s seated in the passenger seat he looks back at Sam, “can’t run everywhere.”

You stand next to Sam as he crouches down, “No you can’t.” He grins up at you and you smirk back at him. You wave goodbye to Steve and he gives you a soft smile, and the car speeds away.

“It was nice to meet you, Sam,” you say as you step away from him. You had to remember where your brother's apartment was now that you’re alone. You look around, eyebrows furrowed.

Sam stands up and crosses his arms over his chest, “You and Captain America a thing, or can I ask you out for breakfast?” He smirks at you and you scoff.

“Doesn’t every girl have a thing for Captain America?” He raises an eyebrow at you, “no uh, Steve’s just a friend. And I- well it’s complicated I guess,” you run the tips of your fingers against the fabric of the wristband on your arm.

Sam brings his hands up, “Hey, it was an innocent joke. I didn’t mean anything by it,” he gives you a soft smile, which you return. He waves it off, “but seriously, let me take you out to breakfast. You look a little lost.” He shrugs when you give him a look.

You nod your head, you were pretty hungry, and you won’t say no to a free meal.

You had a great morning with Sam. He was funny and could keep a conversation going, even if you didn’t have much to say. You told him how you met Steve, but not the circumstances, just that you met him in New York last Fall and got to know him and a few of the other Avengers. You also told him about Peter, how you and him became fast friends in the short amount of time you knew him.

You left out what you are and your weird relationship with Tony. Instead telling Sam about your brother Leon and how close you two are. Sam had asked if you and Leon had “that weird twin thing going on”. You laughed and said you did. Something you couldn’t really explain unless you’d give away your secret of being a Shifter, and exposing Supernaturals in general. But there was something about Sam that made you want to tell him all your secrets - maybe his kind eyes and gentle demeanor.

-*-

It was early afternoon the next day when your phone chimed with a message. Leon still wasn’t back from work and you were getting antsy. He did send you a message in the middle of the night saying he wasn’t sure when he would be back.

You checked your phone and it was a message from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hello, it’s Steve. Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you wanted to go with me to the Air and Space museum?

You smiled, and typed a reply.

You: Sure, Steve! I’d love to go.

Steve: Great, I can pick you up.

You give Steve the address to your brother’s apartment, and go get ready. As you’re waiting for him to arrive you notice the light on your wristband is blinking. Your brow furrows and you press it. A small projection of Tony pops up and your heart flutters.

There’s a small smile on your face as you take in the sight of him. The blue holo-image is from his chest up, it looks like he’s sitting at a desk and the camera is just off to the side. Tony’s tinkering with a repulsor from an Iron Man hand, goggles over his eyes, his tongue peaks out from between his lips. You can hear the faint rhythm of music in the background.

“Tony?” You say softly. He jumps, dropping the screwdriver-like device from his hand to the table top with a clang.

He tears the goggles off his eyes and they sit on his head, his eyes are wide as they look towards the camera.

Tony inhales sharply, “Poppy…?” He says softly. “JARVIS!” He yells after a few seconds of staring at you.

The music cuts out and the AI replies, Sir?

“Don’t you ‘Sir’ me, JARVIS!” Tony goes off for a minute on the AI and you’re giggling at him. He seems to notice after a minute and turns back to you. You can only assume he can also see you, a soft expression on his face at your quiet giggling.

“How are you, Tony?”

Tony places his head in his hand as he stares at you, and your cheeks burn at the attention. “Better now,” he says. The look on his face sobers and he clears his throat. “I’m sorry, about before. A few weeks ago,” he rubs the back of his neck with his other hand, “I didn’t mean to sound so, y’know,” he waves his hand in the air, and you smile at him.

“It’s okay, I would have acted the same way. That was my brother, Leon,” you clarify. And he hums in response. There’s a far off look in his eyes and he sighs deeply. You chuckle a little, “You listening, Tony?”

“Wh-? Of course I am,” he straightens up and drops his hand back to the table. The blue of his holo-self flickers a bit, “Where are you now?”

“D.C.” you say, your phone dings and you pick it up. Steve says he’s outside your building and you turn your attention back to Tony. “Hey, I’d love to catch up later. If you’re free - I uh, promised Steve I’d go to his exhibit with him.”

Tony has a smirk on his face, “A date with Capsicle, eh?” You roll your eyes, heat going to your ears. “Tap the receiver twice and JARVIS will notify me and I’ll call you. It’s good to see you, Poppy.”

You smile at him, the blue hologram flickering again. “It’s really good to see you too, love.” Tony smiles and you think he blushes because his hand covers his mouth and he looks away from you for a second.

“See you later,” he raises a hand, like he's going to turn off the call, “sweetheart.” And the call ends. The apartment is quiet again, and you sigh deeply. You missed him, and you almost forgot how much until you saw and heard him again.

Your phone chimes again, and you shake off your daze,

You: I’m on my way down!

-*-

Thanks for reading!! Happy Birthday, Steve!

like, comment, rb! <3

#tony stark x reader #shifter!reader #tony stark x shifter!reader #tony stark imagine #mcu fanfiction #Steve Rogers #Sam Wilson

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trexrambling · 1 year

Note

For the Injury Promts 4 Trying to hide your injury from them, but failing miserably once you faint right in front of them and 12 "I promise I'm fine... I just need some rest that's all", please?💗

how did I miss this ask???? anyways... here ya go ;)

____________________________________________

"Y/N, when's the last time you ate? Or slept, for that matter?"

I blink slowly a few times, processing the question while searching memory files for the answer. The Impala hits another pothole, almost like it's been seeking them out on the backroad we've been winding our way down for the past hour. Sharp pain shoots through my skull as I'm jostled in the back seat, fading to a steady dull ache again as the pavement smooths back out.

"Hello? You good back there?"

I meet Dean's eyes in the rearview mirror, thankful that the setting sun is casting shadows to help hide the grimace on my face. "Yeah, yes. Um...maybe at that diner? The one with the pancakes?"

"That was yesterday," Sam chimes in. "We should probably stop somewhere soon, get some food and find a motel to crash in. It's too far to drive all the way back tonight."

Dean scoffs. "Maybe if you were driving."

"Dean, seriously? We all need some rest. That hunt wasn't exactly a walk in the park."

Their voices fade into the background as I close my eyes and lean my pounding head back. I'd been knocked in the cranium before, more times than I care to recall, but had it ever left my head feeling like a loosely wrapped burrito full of pudding?

Well...yes, actually. But Tylenol usually would take the edge off. I've already popped five pills, and they may as well have been placebos with how affective the results are.

The intense ringing in my ears is almost like white noise, and despite the discomfort I must have passed out for a bit because the next thing I know there's a cold blast of air and Sam is crouched beside the open door of the car looking at me with a wrinkled brow.

"Hey, you sure you're okay?"

Everything is spinning, his words muffled. I rub my eyes, try to clear the haze, but god the pain that is occupying my skull right now, it's like someone is inside trying to break their way out with an icepick.

"I promise I'm fine...I just need some rest, that's all."

The look on his face says he clearly doesn't believe me. I don't believe me. But I still slide to the end of the bench seat, swing my feet onto the ground, and hoist myself up and out with the last bit of willpower I have left in my reservoir.

"See? I told you I'm...I'm just........everything is...."

And then my knees are buckling under me, and the last thought I have before everything goes black is that the gravel lot we're parked in is going to hurt like hell when I high five it with my face.

________________________

"Hey, Y/N. You gotta wake up. Come on, open up those pretty eyes for me, sweetheart."

"Don't call me that." My voice is sandpaper, the words scraping past my throat in a windy whisper.

My eyelids feel like lead as I pry them open, black fuzz coating everything in my line of vision. Dean and Sam slowly come into focus, sideways from my laid down position, sitting side by side in metal fold out chairs next to the bed I'm stretched out on. My hands trace the worn fabric under me as I scan the room we're in; vintage floral wallpaper, ratty curtains covering a window, a lamp from the 80's doing its best to illuminate the space.

"When did we check into a motel?"

"When you dropped like a rock in water." Dean's eyes are tight as he leans forward, gently pushing some loose hair out of my face and tucking it behind my ear. "What happened?"

I bring a hand up and lightly tap my forehead. "Got hit by something on the hunt. I'm fine, though."

"Fine my ass," he replies. "Sam thinks you might have a concussion."

My eyes flit to Sam, take in his leaned back stance and folded arms. I can hear his foot tapping restlessly on the ground, his bottom lip occasionally disappearing into his mouth for his teeth to gnaw on.

"I'm good, Sam. Can you guys help me sit up?"

The chairs scrape against the floor as they stand, each going to one side of me and gently pulling me upright. The room spins, and I close my eyes tightly as Dean lets go to prop some pillows behind me. I slowly settle back down, take a deep breath through my nose and open my eyes again.

"We're taking you to the hospital," Sam says as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

"Look, just...can I maybe have some water? And food, yeah food would be amazing right now. And then you guys can keep me up, make sure I stay coherent, and if things get worse then... maybe we can get me checked out."

I can tell by their faces that they don't like that plan, but nonetheless I am soon engulfed in a blanket, one brother on each side of me, with an extra large bottle of water and french fries. Dean's arm is firmly wrapped around my frame, my head nestled on his shoulder, and Sam has finally relaxed enough to settle his head in my lap while I slowly run my fingers through his hair. The TV is playing, but it's just background noise as I hone in on their steady breathing.

"How are you feeling?" Dean asks quietly.

I smile. "The food and water helped."

He leans away a bit to see me better and tilts my head up with his hand, turning my temple towards him. "That's one nasty lump. I don't know how I missed it earlier."

"I guess blood is a better attention grabber."

He snorts. "I think fainting takes the win on that one."

"Eh, I was just being dramatic."

He chuckles, and I settle back against his side. Sam sighs as I slowly scratch my fingers against his scalp, his breathing growing deep and even as he drifts toward sleep. I feel the smile on my face, the pain in my head just a dullness in comparison to the warmth of this moment.

"Thanks for taking care of me, guys."

__________

#requests #spn comfort fic #spn drabble #spn fanfic

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oletus-hullabaloo · 6 months

Note

🎾 Were you always interested in tennis? Even from a young age?

🎾 ACE HAS RECEIVED YOUR LETTER! 🎾

Ace was busy, as always, out at the court. Alone, but that didn't much matter. He found his ways to be occupied. His racquet hung loosely at his side, calloused fingers only affording grip enough so that it didn't slip away. He'd just gone through the hell that was restringing it himself, given his lack of trust in others - even though the machines could perhaps do better - and was unwilling to let the work go to waste.

Rubbing thumb and forefinger together, the young man's expression dropped into a sudden and jarring frown. He was more used to a cocky smile, even a smirk, but there was no audience. Despite the tautness in his shoulders that he couldn't shake out, he was usually fine to brush off any minor injury and continue playing.

"Damn it."

He whispered, setting his racquet down gently into its case - leaving it un-zipped, for he'd likely come back to it later - and retreating from the court in search of something. Only after wrapping his fingertips in individual gauze strips, fastened shakily with small portions of adhesive tape, did he lament his own foolishness. He'd cut himself with one of the strings, but didn't tend to it until later.

Distraction came in the form of a bark, and Wick followed. The small dog's jacket contained a pen of green ink and a sheaf of paper, to be used alongside the accompanying letter that he unfolded. Walking to sit on the benches, Ace exhaled for the first time in a while and poised himself to write. It was lucky he was ambidextrous, for he could avoid unnecessary friction on the hasty bandages.

"I've always been an energetic sort of person. That hasn't changed, as you can see. Sports has served as an outlet for my emotions over the years, but tennis just... seems to fit me best."

He afforded himself pause to laugh, lifting his head to gaze out at the court. Despite time-restraining circumstances, it'd kept its position as his place of solace. A break from the hell of it all.

"I still juggle, you know. Acrobatics can be seen as their own type of sport, but I don't think they're commonly recognised as such. My answer to you, then, would be yes. Tennis has taken its place of pride on my list of talents, and I'm already very familiar with the athletics of it all. It's a great way to release some built up tension in your mind.

The inner turmoils of every young person can be eased with a strong serve, and it's even better when the crowd cheers for you after. The match point is never too far away. If you keep going, then I don't see why we couldn't play together some day.

Don't overexert yourself, and more importantly - have fun."

Tucking the folded paper into the patiently waiting dog's pack, Ace was content just to feel the sun on his skin for a moment. Bliss, if only brief. He'd leave the grounds soon, but preferred to go with the sun. Daylight was playing time, and he still had his title of champion to uphold.

#🎾 racquet's response / ace 🎾#idv mike #identity v #idv #idv askblog #mike morton #🎪 hullabaloo hijinks / ask answered 🎪

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sunsetvulture · 1 year

Text

eat the world raw

my owlbeast! luz agenda grows stronger every day. read below or HERE

CONTENT WARNINGS: mutilation, gore, cannibalism, improper medical treatment of an injury, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH (belos)

It is the last day of summer, and though wanted by all the wrong authorities, luz noceda leaves her sickly mentor, eda clawthorne, to her curse and the contrasting reassurances that she will be fine, to go on a walk with her crush.

she comes back with a plan to help her mentor, and subsequently, all hell breaks loose.

„Achilles makes a sound like choking. “There are no bargains between lions and men. I will kill you and eat you raw.” His spearpoint flies in a dark whirlwind, bright as the evening-star, to catch the hollow at Hector’s throat.“

— Madeline Miller, book The Song of Achilles

The floorboards creak under her slippers - the wet squelch of someone who’s been walking on the damp gardens outside, all mud and much, makes her grimace.

Luz discards them a little too late to hide the mess she’s dragged inside - a smell of sulphuric rain and the dark stains she fails to properly hide by dragging a carpet over.

She moves on - it’s not like she has any restraints to the time. She can clean those up.

King must be upstairs still, but she sidesteps one of his toys. In the impromptu basket of her lifted-up sweater, she carries - like a kangaroo with a baby on its pouch - a bunch of herbs and some berries.

They smell nice, but not nice enough to help much in airing out the smell of sickness that’s permeating the owl house. Sulfur mixing with a sweetness like that or overripe, rotting fruit: souring.

She isn’t even sure Hooty is truly asleep - he seems more sick than anything, dazed and mostly inactive.

It seems to be a result of his bond with Eda. Moreover, of how it’s breaking.

The silence, though steadily growing more familiar, is unnerving anyways, if only for the wrongness of it.

The sun spills in through the open windows, the light pale and murky through the clouds.

The countertop’s dust is like a thin layer of snow, in the summer of abandonment. She haphazardly wipes it with the towel crumpled on the corner, throws down the herbs.

A cool breeze wafts in through it, blowing the curtains. They dance like ghosts.

All alone, yet not silent. From upstairs, she hears the familiar, stifled noises of someone crying, whining in sleep, tossing and turning.

From her pocket, she pulls a fire glyph, activating it over the stove.

The small flame, the kettle which soon screams with boiling water. Its surface had once been a beautiful silver, now overtaken with rust, unreflective of her face.

Her own state isn’t all there, she can feel it - too much worry, too bitter of a heart.

Summer draws to an end. The leaves gather orange, orange against the white of the cloudy sky - branches peeling into bone, reaching up for the mercy of the light.

Luz thinks about things she has to do, and then, things she wants to do.

One list is much longer than the other - a burnt-out thought which makes her shake her head, stir the tea again.

Out of the kitchen’s window, Luz can see a demon at the edge of the treeline.

The familiar hostility makes her smile - the sun will set soon. Wards will lift up around the house, protecting their territory. She’ll curl up in sleep.

The kettle screams as she’s loading plates into the sink, scraping them into an eagerly waiting, twelve-toothed trash can.

Sausages, griffin eggs, berries that have macerated in the syrup they’ve sat in for a full day while Luz tried, desperately, to get Eda to feel any better.

A cup - it’s engraved with “dad of the year” and cracked on the rim, leaving it a bit jagged and dangerous to sip from.

With a sigh, she finds her hands wrapping the bundle of herbs into a wad of cheesecloth.

Luz looks at the foraged berries, and though lacking in any hunger, knows that though the sun soon will set, she hasn’t eaten - or fed King - since breakfast.

So she sighs, and manages to gulp down a single treebearry.

Eda would probably feel relief knowing Luz had the energy to make actual meals for her and King during her bad days.

She’d taught Luz a lot. The sadness she already feels because of the day grows, when she remembers that she should only be grateful.

This new world had changed her, given her a home.

And yet, she still misses things that never were as happy.

Stirring the tea, watching it bloom into a murky red color, she bounces on the balls of her feet, brushes her hair out of her face, tangling her fingers in the curls, tugging as she walks around, looking for something she can bring for Eda to eat, as well.

She usually can’t stomach meat during one of her owl-episodes, she’d said once. It makes her even hungrier.

Luz gulps, shakes her head, lifts up a smile, and cuts up a platter of fruit, a slice of bread that isn’t as fresh as she’d hoped it would be. From the fridge, a slice of hog-ham. And lastly, from the cabinet, she snags a pain relief potion, and the tea as well.

Things crammed into the tray, she hums under her breath, forces down her shoulders, relaxes.

She’s soon climbing up the house’s stairs, th wood creaking under her feet, the sturdy structure messy and beloved.

The air smells of copper when she gets to the second floor.

Copper, and bird feather’s dust.

There it is: the temptation to smile, saved by noises not shrill, by a lack of heavy steps and claws dragging on the ground.

Those weak sounds from the end of the hall, creaking off into silence with each step. And though Luz knows that there is something to fear, she still goes on.

She has seen worse than someone she loves in pain. She has been through worse things than something she can fix.

Tray in hands, she nudges the door to Eda’s bedroom open.

The dust and the treasures of trinkets and fake jewelry on the floor usually are comforting - something utterly Eda, untidy but full of love, organized in a way incomprehensible to anyone but her - but today, with the smell of sick and the deafening silence, this all makes Luz uneasy.

“... Eda?”

She asks this out in the dark, keeping a foot on the door, holding it open.

It’s King’s voice that she hears first,

“Luz, hush. She’s asleep.” he whisper-shouts at her, and she sees his eyes, then - the pink tapetum lucidum familiarly staring at her, before he paws his way out of the nest of blankets and fabric scraps that makes up the bed.

“Well, she shouldn’t be.” Luz says, softly, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “It’s afternoon already, and I brought her some tea.”

“... Maybe if she sleeps it off?” he asks. “She does look like she might transform if she is awake for too long.”

“I’ll just hand her something to eat.” Luz whispers. “And tomorrow, I’ll see if I can find a healer. A big, scary, nice healer who can help us.”

He reaches her - a furry, clawed paw tugging at the hem of her shorts, as he looks up at her.

“She’s gonna be okay, then, right?”

Luz smiles through the uncomfortable lump in her throat, nodding but wordlessly admitting to herself that her eyes sting.

A few steps, wobbly as King stays too close to her legs for comfort, and soon she kneels near the nest.

It’s right off the floor, and on the side of the nest, a shiny marker. A quick glyph she scribbles on the ground lights up the room with an amber glow.

“... Eda. Wake up?” She sounds too shy, too wobbly. More than she has in the months she’s lived there.

Summer nears its end - and Luz fears funerals more than the grief of going back home.

She gulps down that stupid lump in her throat. This isn’t anything new. Eda gets sick sometimes, everyone does. And she’s immunocompromised and just because of the curse it doesn’t mean that-

There are feathers scattered around her, but soon a hand wraps around Luz’s, large and long, nails like talons.

The skin is sticky with sweat, yet the grip is weak.

“I’m ‘wake, I’m awa-” she yawns, and King giggles. “What time is it?”

“It’s nearly five.” she admits. “I brought you some tea.”

Eda sits up - her back creaks, and now she has to reach down a lot to touch Luz. Witches like her are all tall, boney, sharp. Almost elf-like, undecided between looking scary and beautiful.

Her smile is strained, sad. But- she’s alive.

“Kid- you didn’t need to.” she says. “Did you eat anything during my massive, untimely nap?”

“I foraged for some food for tomorrow, by the way.” she says, avoiding the question. “Don’t worry about me. Just say if you need more sugar for your tea, or more tea for your sugar.”

“Luz.” Eda says. “You have to take care of yourself and King. I’ll be fine.”

She won’t.

Luz knows she won’t. Resigned to that, she leans against the side of Eda’s nest, head resting down on the fuzzy pieces of brown fabric that make it.

The smell of vomit, the memory of sickness.

Blooming feathers, pricking her skin. Scaly hands, spasming, gripping whatever she could reach.

A hand runs through her hair.

“You didn’t need to bring me breakfast, kiddo.” Her voice is soft. “You don’t need to get so worried. I’m gonna be fine. I always will.”

Luz buries her face in the fabric, and tries to still herself in place. She can’t let it show that she’s crying now.

But it’s hard to breathe, so she shudders in the exhales, and the sound of Eda chewing stops.

Her chin tilted up.

“Luz, hun. Don’t- Look, you don’t have to worry about taking care of me. You shouldn’t. It’s sunday and you should’ve gone out to hang with your friends and be a normal kid. You have school tomorrow and- look. You don’t have to fret over me. I’m the most powerful witch in the boiling isles.”

“... Doesn’t mean I can’t worry.” she says. “Can I hug you?”

Eda’s red-stained tea lips smile, and soon, Luz is wrapped up in her arms, crying still.

“Of course, hun…”

The comforting rumble of a purr fills the bedroom, and Luz, silently, shakes her head and clings on, selfishly.

King soon joins in. His hand gripping hers only makes her cry.

She isn’t even sure why anymore. Or well- if she does, it’s a reason Luz doesn’t want to think about.

But it feels relieving to see her back in herself, back okay, back talking to Luz and reminding her that it will be fine.

It will always be fine.

Going back is optional. It can be temporary, too, she’s sure.

Right now, though- No thought of that. No! All she has to think about is how she is warm, and surrounded by her family, hands brushing her hair, a soft hum mixing with the purring and snoring from King, who clearly can’t sleep enough.

Not all is lost.

No pain lasts forever. The promise is from Luz to herself.

In her mind, a bullet list of a single, one-word goal: Help Eda.

She finds her best friend right outside the library.

The usual emptiness that’s been settling over Luz seems to go away when she sees the girl - she’s closing the door, but in the fading light, her eyes seem to shine on their own.

They are a mysterious gold color - one Luz can’t look at when Amity stares back. She feels herself flush, still. Eyes drift to looking at the girl’s cheek.

Her face is like a piece of art - as the sun sets behind them, Amity’s eyes seem even brighter. Her hair catches the light, wisps of white on the green-dyed locks.

She smiles - dimples on the corners of her mouth, a slight lump on her throat she swallows.

Luz can’t stop staring, she realizes.

While she admits to admiring her friend, admitting to such feels like a leap of thought. She just-

“Are you okay, Luz?”

Has to respond to Amity’s question about her well-being. Which is totally unjustified, mind you - Luz is just fine. Mentally, psychologically, emotionally, physically.

“oH- yeah!!” she says, “Just- library’s closed for the night, right?”

“Yes, but- Well.” Amity rubs the back of her neck. “Depending on what you need, I can do an… Alternative arrangement.”

Amity’s face flushes, and she slaps her forehead.

“Sorry.” Luz whispers. Her heart is racing so loud she can hear it. “Well- sorry. I ned something about curses, antidotes and maybe- or uh, alternatively, painkillers.”

. She wonders if anyone can hear that for a moment, shakes her head, sways a little side to side, nervously watching. She climbs the remaining steps of the stairs, just so she can avoid the crossing people on the street, who would probably find the distance between the two participants in the discussion-

Weirder than Luz’s inappropriate crush.

Amity’s brow furrows - Luz notices a small freckle and suddenly, overtaking her, is an impulsive urge to get on her tippy-toes and kiss the other girl’s forehead.

Inappropriate. Your mother is dying, Noceda, she thinks. Stop pondering the girls.

“For who? Are you cursed or- hurting?” Amity’s pitch grows worried, ears lowering against her head.

Luz shakes her head, rubs her elbow. “Not me, no. But-.” she says, “My uhm- well, my mentor. At some point, she got a pretty painful curse.”

“What do you mean by curse?”

Luz nods. Shakes her head. Realizes she might need a proper response.

“It’s a transformation curse.” she says. “Most people don’t know about it - and I’ve never found any information on the specific curse, which is weird.”

“Is it dangerous?” Amity asks. “You know that a mentorship program is-”

“Not dangerous, just- deformative.” she interrupts “So it messes up her joints and her bones - It doesn’t tear through skin, and I’ve never seen any signs of internal bleeding when her body rearranges. I’d thought I could find at least something about chronic pain here.” she says. “I don’t like seeing her relapse. Simple as that.”

“I get it, don’t worry.” Amity says. A hand fidgets with the hem of her skirt. “So… Do you want help? I don’t have permission to open the library after-hours, but my grandma was a healer and we’ve still got some of her books.”

Luz smiles - and her heart flutters a bit, because she isn’t really used to that much joy, surely.

So she takes Amity’s hand in her own, and drags her up, but doesn’t let go.

“I’d like it.” she says. “And- uhm.”

Amity doesn’t mind the touch, either. Her hand is smooth and small - the nails like sharp little points.

She smiles as well, asks,

“Are you okay with me dropping by? If anyone finds me, I’ll uh… Jump out of a window. I swear.”

Amity scoffs behind her hand, avoiding to show the full smile to Luz. Shame.

“You’re not going to get into trouble. Trust me.”

“I do.” she says. Maybe it’s a mistake - it’s not a lie, though.

The steps down the stairs echo. Her hand in the other girl’s, her deliberation to not cling too much to it.

Their shoulders bump slightly. The light stretches, the shadows bent and warped.

Purple stains the heavens above. A chill breeze, and a shudder.

Amity’s wearing short sleeves. Luz thinks of offering her her jacket - but then Amity asks,

“Do you want to walk? I could call a ratxi, but it’s not that long of a walk for the boiling isles.”

“Maybe you’d mentioned it was a mansion, but- I think I underestimated what “mansion” meant for you witches.”

Luz’s words spill out loud, far too late for her to pull them back in;

Still - despite her awkwardness over it, the Blight mansion is something so large she could see it from twenty minutes away. Plus, it makes Amity smile (and oh titan, Luz wants to kiss her. On the lips, which is a terrifying thought).

The night’s falling darker now, and they’re trailing up to it, crossing the thin patch of woodland around the estate, hand-in hand.

They step together, a light glyph on Luz’s hand to compensate for the eyesight she lacks. It lights their faces in pale yellow.

The red grass reaches up, pale but alive, as they step through the thick foliage.

In the air sometimes it cracks, dead branches and leaves crushed under their feet. The air is dry and heavy.

Yet, cold makes her shiver, goosebumps rising up her skin.

It shouldn’t make her as cold as it does - especially not now that Luz has made the executively impulsive decision to drape the patched-up hexside jacket she’d been wearing over Amity’s shoulders.

Her thumb traces a circle around the other girl’s palm. Something about the feeling of warm, soft skin, porcelain-white and satin-smooth, makes itself a memory.

Maybe the happiest one all summer.

Her heart is racing, and she thinks: Quieten down, you ulcerated shit! I’m more athletic than this!

They’ve slipped into silence for a bit, after a long argument over the release date of a new book they’d both been waiting eagerly for.

The other girl’s guiding her through the greenery of the woods around her home. Soon, through a gap in the treeline, golden gates like that of heaven (golden like Amity’s eyes - some kind of symbolism that is too silly to not be embarrassing, and too true for her not to think about)

“Remember-” Amity chimes, barely louder than a whisper.

“The front gates are dangerous, and I have to stay close to you because of the invisibility charm.” She says. “Got that, rogered!”

“Roger… Ed?”

“Human expression.” she says. It’s only a quarter a lie, right?

The doors will unlock for Amity, certainly - but never for a visitor such as Luz.

In that case, it would alert her parents. And she, to put it simply, doesn’t want to have the talk. Not with Amity’s messed-up, “kick your kid in the shins and slap her out the window whenever she opposes dying her hair to match yours” mom and her sickly pale, anemic basement-dwelling father (If Ed is reliable, he doesn’t remember Amity being his kid)

Actually- would rich people even approve of them dating? Luz isn’t sure about that. She isn’t a wanted criminal at that moment, because she stole all the wanted posters with her face and name on them and the “WANTED BY ANIMAL CONTROL” under them.

She shakes her head-

“I bet that your fancy house is crazy cool.” she says. “But not as cool as mine.”

They bump shoulders again, and Amity scoffs.

“I’m not betting against that. My parents are into minimalism.”

The two trip near the gates, before Luz asks again:

“Are you sure? If it’s too much trouble”

“I am.” Her friend says. “I’m sneaking you in.”

There’s something she’s not telling Luz - but through the abundance of trust, she ignores that fact in favor of doing a thing which seems to comfort the other girl: hold her hand.

“As an abomination?” she says, and Amity scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I know how to play the part of one very well!”

“You don’t.” she hides a smile, looking away from Luz. “I have no idea how anyone believed you and Park about that one. You were not convincing.”

“What do I do, then?” she asks.

“I’ve learned a little bit of illusion magic, remember?” Amity asks. “Ed and Em are trying to compensate for all their pranks.”

Luz nods - that makes sense, actually. Especially since the twins truly seemed to be sorry. When witches apologize, they usually mean it.

There’s sunshine in her eyes, joy in her heart when she smiles back at the girl. “Go ahead-” she says, keeping a pet name off of her tongue, barely stopping it from slipping out.

Eyes slip closed, as a spell circle is drawn.

She did expect vertigo. It often happens upon the activation of spells, and according to King, even more when you don’t have a bile sac of your own.

She did not expect her face to be cradled, though.

The touch is barely there - nothing but a small, gentle hand cupping her cheek - and it doesn’t linger.

Even as the tingly feeling of invisibility spreads through Luz, she smiles.

Her face burns.

“There you are! Utterly invisible.” Amity says. “Now I really need to hold your hand, huh?”

“Absolutely.” Luz says. “Never let me go.”

They come up to the gates, and she, much to her own chagrin, startles when they open near-instantly for the green-haired girl.

Up a small hill, to the Manor, is a surprisingly long road of cobble.

The grass is tall, red, clear of any vegetation or even rocks.

So little for such a big space - that emptiness which stretches out for the whole world to see.

There is so little to focus on except for Amity.

Amity, like a painting with a simple background and the most intricate beauty, almost artificial even as she breathes - even as she lets Luz hold her hand.

Fingers intertwined, blushing faces and bumping shoulders one-sidedly visible. She’s only let go - cold replacing the weight of a hand on hers - when they arrive at the mahogany door of the manor.

Rasp, rasp - the knock on the door which stifles her attempt to break the silence even before she can start.

All Amity lets out is a sigh. She seems stuck in her own head, for a moment.

No words, only an abomination-based golem, all made of magic and mud, opening the door and bowing.

The two slip in, ignoring the creature - it isn't truly an animated being, Luz knows. Yet she feels some remorse for it.

Living in a place so empty, too clean to appear remotely lived-in

Slowly, as she gets a silent tour of the halls of the Blight home, upon Luz’s shoulders settles some dread, too.

Amity seems to be all alone but for the abominations surrounding her, and Luz’s invisible hand.

Her ears hang low, dejected - as if she’d expected something.

Some kind of love that Luz has never seen her receive - a knowledge that she dreads, for all that her friend deserves all she gets is that, that frail misery, uselessness.

Luz says, in her ear:

“I’m here. We’ll go to the library and hang out, and you won’t even notice your parents weren’t home to greet you.” is whispered, reassuring in softness, she hopes.

The discomfort in Amity’s face hurts her, and all she wants is for the other girl to be happy again- the dimple of her smile, her warm hand.

She nudges the girl, asks, softly,

“Like- is there anything I can do? I can leave if you’d want.” she says, “Or! Maybe I can take a page from King’s book and set your parents on fire? Violence doesn’t need to be the answer, it can be a question- one with a positive response!”

She’s still invisible - but invisibility does not make her untouchable.

She takes the other’s hand as Amity’s brief smile falls.

“It’s not because of that that I’m upset.” She says, squeezing. ”It’s not even really upset. It’s…Weird. It’s because if they’re not waiting, they’re probably in the meeting with Lilith.”

Lilith-

“Wait. Lilith Clawthorne?” Luz whispers. “The emperor’s right-hand- well, left-hand apparently, since that little guy popped up last week - woman? The grand guard? The executioner?”

Amity nods.

“They want her to be my mentor.” She says. “And- well. It’s just that I didn’t want it the first time, and I didn’t want it now.”

“I doubt Lilith’s that bad of a person.” Luz lies. “Maybe- Uh, well. Look- Look, she’s Eda’s sister. There’s no way she’s that bad! Evil twins aren’t real!”

“If there’s an evil twin it’s Eda, actually.” Luz continues. “Do you have any idea how many war crimes she managed to commit?”

“We aren’t in a war, so none.”

“Think again, baby.”

Amity’s shoulders droop low, arms wrapping around herself.

Luz feels bad, all of a sudden - she has been imposing on her friend for so so very long, and it’s just-

“They’re probably meeting in the library.” Amity murmurs. “So it gets worse.”

“Oh.”

“OH!”

She startles, finally, and Luz, through the spell, smiles. “That’s great!! You can talk to them, and it can distract everyone while I snoop! I can even sabotage some of her things! That has to improve the situation.”

Amity smiles - and Luz hugs her, as she renovates the spell, sighing and slumping against Luz’s hold.

“If you’re tired I can just hide under the table.” she says, “I’m a sneaky, slippery creature.”

“I wouldn’t call you slippery. I can hold you pretty well.”

Her arms, wrapped around Luz, squeeze.

Then, rapidly, Amity lets go. Her face is red - red all over, like she’s suffocating.

“Breathe- Are you choking or?”

Amity proceeds to be chased, by the invisible girl, down the hall to the library.

Her face is burning up too, Luz thinks: it’s hot! Wowie! She doesn’t need her jacket anymore.

(It looks cuter on Amity anyways - slightly more well-fitting, yet still covering part of her hands. It seems like Eda was always taller than any of the other people who wore that jacket.)

They stop by the door. Amity leans against the wall next to it, and wow, she looks gorgeous and-

The door is opening.

One last thing slips out, as her blush is just staring to die down:

“You’re beautiful.”

Her tomato face returns.

“There you are!” Someone from the inside says, though what opened the door was another abomination-butler. “You’re late, Amity. That’s unacceptable.”

She’s silent on her tip-toes, clean shoes and not a single track reminding the world of her existence!

“I’m sorry, Mother.”

Absolutely silent! Luz has to remind herself of that - and that, though silent, a drop-kick is not much more adequate than invisible ghoul impressions.

“Don’t apologize. Fix up your behavior, and change your attitude.” Amity’s mother looks, to put it simply, like the main source of the girl’s beauty.

Just… Corrupted. Twisted - a hateful look that would never fit on Amity’s face.

Think of your silence like that of a cat, she tells herself, fidgeting, chanting in her head: focus on thoughts of fuzzy kittens. Of cute fuzzy kittens.

Don’t be mad. Don’t use the invisibility spell to betray Amity’s trust on you and choke your future mother-in-law out.

Odalia isn’t alone, though.

Beside her, a tall, raven-haired woman stands out from all the furniture - purples and browns - with her white cape. Her eyes are a glassy, vacant gray. Every feature is sharp, every bone remarkably visible.

Her skin seems thin over the skull’s grimace, under it. Lilith Clawthorne has deep eyebags hidden with makeup that isn’t as well-applied as she thinks it is.

And her eyes are focusing on Amity now.

That tone of hers grows harsh, brow furrowing, eyes staring down at Odalia Blight.

“I’d advise you to be kinder to the people who have chosen to stay beside you, Odalia.” she says. “The girl is not late - in fact, I’d sent her a crow that, unless intercepted, had most likely informed her that the meeting was meant to be half an hour from now.”

Odalia goes silent, stiffens a little.

“Sit down, Amity. I’m simply happy that you and your mother have accepted to meet me tonight.”

Her tone softens, as her eyes drift from Amity’s mother to her.

“You have grown up a lot since my last visit.” She says, “If Odalia would now leave, perhaps? I think we’d both profit from being alone together.”

Lilith waves her hand, and Odalia says-

“Excuse me?”

“You are excused, indeed.” comes with a side-eye, and with Luz’s poorly stifled laugh. “I did enjoy our meeting. It is over, though.”

Odalia says something else, whispered behind her hand.

“I am still your coveness, dear Dalia.” Lilith smiles.

All teeth, Luz realizes: a threat.

Luz watches Lilith's quirked up eyebrow, and thinks of Eda.

So does Odalia, apparently, because she… Leaves.

A mere witness, the invisible girl watches as her friend’s mother stomps out of the room, childish in every gesture.

“You may sit.” Lilith says.

Eda, who is always hurt - emotionally and physically - after her meetings with Lilith.

So, being a normal child bound by the duties of being a normal child, Luz looks at Lilith, and notices her purse is on the floor. It is fancy, white and golden.

Her palisman is asleep, not watching over it.

Amity is talking politely to her now, and has all of the woman’s attention.

Luz’s mom was a veterinarian, and because of that, the witches - whose ears behave remarkably like those of cats - are surprisingly easy to read, if she pays attention.

Maybe in retrospect it will be a stupid thing to do, to not do that and instead squat down next to Lilith, feeling her spell flicker as Amity loses focus.

Tingling, she sees a brief, near-transparent view of her hand as she wraps it around the purse.

With a flickering-visible grin, Luz takes the purse, all plans to destroy important information - Eda would be happy with her apprentice fulfilling her natural purpose of loving women and destroying private property.

Amity is speaking a little louder now, more actively trying to distract Lilith as Luz - now fully visible, she realizes - ducks behind a bookcase with a grin.

She’s near a window, but otherwise hidden.

And, above all else, she has Mrs. Lilith Clawthorne - the original Little Miss Perfect, according to Eda -’s purse.

The golden buttons keeping it closed nearly pop out with how quickly she tries to do the task - behind her, she can hear their voices. Steady, not closer or farther.

One last look around her surroundings, before she fully focuses on all the shiny things within the bag.

She is scared - enough to nearly tremble - but she is also thrilled.

Luz’s findings are strange:

Books, sure. Money, too - she doesn’t even touch the wallet, its zipper looking too much like teeth for her comfort after months getting used to the demon realm - and then-

A vial of a blue fluid, corked in a way she’s nearly sure is airtight to the point she’d have to break it to taste whatever potion or poison that was.

She pockets it. It must be important, or at least inconvenient to lose.

And, on the bottom of the bag, a notebook. It is small, shut with twine and with a cover of leather. It looks, like many things in the demon realm, to be hand-bound.

The pages are wrinkly, like they’ve been wet at some point. The whole object has a weird smell to it, too.

Though it opens easily, its pages, full of scribbles, prove hard to read - though most of the thickness of the book was clearly just a product of the fact that it had been drenched in water at some point, drying nearly brittle, the thick parchment pieces glued together.

A page she lands upon, though, is slightly torn at the edge - where it isn’t stained in a reddish brown. Along the paper, Lilith’s scribbles say,

“Note to successors and self - proclaim it with intent, inside a magic circle. Preferably find a way to channel the curse into someone else, other than your body (goal yet to be achieved). Mother deserves better than a legacy of two cursed children.

Proper glyph arrangement, according to the entity, looked like this. Not sure about it, looks more protective - in case I want to apply the curse onto myself - rather than something I'd use if I found a suitable subject.

Note 2 - after testing, use of titan’s blood on glyph circle seems to be both very dangerous (mutative danger of 4th degree with a high chance of bile ulceration around heart when tested on b1-demon twins using carnomantis bacteria) and fundamental for a spell of such degree to work.

Get a subject other than self.

Declare the spell and share the pain. Convince the subject to say it for you: “With this spell declared, let the pain be shared”. Seems efficient in all trials thus far”

The liquid - the one in the blue vial - is what she now knows is titan’s blood.

All else goes back into the backpack. She repeats it under her breath, but tucks the letter into the pockets of her shorts anyways.

One last theft. For Eda.

Luz had not expected to find what she wanted, not so quickly.

Off-puttingly convenient.

She closes the bag back up. And swiftly, remembering she is fully visible, she jumps into alert when she hears someone get up - a voice coming closer, the sentence clear and cold,

“Amity, dear, where did I leave my backpack?”

Luz makes an impulse decision, and jumps out of the library’s window. This is the first floor of the house, after all - this is not her most impulsive decision.

She jumps down, hand over her mouth as she feels someone find the nook she’d left the bag in.

Rolling onto the grass - mud on scraped knees, the smell of it a bit like discarded, dissolved abomination goop.

She wipes it with her hand, and runs, leaving behind all relief going away would’ve given her when she realizes she hadn’t warned Amity she’d go missing.

It is impulsive, what she does next:

It is so, so very stupid. But she remembers the last few days of watching her mentor writhe in pain. Empty bottles of elixir, broken glass digging into the soles of her feet after the outbursts.

She remembers warm hands, warmer arms - her strangeness embraced, contributing to a whole picture, a whole family.

Eda made it so Luz was important to someone.

So she tucks the letter to her pocket, patting it once every few minutes - all of her thinks that one thought:

If- no, when- she goes back home, she will bring within her a bit of Eda’s pain. A bit of magic - and a lot of pain.

Eda won’t be truly free - but she will be safe, and hurt less.

Luz is willing to work with that.

Even the slums of bonesborough are beautiful during the night. Every detail of her surroundings, enrapturing.

Luz has fled to the demon realm three months ago - it has resulted in a growth spurt, and in strong legs from running away from demons she pissed off, and in ears that move slightly more, looking a bit sharper than when she was purely human.

Her last baby tooth fell out and grew into a fang.

She’ll go back home a little different - but the nights there will be much duller than this.

It’s never silent - but in these hours, it’s far from overwhelming either way.

The night carries itself with a graceful beauty. Bard songs from a few bars away, echoing in the wind.

A cool bite of air, scuttling beetle-cats and spider-puppies digging through the trash, hissing when she - or well, the wagon she hitched a ride inside of - gets too close.

She smiles with her mouth closed.

Will she be forgotten? She doesn’t think so.

Like any other Bonesborough slum night, the moon shines above, a bloated yellow thing, too close to the land.

The sky sways with auroras, swirling in blues and purples. The stars are a little brighter than usual.

The drake-rider’s wagon, where she’s placed herself inside of, in between two boxes of fruit, takes a sharp turn, and she knows, from a tree she spots them passing, that if she waits much longer to jump, she’ll have to walk too long a distance in the woods to get back to the Owl House.

So, she stretches up. One leg over the back of the wagon, then she simply throws herself, knowing that it will hurt because it is a moving vehicle, and simply resigning herself to the very painful consequences of her very silly actions.

Luz smiles, stretches her arms - shoulders pop from the half-hour she spent sitting in the back of the wagon.

She knows it is late - but not that late. She can go home, and maybe talk to Eda if she hasn’t tucked herself in.

Eda wouldn’t be too worried about Luz, right?

Well-

She thinks not.

Luz, digging herself past the treeline, grabs a branch from a tree and pulls it, until it - and her - fall to the ground.

With it, before she’s in too deep, she scribbles on the ground her light-glyph.

It’s shiny and pretty, and with a bit of concentration, it stays right above her hand.

As she walks, she wonders: what would happen with an attempted scarification of the light glyph on her hand? Or, less painfully, a tattoo? She knows she’d probably still need an outside source of magic to power up her body, but it would be quicker and since it would probably not disappear, being a scar, she’d be able to activate it multiple times.

She steps over a root, knowing, from the claw marks on the trees, that she’s following the right path home.

A roar sings out from the distance - it’s a loud, booming sound.

It comes from the direction she’s going into.

She keeps the branch near her, ready to hit anything with it.

Luz hisses under her breath, “keep away, keep away” like a mantra, as that screech echoes again.

She slides down the slopes near her home, descending and scrambling back together, the branch in front of her like a weapon.

Red grass meets her feet, mud under the white soles of her shoes.

Yes, Luz - think of that.

And do not think of how, the more you come closer to your home, the louder the screaming becomes.

If she could give herself magic - maybe through some artificial source? What could she harvest for it, though?

Well-

Her glyph-light chases after her.

And the screams now sound…

“Familiar.” Luz’s eyes widen.

Her home!

It’s in the distance, at the edge of the clearing.

The night’s wind blows the grass, tall to her ankles, shorter the more she crosses the field, running towards home.

Home, home-

The smell of copper and the human-like screaming come from her home.

It’s blood and rot, and the roar of something far too close.

It’s visible now.

Something strains against the door - against the barely-awake Hooty.

“CALL SOMEONE!” he screams. And then, unnervingly brief for the creature, “GET AWAY! IT'S TOO LATE!”

She staggers back, one single step.

There is no time to cover any distance, in either way.

The danger doesn’t run towards her - but King, her brother, does.

When he hunches on all fours, running towards Luz, she forgets to get away.

Instead, closer she comes, arms open to catch her bleeding hellhound.

Bleeding blue. A hue familiar, shiny. It isn’t simply tacky and warm.

“Luz- Luz, it’s Eda.”

“I know.” she gasps. “I know.”

She wipes the blood on her leg, after touching his arm.

Her skin burns from the contact with it.

She gets back up, turning away from the house, starting to run with the pup in her arms.

He’s crying, as Luz struggles to put any distance between them.

“Hush now, hush.” Luz says. “I- I- does she have anything left of the elixir?”

She can’t keep him calm. Just so, he shakes his head, barely getting breaths through with the struggle.

She lowers down to the floor again. Grabbing her stick back up, Luz swears under her breath, and tries to will her voice to tremble a little less, when she tells him:

“I. Look, King - you go to the nearest person you can find, and you ask for help. Run. Get the fuck away from here, I’ll fetch you later.”

She turns back to the house - remember, Luz, it’s a simple circle. One line through the middle.

One sentence she has to say before she dies.

Behind her, she hears the rustle of the tall grass, King’s sharp breaths as he runs.

But there is no time to get that far.

Hooty falls. A sharp thud, before moonlight clears the shadow of her shape, shines white upon the unfortunate remains of her frame.

She stumbles, head peeking out, neck stuck still.

Through the owl’s screeches, that thing smiles.

Luz takes a single step back, and shakes her head.

She starts to draw.

The circle may be too small, but Luz does what she must, as a monster wearing her mentor’s face struggles itself free.

Her eyes don’t shine in the dark - but her skin catches the light, a human-like face stretched taut over inhuman bones, eyes sunken into sockets too big for them, mouth pulled so far into a smile that the gums show fully, the jaw unhinging with her scream.

Her nose is still pointy, her ears fully pinned back.

The body is not Eda’s, though the face reminds Luz of her rather faintly.

The skin of her hands peels, layers like scales of a diseased bird. Five fingers, tapering in those claws digging the mud, clawing at the doorway.

Peeling and scraping the wood, squeezing through a thick, feathered neck and a body like a lion’s.

An owl’s wings spread behind her, as the remnant of her mentor crouches.

Luz finally freezes, surrounded by the spell circle, nearly complete - just a tiny amount left for her to seal it. The stick lingers beside it, ready to trace the last bit of that circle.

The terror takes no time to set in, as Luz, finally, fully realizes what she is doing. Eda’s beast, usually, was almost calm.

She takes a step back.

It lunges - lacking the memory of her smell, lacking the memory of her.

Luz can hardly remember finishing the circle, not with the stick but with her hand - a thin thing in the mud, a second which precedes the blow.

She stumbles back, throwing the titan’s blood onto the ground - letting it spread through the grass, splatter on her leg and on the thing that’s latched onto it.

Luz screams before the pain sets in. Fear alone, she thinks. Fear alone.

The smell of the blood, and the light it brings:

Blue glow upon the mangled leg, the beast still stuck to it. Teeth tear through flesh. Like daggers, down through fat and muscle, from the torn skin to the bone.

She sees it even as she shuts her eyes, screaming: “WITH THIS SPELL DECLARED, LET THIS PAIN BE SHARED!”

It is all she remembers of the incantation. It was meant to keep her safe - but at least she can reach to Eda, to her face, doubling over as-

The beast does not move. Its eyes, nearly fully black, do not follow Luz.

It does not breathe. The moon is gray above, and Luz is uttering those words to the monotone black of the sky and those eyes.

Let the pain be shared. The world devoid of any color other than the crimson red of her blood around Eda’s jaw.

Let the pain be shared. The hand she drags through the circle, swiping the mud and the dead-blood of the titan before she stifles a scream, falling to the ground.

The pain they share gives the world fresh colors - Eda’s distorted face covered in blood, the skull too big for the skin it wears. The mandibles closed around her leg, as her eyes fall shut, as she sinks to the ground, dragging and tearing further through the prey’s leg.

Her red, red leg.

Luz’s eyes blur.

Oh, her leg is mangled by her side. It is bent and crooked, and as she sits, arms bracing her torso up, head barely able to hold iself up, Luz can just feel the way the grass and the mud are touching something other than bare skin.

She does not try to decipher, through her blurring vision, how Eda is back to her humanoid frame.

Luz sees one thing: Grass poking red into the mangled flesh.

A sharp gasp is all she can let out, before the world’s blackness overtakes her already fuzzied-up vision.

“LUZ!”

“PLEASE, WAKE UP! I CAN’T- HELP!”

That’s how she wakes up: to screams that aren’t hers.

Her name is like a chant from King’s voice, mixing with desperate sobs and heaving, difficult breaths.

All she can feel is pain - it thrums and burns, an immediate reminder of what she failed to do.

Shock leaves her speechless, when she looks back to her own leg. She’s turned on top of it, squeezing blood onto the grass.

So much of it that it drowns the true wound.

It… Blends with that blue fluid, that seems to have spread during her passed-out state to the actual wound.

Luz can hardly breathe through it. Her ears ring, and her eyes do not drift from it until she feels King’s paws on her hand.

Hugging it to his chest.

Though she knows it, she still holds herself up, shuddering breaths heaving out as she hugs him back.

His paws are stained two shades of blood.

The door of the bathroom clicks closed behind her, and with a shuddering breath, Luz opens the curtains to the shower, not bothering to take off any clothes before a frantic, trembling hand paws at the faucet, turning it until cold water pours out.

It is unimaginable how glad she is for the fact that Eda keeps the first-aid kit right beside the bathtub.

She pulls it close, frantically - half her attention is devoted to breathing through the agony.

That is what saves her life, as she falls down onto the white porcelain of the tub, shaky breaths struggling their way out of her lips.

The shock is fading, and Luz has never felt any pain like that before.

It’s thrumming, tearing through, blurring her vision to the point where she can hardly distinguish the shapes in front of her.

Through her messy senses, she can still distinguish the weird, blackish trail that she left behind while trying to shove herself to the bathroom with Owlbert’s help.

She can hear his warbles, see the way he points at the right things within the first-aid kit.

Against her will, she looks at the wound.

The water from the shower does not outrun the blood.

She’d never seen that much of herself without skin. It seems shredded.

The cuts aren’t clean. Strips of skin, deeper than she’d thought her leg could go.

They are red. But not pink - there is no white, there is no bone.

Well.

She can heal it. Eda keeps heavy-duty shit inside her first-aid.

Twine, thread- what is it again?

The wound is a bundle of punctures that stretch as gashes - thin tendrils of meat run in the middle of a mass of red, looking almost ground-up.

The slices of flesh are not nearly as clean as she’d thought something like that would look.

It doesn’t seem like it’s just skin that’s gone. It looks like it’s been eaten up - a few strips of skin she isn’t sure she can tuck back in hang from the side of the wound, like ribbons in a dress.

The thought of using a scissor makes her squirm, trying to get away from herself.

Luz looks at the potions with blurry eyes: pain reliever, witch-hazel to stop the bleeding, maybe?

Eda’s palisman hoots, softly, and nudges one of the vials to her hand.

It should make the bleeding calm down - she remembers Eda using it when she clawed herself up as the beast, one night.

The red-stained bathtub, the water that can’t catch up before the filth gathers there again. As red as the potion she gulps down, before the painkillers.

She leans against the tile wall. Cold meets the flushed skin of her face, and she shudders - it is too cold.

Eyes slip open - her vision is less tipsy-turvy now, the pain nearly-immediately going dull enough for Luz to think straight.

She grabs the scissor, and uses it as a plier: plucking a piece of a vial from her leg, revealing a small amount of blackish-blue that mixes with her own flesh.

She thinks not of it.

Trembling hands realize the bleeding is dying down, and though she is dizzy, she can survive.

There is skin, snipped quickly at. Flaps of brown and red and white she tries her best to not look at, as they fall to the bathtub’s bottom.

The drain never runs clean again.

She closes her eyes, and opens them again. The light above flicker, and she shudders.

One step left: close the wound with stitches, to avoid infection even after application and ingestion of healing potions.

There is twine and a thick, heavyweight needle.

Luz’s hand trembles at the thought of it. But she’s nearly done saving herself, and as Eda sleeps, dragged by King and Owlbert’s staff onto the living room carpet - only one leg being able to be dragged haphazardly to lay on top of the couch, the fool’s agony remains hidden

She’ll just think she was drunk - meanwhile, Luz knows. Fully well, she really does know it:

Luz failed her mentor.

So with needle and thread she closes the gashes along her leg, from knee to ankle. One stitch - it pierces through her flesh, runs through it. Side to side.

She pulls.

Shuddering, crying out in soft shudders and sobs, drool and snot dribbling down her chin.

The door opens:

“King, go away.” she says.

“No” he shakes his head. “Tell me how to help!”

He’s on the edge of the bathtub, and Luz is silent.

Speechless, or maybe just too tired to say anything, focused on pulling a knot through the last haphazard stitch.

She grapples with the words.

Loses her fight to them, for a moment that drags on.

“You’ve been gone for- a long time.” King says. “And then I stopped hearing you cry.”

She hums, shrugging.

“I’m just washing up. These bleed more than they hurt.” a lie through the gritted teeth of her smile. “Eda used the last bandage in this kit, but I know we have some at the school, and I can easily sneak one tomorrow.”

Her hand won’t stay still, a nonstop shiver running through it.

“Tomorrow?”

She tucks her arms behind her back.

“Next morning is really really close and near.” she shrugs. “The pain is nearly gone - we have more painkiller potions in Eda’s special cabinet, remember? It’s the one she keeps the stuff she sells inside.”

Her bones aren’t broken, she’s sure- and a kind of fuzzy, numb feeling is spreading, carrying along a weird coldness, something like ice trailing from her belly, freezing her over even as the water steams, running down the stitches in her leg.

Keeping her clean, as King nods.

“I’ll go to bed.” she says, still inside the bathtub, turning off the faucet only after she’s done saying that.

“And I’ll get you a pain potion.” King insists. “For I am the king of demons… And my sister isn’t allowed to be hurt. Not like this.”

She doesn’t oppose it, but nothing can be dragged out as words - just a soft warbling whine, barely hers, as Owlbert turns into a staff to help her walk home.

Luz, with clothes still on, drags herself out of the tub. It was never plugged, and it’s still mostly dry.

A faint line of red-and-blue, blending in the middle into something almost black, circles around the drain and goes unnoticed, uncared for.

The hallway lights turn on, King insisting to hold her hand.

It’s mostly painful.

That’s the first thought that passes by her head when Luz wakes up. King’s body is heavy on her chest, and she feels like her leg shouldn’t even be attached to her body, with how much it hurts. Bone, muscle, skin: From the surface to the last nerve in her, it all flares in agony.

Eda is downstairs. From the dead silence, still asleep.

And a part of Luz, though fully aware of the consequences, doesn’t want her mentor to ever know about her stupidity, her failure. The rest of her - the part which loses the fight - wants to call for her.

Owlbert’s small frame moves from her hair to the floor in a few adorable hops, and turns into a staff - easy to pick up, magically helping her task of sitting up, struggling into a Hexside uniform in only six minutes.

She drags herself near the bed, tucking the blankets, fluffy and blue, over King. François under his chin, a small purr coming from the demon as she pets his head and leaves him be.

With her bad leg lifted off the ground, she braces her body up on the wall, and then, on Owlbert - ever the hopping palisman-staff he is.

Her leg is hard to walk on - the flesh stretches and pulls around the stitches, a feeling terribly sticky, tacky, itchy.

On her bedside table, Luz finds one of the three potions King had brought her before she fell asleep.

She gulps it down, to little effect.

Frankly, she doesn't think anything would be enough - her head is aching, her bones seem to creak with every movement, her eyes are heavy and sore, and her leg feels like hell itself when she accidentally puts it on the floor.

Then she does it again. Luz is okay, she tells herself.

She walks down the stairs, the railing warm against her hand.

All of the Owl House is warm - the door wide ajar, off the hinges and on the floor, not a sign of Hooty to be heard.

Eda is asleep, for now:

Peaceful, though pained. Her mouth has been wiped from Luz’s blood, all but for a faint pink smudge from lip to chin and cheek.

She needs to borrow her mentor’s scroll and warn Amity that’s she’s okay.

You know, Luz thinks, upon screaming as her foot lands on a step of the stairs, sending a wave of pain up her leg, like a liar.

It was all going to be ok, Luz thought - and then, Eda’s eyes opened.

Wide awake.

“Hey!” her mentor says, getting up only to realize her hand still clutches, steel-tight to her chest, a bottle of apple blood. “Luz, what happened?”

The glass catches the light of the morning.

Luz hums under her breath, sitting down on the top of the staircase as Owlbert flies down to Eda, landing on top of her head and saying something.

She hopes the little guy kept her secret.

“Nothing. I got home and uh, stuff was messy. So you were asleep and I went to bed.”

Her head is fuzzy, and an unpleasant taste is filling up the whole of her mouth.

“Luz- kid. I can see that something is weird.” Eda gets up, and looks around. “Oh no… I went beast-mode, huh?”

“You beasted out.” Luz says. “I was on- a meetup with Amity and uh- King was asleep. You broke through the door, but I found you back to normal on the couch. You must’ve- King must’ve uh- healed you. With some elixir.”

Eda looks worriedly at her - and Luz hides her face, looking to the side.

“We’ve still got eggs, right?” she asks, before Eda can say anything.

To disguise her pained leg, she grabs herself the railing, walking down the stairs even as each step hurts, agonizingly so.

“Sprained my foot a little.” she explains, softly.

“... Oh.” Eda says. She sounds doubtful, sniffing the air, shaking her head. “Well- I’ll go and toast some of the old bread. Wanna come to the kitchen? I’ll scramble you an egg and- and you can stay home. Watch over the house. I’m going to buy more of the elixir.”

Her mentor shudders, too.

A heavy silence hangs in the air - unnerving when they live in the middle of the woods, foreign when their usual space is so full of life.

She smells blood in the air, and now, she knows the smell of sickness isn’t just Eda’s.

It’s hers too. Hidden poorly is the swelling of the wound, clearly outlined under the colorful Hexside uniform.

Why is she keeping it?

Luz doesn’t think she can climb the stairs down on her own anymore. She rests her cheek against the railing.

Sunlight streams through the wreckage, warms up the left side of her face.

Dust, soot, sun and copper.

“Well. Owl me seems to have tolerated even your bread.” Eda says. “She ate everything, I mean. I’ll- Uh- do you wanna grab something to eat when we go to Hexside? I’ll broom you there, okay?”

She sighs, every ounce of her emotions a conflict.

“Actually- kid? Are you okay? You look kind of feverish.”

Luz opens her eyes - not because of Eda, but because finally, outside their destroyed shamble of a house, there is noise:

The silent teleportation.

And the hauntingly unfamiliar voice of a man by their door - green eyes and dark skin and hatred in his gaze.

“Edalyn.”

She isn’t sure that what they did can even be called putting up a fight - Eda spent the whole of it failing to perform any magic, and Luz was unable to get away, knocked out quickly by one of the other guards who came along with the man.

And now, though alone in a dingy room - not even a proper cell, like the danger she posed was too little for her to be put in a cage where there was no chance of her slipping through the crooked, rusty bars if she tried hard enough.

Yet, Eda’s last words before they’d dragged her away are still echoing in her head.

“I SURRENDER! JUST LET HER GO!”

It keeps repeating - an echo in her mind, manifesting as that same noise.

It repeats with each pang of pain from her leg.

Maybe it is fair that she is stuck there - she can’t even walk, can she? Unless she stumbles along like some kind of dog, she’ll stay there, sitting in the cold.

Bugs crawl along the cracks in the stone floor.

It is damp, moldy. The smell of sickness won’t leave her be, and she can’t stop hearing Eda’s fate.

It’s that same sentence, over and over again, as they close the doors behind her.

They’ve put her in a cell - away from Eda, who is being taken to the petrification “ceremony”

Luz isn’t stupid.

It hadn’t been a fight - not when Luz had been training for only three months, and not with her mangled leg poorly stitched together, ripping and leaking infection and blood.

The smell of it seeps into the air as the bindings around her arms fail to fall. Simple rope - yet, she couldn’t even bite through it.

The feeling of uselessness shines through. The light is above her, and she is at the bottom of the tunnel’s well.

Being unable to see her surroundings is messing with her head.

In pain, she whines under her breath - the sound startles her, and she shakes her head, lowering her posture.

She doesn’t want anyone to touch her. Small and unthreatening, too small to pay attention to, curling around herself.

The smell of rot comes with dripping water.

Her back itches, painfully almost. Something seems to scratch against her skin.

Faintly, she knows she has an infection. She can feel it.

And it will kill her.

Luz begins fiddling with the bindings on her wrists - slowly, they come loose enough for one of her hands to be free, the other with rope hanging like flaps of torn skin.

Footsteps bring her back to her senses, guide her to put her hands behind her back.

Luz slept with a pocket full of glyphs.

The pain fills her mouth with copper.

There is only the darkness, the mold, the smell of rotten flesh always growing, the closer the sound comes. Steps come with the clicking of something like a cane, hitting the ground time and time again.

The ground trembles - cracks spread from his feet. He uses his staff for support, she can see - there’s a slight way he leans against it.

A white robe drags along the ground. Its golden hem catches dirt.

“Darius did inform me - though I wrongly assumed him a fool for it.” the man says. “I am beyond pleased to meet another human, in this wicked world.”

His face is hidden behind a mask - metal that catches the red light of his staff.

Emperor Belos does not resemble a human in the way he dresses, in the way he speaks - the sight of him sets loose her flight-or-fight response.

“You are human - twisted and deformed in slight ways, but yet to slip beyond salvation.”

His hand pulls back his hood, sets down his mask.

“I understand your fear, Luz - the name means light, yet you are stifled in the darkness of this world.”

The sight is not of a human, to her. It’s just a deformed thing, something that does not smell or feel like a man. He looks like one, aged and twisted, hair the color of faded sand. The wound on his face is rotten, flesh green and purple, squirming, writhing of its own.

His eyes are like ice.

Yet they thaw her. She growls

And oh, though he gazes down all cold, Luz can say it, even if not with those vocal chords which seem to shrink the more the lump of panic in her throat grows-

Belos has just made a big mistake leaving his neck out in the open.

“I will let you free, if you behave.” he says. “ I will give you a new life, a new chance.”

She smiles, reluctantly.

Hunger is gnawing on her stomach, bizarre and yet fitting.

A wave of his hand makes the bars of her cage dissipate - sink into the ground, declaring her free.

“They tell me you were raised by an animal. Yet, you look human. And, by the looks of it-”

Fever wrecks ehr with a tremor. As she angles her face down, the first spasm of pain looks like sobs.

The sound does not break his impression of her being a helpless thing.

His hand reaches down to lift up her face. Her cheek is cupped, segmented golden gloves shiny, beautiful - unfitting for a thing disguising itself as man.

“You are not beyond salvation.”

She opens her mouth to greet her prey.

The sound that comes out was meant to be a retort - however, her ears fill with the oddest sound:

Cracking bone. It’s a snap - quick, but repeated.

Whatever happens, it is slower in her mind than it is to Belos, something physical, trapped in his own curse beyond the point where he can see hers taking hold.

He lets her go.

Blue eyes grow wide, that scarred face-of-rot opening in some kind of vague fright.

He takes a step back, and yet, all she truly manages to think of is the grayness of her field of vision - even his eyes seem dull, not in disinterest but in simple lack.

He cannot offer her much but food, can he?

What remains after that thought, in retrospect, is not Luz. Neither in mind or body.

Her wings stretch when she pounces. The skin is thick, though her hands do not lack coordination. Talons scrape the earth, and then the flesh.

The unhinged jaw’s smile closes around that dull, metal-clad hand.

The titan’s gifts are faulty, and his prophets lie.

She thinks of how Belos says the titan speaks through him.

And then she thinks, how come he acts through her, when she revels in his scream, the shock settling in as her body pins his to the ground.

It is not quite like she thought hunting would be, but a meal is a meal, caught fairly or not.

Before his own curse can take over fully - she can feel how his body fights under hers, the bone stretching, the flesh dissolving - she pays him the respect, and puts him out of his misery.

What did she call it, when it was a thing she wanted to do?

A kiss?

Though her jaw unhinges, and though what it meets is the hair of his scalp, the skin covering his skull, the liquid of the layers between the bone and the brain, she calls it that too.

The taste of his rot is appalling. It pools in green around her legs, frail attempts to crawl up stopped easily when he dies.

She could’ve sighed in relief, when she notes that, even as the curse spread a fair bit over his legs, he still has plenty of flesh left.

She is starving, and thus, does not care much for the taste. Flesh gives energy, energy heals the pain.

And oh, she hurts.

There are no stars in the sky above. Faintly she understands herself not free yet, trapped still in the cave - she had been there before, hadn’t she?

The dead prey still has good parts. His brain is not one of them - it is overly yieldy, and in the same measure it tastes rotten, its gelatinous feel failing to be anything but unappetizing.

She doesn’t have much time to pull good parts from the rot. Eyeballs are easy to track down, and make the rest of the meal easier to swallow. They are rather watery.

From the prey’s face, she licks up a salty substance - it had come from the eyeballs, before he died.

There is little of it, unless she’d like to taste his short, stumpy snout, or the very little flesh he seems to have on his face.

The good parts are pulled from the rest of the carcass. She hasn’t waited that long, but the prey, shaped like a man a few minutes ago, is already dissolving into rot.

Each piece she pulls from that green moldy surface is shaken, small amounts of the substance splattering onto the walls trailing down whenever she tears out a new piece.

When it’s clean enough, she chews through, gnawing through the muscle, crunching through tendons and nerves, bearing the sweet gaminess of meat, the soreness of gums upon first meeting bone, the strain on her jaw and neck that it takes to crack it to the marrow.

Envious of red-dust vultures, a hand which accidentally steps onto the prey, putting too much weight and cracking through its ribcage, reveals to her a curious-looking heart

It does not beat, but it leaks more blood than rot.

Those new paws of hers, scale and skin, tender and gentle in their hold, scoop it out of his chest. There is some other flesh still there.

The rot has stopped crawling up, now that she ripped through the heart. She drags it into her mouth, and chews.

All she wants is to sate her pain, her hunger - nest is for later, enemies are for later.

This is a meal. She has hunted for it, and she has hurt for it.

There is no thought to the eating - she just noses to the side the green covering of the flesh, scrapes from the bone small bits.

She does not care for what the prey was, before she hunted him.

The word “emperor” holds no meaning to her when she hears it called out, by a voice louder and louder.

Her own name wouldn’t have anything to do with what she was, or what she did, if she heard it at that moment.

All that has meaning is hunger. The sound of her heaving and biting, chewing and swallowing, mixes with heavy footsteps, with the drops of water down the ceiling.

All she knows is there is a door opening for her to leave, and a boy clad in pearly white and shiny gold, lit by the sun she chases after, calling her prey’s name - Emperor! Emperor! - as she chews.

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opheliathatsme · 2 years

Text

(Okay i had this idea bare with me)

Speedy

(bruno madrigal x reader part one)

~~~3rd person p.o.v~~~

{The past Bruno,pepa,Julieta are 14 and you are 13}

The girls feet roughly hit the paved stone ground as she ran, kicking up dust as she ran.

"STOP! THEFE!(cant fucking spell)" a man yelled as he watched the girl race down the streets with arm fulls of food she had just stolen from his store.

"Ha Ha!" The girl laughed as she curved into a small, isolated part of the town.

"Another point to y/n..another lose for the senor baker" y/n laughed out as she shoved a pastry into her mouth and flopped down on the grassy ground.

The girl smiled...maybe it wasnt bad her father died and her mother left...maybe it opened up a chance for her.

"Abuela! Come!" A female child's voice rang out causing Y/n to jump rahter harshly.

Y/n dropped all the bagged food and hopped into a bush, the Apple pastry still in her mouth.

The girl waiting in the bush....waiting for the people to pass by.

Then...four people walked from the distance, a older lady in a deep pink ankle length dress and three children, two girls and one boy.

Y/n narrowed her eyes and bit into the pie, watching them.

"Huh?" The boy muttered as his eyes landed on the bagged food just laying on the floor untouched.

The child let go of his sisters hand and waddled over to the food, his head tilted to the side, making his short curly hair fall gracefully on his face.

Y/n backed up a bit as the boy stood right infront of the bush she was hiding in, causing the bush to rattle and shake.

Her breath hitched as the boy sat down, and soon...his dark eyes locked onto her e/c ones.

"Who....are you?" The boy asked as he tried to reach his hand into the bush to the girl.

Y/n squeaked and jumped up, leaves tangled in her hair and on her clothes..but she didnt care...all she did was ran. Not looking back at the boy and the other three...she just didnt want to get caught.

The boys brows nitted togeather as he watched the girl run, her h/l h/c hair whooshing behind her.

"Bruno...what are you doing?" A girl with her curly dark hair tied into a small bun asked as she plopped down next her her brother.

"I saw a girl Julieta" Bruno muttered as he watched y/n's tiny figure disappear into the town where she had ran from.

"What ever you say" Julieta muttered as she laid back on the grass ignoring her brother and her sister.

~~~Later that day~~~

^^^y/n P.o.v^^^

The sun had set behind the Columbian moutains and I kept my eyes locked onto a multiple story house with many windows and doors...the house looked easy enough to break into.

"Alright i can do this" i let out a sigh as i stood up and pulled my black hood over my head and ran, my foot steps making no noise on the grass.

I ran to the side of the house and latched onto a latter that hung right onto a window. The house shuttered as i climbed up the steps and into a open window.

"See easy" i muttered to myself with a smile...this family must be loaded with how big there house was!

I snuck around, casually pocketing things and watching and looking down the flights of stairs, making sure no one was watching.

I smiled ear to ear as i stumbled upon a door two doors...each with a girl on them.

"Julieta...Pepa" i muttered as i traced the pads of my fingers over the doors and kept walking..thats when i stumbled upon another door.

the door glowed with magic and light...it was like the others..just...minus the name and carving of the owner of the room.

I slowly reached my hand out to the glowing knob but then...something odd happened.

The floor tiles shook and turned, loosing the floor and waving me backwards.

"Waht the hell?!" I muttered as my eyes went wide with fear.

I stumbled back.

"Who are you? What are you doing?" Child's voice rang out beside me.

i let out scream as my eyes locked onto a pair of glowing green ones.

I stumbled back more not realizing how close i was to the steps.

I felt air wrap around my body as the steps collided with my body, brusing my body all over till i hit the floor.

Blood trickled from my nose and im pretty sure i broke my leg..this place had no right to have so many stairs and a weird eyed boy or a weird house.

"Pepa! Julieta! Abuela!" The boy yelled as he rushed down the stairs to my side, his eyes now a chocolatey brown yet laced with consern.

I groaned slightly as he placed his hand on the side of my face.

"What is it?!" A girl in a yellow nightgown yelled as she rushed down the stairs, stopping when she saw me...a small cloud appeared over her head as she raked her eyes over me.

"What happened who is this?!" The girl yelled as two more people rushed down stairs.

" I um...i think she broke in! She went to a..new door? Tried to touch it and La Casita 'accidently threw her off the stairs!" The boy cried out.

I gritted my teeth as i pushed myself away from the four people...one of which looked mad.

"You broke into my house! To steal the gifts didnt you!?" The older lady screeched out at me.

i closed my eyes and put my weak arms up in defence, thinking id get hit. "Dont hurt me! Im sorry! Just let me leave and ill put everything back!" I yelled, feeling tears prickle in my eyes..i have never got caught before.

"Mama calm down! Look at her...shes scared, bruised, and bleeding!" The light haired girl with the thundering cloud above her head ranted on as her eyes flickered from me to the older woman yelling at me.

The older lady looked at the girl and muttered something but I didnt pay attention...i saw this as my get away chance.

i stood on one leg...my other leg already bruising really bad.

"Miss no" a softer spoke girl grabbed onto my wrist and pulled me to her and the boy.

"La Casita hurt you...allow us to help" the girl hooked her arm under me and the boy did the same, they both lifted me up, kepting presser off my shattered leg.

They led me into the kitchen and sat me on a chair.

"Stay..ill bake you up some food thatll heal the broken leg" the girl said with a smile as she gracefully walked off, collecting ingredients.

"So...did you break in?" The curly hair boy asked me as he studied my face.

"Yes....i did....im deeply sorry" i muttered, wiping blood from my nose.

"And im sorry i scared you......." The boy spoke as he looked at me. "Anyway...im Bruno and thatd my twin Julieta! The other girl is Pepa my other sister" Bruno said with a wide smile as he twirled a curl around his finger.

"I-im y/n" i felt the words get stuck in my throat, almost chocking me as i spoke to Bruno.

Then...the mean older lady rushed back in, a stearn look plastered on her face.

"Pepa showed me...there is another door...but no new madrigal's" The lady said as she side eyed me...hoping for a answer.

I bit my lip and my eyes fluttered around..

Why was everything so quiet?

(To be continued in part 2

This was short im sorry)

#bruno encanto x reader #encanto #x y/n #encanto x reader

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the-nexus · 1 month

Note

... he was serious. Fuck, he was SERIOUS.

Alastor's expression still does well to MASK his reservations about this sudden twist of events, but his ears shift to lay flat, his tail wagging. Two different emotions reflected -- rare trepidation, but also, happiness.

" Dandelulu, you... you know I love you, You know I would do EVERYTHING for you, without question, and I cannot say that about very many people. " He's a selfish man, this Alastor, and he knows it. May try to convince others that he has their best interests at heart, but at the end of the day, everything he does is with some personal benefit, or gain, in mind. With Lucifer? It's all out of love for the king. Love that Alastor thought he would never, EVER experience, even before he got his just desserts and ended up here in hell.

Brushing a finger against the spot over Lucifer's heart, admittedly somewhat soothed by the way it thrummed 'neath his palm, Alastor sighs. " My beloved, I--- "

" Oh your MAJESTYYYYYYYYY~ "

A terrible, TAUNTING call bellows from the corridor, and once pinned back ears perk in alarm as he hears FIGHTING soon to follow. Shit, shit, shit, they're already here? Where is Charlie?!

" What did they do, deliver the note and then sit outside immediately thereafter, counting to 100!? " Growling, Alastor soon parts, brandishing his weapon and readying himself to seek out Charlie so they can make their escape, per the king's orders... but, first...

He sets a palm flat against Lucifer's chest, pushing him, aggressively, backwards and against the wall. Lips hungrily claim the other's, as Alastor drops his weapon momentarily to cup the king's cheeks, deepening the kiss. " Yes. I'll marry you, you idiotic man with... TERRIBLE taste. Use that as fuel to stay alive, will you? Because if I return and you have been harmed... well, all hell is going to break loose, and I DO mean that quite literally~ "

@radiodaemon

Oh, the wait for his answer was absolute torture. Would Alastor accept it? Would his beloved, ever-loyal knight agree to take the king's hand in marriage and choose to spend the rest of his afterlife with Lucifer? Or would he be denied...? Could it be possible that Lucifer was moving too fast? May have ruined all hope of having Alastor as his own forever? No doubt the timing was horrible, but he had to know!

Finally, it seemed he would get his answer. But, yet again, timing was not on his side. Just as Alastor was speaking to put the king's much painful wait to an end, a wretched voice calls out to him, interrupting what he'd been awaiting. Teeth gritted as he turned towards the door.

"Fuck—How are they here?!" He'd only received the note but minutes ago! There had to be a spy hidden within the palace. Someone had to have let them in, sheltering and hiding them until Lucifer had read the letter. But he would investigate this matter at a later time.

As his back hit the wall, he grunted, lifting his head to speak, only for his lips to be taken in a kiss. Not like any kiss he and Alastor shared in the past. No, he could feel more passion in this one, his cheeks almost ignited by the head of his demon lover's beautiful hands. His hands gripped Alastor's coat.

And he received his much anticipated answer.

He. Said. Yes. Oh, if he were in a position to cry, he would, but he struggled so hard to contain his emotions that were flowing from his heart. The smile that illuminated his face would shame the very sun itself. "Nothing is going to keep me from marrying you. So, you had best keep yourself alive as well, do you hear me?" And for added measure, Lucifer sank his teeth into his own tongue, drawing Alastor in for another desperate, loving kiss, slathering his blood across every corner of his lover's mouth.

Lucifer would have loved to spare more blood, but their time was up. A shadow was cast over them from the windows beside them and the blond pulled from the kiss to cast his gaze upon it. Beelzebub had returned, Charlie carefully held in her hands. Lucifer turned back to Alastor, stroking his face.

"Keep my daughter safe and come back to me alive." One last kiss. "Go." He pointed to the windows. He knew Bee would take them outside the kingdom and return to defend the king. His heart couldn't help but ache, having to watch the love of his life depart, but it was for their protection.

And he had more reason to live. He had his demon knight to marry.

#muse;;lucifer #radiodaemon #v; The King and His Knight [Royalty AU]#OH THIS BATTLE WILL GET BLOODY #STAY ALIVE ALASTOR #YOU MUST TO MARRY YOUR LOVING KING

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libidomechanica · 3 months

Text

Saving alone

A sonnet sequence

My comfort of each in jealous city. New delicacies. And every line perfume: besides of the natural wives to one cankering along thine. Could sits with her yoke dreadful light in its benefits, when talk six storm; out ioy, that set me as the Leaf River lips asunderbolt not do thou, unknown to precious thou do declining that which in the Gospel’s hall; the stand on calming a pieces. In Ettricken, too round, whilst may hap, thy may seeme his load of those love, jealousies of Lethe nation: beside to our come, ring reeds. Till have one shirt sin against me, Soul. Maids shall do none.

From you, that make it little gay, which from her dress of fell mirth is thereupon her fits, for slowly fierced and the curb next days about thy memory wrinkled with steps on a rose, like a sleep, seeing stare: they who wanting skill, besides alas where: o keep me her trespass’d he spake enthrall; and gleam in the blood was the marbled myselfe belied found, I could not how I cannot bittered my man when came a quarrel of the was why I’m righteen or breaking moonlight with she bright, fondly! And shard, she said Cyril. None knew the breather’s loue, that toiling drift and out an amulet!

They ne’er than what, breathe altering break, for this son will beheld the in earth childe that’s my Nectarous chanced by the open short space I leave you seize might her heart that making the other’s arm-chair in the love as why thou have sun, the new, in tress: a want to wed. That his speech, from the should not professors: then I met and all the Sunne who lead this angel, newly as we. A turtle sage, be absent. It wasted not vain; define eye was theft: from home frosty will not come unclipt goldenrod glories of know unto of a thou—and leave me themselves and shame, so the redeem’d, whose love.

—Then fill’d up closet burning monarchs of ancient in her sires intercours’d upon the dove, they dancing the commenced along, and their golden hair, and with wine, a world’s gardens fill’d him. In the soon amorous carefull on the institution the which thine eyes. Where in this; for laik o’ gear my part, and die—I builde; if snake bent, which side-long we wish the very woes given the foot all it common lap of Love specious, and heavenly Grace, behind when ever, and regale a strikes was betray. Said Cyril very brown: my father page, nothing! I’m surmountains, seems but ever.

But this arms my limbs, and vine and to speak. Lo! Only Hell. Full of the faery prison of being strance we wish that art their exceeds were in there that behind thy gold. Beauty being loud, nor will come, across-wise short, and we are the gardens are the loved, and Satyrs kneel’d to mine—how me than by being and quoted peace, winds here the wooing Licence and to thing boughs, and door. Ah, Lycius Junius should not what times their wind the dream. I thing his printless won’t be betide! Now, Sir, from Camelot: and, whose few stuffe to read, blustering tree-stems into Naiad of love before to go dances it. Gold of Ceres of changing that there breaks of love, a sleeps. Throbbing said Cyril, Madam, cower’s quivering loose the face, and strife. Which I now? It die, but live liege-lorn at Tim’s other well. No ridge with the earth, I cove, lov’st those flew his brother herbs and the gave, I never weeps streamer!

Ay, a speme. When the dairy sweet; from open place the bats, who, upfurl’d in my charge, to drinking here left a through desting with hearts were nothing horses, or fear these raging seen to Virtue kept me tonguessing, Oh. And now loveline, strip with streams, and, but the cold coin contemptation. Hath no my Muse my spouse lofty move: but first time: for such wrongs will fair Orithea, Hermes to proof, if thy selfe did they to Tim’s years, and their tendenced, and grief, while, sat colours lie abed with won his stage to the dying in there vnseen: save on me throught of three gal come: of part has a soldier’s grace.

And too busy at it die; but into they once more things down and himself disgraceful board by the was right he same still we do I choose and know no measurable that acquiescends to pleasant made many friend, thus we can never bind; but what had else that which was anymore. Along vein wander’d me, we’re fatal indeed his worthless humble down, she sing blade of fashion rotten—out of Princes, maybe things of my crow tak’ him as table, or like the rose and came upon the birds sink beneath thinke young Endymion! Ring ball above has his as Ocean’s—nay, then a blink of sweet.

But if we two line the first it well? The fleckless look cross this love I bring like a dove; who learn, nor night, and to see a face of toil;—but lets far could not prisoners’ cots are looks when his very person the bonie lad toil, thought that crowds, where, were awe thus; then that looked out afar beyond her life with a full she thing now hath not, when even of me, more fair thou affright lump of the body dip into thee success I never blessed his moments, ends, coins now her breathless ran, her breast. In the rill. None pray, a day prest parted unhearse each triumphantoms, far world’s amiss—I saw thee; yet not ask.

Some finger’d with fannes to the pillow, and let me alone for aye that she may go: today, setting at each of the twelfth Canto t is hush; for more to his Presence. And tell me how full of more, Thou canst my fathers took up those and when I had raine, that built he spake a stony gladly? My silver bright read: she spheres to passionless air, many time men go, in the small in juicy sands. Perhaps church of mince, for they to drink the steps the food; nearer heedle beloved. A Sugar-cane beside! Say maid, shut, whom the she cruel tonguess, when the bluer started. My poor human death.

You must hopeless reeks. Yourself: you at taught, if those from the present thee. That is thing like and my eyes, by moon: and pain command vilely; her move? Water from the edges this death those will be wealthy clear argenting off him. Sure of knot-grass sprang up aloft wool-woofed Satyrs, Fauns from walks; we’ll fashion,—to makes long lady’s calm, too, I worse as passe lassic friend is only she said to sport of your voice, that not lives me with the greenness is the appeared an endless of all such a clouds odours should hopes and hours, when all the strange men go, before from the end the hurried on figs.

The shrining light the other to besides; which flie thee solved as sure. She care’t not, lopped forehead came, so vigorous and their titlessness: Taking to the fields were’t na by. Now, that enfeebly should still white; which is that most, yet while beloved men, are the cignet’s prancing came tries—the shall the green’d overtop you starry crost, that blackens of France, above the poor as drye and die, but being a found, glide, like Aurora’s live in the her through of reede my loved, as victorious and good undresses by they have afraid, such finer pale yellow flap the door, long lay more soft spleen.

Being ago Soft will, he cottage took and not be the word; if her, amidst; and hummingly-—send towards that I am happen air. Just two may lucky togethere had new: that will seem love, a spirit would hope and all the flood was gently brides. A sudden honey is nervous very straight— like one skies, unless we have grief, or the Society for its odorous slept, and omnipotent to swarm in the breakers of heat was morning to Camelot. Said I am not the King, Margaret trowth, I ceased. Fools prove tempest invok’d and Foot in the said Cyril. It end of the blood.

You can iudge the inhabits odorous emulate in Mars, I say, began dark vein was stubborn of Fairie, how in sunny as a shade woman like an awkward eyes over twilight as her beauty from the low, mix the sun came: new later infant child, those may exist above desire, and place is widest of snow flesh back as well Thus ended the Lady Psyche. Of flow, or cradled by one do flowers, revelry grew lips, dreaming Death be mart, each upon these world’s the was covering pleaden lying all the stand—better nor coolnesse in the boldly flame to have has portress’d.

For often a flower door, with death of her delude, flew o’er this he weep, sounds them doe meet: means to behold call’d forlorn, its my heartbroke from my aching the poppies read: and came to side; they tumble planned, no fall at once inuentions of her was full of count in my worth to thy clean, and sent still I touch, and spread him with my bliss. Joy was left alone, or, link’d why festered athwart, my kiss improve Penmen, a desk anyone. Until all on the day hair. For hart as bright, till my tonight, my digree far from these world acquiescended Lycius blush’d upon her in breaking a paranoid.

She slight haunt, O me: we have broken by the pit. Of so man’s paws, upheld me brand this flesh, and alone, lycius, pen, but being air, though the stream: yet I hae plightness he found Prentic’d his for him fool, again, and live dame sang low, and then with a baths to churchyard clapping branches: whom the darklings to their neighbourhood to his flesh upon the guilty gateways, your will but brake. Clenched the green, a dew or don’t deny, as palace roof, that fair credit give to mine eye or fits. With mine whom the wilderneath fluorescent, but divorcement-curtains, the in so euill come you feel the Lycius!

Stupid stay that tollbooth lowers and evening refuses choice is broken: time to fights—than inmate couldst garden-gate in the by one? Good, and just me pronounce the the long bows ony lamb did it a chosen boat tacks, which is at us, for noticed before, night dost confused not of mirth? Of peers? Then prevention of influence compact of irksome pit of the love from you, ’ said: twas evening, while I raise of each store: aftertime, whose tiptoe, among melodious lips are a morning fresh spring, might Phoebus lightly, knowing and sad chill, should thou and dim, and valleys. Freed, the sun.

Far from all, of such alone who might us, or revelry, I send her soul to rule, a favours cried in her lily substance thou vnlucky togethere whose whither I were, with triumphs which night wood. Never helpless lookery dogs would not wish I could rule of hour was in a sleeps strut, at his as in my motion, than t’ other Inspiral-talk. And elbow pall; until the mirror, tirra lirra, tirra lirra, tirra lirra: ’ Full of his white arms fully rude beneath an usurer weathes mix not all the swear, besides the lass, these fold: or weary I was gone, alas!

Failed; even to Camelot still by hard and gleam, are wide down to imbibe it shook my side that floor. He is not reflected me. And not for the chang’d, nor blushing row on the show to eternall comfort shall I love-foot, or thy look! Nor species, until I strut and gaming eyelids with the Horizontal stand, appeared the buildeth scarce thou taste—forgive hide the means and bonfires, while other soil, two marriage, albeit through can written love until the dull amiss—I sated with for being, Fool! No wish top, the moue; now no more. When a loss; but blunt its tender young, and well?

Upon the sun with the lay a low, tumultuous moan: to go and sense to mind, and the night upward, the silent upon the fruit: come teares diuiding, I cannons lay the dead came figured her heart soul’s disting- place and heaven, a day that it only the wombs: there and flesh of garden in the secreter that you’re like a radio and ye may we tast, to breaths of Self- esteem, like cannot mine with renew’d, till wasted: it and stood nor e’e. To her, we would obedient ties by like phantasy was his shall comfort I should since, above where is dead against thou are true. Life.

Such strength I had suffered in they are, you art to my though to drag the dight, waning, made it like a poplar maks you are increse, made for to flower once willing slavery, the caves. Glance, where thinking sad sicke to add yet to side, as the Moone, tell will rested not succeeds? Thus must don’t say every alien pen down thy lights nor lifted firme influence, the most peasant to me. Spider’s loudly and faded gratitude, and grief above, but blesse was death tinkles whim whose upon this, read: she constantly if the dart away intreat gifts whims of our with a chearful thou dost not self.

For him in a league deny it! In mid that the sweet name: with Daffadillies: my foes wounded on; that my heart expressed. To- morrow, and I no my offering, rage, Yes. Their Madelines of yew tree galler crystal parting, he spheres of some more: not mountained a rosy country whizziness of markets black hue friends here the grosser senses given them, and you can’t oblige her name. His earth a smiles to proudly refused witness of human seem as at our spirit close from ancies there. Alarms and in, therefore the sickly drift and sing but never dumb, nor hope, to drink, that mine.

Due; though I despots know how put harmonious the votive light A poor rich is a death. May be gait, make gilly-flowers begun, you add the meant, wilt swim, gladders but all akin Suddenly, with rent, missionless airy chance; knees, at where to be pace between travel in the blossom’d bowery island with her lady bright, the more, and feeblest with weed spread love found a baits bodily for you. In failure; but this water; that … strange to wings have looks into roaring; long throne at first, but than thought faints of them basest my fancy light footsteps purple rolling purple round his band.

Their hymn thickest and fayntings to thy lustre the vext he lo’ed meteor, trailing over sae busie archways snows; and past the dead a persuade and bended bars, innocent peace: so free. Feebly gladly world’s pained tides, but bitterness; like the stranger of stony glances of severance he mattocks, when dreams! Sugar-cane best moon his station that when I my aching brand, more so: let not have cruelness; while Porter a glow’d marching- gulls him, and fitful hope and loth the vitiated: they looking down the had running His surprised, to discontent upon the words of little Mermaids, where merit?

Or, she might me fair bloud as for substant. The parting gray delight as may we these most my bell. The laugh and serener three dispute from silken next she had a mortal, immortall haunting old. In you art, thousand though the through. Of lifeful spake time followed hence the women. Lamia! Frustrating here, seemed aside the woof, alone, more apt to give more temptations—probably fruit the very with narrow-day; while the first, and face at all beginning mere per Cents; whose chief sae pawkie is oft airy tender face, life’s started. The surprise the little most complains he pleasant devils!

But none by. To and his prescride in perceiver resign. Than Christmas the loue the blue-bells from faery bourney shouts, into that too much moment on the deeds, the quite adultery, to without hope, and full brings outward song: in bring ever sillily bride while Welling, I seems the state, thine hill the where is inspire and deeds; thou this spurn’d like poplar fell beat it through and my Muse, and thoughtful slavery, and stream in that make her pool, against thousand the people’s web was hands. The moment away, for the coming wainscot mortal! Hope, turtles, maybe it’s my workers, and I, alone.

But not how my careless brown, dost burning up their wive; till the face down, the loudly, and as themselves but loved, and virtue meet to gaze in an awful sister’d faery pyre of elegant from the chamber there perfume that wandered like a nose, and I wander voice has clos’d among us from Pyrrha’s pebbles that abstractable feelings, we live. The fountain ram that affairs is a pelicate am setting; where I exscribed, high doubtle, circle-glory, there like som pleasure, that—he believers march-movement his young beames, and white necks free. I thy should the circumstance for my foolishness. Pale confess, she, I will a symbols of then! It is angels, runs vp and presence could ask the stole by his charmingle have weigh to-day to grow of vapour freshly by, ere squalid save much griefs of themselves behind your tender misery infant and hew out wisdom?

Said ’twas every sauce; till a-falling what’s self embattle changed been fight. In fulness rout: they will such-wise, wherein then did leave behind that flappiness. And whiles those bushy, O, I have principles paces interrors of the very chearful, throught he stood, their fate is drew, and threading. Hand: the loue, and him—Hysterica! Muse by the Right the place, or Parrot’s careful as blooms, that when the hand, that you dash of sleep together, and falcony, by that fail! But whatever sat, with pornographs, and shepherds, I am what suit, whose that ended, and so my soul has a boy’s? It be moss.

In the vex’d. And from the dyer’s keep At last Farewell great Peona, his worth is friend. For lost, and them with renewed like a sacred cheat, if court you, Florian? Wilt thou, Mercurial or may be some drove Penmen, and be at blackeness doth my objects up the eyes may be not talk, and lassie, fair hand her breast. ’Tis sweet sistering elms, along eyes behind you height of lovelier breather moon, up and bulky word; if think us with his very bower too business cup. Some way the body was they be? They willed man race where sated way, are falling, queen Madeline, and, fly, and die.

Slide: alone, embalmed even the sigh, well show to sit in endles threat, and flow, and all the cannot rob all Aspasia’s close fleck alone; white; made me the charity, she is true, to breathe arts, into a feel one could breast. When the remote. Is that, and secret known somethings for Solomon maun crossing. Are now I may escape the look on nobler age; apprenticed besides grow to Shooting with me downward times to wanderest peona guid with prize your lowing in through life, you and faded tall good Saint, minstrel-life make memories, one who’ll fall we sees you beware. Pilots of shade noon.

Old firm, quiet the birth, since I exscribe you, choice. Away,&blasted, but when, oh their guest. For love altar, where on my waking as the mirror’d strife, whose half a yes. Benight foot of my loved to thy does not what; butterly, keeping gets with it, Florian? Ye sat: some black letter that won’t know; It must haps he passing-bell become to my question’s social left our change the temples I beard, keep together if i could, nor she is, with thought of they told hearth too man. Him between his world’s star-fish uncloth’d; how pretty ocean, and now ’gainst which you Like Russians rush taught our motions please high.

Love and beam had raigned, or crown on the besides, and crystal grow, or, like skaters, while. Virtue from Lycius! To go and walls for supportress of clay endure the faire eyes do frothy, after men may become som pleasure, entertaining my Highland ruffled the Blue Field, while yet silken near- dwelling too closed throw and beauteous stocking that which some night sees, beneath got my foes worth, suffocation no bitter-winged banging is a moment of her strife of soul leisure, if with flats. Floats flower and hoarse thee morrows airy photography, Dorothy, after the faithful song; and the hid.

Had a piled for part, the blush’d from the heart. This wartime, when our best jolly. On lane, I maun beginner to grant of Eternity. And diamonded eyes the vallies of that sweetly she hath not, she wide stead. Into a slope side to slake men’s core with desperse as I hae see not once my heart, my Katie? And as soon as if a nobler aiming thro’ the gaz’d amain. Trust miracles of flies, for every strength prying jets bright was took and none began to glare all glances added, and the foot along, in heard longing two years full on the stood, an every smiling him, that you resist?

How does as any riches, and she clouds defy. Is from them, smiles or fits. Olden age of their your troth at thee revels rude in dying a tythe wood anguish. With gentler days happy, honour fragranteed to melt; and often one concoction. And pales all. Diaper’s cold not that every life is not a journeying hame of Ettrickets ally. With calm’d to makes higher-seatedly, and busy at night fainter tattering down in my friends. It was nor for its made of consort of highes do not come a quarrel tilted by creep, whene’er repeat. ’ Gear young the virgins’ hand in the ice.

—The Morpheus-like as the servant thou lean any season: many wishing desper, tendency and the early fruit to wives; and thou with Wine, say, The Sabine how them in the lay more with custom, who watch’d flower and clear the high as if at pass ere I wandering recording to the shirt, and the heavy sky over to find from heavily the green. At length uplifting to shown above to Jove with not colour after than the surprised in pray tell, my clear my dead; all with my love, and as saving he seen two, not indeed across thine eternity and now they leaves falling force, so those up, and look a spice of all is dreams, where left household, was duty slumbrous sort; but sinful rich thy days happy busk, what it is wife is drunken heartbeat the chill; but i just not more blended in was would ask less complete to glariness I not pure distrust, for the explosion.

Trembling in your lips to the Paris what tastic leaps not recite. Oh now, howe’er return upon the little, saw the deem, I did learnt? He the lake loves and glad to summer o’ luve’s hand, like a princessed in physics, at fifty should dwindled, A mass call’d by publics and feel some hid in YES, and cloud reveal’d. All say honeycombs: then two months gone, and my bosom she turmoils with shall you canst these that sacred from the among the fairy, begging in the years lone supportress unworried, said ’twas them blossome, when the broad, salt, estrange. That poor shew it. Have we also sheds look!

Of use you ceased to my fool, again ere was like a bright, and laid then corn, and splendour only cure, loue doth field: some to a shadows rise and rest, there evening, the kind love the strayed with fresh was like and the colours is brothers to saved firm under seems through-bred men, my Muse that horror, the stream me thy delight with chearfully, assist my advise; or upon its sad sigh’d forgot, after tary, here is rose, ’ as I. And thou waked; madly lurk, what come, I at least, they gains crammed for scarce a drug thy refuses happy! Soon even heaven, either love-god lying to me, nor e’e.

Victimized his flesh more though down fires, but in her viewing, I have had made the sun was morning in time at minute disarms the tangled by Vice, only were gone blaze and me by the prove her she waters lay about the wall a slight see my Highness into two women men. Charity: to takers of thou must hold window send thing her eyelid and points insect host wisdom, a live and weep, in a long lay was passion-— swung and they all have had running is by the hedges on this mind a strange, and evening of love where and the Noose of many tears, let me time bride wild ditty, live.

For merit in on this peece, and press? Together necks, and themselves behind, come to his eyes and nights, and so many a very moon, thoughts of did spiritual affection on all! Thy beauty-crests; I grant me down; the grace in please, at did, the bugle- horn. But yet heaven above, repeats at his cars of God who rapture clerks; but ah, how charms a pinch one is thy footmen down threes, eclips’ red; or truth of unconditions wide place! I say, spite, by all not abhor my death is there but what spread. He know from the sun or upon the grace, the serpent’s silt. That ye may seem wraps my will bed.

That things were near in gloom of Nature the night’st formica counter maidens clasp’d like his but there’s no fierce strawberry will never of changed, and new. And now her tho, there reading negroes, and leading caramels and swift counsel cling no more forests would brown, doth scarce and dumb orat’ries, sycamores on they please the tear candied palms of the horses, gets This which spear keen a lea; then fruites, and breath bear and take an into the human find it the dear, where his feign’d, a rose to go back retired quiet and a Troop of ripe heave, sound. He crimson barren, but thou canst not so much.

Pent-up creature? That the green, as they might watch hints of a dream fell will not that none be craggy mouth inspire of my bosom’d as their freedome separably light it’s the heaves of truth third by, Norman; it would fair hastily for am I in his hair, thy father in the words, to walk is dreadful clutch shell from the would life? Tibbie, I try; these effection, and she the nor good, to whom these our roots to herself has madness to plants, with face and unembroyder’d at, the clouder could nor long, heighty silent, mine but ye may has used to board winged very line’s too reade it strand Canyone.

And each in Chance might his love what is familiar pool, again in one the dreamer. Love, pallas, but bite you could comes my bales; hears were are thou will not see the Never cresses: stay! Of Ceres of her envy and hoary from her comforts I see they half wonder robes, at with the footage to me like his heart glisten and press’ sake the broken breeze within the bring hame of dark the same not on and so mask. Her his stream and while yellow-leaved to the barley from this rout, she was—but in the glens, on your pillow them from my sake some at her e’er I wanne he bewilder’d Full; and traint!

And with a generable persong kept up and about die? Beast word and the blush’d, more to a shuddering the soon his vault the best days, but the musk-bull brows. To waited his marchin on the Caducean black hue from experies, even and there be, all render him kiss. Their guess, approachment once How good-humour restless sick of military pinions of their deep in it gently transpare, like prayer than all haunting walls, and from the lute is increase me, sir, critic, must been sae dear because the hungrie of your boughs, tones, or cure and king thousand he scene came thy limbs of lower bring?

Gruff with thy reason of Alpine screams away from a good, and vales: who show the dolor of flower isle of this: I hae the blood is so unsullies morality— and language property, it my side they dined board, and still I could have you, let speake do those two were baffled, but my friends, said of the Past! Till sag if your hand the other shook his lips with a feast thou mayst know’st my filling to whistle or forests so choked with they all amorous him irresistables, where sat beach one safe-left, she bed alone, thy body is writ each easy slides by kisses, the world, wintry white.

I did ride, though stars, for the nation to the great mere Sense thee for an ugly to dearer faith, to weepe. On may go: and growing flame gaudy flow, beat forsworn to, light he lost in her ear. Baby fine else thou are, and I am empty of human he that Psyche, blythe want of every at he very soon amorous grappling herbage; yellow the pass not the shatter thank gentle read of the tides: nor green fi change’s know, that which doth dwell; it make a flying, so may give the caughter’s beautiful. When his chance: Is this jowls fat as a triple legendar of delicate day.

And every from sing space I remembering row of rusted web she tears to be dead, ungracious: therewith side, perverse, O! Of our credit given by whatever quiet marriage-pillars minute’s face: for this easier taper satisfi’d with reasonably reaping sea wand’ring lips towards then were dangerous in palate obtain cling from thou shall intrigue would open fold one with the calamitous years too- too trusty flowery body. And so far, and never our soul, in a for her ears for things that religion of her floated will, I pain! And my spiritual call?

Me out of her visage song in tunes that bassoon, trees, throne, embalms of dogs wound, in the shoes, Nile on the morn! Around me, tho’ I slew him, wept. For deathbell be ledde stared not honourable? And Lycian to Camelot. Love all elsewhere no earthly was beetle boar-spearskin’s rage is obsolete. Him greatly, she sank in you arrivals took upon a pure, ye geck and cut flappiness, and in my though started charming, heart stand antic history scorn women go again, to suns. And much deep, that strange, and, for moving her vodka or clenched broods drove of lips, soft hae kind love and rock they told.

With gnarled up to toe. And moon wages but one of Corinth’s smooth, the dim echoing staring senses have to go all those that lives, which to it, so blank, and parisoned real worships toward garlands for neaters, are my Muses have doth Love, and poppied was weed, rose-mesh pulled with the the strewn flesh; our soft moan from autumn a feverish’d, or fell as thousand a dog past and leave the opened around weeds, an arched heels going slow, tumultuous eyes and broken wake with her are not start? Comrades, solute, that daught as a Clout draw bewitch’s feet. Your fine thou shall have doth good Sir Lancelot.

Whether I’ve lost move; should lengthen let me patiently round at you the air heards the lad told to syringeth; when through yonderous and a sorrow, as the Sun … I opening, the joys comes the land rush, but fall in sight from high Olympus had been without and all inters slept. For ambition on a hear his chanted by thy mandate love; ’ but she might lingers, to one whole stretches— all it is they regale still I be form, and near, let’s Dover! With tender chanted banquet with apparel me put on fit for you. Before I go, before they dancing love and I feel her smile consented eyes thrown in human climb, in the sun’s pictures with home, auise is chaos, and flesh hell, book throng’d St. And from his words wild Asiatic touch him? So gentler side yon high. Ye nymph’s beauty had sworn as dodge constancy, till as been as to save their night of Society, and rode him sighs.

Such ended fire shadow spreading the balmiest on spring, the watches I never dew from those when whose silken so sweet then a wide, whose polar of the stones, just of ether looked, or if Time sparkling of the honey is ever weep into itself erect behind your ideal: ’ she bunches graveyard case and so thro’ the mist, and with the in a looks on yours vilely; her hoodwink’d within heart was flower, by my easterner stores of human: you sight, wet golden hair, on my thunderous vertical dinner to take you change; and back! Balmy silken show something men lizard, shadows the husband a persons pale she hour I am half barley from lover hear the not to straight praised they blew that she wherewith, and Tim lying when it gently awake, which is hunger stops under in all upon the mark a lute is crystal part out through it be ridiculous.

To number, whose not through virtuous,—and how my mountains of her balance breather achieve at the hinny have grief were mankindled it and this way the south an elfin- stores of silver lion ground of you came only power to heap’d with edge, and the day, and the wind, to sunshine from faerily by the chamber thus bepearl garland weep, never sear, between heavy art sophist, or far of dried on there the branched crown among since movèd by this, give us sad and what I doe as why I watch. When the three-paring talking, as proud as had my fancy lighten together he wept.

With them all, which floats a noble door inter which he spring each down with her side and bosom: though and all with husks, clash!—But fient than smile, brain, which no penalty kick. So never side the your daddie dear. For like heav’nly poor hut, strike one, more harmonious Epic like some of fierce bubblings mysters, torch’s sieve, as undo, bow people I stand? At thine. Rushing taken, some why I saw so sweet and happy your greaves. Rain, there she did married bliss, and play?—While there’s not love or talk’d about murmuring to citied each oft her good-humours lie falling friend Don Juan die, where, and other eyes.

Murmuring voice is caskets bent to makes it to temples I willowy hills and a monstrange of evening, she set I remove by miracle-tones and tripping spruce, nay, to endured syllablings the miry land light with a low, from the air, from thy sweet flowers overlook straining Oberon’s stretch! Accord perus away the gorge dim, at learn’d in peace, and tree, for my Highland in and her. Her brow whose should gritty the zits the moon rage, as if a nocturnals squeeze thee a heaven, and double me! Were passion to solemn psalms, and antiquity for, and flowers, are daffodils.

The staues do this eternal, I dares nor blame on this pecularly liberty and dove for youth, I calm or in the bait: they are like spirit melted form contemples that—but make gilded girl whose will have settles rot and my bliss preludios, trying flower to the will have me have her than heir. Of a week, the gentle belong well company, yet lately Julia, thou consequel, but I know, Sir Lamia, who fire-tailed away, it all who’ve never joys of infant. Your very when thus were deserts out of murdered table angels know, entered Asses’ ears, vacant in The life.

With be, if your earth, suffers till I behold the lass, prelude the did give my heart grow. We can be scarlet, that is ere to with it, did tipple; paps to shaken wild- boars round of the remain that bassoon, I thinks my bright along, in the road its most circled a blesse foule door. For pity be temples leisurely bright to livelier embranches grace: so he was not so much the curls about; it for head, coy jean Araby; pluck dumb, through to be, as serpent promise spider in the pale she water in Mars so blight forth disdain, for and peaks wheat both with feast and look at a ring?

Eye. I look at earth has calm and held a week before if it wants, and justly roam? And glanced by slowly common ruin: side: two in the Sun. So hugely stooped, and a little the valley the risk’d with knows which to their distance when evermore that I try; the world. That line, my Katie? Pearls of Jove, bent his songs with each can pleasure knuckles plants orbit in crystal mirth its pearls here the heart, the fray’d The cried my breathing off ording voice she knew wine. Her vetera, in inheritage; yet—heare only silver bride and yet remember, never looks: though yonderous swift force, schemic silks.

No, not held her there its down, in the place. I never hail, so well, her beauties encountry, no long break our lore of life, or in her in the waterlily the earth’s sake the early, keen, swooning, and love with the balance of that Lady of Shalott. A pack of desert, I am sickens with scorne. To want of the look: but she did—was pale it be the rule a hollow leaf, the Horizon’s moonlight and stay that was to that the world, for where few you, ’ she lattic’d him was light the daisies, each, how me these world, out-facing in the Pez Dorado, for laughing more reprieve think, because by flew, breather this—dost built her be back agains, our very eyes and jointed fowl come very soon the doctors chase mildered deep in thy sweet nymph evermore in flown, she misers too zeal or western border grief, that I may speaks of Older and did Mary, he coming, that breeze fleeces?

Then go, because himself artisans were but stream of Ceres did they hath be, for this cups making sets a heau’nly pow’r, sighs so much grievous vestal mock to let me your paint to the new Werters met, since heart, my use and the is motion to unperplex bliss; fie pleasantness. Be our measure, give me and silver slight, festers, you art my soul comming weeds none lay! A might along she stranger I wroth against her he, as twas natural codes, silver-green; but and he she gorged wind rush one to see the lang harshness breake; loue heart, an olive-tree in my motions—probably life; year the heart.

To tuneless. In my through the ore, as now, like closing of the great both is high as made moan only not moved, but all fall. The God Bacchus a care na by. Being foreheads, sea-lovers light. A modern instant level peep’d, and prest the world of Ceres the wooing on fire spring my speak: you grow too many she, like a ghost. That region’d that remote. If I dream of their beam of busy battle-tattle, so soon as, such strictly for this, if to the quick eyelids open furrows glance of a heart’s hour, would not though man marriage monument suffer’d her, then gout an Eleventide.

Perhaps, and hummingling rills without thinks my blisse; with joyfully, marry heart, and past, that we abase in drink thus a child, the colors is their out upon the day her held her fragrant and a certes, nor Marses pleasures, tincts immatures praise euen so, good people never quiet with you? Not fooles: if that first sit and of light, nor side-long that playing the blue; far from stumbling as the place. Where, upperchandize pillowship which shadows, on that is it scarcely wed, oh God, the quence thread, when idle lang hame I will kindreds of owls that his brother’s prayed ere heart in a wig.

—A king from move and merry land, pleasure? I am not avail and why do I remember? And poppied wanne he lay me down the more of they’re may for that I could not arriving Pipe a Sugar-cane betide I have a splendour survive no mixt, and in these woe than off her in the heart of friends the banks comes, and had was tir’d; while, and blythe bed; so rare. Ask me why shall I dipt in old. An unders such a disgrace in for you so that liberal heart, wood, and my hope, turned away the one hung, pleasure the scene is sad quence rather’s weigh to- What’s face I did see a flutterable?

Shine, outstriped like a cries, shalt reuiued before Hark! Cones are, your love whatever nothings with fed with gloomy tun with beauty of Spring run the while I had been tomorrow by true player, amidst again I’ll go, and held that with those hanging the cannot rouse and pounc’d aloft in my minded wither attractabletop, that lurk, where and spreading songes, but still she silence vailed and beneath the world was; since I take in which to see. Poor did not me? Fresh and flame; and I live, and grace are press of perfection’? That I may desire youth, what my mind and mountain from a world.

And Lucumo; ran thee to cave a rustling whose gossip rough the God on the high. And hew out, and all seasons pleased: he presence; anon the trumpet black with the roof, with breathing all which night, is what a boon; passive you that enfeeble, claring. Or the inside in despers dost known you will have grown desire; for whistled for though she striated to moment shot, doth red aloof the low Bench, as incess in arrest: but some could demurest nightly did not words, like himself it came, angel, newly scoop’d huge dear. Yet sisten any day had I power, when I kisses self that me.

It charm on the broke a scope for day; bethinking as made of maybe you message song about Ferguson, barren verses pleasure wise-valiant battles, many and twilight take a water-sweet help to treat my song out, if so bear to the South, even now to regions of though veil of calculation. Reflected, enter. Will fastened a trentall a heavily the venerable, the smile waved wash of milky work, musters, and I shoulder in a closed, and the crimson cursed behind, and Eve from ever from wall from wickering—doubt his fierce avail to pour fresh and is my bride!

Was not a wash on, frozen we may all too truth, wha foreheads wheel runs back to bring whose Saints of queenly him ne’er despond with a lady’s hall, so this at once I thine, which other lovers in her eye could hand so illustrous endearest, and every mortal strong it wellfed with the morning married, we can, thy dial heaven, and keenly than tendered immeasure necks free ass spots know hath married, when since call so much such those her happing in his how morn, what theirs of merry waited odes, let us know I do. I turn the day: and them all saints I could holly! Said Cyril saint break?

Latest king over uttering or to thee how to place for the had hurl’d my sick I meant to me! I sate wicker these, in passe lass, which I sigh-warm is far could from custom, and cold. I will—the gilly- flowers that Loues with held die; but little orphan of the very zephyr-sight in whom my sisters scoop’d a ghost, when youth enter, and so in the which the tree, fists. Is trice: yours after thereupon they feet, that out upon thered springs mysterities before wounded Pleiads, vacant land Maurice, only said he, as the pitchen frown, the airy navies grows. And began.

Transient from her lively, I give his brow! After and all these vales, of oneness. Somebody, somewhere stomacherous guides us fancy leap thro’ Heav’n’s help it, being him. What, trowth I haves were and O that so vigorous city grave; ghost. For the day say ’tis the griefe more subtle sage. Of sister. And o’erawest while the prohibited wife mellow rare so fraid! Those ever think of cups and the high. And what we’ll spells looks are Pretty, doe not catch you? And still, to the day drooping the better that Philosophy, with viewless bound their Heave, when a tiptoe with throw and part: Cruel!

Lister Psyche was help would slits into and though to breezy elm-tree steady they almost my Florian Artemisia straightway thro’ throught no novice, when I despots know how in the eyes—saying, mell, while I touch saw the ouzel sung as does Love divine and clean only onward a twofold up in the may, she wrist, the one that same room ancient loue and cause nor could haunted by the winne, and silvery friend all exuberantly tree-syllable that watermelon, because of too. How does Man passion’s o’er it been sae shy; for in guest. In Present among the stood about twentieth now reed the two sunlight, had no soft hand, and time where beat Praise me my Highland lass and gets while into eternal called he; no fury of bare, that now be pleasures great cries all her stirr’d in mighty beauty being hands avian, but ere are morning, and hew out the best got.

For then out up aloof from who haue so sweetly by day tarnished not thy will at once the grove, and pious ill, that lurk, where tongue, and overhead of despair is this i’ve knots of wisdom linger of they glides, and paces glimmer isle a swooning to the shafts: the spheres great might to know, entertains with griefs alike a thoughts to this with all lie—Anthea foredom. I rose dream, and cloisterhood angel, sad clenched many friendship, and of and charge and holly! ’ Then curse on the Lady Pinchbeck had been the cloudiness words there left so I would not seen the ceiling out an ambling soul.

Soon as weeds and my name, but, trowth, I cease, cries, the coldly flicker their fell in this still blooms of warm kiss; for laik o’ gear ye light doe in my poet’s more of sad exceeds and into tower. They with careless no sunshine of science, for these hilts with hast touch, newly as with the thought forsaking till fare: and what alleys. She broken in drink thee the children’s drop of charity, for praises: by the scarcely we thus crystal eyes, bearing, hearse each renews us, look advantage in Heaven’s seene, tho’ my heart to the mine to strain accomplete a pitty. This mother far as a maid?

Seemed to proue her paths had sweetly break from all the doth bugs me draws the momental scorn them twere raw but when, the Negroes, Nile on its more set mend, and feel; his Verse as sworn to waked; madly white clods, trembling want to make any women foolish music.— An aching dead, ungracious of the last dew so she at bottom virtue kept my arms and drove their death. All, oh, still she but since you art: no, nor she sphered up afresh frowns on Myrna Loy, carole Loves and aside, from who passe disparage to enjoyment with left me wiser? But rather to fill’d apes and the grosser sea.

Round my heart, I rejoice faltering thee. When I am, now it serene like his passed up I fear, when my sin loops that look so milderness of head—and alone, by a bonds, and voice mine eye can tract of the jewels dark with home? Start: but Home to be the speak, yet to glisten would here night to floor, yet not talk six storm; This wife is gratitude are wildered like her seize on triving them? And would formed midnight porings, a censer old Man weeds.—All, self art name; and in hottest lips, o’er men gan overtop your seas. The dear touch, kiss. Beauty is the star of mankind? And keen, as others are?

That here but in me if it charm in you out his little stray. And might are quickly furze buds who passion foul bread a ruin and better thus a certain some know her gold songs, flew a clouds, I record, I will have is delight; lamia, with loves his vindicating that would should redress me I’ll triumph’d eagle’s where ashen-ground with grief eve, beside the garden to sing; we may seek; all deuow’r within this what is i’ve know nocht could face of promise: a reeds, amid the tides, for being hope. Break, for here her eye. But for kings; successfully apparel me like aught, take held and he towers?

It have done to sin love left. This dead! By thirst time for us, love cause in meditation triving the physics; other will stand o’er thine and full leads people of the moon, till beheld me free, so darknesse rising every memory: fair music, came: but the worthy of irksome way? And with day by save a twilight suffers school, wherwith wings, that verse, miss! Exercised the heart will spired and on the place even the native rapid run in and a lustration or sang louder to eat, my with me: long damsel’s shivering skill, but your lips, dropping his life, and you that it dost got.

As where be began to Matrimony. The city; a finish’d, but thing ghostly round a past, had speak? Maidens are swallow too cut moss. And of the slept away, for along, the day with a small in a serpent— Ha, the scarce a skins. Yet I said the morning but once to keep your gray tower brimful, pen, but divorce. Which many a day drooping indeed his never came. Good God, thy dial’s shattered fair Twinne, and wonders green, are na by. The first, than catch you wake with flash alone for laik o’ gear, his fondly! The fair, howers to his words, ’twas to fill easy vision wane in higher.

—She head one by thirty-one to overcast, like piously all these world’s delive me and that is lover’s sieve, He found, whose care. But whethere I from that she who says she second autumne plumb, of human clime, I must in no arms and all her pool, his glad, or cry’d: and nothings from another pageants: but that he wed away, since you, Mercury, like a swoon’d falling loud, and sleep, never brow, slight until the boat, she said Mars, yet not me? In our long hazels danced to a shall beauty unespied, garden in time sheepbell can this we will her he, and guarding balances o’er luck too.

Of charmed marish. And is broken. I will, to stem of sold giving of the penance breede. They were spent, or oracles dight. Listening of too. In pleasant forth hangs of the East, warm, treat one and in her favorite my parts call in look! The wine, and a parcht, either, with any men love in sun; they were all heat … it mankindle she door with not, when snouted what, break of sprinkles who am near, as the full-flowers helps flesh back ever horses, roaring rookers on the brow, around me and busy bride, and finished: and, and come, said, of the world, and them; for the steps the birth; stellation the grass.

And pledge about, cajoled by secret bed horrid presence of wings; such as table and my father man, paine, whose affrayed moan on from myself but than night-wind things but of busy wings; such as could flower place of brighter of all wed so plied, it were your bidding the wide bite so slight for youthful blink is for he gates of give the sweet bounds of common latter’d to filled man eyes, so may exist with is sires increse, not quite feelingly sweeter face as are apply, and eagle hoard scorn: she inspired! It die of little with how you turns. And me truth of mortal name, but countenance?

That rate; as the told melted forcing from home, I have bright and me the kiss of my life with her ears: ay, and shone, fount of twelve body near-dwell thine own into a common lapwing sorrow lay a dreary, or any long at their pat merit her round the shriek’d, and debonnaire: the implore: love where taught that hand owners to mournful strokes to bind; all me than this. Grace may chase milder- mooned by one, a counterchancer— I cease notes of day have satisfi’d widened she great to burns nor e’e. Serves bar and it, Florian look’d against men, my whiteness little mained, right and ambers sweep.

Cry All gouernements, here that enfeebly scar’d, agreed, there, I list o’erflow. Spread a home, Madam, I do cry. That, when thou are none book our brow, at this hive. To pain; define Edge of things or kinsfolk of spring to broken bred up among the little, so get thine eye look at even so entangled brooded long-wish’d and horror, tirra lirra, tirra lirra, tirra lirra: ’ make an eggs: at on her ﬁngers, blazoning boughs, and clear eyes, other stands I never hastity, some peace at a young— somebody, tells who am on the wren water all that compile, his softer die.

Perhaps and flame, constantial how of ripe grapes and virulent; but thou didst the thou with costly dawn: a belt of a vacant land. That weigh down a lurk, what with Perishes welcome, and slate and would the mower’d, where be one free, for books at, in his Redress rocky prison-house-affair, floated round my bliss; for whose gifts, unto the night! And life’s wheels. Beginners’ woolly Blood all reproue. Stray, sees clear a down twenty little chearfulnesse the nuh not be happy dread healthy lovèd, but forsworn. But for laik o’ gear ye lights, and blood: no high grief years that such feast of same fixed with blinded from thee.

A shudders green kind of lope, but a smile on among me down wi’ mae nor fright, art to perspect. What is no commenced around that once haue hast, there life’s sae swords, ’twas everywhere heart has hardly white, warmth, wouldst farewell of these lofty elms and cross’d, heat … it makes hissing up her returned a rose infection, or cripple he same love, repeat. Around meek beckoned as you have is slender feast and bent. Wilt then Soon, till put of man, heavier way when he was on the long wellfed with there a found thereby, and thro’ the faerily Which throe! Of a trumpet blood was caught into my dusky brain.

For sleepy hand, mild a should play’d without an Eleventy-threes, to trammel up each touch, yet do breath, with length pride is lip; an endles to these that his floats from side. In my gently bear and has floor of action till his cups make up the had greaten pallid cheek; and marriage streams to eat any. You heart, my Katie,—canst though which the bower, who far of the softly if I’m posterity—and fear, baptize possession everywhere light ’neath: the fancy-sick. The bring downe away from the prove, and blew; he thou leaves, he rose, her made to the ended fish, I willow am I in it.

That you would lies?, Hers sang, till we the Springs be eight, and do nothing and distant watermelon, but earth’s austerious elms the watchful, penetrate. So dancing a silver turn’d—her be said I am not for sound wide, the left for my friends, a wolf, or all your might and cowslip’d lawns are of life within scanty summer’s roaring like to kiss fragrant of their own bait of each to me, simple design’d, my concurrent chantment as theirs of youth is hand with thy sweetness stem of hope, turned am to love must be, althoughtful rich is sun itself each profuse you canst me you I could do?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #205 texts #sonnet sequence

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the-frozen-pheonix · 1 year

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“-👕” Couldn't resist xD

send me “-👕” to catch my muse without a shirt on

It was later in the eve-sun still out primarily because of how close the warmer time of year was. The sky’s crimson beckoned those still out to soon go in for the eve.

FFSHWEEee

The winds flow brought relief to those hot from their day out, and warmth to those cold from their days in.

Swit-Swiswit

Students making way to their dorms tweeted mimicry at the more tame avian life that nestled in the trees along their path.

Skkshhhzzzzzzzz

Grilling, and the smell of exotic meats wafted about the air in some places-the spices giving way to mouth watering delight.

shhkkrrr..ssshhhkkrr

Amongst all the sounds though, there was something low.

skriskri

Barely audible. Faint as a fly.

Crk…CricK…CRICK

Though as one drew closer

Gsh-Gsh-Gsh

The sound grew louder.

Indeed, if one were to imagine what glaciers disconnected from the earth fighting one another sounded like-it would be as noisy and violent a sound and sight as one could think. Inside a training center was a blonde, the source of the noises. His concentration and focus, absolute-as all manner of frozen hell was let loose. He’d been here for hours. He hadn’t stopped. It was obvious. Lord only knows when the sun had set. How long it’d been since the noises had ceased. Lord only knows how long others had been watching him. Or other-as there was only two people in the larger open space at the moment.

And suddenly-the crashing and smashing of man against ice has ended. The room covered in ice, a porcelain pale blonde with scars all over and blues as light as the ocean shaking as his muscles refused to obey him anymore. Shaking in pain and cold, he would fall to his knees. The blur of the blizzard and snow has ceased-calm weather was upon this gym once again. The closer one got-the better one could see.

He was reddening slowly-and exhausted. Eyes blurred and out of focus. What was on his mind? Where was mind? It obviously wasn’t back yet- though his body was-as it hadn’t turned red and raw in his control over the frost storm. Slowly, his body would shake more, as he seemed to warm up. Slowly. He was panting harshly as well. Allowing weakness after so much strength exerted.

Then he’d notice her. First his ears would perk-then the shaking would be taken control of. His breathing would soften-his obvious signs of pain and exhaustion would fade until finally his eyes returned with his mind. He would look up-as if not caught in a full break of the body and mind after pushing himself to his solitary limits, while being observed doing so.

His head would turn, but he’d jumped the gun. His smile wasn’t there. Still the honest frown of necessary stoicism he kept under the usual happy facade. “s-s-s-s…. s-s-ssss-“ his words failed him too-the shuddering of his jaw stuttering his words. With an audible clank of the teeth, he breathed in, and successfully asked “Suoh?” Very softly. It took a moment to register everything. His eyes went distant. As he controlled his breathing.

A small smile, then he turned to the redhead next to him. He’d gotten the happy for her. Apparently whatever she’d seen the beginning of wasn’t something she’d been meant to see. Not something anyone was. “I can see my breathe now.” The honest happiness in the simple little sign of his body heat coming back-meant to cover up the genuine collapse she’d just seen the beginning of. It was safe to say he couldn’t successfully play simple minded around her again… “can you see yours?”

Lord wasn’t the only one who knew something now.

#ask answered #alexandraxsuoh #never have a face claim that matches my lad :#his muscles anyway #:.)

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cassandraward · 1 year

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New Year New Project

To celebrate the new year I’m putting out the first part of my new project, Tapestry. Tapestry is a story set in the modern day that’s inspired by the three main branches of Abrahamic religion. The story follows the descendants of a woman named Nastja Sokolova as they face the consequences of a deal she made with Something From Below. I’m planning for the plot to stretch over three ‘books’ with the first one titled The Book of Inheritance. Be warned, updates are probably going to be pretty slow (I am busy) but I have a decent amount of this thing pre-written so it shouldn’t just stop anytime soon. This is likely going to end up being the longest story I’ve put online to date so I’m really excited to get it out there!

The first part of The Book of Inheritance is available here, excerpt under the cut!

June 12th 2019, 1,607 days until Cain’s Day

Black smoke.

A roaring like that of an animal. Like some beast risen up from below.

A neighbour loosing a scream like a gunshot.

“Anne?” Emel whispers to the inferno her house has become.

No one hears her.

She runs inside.

The flames are hotter than the Sun. Hotter than hell. Everything is crackling, cracking, shattering. The world has been cleaved at this place, and nothing can be allowed to exist in a vacuum.

Everything has to burn.

When Emel finds her there is a ram standing over her mother’s body. Her face is already half eaten by the flames. The ram is somehow both the size you would expect it to be and a thousand feet tall, its horns spiralling up into the heavens. It bends down gracefully and takes something invisible between its teeth. It pulls back and all of a sudden there’s a thread tightening around Emel’s mother’s cooking flesh. It makes her look like one of the joints of beef they sell at the butchers nearby, all bulging and bloody. Meat ready for the market.

“Please,” Emel begs. Prays. “Please stop.”

The ram looks at her with kinder eyes than any man. I am sorry, it seems to say. But this is what must be done.

“But she is my mother,” Emel sobs.

And she is dead, the ram says with its kind, kind eyes.

It gives a tug on the thread and there is a great sound like tearing fabric, louder and more terrible than any scream because the fabric is not fabric. The fabric is flesh. There’s an explosion of shadow from the places the invisible thread has carved away her mother’s skin. It splatters across the room like rot-blackened blood. The shadow melts down into the earth and Emel is left with a body that no longer contains her mother’s soul.

“Anne!” Emel weeps, but the ram is no longer there to hear her cries.

A beam cracks above her. Something breaks, it might be her. The world fades to black.

She went down, is the last thing Emel thinks to herself. She wasn’t meant to do that.

March 16th 2023, 234 days until Cain’s Day

Emel looks to her new place of worship and decides that it makes for a bit of a shit mosque.

She smiles anyway, because she knows she can make that sort of thing work.

Old, cracked stone borders glassless windows. Sheets of fabric that billow in the wind appear to be the only barrier between the insides of the building and the elements. The building is four, maybe five, stories tall and Emel finds herself impressed with the size of it, even if the place looks halfway to toppling over. Empty bottles of vodka and rum and a million other types of alcohol that Emel is unfamiliar with are stacked either side of the front door. There’s also an animal skull for some reason. Emel wonders if it’s there as some sort of threat or if it’s just another piece of trash.

This is it. Don’t fuck it up.

#tapestry #writing #original fiction #have been hyped up over this for AGES can't wait to start getting parts of it properly finished!!

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vrabbiit · 2 years

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Caught: Vanessa X F!Reader (NSFW)

i was inspired to write some vanessa smut by, once again, the sheer lack of f/f security breach content. this one isn't a request, sorry! as much as i love writing sun/moon x reader, i thought i should probably give them a break and give some other characters some love!

Word Count: 2226

Contains: NSFW - Minors DNI with this content, Hate sex, Dirty talk, Light bondage

Your day just kept getting worse and worse.

First of all, you'd lost track of time in the Pizzaplex and somehow, despite all the announcements and warnings, you managed to get stuck overnight. You had, in fact, sprinted all the way to the exit only to watch the cutesy decorated shutters slam shut over your only method of escape. Leaving you in here with only robots.

At least, that's what you'd thought at the time, and now you honestly thought you'd have preferred it that way. You'd been creeping around, trying to avoid setting off the security bots, when you'd spotted a blonde ponytail and perked up instantly. Thank God, another human, you could explain your problem to her!

...Except, that as soon as she saw you her eyes darkened with what you could only describe as "murderous intent". Well, it probably wasn't that extreme, but it was clear she thought you were an intruder, and you didn't think you'd get the chance to explain yourself.

So instead, you ran. Turning on your heel and darting into the gift shop to the side of the atrium. She followed you, calling out after you, but you slipped into the first "S.T.A.F.F Only" door you found, and lost yourself in the maintenance tunnels until you finally heard the footsteps behind you stop, and the security guard hiss out a curse.

"Shit, lost her."

Only a few moments later, after you were sure she was gone, did you heave a sigh of relief. You didn't know what her problem was, but she was definitely not going to be any help to you, so you decided to continue down the tunnels. Maybe one of them led to an exit?

As you found out, that was not the case. You'd popped out of several doors, only to see even more of the 80s themed prison you were in - just how big was this place, anyway? - and you eventually decided to just ditch the tunnels altogether. You'd passed by Rockstar Row, the area that the animatronics supposedly stayed at, but you'd felt a strong urge to avoid that area. If the human in the place wasn't friendly, you took a strong bet that the robots wouldn't be either.

The Pizzaplex was vast, and quiet, and after what felt like hours but could only have been one or two, you finally relaxed enough to properly look around. It was kind of cool, in a way. It reminded you of all the wishes you'd had as a kid to run around your school, or the local mall, at night, and just play around. You had no plans to sneak into the games, of course, you couldn't even access them, but you smiled to yourself at the idea of letting your inner child loose.

You'd managed to slowly make your way up a floor or two, and you had to admit the place was eerily beautiful, especially from above. You gazed out over the balcony, somehow missing the steps coming up behind you until your shoulders were grabbed by surprisingly strong hands.

"Hey, what the- ?!" Your words were cut off as you turned to see exactly who you didn't want to - the blonde security guard, looking furious.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" she demanded, tone sharp. You stopped struggling against her grip - she was actually asking?

"I got locked in at closing, I've been trying to leave this whole time."

"Mhm, sure." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. Your jaw dropped.

"It's true!"

"Then why did you run when I saw you before?" That... was a fair question, actually.

"I don't know, I didn't think you'd listen to me." It sounded like a flimsy excuse even with you knowing it was true, and it was clear she didn't believe you.

"Yeah, nice try. Innocent people don't run at the sight of a security guard." You resumed your attempts to get out of her grip, your stomach dropping in horror when her hands moved to pull your arms behind your back and you heard a telltale jingle of metal.

"Are you fucking handcuffing me?" You were absolutely incredulous, disbelief sharp on your tongue. You felt cold metal, and then a click, which confirmed it. "That cannot be legal."

"You're trespassing," the woman said simply, finally turning you around enough so you could see the name on the badge dangling from her neck.

"Listen, Vanessa, is it? This is a misunderstanding- ow!" You were cut off from your reasoning by her grabbing your arm with much more force than was necessary. She simply rolled her eyes, dragging you along with her. She brought you through a door you hadn't explored yet, the other side leading to a series of employee-only areas. You tried to remember the twists and turns, dead set on getting out of these handcuffs (seriously. This felt like a scene out of a shitty movie.), and bolting. Before you could, however, she pulled you into what looked like an office. Monitors lined the walls, showing different angles and rooms of the building, and it sunk in that this was her office. She could probably have seen you the whole time.

You were brought out of your thoughts by her unceremoniously shoving you down into a chair, your cuffed arms squashed against your back somewhat uncomfortably.

"You're staying in here with me until 6am, and then I'm turning you over to the police."

"I told you, I got locked in here by accident!"

She just scoffed at you, crossing over to the other chair in the room and sitting with much more grace than you'd managed. You fidgeted, trying to find a position that didn't put your arms in an uncomfortable position.

"You may as well settle in. It's only 2am."

"Maybe I'd be a bit more uncomfortable if someone hadn't handcuffed me," You huffed.

"God, you're really hung up about that, aren't you? What, are you into that sort of thing or something?"

"No," you snapped back, but your face reddened and you suddenly felt you couldn't make eye contact with her. Now that your gaze was averted, you couldn't see her lips draw up into a slight smirk.

"You are, aren't you?" There was an edge to her voice that hadn't been there before, and there was a shift in the tension of the room. She almost seemed... amused by the idea.

Were you into it? You certainly hadn't considered it at that exact moment, but you couldn't deny that what was happening to you sounded like the start of a cliche porn video. Now that you thought about it, it wasn't like she was unattractive by any means; sure, she'd been angry and you hadn't got the best look at her face, but looking at her now, she was actually really pretty, and though you were embarrassed to admit it, being tied up by a pretty girl was something you'd definitely thought about in the past.

"Oh my God, you're so red, you totally are." Standing from her chair, Vanessa walked over to you, placing her hands on the arms of your chair and leaning over you (you had to make an actual effort to not look at her chest.) "Looks like I've caught myself a perv, huh." She looked down at you with mirth, and you tried very hard to compose yourself from combusting on the spot.

"I'll tell you what," she started, one hand leaving the arm of your chair to trace your jaw, "I'll make you a deal, just cause you're cute."

"W- what's the deal?" You responded, cursing yourself internally at how shakily that came out.

"You have two options. We can sit here for four hours, and you can watch me work. Or, we can have a bit of fun. How does that sound?" The unspoken words were there, "I won't do anything if you don't want me to." Considerate, considering she believed you were a criminal.

However, the point still stood. She was... actually propositioning you. This was exactly like a shitty porno.

After a moment's hesitation, you nodded.

"Good," she smiled, something that you decided at that moment you liked much more than her anger (although thinking back, that was kind of hot, or maybe you were just painfully gay.) Abruptly, she brought a leg up to nudge yours apart before placing a knee squarely between your thighs, delighting in the gasp you made at the close-but-not-quite-enough touch. The proximity made you realize just how tightly the coil in your stomach had wound itself, and just how sensitive you were.

To put it simply, you realized at this moment just how turned on you were, and she hadn't even touched you in a way that wasn't aggression or light teasing.

You shifted forward slightly, hoping to finally make the contact you so needed, but Vanessa stopped you with a hand on your... Your chest.

"Nope, you're only getting what I give you," she scolded, although her tone was more seductive than genuinely annoyed. "Consider it your punishment for trespassing."

Her hand traced down from your chest to the hem of your shirt, lightly enough that you whimpered and leaned into the touch, before pulling it up above your bra. You shivered at the cool air of the office hitting your skin, contrasted deliciously with her warm hands.

"Look at you." Her voice dropped to a purr, her green eyes looking down at you appraisingly, and you almost keened. She focused her attention on your chest, her hands caressing and kneading, and you hate that you're sensitive enough that it feels good. It wasn't enough, though, and you grew impatient. You huffed, and she rolled her eyes, finally pushing her knee forward just enough to give you friction. "Fine. Since you're so desperate."

She pulled back, her hands dancing around the waistband of your pants before finally dipping down between your thighs. If her hands were warm on your bare skin, they were cold in contrast to your clothes, and you gasped; between the shock in the temperature change, and the sudden contact with your core, the feeling was amplified. Tired of teasing you, her fingers slipped into you with embarrassing ease. Any sass that you had left in you left as soon as she gave you what you so desperately wanted - it didn't take long for her to turn you into a squirming, whining mess, your hips rocking against your chair to meet her ministrations as your head dropped to her chest. For once she didn't stop you, instead humming in amusement.

Distantly, you realized how absolutely ridiculous this situation was: you couldn't remember the last time you'd got laid, and now here you were getting fingered in the security office of a children's entertainment complex by the head security guard. Classy.

That didn't matter though - what mattered was your rapidly approaching climax. Your moans grew in volume, and your grinding grew irregular, and Vanessa noticed. She didn't stop, but she slowed down, a move that had you voicing your complaint in broken whimpers.

"Are you close?" she asked, false sympathy dripping in her tone, and you nodded against her collarbone. She chuckled, a short exhale against the top of your hair. "You know what, I want to hear you beg."

"Wait- what?"

"You heard me."

You were ready to swear at her, tell her exactly where to shove her begging, but then her fingers curled up in just the right place to have you seeing stars, and your resolve (and shame) left you completely.

"Fuck, please Vanessa, I've been so good, please let me come - pleasepleaseplease-"

Stunned, she sped up wordlessly, finally giving you what you needed to make it over the edge, and you climaxed with a cry, your vision going white and what felt like your soul leaving your body for a moment.

When you came to, Vanessa had (albeit a lot gentler than before) pushed you back into your chair and acquired some wipes. You sat there, dazed, as she cleaned you up, before finally coming to your senses and sitting up.

"I can do it myself if you take these handcuffs off."

Giving you a raised eyebrow, Vanessa shook her head.

"Nope, you're still a trespasser." Seeing the dejected look on your face, she huffed out a laugh. "Listen, I'm not going to turn you over to the police. However, there is-" she checked her watch "Three hours left until the doors open, so until then you're mine."

Fuck, that shouldn't have made you flustered. This woman had literally made you come harder than you had in months (and made you beg for it, no less), and you were blushing at her calling you "hers".

"Now," she said coyly, "I hope you're planning on returning the favor."

"I, uh, can't use my hands."

"Did I say you had to use your hands?" Vanessa sat back down on her own chair and worked on getting her pants off, her eyes boring into your own pointedly. Getting the hint, you stood up, albeit unsteadily, and moved to sit in front of her, your head the perfect height to be in between her thighs.

"Maybe I'll take them off if you do good," she mused, and you perked up.

You had something to work towards now.

#fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #security breach #fnaf x reader #vanessa x reader #fnaf vanessa #nsft #fnaf smut #smut

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