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holy-puckslibrary · 4 months

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━ 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐑-𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑

˗ˏˋ main masterlist ˎˊ˗

pairing(s) — counselor!JACK HUGHES x counselor!reader word count — 1.4k

note — i was (and still am) super proud of how i executed this concept, and i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoy re-reading it!

recommended viewing — friday the 13th (1980), fear street: 1978 (2021)

bingo squares and additional content warnings below the cut.

bingo squares — sex in water, risky location/exhibitionism, and fear play additional content warnings — a few jokes about death/dying and murder, rather short n tame ("vanilla") barely-there spice from me???, jack being a little shithead (and a little switchy omg), a smidge of angst, and spoopy ending... (kevin heimbach hive rise!)

“Y’know, for someone who is so paranoid about being caught, you sure scream like you aren’t.”

The lake smacks Jack Hughes’ chest just moments before the true expulsion of annoyance. The succinct burst of emotion is pre-packaged into a lame wave. One that only stokes his predisposition for button-pushing—hers being a personal favorite target of his.

“Y'know, for someone so desperate to get laid, you sure do everything to guarantee the only thing you'll be fucking is your hand."

Jack's jaw unhinges as if making ample room for whatever semi-clever perverted retort is bound to manifest, but it slams shut prematurely. His only response is a strained whimper accompanying an audible gulp.

Wide eyes bulging, his gaze never leaves the woody shore at your back.

"J-Jack, I'm serious. Cut it out. Right now."

Your blunt, conduct code-mandated nails slice their way through the sunburnt skin of his shoulders—the much-deserved consequence of brushing off the sunscreen you offered him prior to his afternoon shift at the canoes.

He hisses, mostly out of irritation, but keeps otherwise mum.

Unwittingly, further panic stirs in your gut at that, sending your tense face into his waiting chest.

"I-It's not funny—it never was. And it's absolutely not now, e-either. Please, Jack. Just, just knock it off, o-okay?"

"Or what, babe?"

His husky voice carries across the water and the trees rustle in response.

You loathe the way that innocuous noise shoves you deeper into his embrace, clutching onto his lithe, toned form like he isn't the instigator of your palpable distress.

"Stop pretending you see him, or I'll... I'll... —"

Any threat you could've come up with would've been hollow at best, you both know it. Even if you weren't strung out from a full day of covert teasing and stolen glances, your fear of what might lurk in the shadowy depths between you and the dock would be more than enough to keep you firmly planted.

Jack set himself up with yet another perfectly easy jump-scare, but as you helplessly cling to him like a soggy kitten at the mere implication of danger, he's presented with a better, more delicious opportunity to burrow under your thin skin.

Oh, how he lives to make you squirm.

Soft lips lower to your ear, "Is that really what you want? Because I don't think the lake's the only reason my dick is soaked."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about, Hughes."

You try and avoid his X-ray vision, but it doesn't matter. It hardly ever does.

"Really? Well, allow me to enlighten you, hm?"

His tone has you rolling your eyes even though he can't see them.

Jack holds you tighter, sharply bucking his hips until you whine, before he whispers, "I think you like when I scare you—or, at least, your pussy does. The poor thing, gushin' and squeezin' whenever you jump for me. Every damn time, babe. I damn near thought you'd squirted last time I got ya that good."

You grumble because he's right. Only about your physical reaction, of course. Definitely not the other things.

You definitely did not enjoy being scared shitless, and you definitely did not squirt when he pretended something—or someone—was pulling him under. You'd be damned if your first time doing that came at the hand of such juvenile flippancy.

"Quit talking and fuck me, Hughes. We don't have all night; Alice still isn't over the nightmares."

Every year, there was always one of those campers, and, this year, Alice was that one. A kid so freaked out by local legend that you have to wonder how their parent or guardian managed to get them up here in the first place. Or, why anyone thought sending them up into the mountains for the summer was a good idea to begin with.

It never takes long for the nightmares to start. Especially once the inaugural midnight bonfire passes and the sightings start making the rounds. Wind-carried screams, a flash of metal, the too-thick drip off of the leaves, torn flesh...

Everything in graphic detail, and every detail insomnia fodder at its peak.

If a camper lucked out, they had a counselor they could attach themselves to in the wee hours of the morning as they shook through waves of fear. Alice weaseled her way into your bunk every night this past week, bottom lip trembling as tears streamed down her face, always rambling about the same thing: a silent killer in a cheap mask wielding long, menacing blade.

Nightly, while you've donned a brave face, it's been as genuine as the plastic allegedly worn by the personified cautionary tale. Because, once upon a time, you had been that camper, too—and Jack had a front-row seat to your adolescent terror.

To this day, he finds your ardent belief in the legend a point of amusement.

He won't be laughing, though, when Alice finds your bunk empty and runs crying to the supervisor cabin, thinking you'd been the latest victim—the first in thirty years.

If you're going down, you're dragging jack hughes down with you. He can explain to your parents why you're home two months early—and unemployed.

His forehead falls to your shoulder, wafts of damp hair tickling the bare skin as he groans. Jack never bothers masking his ire. "That snot-nosed third grader is the last thing I want to think about when I'm balls-deep. Total boner-killer, babe."

"Jason Vorhees is the last thing I want to think about right now, but you never seem to care about that, do you?" you growl.

Your ankles tighten around his waist at just the thought of the camp's very own boogeyman.

If you were smart, you'd stop hooking up with the one person dead-set on sending you to an early grave all for a laugh.

The apparent inevitability of your trysts wasn't for a lack of options. No, every year there was plenty. But every year, Jack Hughes was the only peer you snuck out for.

After that many midnights, you would think his recycled material would lose its edge. Unfortunately for you, that's yet to happen.

You tug on a fistful of hair at the nape of his neck. He nips at your throat in retaliation; you don't have the confidence to tell him you like that, too.

"Fine, fine," he laments, eyes pinched shut and wincing. "Truce?"

"Truce," you nod and relinquish your tight grip. "Now, make me cum."

"Yes, ma'am."

"See? I told you it was fine. No wandering campers, no prying Visors," Jack hums, an arm looped around your shoulders. "And no hockey masks or machetes, either."

Your soft, grudging giggle harmonizes with the cicadas.

When you reach your cabin, he pecks your damp temple. "You should trust me more often."

You knew once you caved to the lake idea, he'd never let it go, but you'd be remiss if you said it didn't turn you on just as much as it did him. That, however, doesn't mean you're eager for an encore any time soon.

Next summer, perhaps. If he played his cards right.

"Yeah, right," you snort while eclipsing the two meager steps with him on your heels.

His ego is beginning to rub you the wrong way as your post-orgasm bliss fades. Still, you can't resist pulling him closer now that no one else is around.

Kiss-swollen lips ghosting over his, you whisper, "Over my dead body."

His eyes go dark; a rare flicker of concern. "Don't say shit like that, babe, you'll jinx it... And i've still got so much planned for your body."

"Well, it's a good thing you've got an entire summer, isn't it?"

"Only because you won't let me touch you outside of Camp Nightwing," jack huffs, mostly under his breath. His jaw is too tight, but his voice is louder, "Just think of what i could do with the other nine months."

He doesn't bother disguising the bitterness weighing on his voice or his conscience, and that alone is enough to make you skittish. It hurts to swallow, and the mounting nausea certainly isn't helping, but it's a necessary evil to rid yourself of the lump clawing up your throat.

Jack Hughes talks a big game, but that's all it'll ever be. A game.

You won't make the same mistake twice.

"Get lost before you wake my campers, Hughes." You wave your hand dismissively as you take a step back—and out of his magnetic field. "We've got a big day tomorrow."

He drops the complaint as easily as he championed it.

"I'm going, I'm going." Jack raises his hands in surrender, laughing as he backs away from the porch. "Wouldn't want to rob the little boogers of their last moments of peace before my reigning Color War champs kick their asses—for the fifth consecutive year."

Your reluctant affection glimmers in the moonlight as you shake your head. "I hate you so much."

"No, you don't!" Jack calls over his towel-clad shoulder.

You're still smiling when the screen door smacks the dilapidated wooden frame.

As his jubilant footsteps fade down the path and you settle in your bunk, a large shadow slips between the moon and the cabin's front window.

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violettduchess · 2 years

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Congratulations again and again XD You're a star! If it would be alright, may I request Mozart + Red Tulip, please?

A/N: Part of my 500 Follower Celebration🎉

Mozart x f!Reader

Fluff

Word Count: 977

A red blanket spread across bright green grass under a cornflower blue sky. Bold colors, bright colors. You look at the man you love as he lies on his side, his head of silver hair almost luminous in the sunlight. A man of understated pale blue and silver and white and gray, a sharp contrast to the world around you. Sometimes you wonder if he is truly here, his spectral beauty almost too much for this plane of existence. Your hand travels to your neck at the thought, fingers touching skin that is still tender from earlier that morning and the love-mark of his fangs. It reassures you. He is here. And real. And yours.

He is currently propped up on one elbow, absently toying with a few grapes. You can tell by the way his violet eyes aren’t focused that he isn’t really here. His body may be present but his mind is wandering in its own dream-space, lost in music only he can hear, building symphonies and concertos while you mundanely decide which jelly to put on your croissant.

You know his heart well enough to leave him to his dreaming, leaning back on your palms and enjoying the view over the rolling green hills dotted with over-exuberant daisies. Your attention is pulled away from the idyllic scene by something small and blue bobbing its way toward you. A large butterfly with cobalt wings edged in black is fluttering toward your picnic. You hold your breath as it lands, first on the wicker handle of your basket and then it flaps its way in a lazy zig-zag to land right on your bent knee. Squashing the impulse to gasp, you remain very still as the butterfly takes its respite, gossamer wings slowly folding and unfolding on a loop, a ballerina stretching before her next dance. Up close, you can see the tiny, delicate black veins that run through the shocking blue of its wings. A living jewel right in front of you. The wings open and close one more time and then without warning it takes off, fluttering away as unexpectedly as it came.

You can’t help it. Delight and excitement finally are allowed to escape as you burst into elated laughter. Mozart snaps to attention, as if he had heard a gunshot and not an expression of joy. He blinks his amethyst eyes, staring at you.

“Wolf, did you see it? Did you see the beautiful butterfly that just landed on me? Just like that!” You are still laughing, talking excitedly as you scan the green fields around you for any sign of your tiny visitor. Mozart slowly pushes himself up, the only sign of what he is thinking is the corner of his mouth, lifted in an unreadable, Mona Lisa smile.

A few days later

The concert hall is buzzing like a hive full of bees. You smooth your hands over the deep ochre velvet of your skirt, the familiar excitement of attending a Mozart concert running through you as well. The gleaming white beast of a grand piano is already spotlit and awaiting the man who will bring it to life, whose fingers will breathe air into its lungs and start a heart beating in its chest. Next to you, le Comte is a vision of calm as he takes in the stage, the lights, the sounds of the patrons. He glances at you and offers a smile.

“You said he wrote this piece in a few hours?”

You nod. “We were having a picnic on the hill and then he just got up and said he needed to go, immediately.”

Comte turns his golden gaze back to the stage, affection in his smile. “That’s Mozart.”

You’re about to agree when the lights finally go down and your heart leaps up, somersaulting in your chest as you see the refined, slender figure of the man you love more than anything enter the stage. The applause swells like a cresting wave until he holds up his hand, Neptune calming the seas with a gesture.

“This piece is called “Das Glück der Schmetterlinge.” He makes an elegant turn on his heel, walking toward the grand piano. The audience holds its breath in anticipation.

You lean closer to Comte a moment, eyes still glued to Mozart as he seats himself on the shiny piano bench.

“I know that ‘Schmetterling’ is butterfly. Did you understand the rest?”

Comte tilts his head towards you. “My German isn’t perfect but I do believe it translates to ‘The Joy of Butterflies’.”

Warmth blooms in your chest as you lean back in your chair. Ah, so he did notice the butterfly that day.

Mozart raises his hands, elegant fingers poised over the black and white keys and then pauses, turning his head to face the audience one more time.

“I dedicate this piece to the most beautiful sound in the world.”

Murmuring ripples through the audience. What sound could the master of music think is the most beautiful thing in the world?

He closes his eyes and his hands begin moving, spinning magic from the first note on. His music always moves you, always reaches inside and wraps itself around your heart. But here….there was something here, something familiar. A repetition of notes that carries the entire song. Something about it tickles the back of your mind, a notion nebulous and cloudy but refusing to dissipate. It is only when you see le Comte smiling that you realize he has unlocked the secret. Again you lean close.

“It’s a beautiful piece,” you whisper, “but why does it feel so familiar? Mozart isn’t playing any of the songs he has written in the past.”

Comte waits a moment, the same series of notes ringing through the concert hall like beacons of sparkling light, enchanting the audience, before he turns his head, his mouth close to your ear.

“Mon chéri,” he says gently, voice brimming with warm amusement, “Do you not recognize the music of your own laughter?”

🎼

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial@alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome

#500 follower celebration #ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen mozart #ikevamp mozart #wolfgang amadeus mozart #mozart x reader #fluff #love #music #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #violettwrites

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annikasevenshots · 1 year

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Star Trek Picard: Season 3 Episode 9 Reaction (spoilers)

sorry i missed the previous few i just lowkey did not care i guess

Can't believe I'm watching Troi do FREUDIAN psychoanalysis like that shit would have died out in clinical psychology ages ago

3 guesses as to what Matalas' favourite colour is

Watching Troi on the big screen Deanna you're so pretty

"You will not be alone" me when i lie

Why are they lowkey assassinating Troi's character like this she's stronger than that

"Wait... the Borg have sex?" Raffi Musiker, 1.5 years earlier

Why is Jack awakening so much like Dahj activating bro TM really copied S1's homework but made it white and male

Jack scenes do be taking way too long. Stop monologuing bro no one has time for that

Kind of really don't care about his angst like sir this is literally a wendys you're in space being weird comes with the fucking job now sit down

He literally was never issued the protocols of a father JACK YOU MADE THAT CHOICE FOR HIM WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU

"Futility" jack thought he did something huh 💀💀💀

Jack listen to your mother pls i am begging

Why is Beverly just standing there you people are so lame she can literally do so much more than this

Why are these people just allowed into Shaw's ready room whenever tf

Got distracted trying to figure out why the Borg Cube didn't look like a lone Borg Cube but

MMMMMMMMM ENT-F SHIP P*RN WITH FIREWORKS MY FAVOURITE

My mom casually watching with me: OMG IS THIS DATA? :D why is his face no longer gold? :D

DID THEY FUCKING ASSIMILATE RAFFI LMAOOOOOO IM DOWNING THE BOTTLE

wait hold on lemme watch

Speaking of Raffi where tf is she

Oh hey Seven ❤️

THE BORG 🐸🐸🐸 giggling

Bro wtf is going in at Borg HQ

Can't believe you have a literal xB on board and instead of turning to her for help you just give her a headache

Ngl the youngins being assimilated gives huge boomer energy

Bro I can't w yall stop being so unserious

Doesn't escape my notice that everyone on the Titan bridge who's assimilated is a poc 🐸

meanwhile every sober/unassimilated person is white. sure. nice. wonderful. amazing.

We get it you want to please the Star Trek Discovery haters why tf are you like this

grease monkey activate!!!

Sorry i had a minor breakdown over the fact that gen z and poc are synonymous for hive minded enemies in their eyes

sure the villains can be so diverse that white people aren't the villains but the heroes are majority white

sorry for salty

rip shaw

giggled over Saffi i'm going back to rewatch it later

It's the fact that Raffi never intended to leave in the first place for me

"Not a chance" should i make this the new tag for this dumbass ship because i cry every time

aw enterprise <3

deanna yelling at worf <3

In conclusion, I leave you this review from my dad:

"How the hell are they going to fly that big ship with 7 people?"

#very long very deep sigh #salt level: dead sea #reaction #star trek picard #picard spoilers #s3e9

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kayforpay · 6 months

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damara harsh momdom on alternia boytroll of choice?

Although he would never admit it, would never mention it to anyone but another highblood, Gamzee liked when lowblooded trolls didn't kneel and cower in respect. He liked when they snapped at him, like his sweet little palemate would, or when they brushed his comments off, like Tavros would. He would never tell anyone, because even he wasn't so stupid he would commit social suicide just after some of his friends had barely welcomed him onto the new planet.

So, the Beforans were exciting. They were exciting in the dreambubbles, but it was different on this new planet, in this time when things were just coming together. Most of them didn't want to talk with him much, which he understood, but Damara was... If not amicable, she talked to him. Most of her game didn't want to talk to her, and he didn't ask why. Not like he had room to talk, when Karkat was arguing about him even being allowed to be alive every other day.

She was friendly, in a way. Playfully insulting, calling him little boy and clownie. It made his pusher skip a beat.

The most shocking thing, though, was that she moved first. Gamzee liked to take his time before making a move; he had met Karkat when they were both two and a half sweeps old, and hadn't suggested pale until they were four (he thought about it almost immediately, but he didn't want to rush). But with Damara, the second time he came to his hive to smoke nip and ignore him, she shoved him to the floor and climbed on top of him.

At that point, he stopped trying to act like he wasn't into it, into her treating him like he wasn't anything special, since she obviously realized anyway. Once he admitted it, with her hand tangled in his hair while he half-sobbed into the pillows on his couch and she fucked him hard enough he almost bruised, she came over more often.

"No labels. I don't want to get attached again." Damara said, every time. He could live with it.

The other thing, much more surprising, was that she didn't even blink when he begged her to let him call her mommy. It was weird, something he learned from the humans, of all people, but he couldn't stop himself from wanting it. And, as a nice bonus, she never complained. If she didn't like something, she told him, and he never asked for it again.

"Please." He breathed. He twitched, hands curled into fists on his knees. She was slouched on the couch, eyes on her phone. Well, he assumed they were. Her knee was over his shoulder, her skirt over his head. She scratched his horn, and he whimpered, oversensitive. "Mommy, please. Please."

She had, easy as anything, stripped her panties off as soon as she walked in, dropping them lazily on the floor, and directed he kneel in front of her. Now, as disgusting as the thought made him feel, he could smell her nook, but wasn't allowed to move. "Why should I?" A video started playing on her phone, and he whined.

"I'll be good. I'll do so good, mommy, please." He shivered, leaned forward by an inch, and she flicked his horn. "Please, please, please, pl--"

Damara's hand in his hair pulled him back fast enough he got dizzy, and then the pain hit him and he whined. "Stop begging like that. Did you even seal paint?" Her eyes traced the barely-covered scars on his face slowly, and he struggled not to cover his face.

"Yes, mommy. Sorry, 'm sorry." He was whining, and crept his hand forward to wrap around her ankle, his wrist resting on the top of her foot. "I'm just, I'm so fuckin', I need it, please."

For a second, Damara looked thoughtful, as though she was going to just leave; and maybe she would, it wasn't like Gamzee was about to try and keep her without her permission. They weren't anything. "Fine. Do good and I'll let you spill." Her hand stayed tangled in his hair, and he barely had a second to think before she shoved his face against her nook.

He dropped his jaw, licking into her nook with a moan. His hand slid up her calf, to hold her thigh, and let himself focus on her taste and her deep, low voice as she told him he was a good boy. It made the skin on his head feel like it was crawling, in a strangely pleasant way, as well as her nails scratching over it. His bulge writhed angrily in his pants, but he ignored it. She would just get annoyed if he did anything with it.

Damara's bulge twisted against his cheek, over his lips while he pressed the flat of his tongue against her pleasurenub. Her moans were starting to get louder, more genuine than reactive, and he shuffled closer to chase them. This was, after all, the closest he had ever gotten to kissing her, and the more he did it, the more he wanted to kiss her.

Maybe he would ask her for it later, if he got a reward.

Time lost all meaning when he was with Damara, when she was easily, happily bending him to her will, so he jumped and almost stopped what he was doing when her foot pressed against his bulge. She pressed hard enough that it hurt, but not so hard he wanted her to stop, and once he was used to it, he rolled his hips against the pressure anyway.

"Good little slut. So good for mommy." She cooed, curling some of his hair behind his ear. Her voice was warm, resonating in his skull, and he shook as he spilled, so suddenly he couldn't even try to stop it. "Oh?"

He whimpered, and tried to keep licking her nook, but she pulled him back, the same hand that had been so soothing just a moment before pulling his scalp away from his skull. "N-no, please, I'm sorry, please, mommy." He could feel tears burning at the corners of his eyes.

"You're sorry? You made a mess, slut." Damara's voice was steely, and she pressed against his bulge again. "Clean it. Now."

Gamzee sniffled and blinked tears down his cheeks as he nodded, leaning down to wipe his material off her foot. It wasn't that bad, but he had messed up, and now she would never want to kiss him, he knew it.

"No. Mouth." She said, curt. Her glare was withering on the way he clutched his shirt in his fist, until he dropped it, and nearly laid on the floor to reach. "Show how sorry you are."

The rust of her prematerial smeared, mixed with the purple of his, as he licked the side of her foot. He had done worse, of course, and knew that she was probably cleaner than he was, but it felt different to have her over him. Her bulge pushed her skirt up, without his mouth to occupy it, and he had to look away. It didn't take much, since his switch back to sweats after the game saved him from the strangely thin material of his god-tier fit, but he was still face down, panting like a dog at the end of it.

"Good boy. Come up." She barely finished speaking before he was following her order, crawling into her lap with another muted sob. She wiped, carefully, the tears off his face, and pressed two fingers into his mouth. "Good. You did good. You want a kiss?"

He whined, nodding around the fingers in his mouth. Damara grinned, leaned forward, and spat into his mouth, ending it with a drag of her tongue over his top lip.

"Do better next time, then."

#thnks fr th qstns #anon and on and on and on #drabbles #damzee #gamara #?#damara megido #gamzee makara #mommymara

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vikkirosko · 1 year

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♊ Psiioniic x fuchsiablood!Reader Oneshot Runaway Princess 💛

You spent your whole life in your underwater hive, which was more like a palace. It was far from your choice. The Empress has been in space for a long time and captured planets, but you knew that when the time came, she would come back to fight you. You saw how the heiress who was before you died and you didn't want to die. You dreamed of living a full life. You wanted to travel, you wanted to make Alternia better, you wanted to meet other trolls. You wanted to meet your matesprite. But for this it was necessary to leave the hive. You took the time to prepare for this, but finally you could escape and go free. You left the ocean hiding yourself under a hooded cloak. You couldn't let anyone see you, especially you weren't supposed to be seen by Dualscar. He was a loyal servant of Condesce and if he found out that you had escaped, he would catch you and send you back to your hive. You walked barefoot through the streets, not afraid of difficulties. However, in the first city you got into trouble, though not through your fault. In this city, the rebels staged their performance in the square. You heard about them from Dualscar and according to him they were one of the main enemies of the empress, but looking at the troll who spoke, wanting to convey his thought to others, you could not see him as an enemy. But you were forced to hide when you saw the highbloods approaching, about to arrest them. That day you went unnoticed and were sure that you would not see them again. But at the market, when you were going to buy some food for yourself, you saw how goldblood troll tried to bargain and buy bread cheaper, but it didn't work out. You watched this for a few minutes, after which you approached him and the seller.

"I will pay for this bread and for a couple more loaves of bread separately"

They both looked at you in surprise. You were shorter than goldblood troll and neither he nor the merchant expected that you had money.

"1 d0n'7 kn0w wh0 y0u 4r3, 8u7 y0u d0n'7 n33d 7h15"

You smiled at him.

"I just want to help a little, you won't owe me anything"

You gave the money to the merchant and gave him a large bag of bread, taking a small one for yourself. The troll looked at you with a slight frown, and then spoke.

"7h4nk y0u"

You just smiled at him, intending to say goodbye and leave, but the screams made you freeze in fright.

"Grab them!"

You didn't have time to react as goldblood troll grabbed your hand and ran. You could barely keep up with him. You ran until you disappeared on the outskirts of the city, in a small alley. You were both trying to catch your breath. You felt like your legs were buzzing and your heart was pounding. You couldn't control your emotions and laughed. Troll looked at you and froze. It was only after a couple of seconds that you realized that the reason for this was that your hood was falling off, allowing him to see who you were. You hurried to put the hood back on, but he already managed to see what you were trying to hide.

"Wh0 4r3 y0u?.."

There was no threat in his voice, but you understood that how this troll would treat you depended on your answer.

"I am an heiress... But I don't want to hurt anyone, honestly! All I want is a peaceful and peaceful life... I ran away and I just want to get as far away as possible, to a place where they won't look for me..."

You lowered your eyes.

"50 7h3 run4w4y pr1nc355..."

He looked at you thoughtfully.

"C0m3 0n, pr1nc355, y0u h3lp3d m3 4nd 1'll h3lp y0u, 1n7r0duc3 y0u 70 50m30n3 wh0 can h3lp y0u"

"I have a name... I (Y/N)..."

"4nd 1'm M17un4, l37'5 g0 pr1nc355, w3 n33d 70 m4k3 17 83f0r3 5unr153"

He took you by the hand again, leading you further away from the city. You understood that maybe he was deceiving you, but you wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that this meeting was not accidental.

#homestuck #homestuck x reader #homestuck oneshots #Psiioniic #Psiioniic x Reader

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p-artsypants · 5 months

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Paint it Black (8) Finding

Robin disappeared three months ago. Now, Jump City's crime rate is mysteriously being taken care of by a normal, albeit strange, teenage boy who goes by the name Black. As the Titans befriend this lunatic, they begin to see a correlation between him and their missing leader. Will they be able to find Robin, or will Black turn them all insane as himself? [Actually, does not contain an OC]

Ao3 | FF.net

Starfire and Black diligently worked in his room. Starfire set up a card table and some chairs. She spread her supplies out and allowed him to use what he wanted.

Black sang a sad and eerie song, as if it was a jaunty tune, complete with a small smile and little head bobs. “That there, that's not me. I go where I please. I walk through walls, I float down the Liffey. I'm not here.”

Starfire glanced at him, goosebumps prickling up on her skin.

“This isn't happening. I'm not here. I'm not here.”

“Your voice is most soothing. Do you enjoy singing?”

He looked at her confused. “Singing? Nah, I don’t sing.”

“But you were just––”

“Hey, look what I made!” He grinned, and held his project up to his face. It was a mask reminiscent of Robin’s, but instead of plain black, it was colored with crayons and had glitter on it. “Guess who I am? Wah wah wah Justice!”

The mask went up in embers as Starfire incinerated it with the eye beams. “That was neither flattering, nor amusing.”

“Hey!” He protested, gathering the little pieces left. “I worked hard on that!”

“Perhaps you should learn the art of, how Jinx would say, ‘reading the room’.”

Black looked around. “There’s no words in here, though.”

“I do not like mockery of my friends, especially my Robin.”

He tilted his head. “Your Robin? Oh! Were you guys a ‘thing’? What are they called, courting buddies?”

She looked downcast. “No, we were not. We were only good friends.”

“Then…he’s not really yours then, is he?”

She scowled at Black. “He had my heart, and still possesses it, wherever he is. Your flagrant disregard of this fact is cruel.”

He pooched his lips. “Golly Gee, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I was only trying to understand.”

“To put it in a way, he was my most trusted friend and advisor. He explained many things to me when I did not understand.”

“Like you’re doing for me?”

“I suppose you are correct. Your amnesia has put me in a place I was dependent on before.” She huffed, still upset. “I would prefer if we did not speak of Robin. It hurts my heart.”

“Okay okay,” he rolled his eyes.

“Star,” Cyborg called from the communicator. “Gizmo just arrived with the last video. Wanna see?”

“I do not know if I want to see it, but I need to. I shall be there momentarily.”

Black watched as she rose from the table. “Where ya going?”

“There has been…a break in the case with Robin. I am going to the ops room. Would you like to come?”

“Nah. I’m gonna keep working.”

All the better, Starfire thought bitterly. She was trying to be forgiving and friendly with Black, but knowledge of his deeds and seeing his actions in person made it hard.

Yes, he needed help, but perhaps the Titans were not the ones that should give it to him.

Starfire entered the ops room, spying Gizmo sitting on the couch with a soda. A Dr. Pepper. Those were Robin’s.

But she just silently took her place.

“Okay,” Raven acknowledged. “Where’s Black?”

“In his room,” Starfire said shortly. “He has hurt my feelings, and so I will leave him to his business.”

“Black? You mean the weird goth wannabe superhero we talked about last time? He lives here now?! Of course, what am I saying! You fart knockers take in whatever stray ‘hero’ you can find.”

“Is that not what the Hive does with villains?” Raven quirked a brow.

“UH. The HIVE is a school for supervillains. Totally different thing!”

“Sure, Gizmo.”

Beast Boy shifted into a cat once more and sat beside Star, knowing she appreciated the comfort he gave.

“Y’all ready?”

“The first two seconds got trimmed,” Gizmo explained. “That’s where the corruption was. The rest looked like it worked fine, but I only scrubbed it.”

“Thank you Gizmo,” Starfire said softly.

“Oh…yeah. Don’t mention it.”

When the video started, the camera was at an odd angle, mostly aimed at the ceiling, but they could see the top of the wall, and the underside of a face. The left side. Black hair, still the same gaunt cheeks and dark veins that stood out on his skin.

“Shall we start?...Just like we practiced…what did we practice for?...Because we’re sending it to our friends, stupid!”

“He’s…talking to himself,” Raven grimaced.

“I do not understand,” Starfire breathed. “That is Robin’s voice, and that is his face…but it is not.”

“So is it Robin or not?” Gizmo asked. “It’s one or the other!”

“I won't run away no more, I promise,” Robin’s chilling voice sang.

“There is something very wrong with him,” Starfire explained. “Some of the words he speaks, it is like a different person.”

“Like a person talking with a puppet,” Raven agreed.

“Even when I get bored, I promise. Even when you lock me out, I promise. I say my prayers every night, I promise.” There was heavy sorrow lacing his words, but he giggled at the end. “Yes, yes, that was good. They’ll like that!...You remember the next one?...Of course!” He tottled away from the camera, the top of his head coming into view every few frames or so. He was dancing. “I resent you calling. I resent your voice. I resent that I don't have a choice.” He was really getting into the song, and singing loudly and proudly. Not all the notes were right, but he had joy in his voice. “And yes I am! Yes I am!” He backed up, the back of his head and shoulders in view. He was wearing a hospital gown, so the skin of his back was exposed, and covered in marks.

Beast Boy shifted back into a boy, and stared at the video. He already had the first part of the message figured out.

“I think I've told you once, I think I needed advice. You were such a help, that's very nice. I think I've been here before…Yes I've been here before. But this time I kick down your door!” That last note was outrageously sour as he dissolved into playing the air guitar, complete with singing the notes he was pretending to play, “WWEEEE WWAANN WWAAAAHHH!” Then he started laughing as he dropped his arms. The laughter faded until he was just standing there.

“That was excessive…oh lighten up, would you? We sang it! We rocked it!...it doesn’t have to be a good performance…Why are you like this?...because you’re a massive doo-doo head and no one likes you!” He chuckled, before his shoulders dropped. “Okay,” he turned partially toward the camera. “Last one. Make it count.”

He started bobbing his head as he closed his eyes. His voice was soft, slightly seductive. “Troubled words of a troubled mind, I try to understand what is eating you. I try to stay awake, but it's 58 hours since that I last slept with you.” He started bouncing on his feet. “What are we coming to? I just don't know anymore. Blame it on the black star! Blame it on the falling sky! Blame it on the satellite that beams me home…”

Beast Boy let out a gasp of horror, “dude…”

“What?!”

He didn’t answer, just continued to watch it all unfold.

Robin was moving in a slow sway, his arms up. “I get on the train and I just stand about, now that I don't think of you. I keep falling over, I keep passing out when I see a face like you. What am I coming to? I'm gonna melt down…”

He started air guitaring again, putting his whole body into the song. “Blame it on the black star! Blame it on the falling sky! Blame it on the satellite that beams me home!” He threw his arms out to the side and screamed the last two lines. “This is killing me! This is killing me!”

The door on the other end of the room opened, but the group could only hear it.

“Having fun?” Said a new voice.

“Oh a lot! So so much!”

“I think you’re ready to graduate, Patient 8.”

“Yes! I knew it!” He whipped around towards the camera, fiddling with it to turn it off, but before the video ended, they all got a perfect shot of his face. Wild eyes, a meaty smile, and a horrible, bloody wound that tore through his right cheek, shoddily stitched and weeping.

When the footage went black, no one could move. No one breathed.

“BB…?” Cyborg asked in a tiny voice. “Did you get…?”

“Yeah,” Beast Boy breathed. “I Promise…Yes I am…Black Star.”

The door to the ops room swooshed open, and they all turned to look.

Black stood in the doorway, wearing another crudely made mask. “Hey guys, guess who I am?!”

---

A playlist of all the songs sung in this fic is available here. *Mickey Mouse Voice* It's a secret clue that will help us later!

#fanfiction #teen titans #tt animated series #robin #starfire #robstar #dick grayson #dickkory #koriand'r #kori anders #paint it black

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zalia · 1 year

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Fanfic Self-Rec Challenge!

I got tagged by @anneapocalypse to rec 5 of my own fics! Forged in Wrath and Ruin (Destiny) - EMBRACE ME, LIGHTBEARER, AND BE A GOD OF DEATH. When Osiris never returns from investigating Xivu Arath and Hive activity on the Tangled Shore, Saint takes it upon himself to find him. There is a threat growing on the Shore, turning people into monsters that think only of bloodshed. Saint finds himself working with a young Lightbearer loaned to him by the Spider to unravel this insidious darkness, and hopefully recover Osiris before he is lost.

[This one is forever going to be special to me because *damn* first multi-chapter fic I ever finished! Most plotty fic I ever finished! I am so damn proud of it and still wrangling the sequel which is uh... longer ^^;]

Falcon’s Chase (Destiny) - “He has eyes for you, Osiris,” Felwinter says. Saint has been bringing Osiris food and little gifts, but this is surely something that Saint does for everyone, or maybe a sign that the Titan pities him. Or perhaps a sign that Osiris is allowing his fear to overwhelm his judgement. [First time writing Felwinter, and starting to really poke into the idea of Osiris as neurodivergent and doing an actual get-together fic!] The Erotic Adventures series (The Magnus Archives) - Sex, Jonathan Sims had decided a long time ago, was confusing. This obviously meant that further research was required. During the course of that research he has managed to acquire one (1) boyfriend (Martin, who he adores), one (1) play partner-slash-dom-slash-relationship counsellor (Elias, smug but extremely competent and discreet, with high standards), and a rather good way of making his brain be quiet for longer than a few minutes. Now Martin is staying over at his house, Elias has invited them both to dinner, and Peter thinks it's all rather amusing. [My 50K 3-part epic exploration of asexuality and BDSM which is extremely personal and important to me.] Advanced Memetics (Destiny) - You’d always expected the end to come in a flash of blinding revelation. Instead it begins with... nothing really. A song that hums at the back of your skull, as the red flowers and leaves begin to lap at the walls of the Last City. [Sometimes I just want to write what I call ‘weird experimental theatre’ fics. This is one of them. Written very soon after Witch Queen came out - so much of the imagery and lore in it was incredibly evocative.] A Matter Of Trust (Destiny) - It had been Osiris's Light that had taken him to Mercury, all those years ago. It makes a twisted sort of sense that it is the Darkness that brings him to the frigid wastes and ruins of Europa. He had never thought of himself as someone who sought power, and yet here he is, seeking out the pyramid and the Darkness that lies within it. [Written during Season of the Haunted. Everyone gets therapy! I also got really invested in the friendship between Eris and Osiris - especially now Osiris is Ghostless.]

#fanfic meme #destiny 2 #destiny the game #the magnus archives #destiny osiris #jonathan sims

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ase-trollplays · 1 year

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It Happened So Suddenly (Part two)

Part one

Part three

It’s been six perigees since the night you allowed the cloaked stranger to stay with you. She told you her name was Yarrow Celfie, and she actually wasn’t a bad hiveguest. She only stayed with you about a week that night you met her, but every few perigees she shows up again. Thankfully she doesn’t come in through the window anymore (Which you now check at least three times a night to make sure it’s locked).

That first week, you and your lusus made sure at least one of you was watching her at all times unless she was using the bathroom. You’re extremely relieved she figured out the toilet on her own. You also showed her how the shower works, which she was absolutely floored by. It was actually kind of funny seeing her reaction.

Then she asked if you were going to join her since in her clan everyone bathes together, and you got embarrassed and sputtered that city trolls don’t do that. Which she thought was funny, so you’re even.

She kept writing in some kind of journal, but when you asked about it or tried to sneak a look she immediately hid it. Word of what happened that night spread through the fanbase like wild fire, and there were already memes filling your reddit and twitter feed only one night later.

You were relieved when she eventually went back to her clan. Having another person in your hive to keep an eye on wreaked havoc on your schedule, and she was all anyone wanted to talk about even a week after she left. Eventually, though, things went back to normal, and you all but forgot about her.

Then she came back for the second time two perigees later, though this time she knocked on the window. You were editing the latest “Try Not to Laugh” video you finished recording about half an hour ago. When you heard her at the window, you were surprised to see her again. You decided to let her in but told her to knock on the front door next time. You didn’t want your neighbors gossiping about you letting people in through the window.

Your lusus was practically glued to her much like he was the first time she stayed, but you were a little more lax. You even invited her to say hi to your fans, which she declined. You didn’t mind much, but your fans were disappointed.

That time around, you taught her how to use your old palmhusk. The bottom corner or the screen was cracked, so you couldn’t trade it in when you bought your new phone. It still worked, so you just had the number on it changed and gave it to Yarrow since apparently she was going to be a recurring guest.

She didn’t understand how any of the apps worked, but texting and calling went much better. By the time she was ready to leave again, she was basically a pro at it! ... Well, sort of. Okay not really at all, but she was getting there.

Now it’s her third time visiting, her last visit having been four perigees ago, and you find yourself actually looking forward to seeing her. This time around she actually joins you in a video, and your fanbase goes nuts. Within the hour there’s shipping art and memes with the two of you. Yarrow asks you what they mean, but you simply tell her your fans are being dorks.

Unlike the last two times, however, she doesn’t simply leave after about a week or so. She wants to take you to her home in the forest since you’ve been so nice teaching her about the city.

This is not a request. You’re going.

You spend the next two weeks roughing it in the middle of nowhere, and it’s easily the worst two weeks of your life. You spend the whole time sweaty and dirty and jonesing for internet access like an alcoholic going through withdrawal. There’s so many bugs, and every night you wake up with something crawling in your clothes whether it’s ants or a beetle or, on one occasion, a snake. Washing up in the lake is disgusting. All you can think about is all the fish poop and animal backwash you’re wading in.

Oh God, and the undead are worse out here than in the city. Yarrow’s cave is dank and dark, but the undead don’t go near it for whatever reason so it’s the best place to be. You can’t sleep well out here, and waking up during the day and hearing the groaning and shambling of the mindless undead is incredibly unnerving.

In short, you hate it here.

“You need to toughen up, Hyleem! You’re as soft as a newborn wriggler,” Yarrow teases as she guts a large creature she hunted. You can’t bear to watch, so you stand several feet away with your back facing her. Sure, you know where meat comes from and all, but you prefer it already butchered and neatly packaged so you don’t have to think about where it comes from.

“I’m not soft! I’m plenty tough! This place just sucks!” you complain and grumble under your breath. On paper it makes perfect sense she’d want to show you how she lives since you showed her how you live. However, you live surrounded by convenience and ease, and she lives completely off the land with all the difficulty that comes with it. You miss your hive.

“You should be watching so you can learn better survival skills,” she chides. You look back at her and shudder.

“Noooo thank you! Even getting over how disgusting that is, do you know how hard it is to eat something after seeing it alive first?? I might do the vegan thing after this,” you whine, but you know you’re still going to eat it. Honestly, fresh meat tastes better than the stuff in the store, but the trapping, killing, and carving you have to do to get it isn’t worth it.

Once your impromptu camping trip to Hell is over with and you’re back home, you pray she never makes you do that again.

#things to read #Hyleem Merker #not as good as the first one imp #but still a nice little read c:#Stones And Stereos

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raitrolling · 1 year

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Quiet

[Easy reading version on Toyhou.se]

Eichio was returning home tonight. It was partially his decision and partially Mister Espino’s, who was kind enough to allow Eichio to stay over during this whole debacle with his lusus, but felt that it would be best for him to take some time away from work to get back into a better headspace. For once the yellowblood agreed to take time off, but not without some negotiation: He needed to be away from the mansion for a week at minimum (his boss wanted more), and then he could return whenever he felt ready.

Eichio already felt ready to come back to work, but he couldn’t disobey his boss. And maybe he was trying to use work as a distraction.

He dutifully tidied up the room he had been staying in, but he had no possessions he needed to take with him. His departure from his hive was a spur of the moment decision, so Mister Espino had gone out to buy him some toiletries and extra clothes for him which could be kept at the mansion in case he ever needed to return. His boss had also admitted that he had investigated the hive a couple times while Eichio was away: Once out of curiosity where he first discovered someone had broken in and his lusus had mysteriously disappeared, and a second time with Gerrel to properly investigate the scene of the crime. He had informed Eichio that he had bought him a new lock for the front door as the intruder had busted it (but had not had time to replace the broken one), and also he made sure to pour the milk stored in the fridge down the sink before it could expire. Knowing that Mister Espino had been aware of the situation for so long didn’t sit right with Eichio, but he understood the logic behind it.

He even got a hug from Gerrel as he was on his way out - which, while unusual, wasn’t unwelcome. He didn’t say anything, and Eichio wasn’t sure if he did it out of sympathy or obligation, but the sentiment came across all the same. He thanked his co-worker for the support, and then quietly turned and left so he could go back to work. He’ll probably need as little distractions as possible to keep up with the workload while the yellowblood is away.

The walk back to his hive felt both quiet and alien, and staring up at the building up in the treetops felt lonelier than ever. He climbed up the rope ladder the same way he has hundreds of times before, and felt the anxiety building up in his gut. By the time he placed his hand on the doorknob, he was already trembling. He knew his lusus would not be there to greet him, was he dreading seeing the truth with his own eyes, or did he always feel this nervous to be home without fully comprehending it?

There was no sound of wings flapping or talons scraping against the wooden floors or birdlike screeches when Eichio opened the door. There were no blood splatters or loose feathers, either, just a layer of dust along the furniture that would be imperceptible to anyone not conditioned to make their living space spotless. It was as if the hybrid creature who raised him never existed at all. Its lack of presence was palpable, yet somehow, it felt easier to breathe. The absence of noise and fury, but also the absence of fear and dread. Eichio stood in the doorway for a long moment, taking in every nook and cranny of the room, making sure everything clicked as his new reality.

Strangely, while the hive had not been cleaned since he was last here, all the flowers indoors and out on the balcony appear to have been looked after. He wondered if Mister Espino had been watering the plants as well.

He pushed the wooden wedge up against the door with his foot to keep it open, and began his usual routine of opening every curtain and window in the room to let in the fresh air. The inside of the hive was stuffy, but not stiflingly so. With each window opened, Eichio would look over his shoulder, expecting to see his lusus there waiting to lecture him about a chore he had not completed correctly before leaving for work. Of course, there was nothing there, and he felt a paradoxical wave of grief but also a release of tension in his shoulders. His hands were no longer shaking.

Is this how the atmosphere of a hive is supposed to feel? He knew there was something missing, and he felt awful about why that void now exists, but it’s all so… Quiet.

He headed over the kitchen to check the fridge. Sure enough, the carton of milk was gone and had not been replaced. The rest of the fridge was relatively bare, some vegetables in the crisper that he had intended to use in the meals he planned out the other week, a tub of butter, a carton of eggs, and various drinks to be used as mixers whenever he practiced his bartending skills. The pantry tended to fare much better, filled with staples that could be used to throw together a quick meal that takes as little preparation and ingredients as possible because-

What do you think you’re doing? You’ve been home for five minutes and you’re already dodging responsibilities? This hive isn’t going to clean itself!

Of course, those words are solely in Eichio’s head, because the one who normally told him that is no longer alive. He instinctively flinched at the thought, but then it dawned on him that he won’t be forced to prioritise his lusus’ many tasks over his own needs anymore. He could eat whenever he wanted. He could sleep whenever he wanted. He could even wear whatever clothes he wanted without his lusus chastising him for looking ‘unprofessional’. It would be just like how he lived at Mister Espino’s hive (with even more freedom, as his boss would still look for him to make sure he was eating enough every night), or how Gerrel talked about his hive life.

He grabbed a couple ingredients from the pantry - a bottle of olive oil, a bulb of garlic, a small jar of chilli flakes, and a handful of spaghetti noodles - retrieved a bag of grated parmesan from the fridge, and began bringing a pot of water to boil to prepare something to eat. He’d never gotten this opportunity to cook so early into the night for just himself, and it was around the time most trolls would normally be eating dinner.

As he sat at the dining table with his bowl of pasta, he thought of what still needed to be done. He needed to dust and polish all the furniture, most obviously, then clean all the windows, vacuum and sweep the floors (redundant, but that was what his lusus always wanted), clean the bathroom (but he hasn’t used it in over a week so it should only be dusty, right?), wash the bedsheets and swap the pillows and duvet with manchester that had fresh sopor (again, he hasn’t slept here in over a week), and… That’s it. He could do it all tonight, but then what would he do for the rest of the week? And even with spreading out all the chores over a couple days, how else is he supposed to fill his new-found free time?

He could visit friends, since that privilege was recently taken away from him by his lusus. He could spend time brainstorming the best way to repay Mister Espino for his kindness without his lusus accusing him of ‘slacking off’ by not actively working on something. He could even-

God, what was he thinking? He almost choked on his forkful of pasta. All this talk about freedom, meanwhile his lusus is still dead. That is precisely why he’s free. How could he be so selfish, so quickly? Gliese said she killed his lusus because of what it was doing to him, as if she was doing him a favour. To be entertaining these thoughts so freely was sickening, and he could no longer enjoy the half-eaten meal left in the bowl. He can’t bring himself to agree with someone who acted so cruelly for no good reason.

Gliese said that his lusus was never going to change, and that was why he had to die. Mister Espino said that the animosity would cool down in time, and his lusus may learn to appreciate him more after a period of separation. Gerrel said his home life was not normal, and a loving lusus would not act this way. His lusus said that it did everything because it wanted the best for him. Everyone did what they thought was best for him, but none of it made him feel good.

He’d spent the last few weeks wondering if he ever felt good in the first place.

His thoughts had circled around from dreading seeing his empty hive, to considering the freedom this empty hive now brought him, and back to dreading the freedom because the hive was so empty. He knew he had to get himself out of this conflict loop so he could start moving on like he’s supposed to, but he didn’t know where to start. He couldn’t listen to his heart like his boss had told him when the heart has no idea what it wants. All he could do was think.

And there was much for Eichio to think about: How to fill the void and the silence his lusus left behind, what to think about the advice and motives behind every one he knew who was personally involved with the matters of his lusus, and how to pick himself up and start feeling okay again. But most importantly, how to make this empty hive feel once again like his own home.

#drabble #eichio maccau #plot: ripple effect #with mentions of #viltau espino #otamatart #butler royale #and that's the end of that plot!#ei's got Stuff to think about now but also has some more freedom. good for him

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upalldown · 8 months

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The Hives - The Death Of Randy Fitzsimmons

Sixth studio album and first in eleven years from the Swedish garage rockers

8/13

If you’ve been angry at the existence of terrible sleaze-rock bands like Greta Van Fleet and Måneskin, the one band you have to blame is The Hives. Where once their brand of hard-rockin’ cartoonishness kept the pale imitators at bay, an 11-year absence followed their last album, Lex Hives. This opened the door for bands that might not have been trying to copy The Hives, but they certainly occupied a space that they might have dominated, had the Swedish garage-rockers been around to do that domination themselves. Where did The Hives go? It’s hard to say — maybe it’s because their brand of rock has fallen to the wayside in popularity. If you ask frontman Howlin’ Pelle Almqvist, though, they didn’t stop rockin’ because it was uncool to do so, but the other way around: “I’m just saying that The Hives don’t release a record for 10 years, [and] rock becomes completely unpopular. Coincidence? We think not.”

Maybe, though, it’s because the world has just gotten less fun to be in. Rockin’ in the free world doesn’t pack quite the punch when the world feels less “free,” and feels more “permanently dystopian.” It’s as though Almqvist and the Hives knew that the only antidote they could formulate was a stronger version of the one they began perfecting 30 years ago — which is why it was time for Randy Fitzsimmons to die, giving fresh purpose to a dormant hellbeast of a band. Longtime followers of Hives lore know that their new album, The Death of Randy Fitzsimmons, refers to the man who got the band together in the first place and wrote all of their lyrics. Following his death, a mystery spurned on by the poem that served as Fitzsimmons’ death announcement led the band to exhume his fresh grave — only to find “not a body but instead several tapes, suits, and of paper bearing the words ‘The Death of Randy Fitzsimmons’ typed up as if a title. An instruction to make more music without him, but it’s also a dick move. It’s kind of an asshole thing to do, to keep us in the dark if he’s actually alive.”

If you’re new to The Hives, reading the above paragraph may have your head spinning a little bit — what kind of band creates a character, kills him, announces that his death was actually maybe faked, and labels that character as a dickhead for doing it? — but if you’ve kept an eye on the band in any capacity since “Walk Idiot Walk” blazed into the airwaves 20 years ago, this kind of goofiness shouldn’t be surprising. Excellently-named opener “Bogus Operandi” should tell you everything you need to know about the first Hives album in 11 years: towering riffs that shred effortlessly, all culminating in Almqvist’s first line: “SHIT! Damn! I overslept!” The following 30 minutes is a wild ride that rarely lets up, and the fact that track two, “Trapdoor Solution,” is even more of a fast-paced ripper feels like the band’s way of saying, “strap the fuck in.” Every song that follows knows exactly what it wants to do, and it accomplishes it as quickly as possible — even if it results in short, killer numbers like “Rigor Mortis Radio” and “The Bomb.” None of these songs leave you wanting for more — “Trapdoor Solution” is 63 seconds long — but they’re all seriously satisfying.

Much like fellow Swedish sleaze-maestros Viagra Boys, who took the great work The Hives did and ran as far as they could with it, this is a band that is at their best when they’re making boneheaded music that comes served with a wink to the camera. You can’t make this kind of music unless you throw yourself into it, like a wrestler’s kayfabe, except the magic continues even though we know damn well that guitarist’s given name isn’t Vigilante Carlstroem. This allows them to write nihilistic stompers like “Stick Up,” in which Almqvist reckons with the brutal cruelty of life itself, and then, one song later, delivers a shockingly uplifting shout-along chorus like “In the morning, they’ll be dead and gone/ Lift your chin and soldier on/ It’s just smoke and mirrors, baby, knockin’ on your beat-up brain.” A band like Måneskin could have written a song that sounds like “Crash Into the Weekend,” but only The Hives could have made it feel somehow fresh and exciting with its huge guitars and clapping rhythms, its repetitive lyrics infecting you with every fresh listen. None of these songs are revelatory — they’re all big dumb rock songs, so dumb that “Two Kinds of Trouble” comes right out and states that its central thesis came to Almqvist when he was six years old, and it doesn’t even sound out of place — but each of them is a precision weapon that was meant to elicit the biggest reaction when they get the chance to play them in front of people.

For as much as they put into the high-concept tomfoolery within the background of the album, it’s inessential to your listening experience — all you need to know is that they invented a narrative reason for the band to roar back into life, and that the end result is a high-octane return-to-form for a band that turned their hard-rock-sleaze kayfabe into something just as glorious as what they managed to conjure up in their heyday. The world has changed considerably since Lex Hives, to the point where the mere announcement of Randy Fitzsimmons felt like a blast from the past, forcing us to reckon with a simple question: “do we even need a new Hives album?” If The Hives asked themselves this question, we should be nothing but grateful that they came to a simpler answer: “fuck yeah, we absolutely do!”

youtube

#the hives #the death of randy fitzsimmons #music #Youtube

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umbra-by-jacqui-natla · 10 months

Text

Chapter Eleven

Over the last six months, Carrie had been hearing the dark feminine voice more frequently. It did scare her, yet she couldn't help but think she heard it before. Something from her past. Yet she couldn't figure out what it was. She did manage to block the voice out of her head for a while.

She also studied more about symbiosis and the other topics relating to it. From reading papers on the subject to watching YouTube videos. When she took a break from studying, Carrie would go to the Sunset Gym where she did workouts (mostly using treadmills and stationary bikes). She would go there once a week and — on April 13th, 2019 — she was there.

Carrie was in a lightweight pink T-shirt with grey leggings and white trainers. She ran on the treadmill at the speed of eight miles per hour. She felt the sweat trailing her face, cooling herself down. Her heartbeat quickened and she pressed the stop button. The treadmill slowed and her legs returned to their walking pace. After it stopped, Carrie got off it and headed to the lockers. She opened her destined locker and took out her bag and threw it over her shoulder. She locked it and returned the key to the desk before leaving the gym.

The cool spring breeze clashed with her moist face and Carrie smiled at its pleasantness. She turned to the right and saw Eddie. Smiling, she waved at him.

"Hey, Eddie," she said loudly, getting his attention.

Eddie waved at her. "Carrie, what's up?"

Then, she felt a small pinch in her head.

"Just left the gym," she replied, rubbing her temple and trying to massage away the headache. "And you?"

"Questioning everything."

"Let me guess. In the bar again."

"Where else?" Eddie let out a small chuckle.

Carrie laughed. The pain in her head flashed hard and hot. She winced and placed her hand on her forehead.

"Carrie?" Eddie asked, concerned.

"It's fine," she said back firmly. "It's just a headache."

"Yeah, I know that feeling," he muttered and they walked beside each other in silence for a few minutes until he spoke again. "Hey, Carrie. Do you ever feel like your life is like one monumental screwup?"

Carrie sighed. "Literally every time I wake up."

"Really?" he sounded surprised. "I-I mean, I genuinely didn't expect that kind of answer from you."

"Well, there's a lot of things you don't know about me."

"Way to get to the grim side."

Then, she felt her head throbbing. The headache, a familiar electric pain behind her eyes, returned. Carrie shut her eyes and allowed her right hand to rub her forehead. She stopped walking, which made Eddie stop as well, and hunched backward.

"Are you actually okay?" Eddie asked her.

Sleep.

Carrie lost the color of her face. It was as if her heart had suddenly stopped beating and all the blood had run down her boots. She swayed for just a moment before Eddie caught her and lowered her to the ground.

"Shit..." was the last thing she heard from him before she blacked out.

***

"Hey, she's back!"

Carrie shot her eyes open and saw Agar crouching beside her, his black eyes looking down at her. She looked around and realized she was lying on the floor. And she was back in the Hive.

"Son, come here!" she heard Gorr's voice booming across and Agar sprinted, leaving her.

Carrie lifted herself from the ground and began walking through the hallway. As she walked, she squinted her eyes shut so much that she only saw in flashes. She felt the darkness lurking around her and thoughts come flooding through her head. How could she do this? Why would it happen to her and her only? Where was Eddie and was he safe? As she thought more about it, Carrie realized that this was the first time she worried about someone. She wouldn't worry about anyone or anything. No one would care about her.

As she strolled down the hallway, Carrie began to feel a sort of Deja Vu. She continued to walk, more questions asked but still, none to be answered. She began to fill a bit of anticipation, feeling like something will happen but she didn't know where or how or even what would happen.

After she had walked for a bit, Carrie stopped and looked around one of the many walls and spotted the door. Then, it opened and she was greeted by the throne room with the King in her sight. He grinned a horrible toothy grin, it stared right at her with those damned teeth.

"Welcome back, child," he declared with his arms open and lowered back to his side. "After all those time gone by, it's good to see your face again."

"I wish I could say the same," Carrie replied. "And I'm presuming you're the ruler of this place."

"Child... I am Knull. Lord of the Abyss. God of the Symbiotes."

"Symbiotes?"

"The creatures you see and hear here? Those are my creations. My symbiotes."

Carrie silently pondered to herself. She remembered seeing the black goo at the Life Foundation and reading about symbiosis. She wondered if that goo was a symbiote. She looked up at the King.

"Did you bring me here?" She asked.

"In a way," Knull answered her. "Your body is still at your... human home while your astral body is here, at my Hive."

"My... astral body?"

"Humans see you in your human form while I see you like all of my children."

"So... why did you bring me here?"

"To train you, of course." He lifted his index finger and pointed behind her. "See this?"

Carrie turned around and saw the creature — she now knew it was a symbiote — which snarled at her. The familiar fear crept inside her and it slowly approached her.

"I want you to tame it," he commanded, his voice dangerously soft.

"Wh-How?" Carrie asked with an unsure tone, still looking at the symbiote. "I don't-."

"I heard the humans tame the wolves and had them under their control. Think of it as a wolf. Tame it. Influence it."

"You're not telling me how-," Carrie's voice started to get angry.

"Use... Your... Mind," Knull slowly answered yet there was still the authority in his voice.

She stared at the symbiote and thought back to when the men were attacking Maria. How she stared at one of them and how he froze with fear. How they feared her. She thought it could work the same way. Carrie's eyes focused on the symbiote and it charged toward her.

"HALT!" Carrie yelled at it and the creature stopped. She rose her right hand, aiming at it. "DOWN!"

The symbiote screeched, fighting the urge to go down. Raging, Carrie rose her left hand. She took a deep breath and her voice roared.

"ON YOUR KNEES!"

The symbiote fell on its knees, screeching, and its face lowered to the ground with its hands pressing down. Carrie blinked and slowly lowered her hands to her side, astonished by her actions.

"Impressive, child," she heard Knull praising her, her mouth curved into a small smile, and turned around. "I want to see..."

Knull paused.

"See what?" Carrie asked.

He remained silent for a short time before speaking again. "What you are truly capable of. And when the time comes, I want you to be by my side."

"What are you talking about?"

Then, her vision shifted, slowly becoming blurry. It was as if a dark cloud was surrounding her; Carrie stumbled backward.

"I'll talk with you soon," Knull said and everything went black.

Carrie's eyes fluttered open and found herself somewhere completely unfamiliar. She felt her body stiffen, lying on what appeared to be a bed. Everything in the room was bathed in white, from the walls to the blankets on her legs. The only pops of color were the abstract painting on one wall and the dark leather jacket of the man sitting at her bedside.

"Carrie," said Eddie in a slow breath.

She sat up in bed. Her head pounded and she rubbed her eyes.

"What... what happened?" She asked slowly.

"You passed out," he explained. "And you're in the hospital."

"How long was I... Out?"

"About thirty minutes," Eddie sighed. "I thought you were dead."

She turned her head and looked at him. "Sorry I scared you," Carrie muttered, crossing her legs.

"There's no need to apologize," he assured her and scratched his head. "I mean, I was scared but it's because I thought you were—."

There was a knock on the door. They eyed the white door and it opened. Estelle entered the room and saw them. She placed her handbag on the armchair and sauntered to her.

"Carrie," she said, wrapping her arms around her.

"Hey, Estelle," Carrie greeted meekly as she hugged her back. She looked up at Estelle, clearly confused by her presence. "How did—?"

"I phoned you and Eddie answered it," Estelle explained. "He told me what happened and I tried to get out of work as fast as I could."

"Hey, where exactly—?"

Before Eddie could ask, the door opened and a man walked in. He was tall with warm tan skin, dark hair, and brown eyes. He wore a white coat over his red jumper and black pants and shoes. He presented a small smile on his face as he approached the bed. He picked up the clipboard which hung from the bottom bed frame.

"Hello, there, Carrie," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"I-I'm okay," Carrie replied anxiously.

"I'm Dr. Lewis," the man introduced himself, looking at the clipboard. "Is it okay to ask you a few questions?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

Dr. Lewis stood beside her bedside. He had a black pen in his right hand and pointed it at the paper on the clipboard.

"Was this the first time you've fainted?" He asked his first question.

"Yes," Carrie replied.

"Did you experience anything before you fainted?"

Do not mention me. Don't under any circumstances.

Carrie was puzzled by the dark female voice's demands.

"I- I did have a headache," she proceeded.

"And have you been having this headache for a while?" Dr. Lewis enquired, taking down notes.

"Months ago but I slept it off," Carrie replied, rubbing her arms. "And it would be gone."

Dr. Lewis eyed down at his notes. Then, he decided to test her further. "Okay, Carrie," he said to her. "It may be best if you get an MRI test."

Estelle furrowed her brows as she worried about Carrie's health. "Why? What could be wrong with her?" she questioned, caressing Carrie's arm.

"What's an MRI?" Carrie asked, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward; her right hand rubbed the back of her neck.

"It's Magnetic Resonance Imaging," Dr. Lewis clarified. "It's a painless procedure that produces very clear images of your head, especially your brain."

"You're saying something is wrong with her?" Eddie asked, folding his arms.

"I'm not saying there's something wrong. I'm suggesting we need to check on her to see if she's alright."

Then, Carrie's mind flexed and the clipboard fell from Dr. Lewis's hands. He gasped, picking it up, and Eddie flinched at the sound of a falling clipboard. Estelle quickly grabbed Carrie's hand and Carrie turned her gaze to her:

(carrie, please don't)

And she relaxed her mind. She looked over at Dr. Lewis, standing with his back straight, and brushed his clipboard.

"How long will this scan take?" Eddie then questioned him.

"Between fifteen to thirty minutes," the doctor replied and looked over to the patient. "Would you like to follow me?"

Carrie nodded and carefully got off the bed. Eddie and Estelle anxiously watched them leave the room. But then, as they began to follow them, Estelle felt her pocket vibrate and she took her phone out.

𝗗𝗿𝗮𝗸𝗲

𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘯𝘰𝘸

Estelle sighed, placing her phone back in her pocket, and looked at Eddie.

"Hey, when this is done, can you take Carrie home?" she requested him. "I have to get back to work."

"Yeah, yeah," Eddie said, rubbing his chin and rapidly nodding.

"Thanks, bye."

Estelle walked away, leaving Eddie to follow them. Soon, they arrived at the MRI room where a short cylinder was seen through the glass; it was open at both ends. Dr. Lewis gave Carrie a blue hospital gown and she put it on.

"Okay, Carrie, you can go to the scanner," Dr. Lewis declared.

Carrie felt a hint of anxiety slowly creeping up on her as she approached the scanner. She laid down on the motorized bed, her hands pressing on her stomach and her legs straight. Then, it moved inside the scanner.

"Carrie, can you hear me?"

She heard Dr. Lewis's voice through the scanner.

"Yeah?" Carrie replied, somehow sounding unsure.

"We're gonna run a few tests, okay? Just relax and stay still. Here we go."

Carrie laid still, her muscles relaxing. Everything was quiet, which made her calm yet nervous. Suddenly, she heard a loud buzz and she flinched. She groaned and shut her eyes. Then, she felt a sharp pain in her ears as if her ears were being ripped off her head.

(something doesn't feel right. it hurts it hurts it hurts something's not right something's not right)

Carrie's fingers curled into her palms and her mind flexed; the lightbulbs — just above Eddie and Dr. Lewis — exploded, making them jump from fright while Eddie cursed under his breath. Carrie howled at this burning and unbearable pain, hysterical and more animal than human. Dr. Lewis heard her scream and stopped the machine. The scanner went forward and Dr. Lewis sprinted to it. As soon as her body was completely out, she shot herself up from the bed and breathed heavily.

"Are you okay?" He asked, checking on her.

"Yeah, yeah," she replied, rapidly nodding her head and rubbing her ears. "I didn't expect it to be loud."

"I should have told you that."

Carrie got off the bed and exited the room. She saw the broken lightbulbs scattered across the floor.

"Careful," Dr. Lewis said as they entered. "It exploded. Just above our heads."

"Yeah, it did," Eddie agreed with him.

Eddie looked at Carrie, who seemed not surprised by the scattered lightbulbs and folded his arms. After she took off the hospital gown, they went out of the MRI room.

"I'll phone you when I get the results," Dr. Lewis said. "Just rest and take it easy."

"Okay," Carrie said.

"Okay, bye."

"Hey, Estelle's back at work and she asked me to take you home," Eddie said as the doctor walked away.

"Oh, thanks."

Link to Chapter Twelve

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memurfevur-archive · 2 years

Text

The First Date

Character(s): Liorre and Kulsot Amrida (@contrastparadoxx ), Omnius Dioxal

About: The night has come. Kulsot and Omnius are on a very special date, but it won’t end too well for Liorre.

CW: blood, torture, character death, death of an abuser

Word Count: 3,191

A/N: this was a roleplay first, then got adapted for narrative flow.

Liorre knew something was wrong the moment he had stepped into his hive, but what it was exactly wasn't made apparent until he turned the corner into his kitchen and found Kulsot sitting quietly at the table playing with a knife. His grip on his descendant's-- Marion's-- shoulder tightened enough to make the much smaller Troll cry out, which had made Kulsot look up with a predatory grin stretching across his face.

Meanwhile, the cat was in his kingdom with his tail held high in confidence. Liorre, a delicious little fish who couldn't have predicted any of this, stood with his jaw taut and a vein popping out of his neck. Angry. Good. Kulsot's show was breathtaking to see, and the games had only just begun. With a grin, the hooded stranger in the back, unseen at first, slid behind Liorre and his descendant. A subtle fin flick showed that Liorre heard him and knew he was there, but there was nothing for him to do.

If it wasn't for Kulsot and himself being here, it would have been his men, his executioners, and this exchange would be far less personal; Omnius wouldn't allow that. Not after the embarrassment Liorre had brought to him, and not after slaying his beloved Kulsot. But, just the same, it really wasn't Omnius standing behind them, was it? It was poetic in a sense; Omnius wouldn't be able to see Liorre's throne get overturned. Instead, tonight will be the night that Liorre will finally believe in the boogeyman, a shadow by the name of Initiate. And so he shared in mirroring the smile on Kulsot's face.

His lover sliding into place was cue for Kulsot, who then tilted his head, “Hello Liorre,” he said with a purr, “fancy seeing you here~”

“Kulsot. So you are still around.”

“Well, more like back around; you really did a number on me. Rude, really, though I suppose I should thank you in some small manner.”

Liorre stared him down hard before crouching and having Marion look at him. Marion glanced behind Liorre for a second, but tried to focus more on his ancestor's face when he spoke. “Marion, room.” He covered the side of the boy's head as he nodded, leaving behind small pods-- earplugs, and Liorre stood again.

Now, the Initiate cared very little for Liorre's descendant. After all, it was not who he and Kulsot were here to see; but just the same he could not have a child ruin the night for them. He had already taken precautionary measures; a guard would be waiting for Marion in his room. Marion would not be alone, but in the Initiate's eyes Marion shouldn't even exist. Ah, a problem for another time though as he stood aside briefly to let Marion go. The young troll paused only a moment as he passed, looking up at the figure before scurrying upstairs to where his room, tripping on the stairs and his own tail in his haste.

Then, “Who's your friend?” Liorre's voice grated the Initiate's ears.

The Tealblood could only smirk however as pride reared its ugly head onto his voice, “Would you like to tell him, Kulsot?”

Kulsot slipped from the table to answer, brushing his skirt off, though he was cut off by Liorre. “I see we’re back to acting like a common street whore, Amrida.”

Kulsot’s ears flattened, obviously upset by those words. A frown settled on the Initiate's lips. Oh, Liorre still thought of himself as the playground bully? Perhaps it was time to change that, “My companion here is a name you’ll recognize. The Initiate.”

“Oh Kulsot, when will you learn I don’t believe in your silly fantasies?”

“Well, that's not very nice of you.” The smirk was back on the Initiate's lips as he stepped ever closer to Liorre. It amused him that some people chose to equate him to nothing greater than the tooth fairy; to think he was some myth, some urban legend meant to scare younger Trolls, instead of a man who sat on top of an empire of spies and lies and played with his subjects like puppets on strings. Did Liorre truly believe he was on top of the food chain? Silly little man. “Oh, young Cleanser,” he began, and it delighted him to see Liorre tense. Ah yes, his big secret that no one knows: the title of his Ancestor, and yet Initiate knew it. The Initiate knew many things. He touched the headpiece of the cane he carried against Liorre's spine, leaning in close to to croak into his ear, “When will you learn that I am right here? And I think you owe Mr. Amrida here an apology.”

Fury flashed in Liorre's eyes, while Kulsot tilted his head curiously. Then, Liorre moved suddenly, and quickly, and may have actually been able to do damage had a very sudden “freeze” not come from Kulsot.

Liorre was, and always had been, one of the few trolls Kulsot knew was able to fight against his psionics enough to be a problem, as recognized by his nose almost instantly starting to bleed. He grabbed a napkin off of the table to hold at it, glaring at Liorre with a venom the Violet had rarely seen from him before. “Don’t you even think about laying a finger on him,” Kulsot hissed out, only slightly muffled by the cloth.

"Tsk tsk, temper temper." There was a soft click, and Liorre would find his hands clipped behind his back, and a knife pressed against him in the same breadth. The knife pressed harder onto the Violetblood's body, but not enough to cut. Not yet. "It would be a shame if we dragged your descendant out here. That's why you're still here, isn't it? Because the Empire wanted you to play lusii until you made yourself a legacy. Now Liorre, let's not be so brash; I don't think dear Marion would be able to come back like Mr. Amrida did, hm? Shall we find out? Now, I did tell you to apologize, didn't I?"

Oh the fury in his eyes! As Liorre's fins first flared up, they looked a brighter color than usual, but then they flattened. He gritted his teeth, and would not look at either of them when he spoke. “I am… sorry, Kulsot.”

The mutant made sure he was in Liorre’s line of sight to smile widely, “You know I’m not fond of this angle of you, hmmm~” He pretended to consider it for a moment, head tilted, before speaking with flashing eyes, “Kneel.”

The two locked eyes as a relatively short mental battle took , and Liorre found himself on one knee before the two of them.

The Initiate stepped back, allowing Kulsot the spotlight. Pride coursed through his veins, affection made his heart race, and excitement danced in his unseen eyes. Oh, what a show this will be~

He traversed deeper into the kitchen; there was the sound of cabinets opening and closing, liquid pouring, and the Initiate was back into view with a glass of bourbon in his hands that he smugly sipped at. By the time he returned, Kulsot was leaning against Liorre, as if he were no more than a piece of furniture.

"What are you going to do to him, my beloved?"

“Oh I don’t know… I suppose I could just finish it now but,” he pouted slightly, “that just doesn’t seem fair, not when I had to suffer for more hours than I actually know.” This was pointed, targeted, and Kulsot felt Liorre stiffen under him, still held in place by his psionic for now, though Kulsot already felt a headache starting to form.

"Hmhm, how merciful~" The hooded figure swashed a sip of his drink down, then tilted his head with a purr, "Well? We have the brandings, the serrated knives, and many more. I for one would love to see him feel how much you have suffered and more." With a click of his tongue, he set his glass down on the nearest table space and approached Liorre, tilting the other's chin up, "I would like to hear him babble and plead to the gog he doesn't deserve."

A flash of silver in the dim light, then a sharp blade through Liorre's fin slowly carving and tearing its way through each vein until the thin flesh fell off. He did this to the other one, too, until Liorre was shaved of his Seadweller pride. It was unclear what kept Liorre from screaming, his own determination or Kulsot’s psionic, but it sent ripples of shivers through him. Kulsot clapped in delight. “Oh, wonderful idea,” he purred, coming over and running his tongue across one of the wounds with a hum. He had pressed against it enough to be painful and cause Liorre to let out the slightest whimper. “Mmm, that was a lovely noise~”

With a chuckle, the Initiate leaned down, his voice low and husky. "Do you understand the weight of the situation you're in, yet? That you had pissed off the wrong people. I hope you had kissed your ship goodbye, Liorre. Hmhm~" He reached up and pinched the other wound that Kulsot was not feeding from. "You see, no one will miss you when we are finished with you. No one will know your name. The Empire, the Fleet, whoever will come looking for you will know who was here, and they will run. You thought you had your silly little connections, your playground throne, but you never had anything on me. You are a fool, a jester, and nothing but an insignificant fly; and it brings me much joy to see Mr. Amrida become your undoing. He tilted Liorre's head back and exposed his neck to Kulsot with a grin. "Be as messy and ruthless as you like, my dear."

Kulsot’s control of Liorre wavered as his focus did; it was just enough for Liorre to half jerk away and open his mouth to say something, though it was cut off in a strange gurgle as Kulsot sank his fangs and started to feed. "Good boy," the Inititate purred, but it was unclear if it was to Kulsot or to Liorre. His grip on Liorre's face was not gentle, though his gaze was as he watched Kulsot feed. Kulsot went just long enough to leave Liorre light headed and reeling, on top of flushed from the feeling, before he let go and pulled away immediately scoffing at the trail of violet down his front.

“It’s going to be a pain to get this out of my new clothes” he whined, standing up and stretching slightly, then swiftly delivering a kick to Liorre's chest. “He should be muuuuuuch more docile now~”

Initiate had let go of Liorre's head and grabbed his glass of bourbon once more. He took a swig, held the alcohol in his mouth, then bent down and brought Liorre's lips to his. He tilted Liorre's head back enough to where he would be swallowing the drink with difficulty. A reminder. A throwback to the night at the party where Liorre came and took his Kulsot away. This ought to provide a hint on who the Initiate was, but would it matter? The Seadweller won't be alive by the end of tonight. Liorre was a crumpled heap on the ground without someone properly holding him up, just trying to breathe..

The Initiate smiled up at Kulsot, ignoring the pained wheezing, "How are you feeling, Mr. Amrida?"

Kulsot danced up to his partner in crime, deftly taking the glass out of his hand and taking a swig before placing it on a flat surface. “I feel amazing. Dance with me, won’t you, dear?”

The Initiate chuckled, though there was a part of him that panicked. The Initiate? Dancing? Being intimate with Omnius' lover? This wasn't him. He couldn't do this. He wasn't allowed. He felt nothing. Or did he feel everything? If he let himself be Omnius, he would not be able to be here. Omnius wouldn't be able to handle holding a dead body, not again, not for at the very least a third time. And yet, if he were to not be Omnius, if he were to remain the Initiate, could he even dance with Kulsot?

Undeserving. Unfeeling. Numb and cold.

But, he decided, he would not ruin Kulsot's special night. This was all for him, after all; and so, he took Kulsot's hips in his hands and began to sway. Liorre was not paying any attention to the two at this point, while Kulsot became almost tipsy on everything-- between the high and the blood, and the alcohol probably wasn't helping either. But he danced for a bit before breaking away with a, “oh wait there!” And making his way out of the kitchen. The Initiate felt relieved when he had let go of Kulsot, though there was still a tingling in his fingertips. This was new. Uncomfortably new, but it was okay.

The gruff, pained voice of Liorre spoke up with a grimace when Kulsot left. “I’m starting… to think… I know what coward… is behind that mask…”

He glanced down at Liorre, and placed his boot on the other's throat. He applied enough pressure to stop Liorre from speaking, "And no one has ever cared what you thought." The Troll under his foot made a choked noise, as if trying to talk back, but he did not have to wait too long before Kulsot returned with a box in his hands. A box that had Liorre’s eyes widening with what his tired self could not hide as panic.

“Luuuuuckily the bastard keeps this in his peeeersonal room, and not… anyway!” He offered the box out to the Initiate to hold while he it and carefully pulled out the braid of white inside. The look of disgust on his face said a fair bit, and the first thing he did was just... trail it across Liorre's face, causing the violet to flinch. "Not so nice, is it?" Kulsot hissed, before taking the time to use the whip to help bind the rest of Liorre, pulling it tight to dig in. "He had that made from the remains of his jellyfish lusus. Even just touching the soft part can hurt a lot.” Such news made the Initiate purr.

“What we've created,” he chimed, “is a work of art, don't you think?”

“I quite agree,” Kulsot purred back, then perched himself back on the kitchen table pulling one leg up, not caring at all what he showed off under that skirt. “It doesn’t quite feel…. finished, but for the life of me I can’t figure out why.”

The Initiate glanced back and forth between Kulsot and Liorre, then spoke with a wicked grin, "Well, the only way to finish a project is to finish it in its entirety. Will you make the final stroke, or shall I?"

Realizing that he was to die soon, Liorre's eyes snapped open and his pulse quickened. Desperate, he tried breaking free from Kulsot's grasp, trying to find any crack he could in the psionics' hold. With a huff, Kulsot waved his hand, “Have fun. Feeding made things easier but even with that I am… mm” he didn’t comment on or seem to care about his own red dripping from his nose to mix with the violet on his shirt. He rubbed his temples, nursing a budding headache.

There was a numbing anger that burned white cold embers deep within the Initiate at the sight of Kulsot's blood. Still, his voice was tender as he bowed his head, “As you wish, Mr. Amrida.” With a hum, the Initiate then straddled Liorre and offered a sly smirk. "Well my friend, your time has come. I wish I could say it was nice knowing you." He took the knife he had earlier and held it against Liorre's throat. He relished the wide-eyed panic. He often didn't get his own hands dirty in such projects; but there was nothing but a hellish hate for the man under him. Quickly, he slit the Violetblood's throat, spilling out whatever blood Liorre had left in his body. He held Liorre's mouth and nose closed, so that the other could choke and be quiet about it. "Shshshshhhh, that's it."

Kulsot released his hold on Liorre, as much from need as desire to watch him struggle as he died. And he certainly tried to struggle, but he really had no room to work with, and the life faded from his eyes quickly, almost instantly really.

The Initiate stood up and flicked the blood off of his knife. Now, this left the kid, Marion, to be worked with. He would have killed him, too, though he knew of Kulsot's love for children. It was the Jadeblood instinct leftover in the candy red, so he settled on sending the child away to a school instead where all of his expenses and needs would be paid for. It was too merciful, but perhaps there was a point to be made; the child did not have to suffer for the sins of his father.

He felt hands wrap around his body, and Kulsot stood on his toes to rest his chin on his shoulder. The Initiate felt conflicted whether to move away, or to let the mutant's warmth seep into him. This was something meant for Omnius, after all. Ah, but Liorre's dead, surely Omnius could celebrate as well? With brief hesitation, the Initiate pulled down his hood to expose Omnius' face. It was a strange transition, as if Omnius was waking up from a dream, but he knew enough, felt enough, saw enough. He turned his head and kissed his matesprit softly on the lips.

So this was to be their life now, hm? Entangled together even through the worse days, vulnerable even when their hands together brought destruction. Kulsot knew of the Initiate and had seen him in action-- new action, action that neither Initiate nor Omnius had ever done before-- and Kulsot still chose to stay. To hold him. To kiss him. To love. It was new. Ugly, beautiful, and new.

“So what are we going to do now?” Kulsot beamed up at him and threw his arms over the taller Troll's shoulders. Omnius pressed Kulsot's body to him with a pleased growl rumbling from his throat. During all of tonight, Kulsot had been such a beautiful angel. Confident, in control, and a well-deserved vendetta dancing on the tip of his tongue, Omnius had found it all attractive. And Kulsot had been all prettied up all night, hadn't he? This was his night.

“Whatever you wish to do, Kulsot. I can take you out on the town, now that you are free from your chains. Or, should finally get you out of those clothes and lay you down on the bed upstairs?”

Kulsot hummed, as if weighing the two thoughts carefully in his head, then pushed Omnius against the counter, grabbed him by the cloak's collar, and pulled him down for a rough but loving kiss. “I thought you'd never ask~”

#fevur writing #Omnius rp #Omnius Dioxal #The Initiate #Candy Stripes #blood #torture #character death

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autisticsupervillain · 3 years

Text

Alpha Polytrolls

Unlike its beta equivalent, there are no sexuality conflicts here. Everyone is dating everyone. No exceptions.

It took Kankri far too long to realize this meant he wasn't celibate anymore.

Latula was the one who got the idea to help Damara and Rufioh make up, even dragging everyone else into helping her stage an intervention. She'll be damned if any of her partners aren't getting along.

Meulin is constantly smug about all her otps being canon. She's the best shipper in the world and she knows it.

Whenever Kankri gets on a roll, his current partner cuts him off with a kiss. He blushes snd keeps trying to stammer out a rebuttal, but that just gets him more kisses. Pretty soon, his bright red and trying to disappear into his sweater to avoid looking his smug partner in the eye.

Kurloz's powers allow him to spend time with any and all of his partners at any time. He might not physically be there, but with psychic powers, he might as well be.

Cronus still hits on everyone like a sleazy pick up artist, despite the fact they're already dating. It's just tradition at this point.

Meenah aggressively spoils all of her partners. No one is going to date her and not have a massive castle made mostly of gold.

Mituna kicks everyone's ass in video games and will bring this up every time he wants to rib one of his partners.

No, they don't know what quadrants they're in, put your hand down.

Kurloz sometimes leaves the hive without facepaint on, solely to see how long it takes for his partners to start blushing like mad. Porrim usually lasts the longest, natural flirt that she is.

Aranea will happily pay you to listen to her talk about everyone's dating history.

The only time Horus swore was when he first saw Kurloz without face paint. Now everyone's competing to get him to say "hot damn" again.

No one gets her partners to blush faster than Porrim. No one.

Kurloz habitually distracts his partners with certain thoughts while they're trying to do something else. It's how he sometimes manages to beat Mituna at video games.

They all share clothes so often they sometimes forget what belongs to who.

"Kankri, babe, I love you, but shut the fuck up."

Everyone now knows sign language and Japanise. They didn't want exclude Meulin and Damara wanted everyone to know exactly what she was saying.

They all share a bed. Kurloz was the last one to join them, as Meulin had to talk him into it. They find it difficult to sleep without at least two partners at their sides.

#homestuck #alpha polytrolls #kankri vantas #damara megido #rufioh nitram #mituna captor #meulin leijon #porrim maryam #latula pyrope #aranea serket #horrus zahhak #kurloz makara #cronus ampora #meenah peixes #polyamorous

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yanyan-stuck · 3 years

Note

This might be a weird kinktober ask but what about eating out Cronus' nook? :p

KinkTober Day 4: Nook Eating with Cronus Ampora

You shift on the couch, the soft fabric tilting below you to adjust to your movements. Cronus was in his respitblock, and had stayed there for most of the day, so you had been in the other sections of the hive in order to avoid him. He had been a lot less clingy today, on any day where he was acting normally, you could get that he would be cuddling with you and always touching you wherever you went.

Still, you weren't going to look a gift horse in the mouth and ask him what was wrong, so you instead just stretch out on the couch again and yawn. There wasn't much for you to do here, all he had left you was a pile of tapes he made for you, and you had no interest in listening to them.

As you stared off into space, you heard the floorboards creaking near where the bedroom is. You looked to the door that led to the hallway with it just in time to see it swing open and watch Cronus walk into the room. He walked over to you, and you tensed up instinctively. He had never hurt you on purpose before, but he was already acting unusually today, and you didn't want to take the risk.

He didn't say anything, but instead flopped down onto the couch next to you. You tried to stand up slowly, but he grabbed your arm and pulled you back to him, so that you were sitting on the couch pressed up against him. "vwoah babe, calm dowvn. im not gonna hurt you." He said before he nuzzles into your arm a little bit, letting out a contented hum. He sits there with you for a second, with his face buried into your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your body, before pulling away and standing up again.

He started unbuckling his jeans and pulling them down, and you got up, considering whether you would be able to make it to the door before he caught you. You thought too long and by the time you decided to take your first step, he had already grabbed your upper arm. He sat on the couch with his jeans and underwear around his ankles and pulled you down so that you were kneeling in front of him.

You could see his bulge was still mostly sheathed, with only the tip poking out. His nook was dripping though, leaking the same violet fluid that comes off of his bulge. He grabbed the back of your head, and gently pulled you forwards toward his nook. It was sticky and warm, and you could feel the fluids dripping out onto your face.

You started trying to pull away as soon as he started, trying to push yourself off from the couch and get away from him. He held you in place for a couple seconds though, before loosening his grip and allowing you to pull your face back a bit. His hand was still hovering behind your head, holding you near him so you couldn't completely leave.

"cmon dollface, cant you just cooperate this one time?" He said, before dragging your face forward again, burying it in between his folds. He held you there again, and started grinding against your face to get friction, since you weren't exactly jumping at the opportunity to eat out his nook.

He grinds against your face for a few more seconds before letting you move back for air. He looked down at you and made eye contact, lust coating all of his features. "cmon babe, if you just hurry and do it nowv, youll be done and you vwont havwe to do it for a vwhile." He looked at you for another couple of seconds and then pulled you back.

You hesitantly stuck the tip of your tongue out, gently licking in between his folds. He let out a low moan, and pulled your face even closer. You watch his bulge slowly slide out of it's sheath and stretch out and start slowly moving around. You pushed the rest of your tongue out and started to lick around near the entrance of his nook. He grinds against your face again, this time trying to rub his nook all over your outstretched tongue.

He releases his grip for a second so that he is able to easily lean back on the couch and can get more leverage to hold you in place. You take this time catch your breath, and by the time you can breathe somewhat normally, he's already pulling you back towards his genitals. You feel his bulge drag a violet trail across your face, and when you go to try to wipe it off, your hand comes back coated in violet and sticky.

You hear him moan above you, and you continue to eat him out, this time reaching deeper within his entrance. He adjusts his grip on the back of your head, and pushed you towards his crotch while bucking his hips to your face, trying to get you to go even deeper.

He starts to buck his hips even more, thrusting onto your face, grinding against your tongue. He kept up the pace for a few more seconds before cumming directly into your face. You can feel his legs tense on either side of you, before releasing when he lets you move back from his nook. He sits on the couch for a minute or so, catching his breath, with you kneeling awkwardly between his legs, before he says that you can go to the bathroom to get yourself cleaned up.

You stand up carefully, resting your hand on his knee to steady yourself as you got up, before walking out of the room and down the hallway towards the bathroom. You opened the door and walked in, closing it behind you even though you didn't expect him to walk over. You grabbed a washcloth from the closet, and rinsed it in the sink. You cleaned all of his juices off of your face and hands, using the large mirror in the room to make sure you got it all off.

You open the door and start to walk out, but stop and think for a second before walking back in and getting another cloth and dampening it. You walked back to the living room where Cronus was still sitting on the couch, and you started to wipe the sticky, violet fluid off of his legs and the couch. You received a small word of thanks, to which you simply nodded your head and left the room. You put the rags with the laundry, and returned to the bedroom to lay down on the bed and, hopefully, get to sleep.

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shreddedparchment · 3 years

Text

A Wife for Thor Pt.20

Changes

03/21/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 6,206

Warnings: ANGST up the whazoo! Like seriously, angst. Language, more angst, talks of pregnancy, relationship troubles

A/N: Oof, this one is pretty bad. First of all, I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me. But anyone who knows me and my storytelling, I always ramp up the angst around here. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter to the best of your ability! If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

It’s nearly nightfall when Thor lands on the drive in front of your house.

His honeymoon haven, as he thinks of it often.

There’s hardly any impact from his descent, but what little there is kicks up a puff of dust despite the heavy gravel.

It crunches beneath his feet as he makes his way towards the front door. His boots fall heavy on the aged wood and before he can knock you’re there, pulling the door open.

You’re the most wonderful sight he’s ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on. You’re perfection. Even tired as you look, eyes bloodshot, lips slightly off color, no glow in your cheeks or brightness in your gaze. You’re still the most beautiful creature in all of the universe.

He smiles at you but you stare at him stoically, then step aside to allow Dr. Wilson passage.

“Dr. Wilson,” Thor suddenly remembers sending her to be with you.

He smiles at her and she gives him one in return, albeit small and tight and it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Your Majesty,” she curtsies quickly before turning to you and placing her hand on your arm. “If you need anything, you have my number.”

“Thank you, Dr. Wilson, I’ll use it if I have to. Which something tells me I will.”

“Are you not better yet, cherub?” Thor asks, worry creasing his forehead.

You don’t meet his eyes and he notices the way Dr. Wilson steals a quick glance at him before she gives you a curtsy too then moves around him towards the drive to a shiny silver car.

You step out to the edge of your porch, waving at the Doctor until she’s gone.

As you turn back to him, Thor breathes in deep, almost taking a step towards you to wrap his arms around you and kiss you and quench this thirst for you that has been growing larger and more demanding every day that the two of you have been apart.

Before he can, you point towards the doorway and move past him, “You better come inside. It’s supposed to storm tonight.”

“Storm?” Thor asks incredulously. “Shall I chase it away for us?”

You don’t answer him and instead walk into the kitchen, disappearing from his sight as you move around the counter towards the sink.

Thor hesitates, his heart dropping for the first time since he arrived. At first he merely thought you exhausted from your illness, but now he’s wondering if there might not be something more going on.

Are you angry at him that it took him so long to come and see you?

As he shuts the door then steps towards your coat rack, he hangs his hammer carefully before moving towards the kitchen no longer in uniform but in a plain gray t-shirt and dark blue jeans.

“Are you not well at all yet, cherub? Will you need more time away from home?” he stops by the edge of the island, his hand reaching over to poke at the smooth wooden counter nervously.

The longer you take to answer him, the more he thinks something must be wrong, beyond your falling ill.

There’s no possible way that you might have found out about-It’s almost too unbearable to think of but as you keep your back to him, hands calmly but with purpose filling your kettle with water and dropping tea bags into a pot, his stomach begins to churn.

“Y/N, if something is wrong, I-”

“I’m pregnant, Thor. I’ve known for a week. Since the day in your war room when you were telling Loki that you wanted to get an annulment so that you could marry Jane.”

Thor’s heart stops. Outside the storm grows nearer faster.

Any light left from the setting sun is snuffed out by the black clouds of thunder and rain that Thor’s panic pulls from the atmosphere.

“I was coming to tell you, but you left your door open. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but then you said Jane was pregnant and for a moment I was hoping that maybe she was pregnant with someone else’s baby, but it didn’t sound like that’s what you were thinking so, I listened.

“My mind, at that moment, was a little foggy. You know? It took me a second to really think about what we could do. Because for me, I knew that even with this new hurdle, I wanted to overcome it with you. At your side.”

Thor watches as you step to the stove and light the burner, placing your kettle over it to boil.

His limbs are fuzzy, his mind a hive of buzzing bees and crackling electricity. His heart is still not beating but he can feel it breaking. Every fissure, every tear, he feels it from end to end. His mouth will not open and even if he had something to say, even if he could think enough to say it, you don’t sound finished and he will not interrupt you.

You move to pull two cups out from a cupboard and place one in front of the nearest stool to him, then the other on the island in front of the sink where you’ve been standing. You move the teapot over to the island too, then place both hands on the edge to lean all your weight against it.

Somehow, having you look at him is worse. He can see the heartbreak in your eyes, the betrayal. He can feel the anger surging beneath this calm exterior you’ve pasted on.

He’d rather have you rage at him, throw things at him, than see you keep your composure and think about this rationally. Because what can that mean? Have you given up on him? What does this mood of yours mean for your marriage?

“One of the first things I thought was that we should get Jane a room, or maybe a proper house where she and the baby could live because I could never keep you from your child. Not when they would be the rightful heir to the throne. And even if they weren’t going to be the heir, that baby would be your baby. Your child. So how can I ever keep them from you?

“I wasn’t exactly happy that Jane would be in our lives forever seeing as she is so openly…” you tut, looking up at the light fixture above as you search for the right word. “...not hostile. But she doesn’t like me. I could see it the moment she arrived but you seemed, I don’t know, oblivious of it? I’m not sure if that’s because it’s Jane or not, or if you seriously just didn’t notice?

“Every time we were alone, she always made sure to keep her distance. She never talked to me unless she absolutely had to, but as soon as you'd come into the room she was all politeness and sociable,” you laugh without humor. “I still have no idea how you didn’t notice.

“It was sad, honestly. It made me sad, a lot. But I kept my mouth shut because you trusted her so wholeheartedly even though I could feel the snake she was. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this, especially since she’ll be part of our lives now, but-”

“She won’t.”

You stop talking, fixing your piercing gaze upon Thor and all he can do is shake his head in rebuttal of what you just said.

“She won’t be part of our lives,” he continues, explaining himself as quickly as he can.

Now that he’s got a word in, he’s eager to tell you how silly all of this has been. How stupid and unnecessarily taxing the stress was.

“She’s not pregnant,” Thor smiles, and he is glad to see your relief.

It’s brief and subdued, but it’s a small sigh and a relaxing of your shoulders.

After a moment you take several steps back to lean against the sink.

“So we have nothing to worry about,” Thor continues, hoping to latch onto his spark of hope.

He rounds the island with godly dexterity but you take a step back, looking up at him with narrowed eyes.

Your anger is less hidden now, and he can see the outrage in your face.

He stops his pursuit to give you space.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Your demand confuses him. Doesn’t it make you feel better? It makes him feel loads, tons, millions of times better.

“I-” he begins confused.

“You were willing to leave me...to end our marriage, for a baby that hadn’t even been confirmed yet. You think telling me that Jane not being pregnant so now you don't have to erase our marriage as if it never existed is gonna make this better?!”

Thor is speechless, trying desperately to understand the problem, the confusion. Why are you still angry?

“Y-yes, my cherub. No baby, no Jane, no need to figure anything out,” he insists.

“YOU CALL AN ANNULMENT FIGURING SHIT OUT?!”

Thor winces, never having heard you this angry before. You’re livid and that scream is directed directly at him. It takes him a moment to regain some composure but when he does, he sputters to get his story out.

“I-I admit that perhaps the moment of my finding out about Jane was not my finest. I just learned that the once woman I loved was having my child and the scandal that would bring upon my people-”

You scoff and turn away from him, moving back towards the stove as a small stream of steam begins to rise. It’s not hot enough yet though.

Thor doesn’t understand. You know how life works. You’ve been there daily, watching him say and do things that he wouldn’t normally do. He’s being forced just as much as you are to deal with things, only his opportunities are much richer in variation.

“You’re angry with me?” Thor knows this, but something about saying it out loud hits him with a harsh sense of injustice. “What choice would you have had me make?”

You stiffen at his new tone. He can see the shift in your body, and he instantly regrets the momentary anger that boiled his blood.

The way your shoulders slump has his heart beating wildly with new panic. How does he fix this? How can he make this up to you? How can the two of you find some common ground?

“Not this,” you say, quietly.

Thor almost doesn’t hear you but only almost..

“Y/N…” his voice is softer, negotiating in an attempt to calm you.

The placating tone has the opposite effect on you.

“The one thing I asked you to do is to be honest with me. I asked you not to make a fool of me and you did it anyway. You lied to me-”

“I didn’t lie-” Thor begins, but he knows that omitting the truth is almost as good as. His voice trails off.

“Not only did you lie to me but-but when we took our vows, I thought-”

Thor clenches his fists, watching you struggle to overcome some emotion that he can’t see because you’re still facing away from him.

“I feel so stupid,” you gasp, and as your voice hitches, Thor realizes that you’re crying.

He rounds the island but you turn to look at him, throwing your arm out towards him, “No!”

He freezes, breathing labored as his stomach aches. His heart tears again, searing pain ripping at his chest.

It only feels worse as he gets a good look at your face, tears streaming down along your cheeks as despair washes over you.

“Don’t touch me,” you beg of him and Thor can’t believe you mean it.

You can’t mean it.

“The only thing I’ve ever wanted was to have a family of my own,” your words aren’t weak or stuttering now.

Your voice is strong and sure, the week of uncertainty having firmed your resolve.

What have I done?

“When you married me, when you accepted me as part of your house, I thought that I’d finally found that. Not just in you but in Loki and Hilde and Heimdall and the rest of our people. And in three seconds, you took that away from me.

“You abandoned me,” you declare and Thor can’t stay silent anymore.

“No! No, Y/N, I have not abandoned you. I’m here. I’m right here. I came for you. To take you home!”

“BUT YOU THOUGHT ABOUT IT!”

Thor can see the frustration in you, the utter befuddlement you must have felt, the betrayal. There’s disappointment and fear but most of all there’s loss. You’ve lost something this week, and even though he doesn’t know what it is for sure, he can guess.

“You gave the thought a presence and you meant it. You would have left me!”

“No!” Thor protests, an anguished cry of his own sorrow. A refusal of your conclusions.

“That’s what I was coming to tell you today. I woke up with the firm belief that Jane was still with child and as soon as it was confirmed, I was going to come and tell you that even with her carrying my child, you are my Queen.

“Nothing could ever change that and the only life I can imagine living is one with you at my side.”

You’re already shaking your head in protest, already disbelieving him. Thor attempts to step closer but you renew your extended arm.

“No,” you tell him firmly, voice low and quiet with resentment. “I need you to stay away from me.”

“You want me to go?!” Thor asks in pained disbelief.

You keep shaking your head, not answering his question.

The silence in the kitchen is heavy and to Thor, it feels endless.

Too few mornings flash through his mind of you waking beside him to turn and recount your plans for the day, your hopes for your lives together. You’ve always wanted to talk to him. You’ve always wanted to be with him.

His touch has never been unwelcome even in the first days of your courtship.

Your eyes are still flooding over, lips trembling, chest rising and falling with the effort of your crying.

His own body is still. This is the lowest he’s ever felt and he’s not sure what moving will do to him.

The quiet is ripped apart by the slow build up of your kettle’s whistle, but you don’t move to take it off the heat.

“Should I leave, cherub?” Thor asks again, his deep voice weak with emotion at the very idea that you’ll tell him to go.

You reach up to wipe at your cheeks, fingertips sweeping new tears away from the edges of your eyes as more rush to replace them.

You reach over and take hold of your elbow.

You’re thinking about it. You’re actually thinking about whether he should leave.

“No,” you finally whisper, unable to say it any louder he guesses.

It probably goes against every instinct in your body to allow him to stay.

Because he needs something to do, because he can’t stand there and just watch you hate him, he turns around and goes back around the island so that he can go to the stove behind you and move the kettle.

Thor watches you follow him with your eyes as he moves then take a step away from him when he slides behind you to get to the stove.

You move to take your seat at the island and Thor pours the heated water into your teapot.

He places the lid on top, the clink of the ceramic loud in your silence.

Your shaking hands give him worry and he moves towards the small pantry to pull a tin of cookies you’d bought in New York during your honeymoon.

You’d gone on and on about how much you enjoyed them and now that memory feels like a lifetime ago.

A happier one.

He moves around the kitchen taking a large plate and loading it up with your cookies. He grabs the milk from the fridge and pulls the artificial sweetener from the far end of the island to move it closer to you.

He’s aware of your eyes on him still, watching his every move with a gaze to rival Heimdall’s. He doesn’t try to dress his actions up as anything other than what they are; concern.

He places your cup closer to you, fills it with tea, milk, and your sweetener. Once done, he moves back around to his side of the island and takes his seat once more.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re almost angry enough to be petty. You almost want to take your tea and pour it out. Just to show him how much things aren’t okay.

The way he’d walked in here, brazen and as if he hadn’t attempted to take the only true family you’ve ever known and erase it...you can’t.

More because you need to relax, in fear of the little life growing inside you, you take the tea and take a sip.

Thor knows just how you like it.

He’s watching you, staring. He's full of self-loathing and what you'd once thought was love for you. Concern emanates off of him.

He reaches out, and for a moment you think he might take your hand.

You flinch, pulling both your hands onto your lap, but Thor’s hand only meets the edge of the plate of swedish dream cookies you’d bought on your honeymoon.

He pushes it towards you, and your heart aches painfully. This agony is unbearable.

Your lip quivers again, unable to contain the sorrow of what your marriage is now facing. You know just as he does that you're at an impasse. Tonight things between you will change.

For the better? For worse?

Thor loves you. You can see that. You saw it the moment he showed up, smiling and so happy to see you that his electric blue eye was beaming.

It was that love that made you so angry. It’s why you shouted when you’d promised yourself that when he came, you wouldn’t raise your voice.

Heimdall had been nice enough to give you warning this morning that Thor would be coming today and that nothing would deter him from seeing you.

You’d been so angry when you’d gotten the call, but you’d talked to Dr. Wilson about staying calm and she'd pointed out that having all of these unresolved feelings would do the baby more harm than good.

While deciding to resolve this today, choosing to stay calm had failed dramatically.

“Please, love, eat something,” Thor begs. "You're shaking. I know you've eaten nothing all day."

How the hell can he tell?! Was Dr. Wilson spying for him?

Even she'd been unable to force more than a few bites of a sandwich into your stomach. You've been dreading this confrontation all day.

Now that it’s here, it's worse than you imagined.

You hate how much hearing the pain in his voice also hurts you. You don’t want to feel any kind of sympathy for him right now. After what he said…

You eat because you’re worried about the baby. Not because Thor is asking.

One cookie is enough to help your queasy stomach feel better, a sip of tea settles your frayed nerves.

You relax a little, the tension in your body partially gone.

Neither you nor Thor say anything for a while and you’re grateful for the silence. You need lots of time to think.

While you think, you eat.

Cookie after cookie as your stomach groans in relief of finally being fed. Not exactly nutritious but it's something.

Despite your body's reaction to the unexpected junk food, the revelation that Jane isn’t pregnant after all is the only thing that you can really focus on.

You'd know she would try something. Not this though. You'd expected a pass at Thor. You'd expected her to try and get him back and you'd been so sure about his feelings for you that you'd been sure nothing would happen.

You hadn't expected her to find a way to reach in and pull it all up by its roots.

Finally, Thor clears his throat. There's and eager shine to his eye now, curiosity needing answers. In this moment you realize that his mind is filled with something else. Something much happier to think about that while it does bring you joy, you can’t share in that joy with Thor yet. Not after everything.

“Is it true?” he asks, the corners of his lips curved and the set of his brow eager. He can't help it. “Are you really pregnant?”

You meet his gaze and reach up to wipe the last of your tears away.

“I’m about three months? A little over. It would have happened during our honeymoon.”

Your explanation brings a smile to his face and he’s so beautiful you find yourself hardening again in defense.

"Your Asgardian blood was making it difficult for my doctors to confirm the pregnancy. The first was negative. The second, inconclusive, but then negative. The third was also inconclusive but this one didn't change to negative so they tried some other things and it finally showed positive.

"They tested my blood over and over. It’s real."

This is what both of you have been wanting since before you were married. You’d wanted to give him an heir and he’d wanted one. You’d wanted to start a family and he’d been desperate for the same.

This is the moment the two of you have been dreaming of and now that it’s here, it’s nothing like you’d pictured.

The joy you’d felt on your trip to the war room to give him the news is lost on you now. Tainted.

“Are-are you not happy?”

“How can you ask me that?” you frown, hostile resentment tainting your features.

He deflates at your tone and you almost regret letting how you feel show so openly.

Almost.

Thor’s face pales and he looks down at the island, his own cup still empty.

Because you do feel bad, though you don’t regret letting him know how angry you are, you get up and pull a beer from the fridge.

Placing it in front of him, you take your seat again.

Thor’s face floods with hope.

"The only reason you're here is because Heimdall knew you'd come. He saw that you were decided and would stop at nothing to come here but if he hadn't given me the warning, you'd be standing outside on the porch banging on the door asking me to let you in. You need to know that.."

Even though the hope in his eyes had made you so angry just a moment ago, as it disappears, you feel a surge of grief.

"I don't understand," Thor begins softly, both hands reaching across the island towards yours wrapped securely around your tea cup. "Why are you so angry, cherub?"

He's not putting it together? Does he seriously not see how what he did is a problem?

"I've told you that Jane is not pregnant so there will be no child and even before I'd found out, I had made my choice to stay with you. These are good things, aren't they?"

The wonder in his voice is real. The agony of his confusion is real.

Somehow you need to make him understand.

You scoff, trying hard not to be cynical after the blow you've taken to your pride.

"Do you remember the day we got married?"

"Vividly," Thor nods and attempts a smile.

A quick stern glare from you settles him down.

"Do you remember welcoming me into your house? Do you have any idea what becoming a member of your family has meant to me?

"I have lived my life alone, Thor. I had no one. From the day my parents died to the moment I agreed to marry you, there was not a single person who I belonged to who also belonged to me.

"Marrying you gave me a home. It gave me people to call my own. It gave me a kingdom full of loving and loyal subjects.

"Marrying you took my loneliness and destroyed it. I had a brothers, sisters, and a husband who I thought loved me as one of his own. I thought you had accepted me as part of your family until the day I died."

You sigh, voice tight and always on the verge of breaking into tears.

"I have, cherub. You are my everything!" Thor’s interruption doesn't phase you this time.

You keep talking as if he'd said nothing.

"And when I've finally done it, when we've finally got what we wanted, you throw me away."

"No!" Thor rises and moves around the island towards you.

This time you don't stop him because nothing he says or does will change your mind. Nothing will fix this.

He sweeps you into his arms, pulling you close so that you have to look up at his face from your spot in your seat. His massive hands caress the sides of your face as his pleasant warmth chases away the horrible nightmares you’ve had all week.

But his arms, his touch, can’t chase away the break in your heart. It can’t fix the pain that feels etched into your veins. Your sinew is rewritten with the agony of his fleeting choice to leave you. Nothing will ever be the same.

“I didn’t throw you away, I was confused. I didn’t know what to do or what the best course of action was. I should have come to you. I should have told you about Jane and I should have consulted with you, my wife, my Queen before making any rash decisions.

“I know that I did wrong, but believe me when I tell you that I love you more than my own life. I can’t imagine my life without you, cherub. I’m sorry that I have caused you such distress. I am sorry that I made you think, even for one second, that I could make my way through this existence without you.

“I love you. And I am never letting you go.”

Your heart is unmoved. Even as he stares down at you with his eye clear and sure. The set of his jaw is firm, and his hands keep stroking your cheeks, temples, and scalp as you watch the fire in him fade.

Slowly, he realizes that the damage is done.

It takes him a long time. His body falls, shoulders slumping, arms not so tight around you, hands a little more gentle. It’s the set of his lips that tells you when he’s accepted it. That he’s broken you and your marriage and there is no repair here.

Not now.

“What will you do?” he asks, hands gliding down along the sides of your neck, shoulders, arms, and elbows where he finally lets go and moves back around the island to take his seat again, throwing himself down in defeat as his hand wraps around his beer.

“I’m still your wife, Thor,” you sigh, turning to look at your cup of tea. “I am still Queen of New Asgard. I’ll do my job as best as I can, from here.”

“Here?” he asks, shocked.

“I can’t go back to the palace. Not right away. I need...I meant it when I said that I needed a break.”

“From me?” Thor guesses, and you can see his heartbreaking.

“From us, yes.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “A few weeks? Months? Years?”

He looks more devastated the longer you speak.

“I don’t know how long it will take me to trust you again. When you told Loki that you’d get an annulment and make me out to be the problem by my not giving you any kids, you took any faith and confidence I had in us and your love for me and flushed it down the toilet.

“I can’t just pretend that didn’t happen. Even though we have nothing to worry about now, I can’t just forget the way I felt. I’m gonna need time.”

The war raging within Thor right now is painful to watch. You can safely assume that he’s almost refusing to go another day without you, much less weeks, months, or years.

You can also see the regret he’s feeling. The anger. It passes quickly though, and Thor takes another long drink from his beer, draining the bottle before he sets it aside.

He reaches up to wipe at his fuzzy lips, his beard scratchy as he breathes in deeply.

He meets your gaze and nods, “I will give you whatever you need. I will send you a guard. I don’t want you here alone.”

You’re not about to oppose the protection. Not with the baby on the way.

“You should probably make the announcement of the baby. And give some excuse about me staying away. Our people deserve to know. They’ve been waiting too.”

“Mm.” Thor agrees. “What shall I tell the others?”

“Loki already knows. He’s known since I came here.”

“What?!”

“Hey, no!” you frown at him, anger tinging your words. “You can’t be angry at Loki for doing as I asked. I’ve been alone up here waiting to know whether you’re going to leave me or not. He only did what I needed.”

Thor’s anger passes through him in phases. In seconds, he’s calm again, but still breathing through flared nostrils.

“Why did you not tell me? If you’d told me sooner-”

“If I’d told you sooner then I wouldn’t know if you were with me because you love me or because the baby was finally coming. I didn’t want to live the rest of my life never knowing whether your sticking by me in this marriage is because I was finally having our kid. That’s not the kind of life that I want for myself.

“I’m not sorry that I didn’t tell you, Thor. Because even if I can’t trust you, at least I know whether you’d decided not to leave me before you knew I was pregnant.”

Thor’s face is full of sorrow. He’s coming to terms with everything as quickly as he can since you’re not giving him much choice. Are you wrong to put some distance between the two of you?

Should you forgive and forget?

Part of you, the part that loves the man you married, wants to reach out and touch his cheek. You want to tell him that you love him and that nothing will ever change that. You want to celebrate the future you have growing inside you and revel in the fact that Jane’s lie is over and move on with your lives.

The bigger part of you can’t trust his words. Can’t trust his touch. In a few moments, Thor had torn apart the truths of every caress and declaration that he’d made since you got married.

The bigger part of you knows that you can’t trust him. The bigger part of you knows that he could hurt you again. He might very well rip your heart in two for good the next time, and what kind of life can you have like that?

No. As much as your heart loves him, your brain is telling you to play this cautiously from here on out.

“I’ll come to any functions I need to. I’ll make sure I’m there on your arm. But don’t expect things to be the same between us Thor.”

He nods in defeat, “Can I fix this? Is there anything I might do to prove to you that my love is real?”

“It’s not a question of me not believing that you love me,” you explain, sighing lightly as you come to these realizations yourself as Thor makes you face the inevitabilities you’ve been avoiding all week.

You’ve tried hard to keep from pondering the future with or without him. Now that he’s asking, you can’t avoid it anymore.

“I know that you can’t put me before your throne. I know that your people have to come first. I’ve known that since I married you and when I talked to Loki and David about what happened they both told me what I already know.

“You have responsibilities to our people first and foremost and any choices, whether you want to make them or not, are made for them. I can never be first for you. I know that. My mind knows that. It’s honorable that you will always do right by your people.

“But my heart can’t accept that,” you’ve been trying to keep from crying again but as you admit your insecurity aloud, your heart clenches painfully drawing from your eyes a welling of tears. “Because I’ve fallen in love with you completely, Thor. I never knew that loving someone could be this terrifying and painful. Just the thought that you’d decided to make our marriage disappear as if it had never happened ripped me to pieces and I don’t know how to come back from that.”

You sob and Thor leans over the island to take your hand. You don’t pull away this time. You let him give you this small bit of comfort because you need it. Your heart, the fact that he wants to touch you, needs it.

“Even if it was only for a moment, you left me. I want to be first for you. I want to be the only thing that matters. And I can’t be. And I know that. Which makes me feel like such shit because I shouldn’t be asking you for this. I know that you can’t give it to me.

“It’s why Jane told you no. Along with her job, I know that it’s the reason that she couldn’t marry you. She knew that for you, she would always come second to New Asgard.

“I knew that too. When I agreed to marry you, I knew that you’d have to do things for them first. But I love you so much and I-it sucks that I know now if you have to choose between me or your people, you’ll choose your people.

“It’s right. You should. But it fucking sucks and it hurts too much.”

You’re full on crying now and Thor gets up, but you raise your hand to stop him. With a shake of your head he sits back down.

“So…” you sniffle. “What you can do for me is give me the distance I need to work through this. I need to come to terms with the fact that after our baby is born, I’ll be third. I need to just learn and accept that no matter how much you say you love me, you can never choose me.

“Can you give me that? Can you give me space?”

As you meet his gaze, his intense unrelenting stare, you can see him warring with himself. You can see the confusion and the indecision. You can see the agony of what you’re asking of him but somehow he manages to nod.

His own eye waters and after a second nod, his tears spill over to trail across his cheek and lose themselves in his beard.

“I’m sorry, cherub,” he grieves. “I never meant to hurt you like this.”

“I know that, Thor. But I have to find out how much of myself I can invest in our marriage. Because if loving you like this means I have to feel this kind of pain over and over again, I don’t think I can keep loving you. Not like this.”

Your words hurt him and you regret them, but you can’t take them back because they’re truth. You need to guard yourself and you aren’t going to apologize for putting yourself first when no one else in your life will.

The silence is never ending.

The two of you sit sniffling at the island for what feels like hours. Finally, your stomach rumbles loudly and Thor springs up from his seat to the fridge.

He starts pulling out an array of ingredients that you don’t pay too much mind to.

He fills the house with the smells of chicken, paprika, rosemary, lemon, and some other spices you can’t pick out. It makes your stomach growl more loudly and at least with his mind and hands busy making your dinner, he stops crying and that at least gives you a little bit of a break from the horror you’ve been feeling at causing him so much pain with your choice to distance yourself from him.

“Might I stay the night?” he checks, surprising you a bit by the question.

“On the couch,” you whisper, unable to speak any louder.

The idea of him sleeping in the same space but not next to you is unbearable, but somehow you find a way to deal.

His hand stutters over the pan but after a moment he goes back to cooking.

“The couch is fine,” he agrees. “Whatever you need, love.”

And even though his words tell you he’s fine, you know him well enough to recognize the depression in his stoic gaze.

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