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saints-who-never-existed · 3 months

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Rereading The Terror

Chapter Forty-Eight: Goodsir

And so on to the aftermath...

Seven hours pass when Little's lead-scouting party should've been back within four, so the remaining exhausted men launch the boats and follow them.

There's mention here of Des Voeux commanding the last boat in the procession, and of him being "third in command of our overall Expedition now behind Captain Crozier and Lieutenant Little". Not sure if that's an error on Simmons' part or an implication that poor Hodgson has been removed from the chain of command entirely and remains a Lieutenant in name only?

As they make their way along the lead, there's talk of what might've befallen Little's party ("There ain't no way that Lieutenant Edward Little got himself Lost" shot back Charles Best. "He may be Stuck, but not lost.") Soon, however, when they emerge into that huge open lake, all becomes clearer... "The water was Red here." :(((

Initially, Crozier and the other senior seamen commanding the boats try to calm the men, explaining that all the gore on the ice is simply the sign of seals hunted and killed by polar bears. It doesn't take long for them to realise that that's not the case though, as they spot the bow of Little's whaleboat floating vertically in the water, the rest smashed to pieces. The whaleboat is named The Lady J. Franklin...

They continue their passage cautiously across the crimson lake, taking in more grisly sights. First, they find Mr Reid's headless corpse floating in the water, his fingers half-nibbled away by fish, then more nightmarish bloody streaks at the water's edge ("Oh, damn... You can see the bloody grooves of the man's Fingers and Nails in the Snow. The Thing must've dragged him backwards into the Water") Then, they find the remains of a body almost entirely consumed, unidentifiable because all that's left are a few ribs, torn scraps of clothing, and a fucking pelvis.

Then, they find Harry Peglar... :'''((( There's not a scratch on him - it appears that he's managed to climb out of the water and frozen to death on the ice without Tuunbaq ever touching him - yet the sight of him is as disturbing as every bit of gore that's gone before: "It was Harry Peglar lying there almost naked - his few remaining Clothes mere Underthings - Curled up on the Ice, Knee Raised almost to his Chin, Legs crossed at the Ankle as if his last energy had been spent trying to keep warm by pressing his body Tighter and Tighter, his Hands tucked under his Arms while he Hugged himself in what must have been an End in Violent Shivers." "His blue eyes were open and frozen. His flesh was also Blue and as Hard to the Touch as Carrera Marble." (That last line gets me most of all, and strikes me as an interesting reference, slightly Classical perhaps? Putting one in mind of Ancient Rome and Greece, Xenophon etc.?)

But even if there's no sign that Tuunbaq touched Peglar directly, that's not to say that it wasn't involved in his death... All around his body on the ice are Tuunbaq's gigantic footprints, circling again and again and again... "The thing had Circled Harry many times. Watching as poor Mr Peglar lay Shivering and Dying? Enjoying itself? Had Harry Peglar's last shivering Image on this Earth been of that White Monstrosity looming over him, its black, unblinking Eyes watching? Why had the thing not eaten our friend?" "The Beast was on two legs the entire time it was on the floe" was all that Captain Crozier said."

If ever they had any hope left, Goodsir feels it well and truly extinguished after the hasty funeral held for Peglar, Reid, and all the other body parts they've managed to cobble together. "All of us, I believe, were Thinking that these words were a Eulogy and Farewell for each one of us. Up until this Day...I suspect that many of us still thought that we might Live. Now we knew that the odds of that had all but Disappeared..." "The Ice will not give us up.""And the creature from the ice will not allow us to leave."

Nevertheless, they carry on. Later, Goodsir goes through the dead men's remaining personal items. Bridgens approaches him specifically requesting Peglar's comb and his famous Papers ("...just a Remembrance of the man.") which Goodsir hands over, despite his own confusion. The rest is left behind on the ice as they move on, "a sad little Cairn of Mortality".

The chapter ends with Tozer and the other four remaining Marines perishing in dramatic fashion as the ice opens up beneath them in the night and closes right behind them again with a deafening crash as they're swallowed up by "the Wine Dark Sea", another delicious Classical reference to end on. :(((

#The Terror #The Terror AMC #Observations #Random Observations #Meta #Rereading the Terror #Terror Spoilers #Harry Goodsir #Henry Peglar #John Bridgens #Edward Little #Solomon Tozer #Charles Frederick Des Voeux #Pain #Pure unadulterated pain

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artethyst · 5 days

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~ Leaves In A Sky Full Of Stars ~

Eris Vanserra x Rhysand’s Sister!Reader/OC

Eris had never seen his Mate so nervous- to talk to him, anyway.

Even when they had first met she had been nothing but a pain in his backside- a beautiful one no less.

“I have…news.” Came her voice, wavering as she played with her fingers, sliding the grand, shimmering ruby across her ceremonially ringed digit to soothe her.

“I suspect it is bad.” His teased, taking in her soft appearance, taught chest blossoming at the sight of his beloved.

She grinned, but there was a strange sadness to her eye which sent his own heart racing.

“It depends how you feel about it.”

He quirked a brow as she moved to him, perching herself over his thigh, her skirts brushing against his riding boots that were caked in mud.

“My Love, I am filthy-“

“When are you not?” She mocked lightly and he could only roll his eyes in return, gathering her trembling fingers in his own, warming them as he knew she liked.

Without a word she guided one of his calloused hands away from her own, placing it on her lower stomach as she remained perched on his lap.

He was perplexed until he felt it.

Their life force thrumming as one.

He looked at her incredulously and she bit her lip.

He couldn’t breathe.

“A-Another?” He swallowed thickly. “So…So soon?”

“Eri, he is almost four,” she tried to smile, but his gaze was too piercing, focused on her stomach- where their babe guiltlessly lay.

She knew what was wrong.

“He is hardly three,”

His resolve quickly diminished as he felt her disappointment through the bond, her sweet face falling at his words- ones he vowed to never hurt her with.

He heard her breath hitch and that was enough to break him.

“It…It is a blessing.” He breathed out, unconvincingly- but she knew better. “My Love, any child you give me is a greater gift than I could ever ask for-“

“Then why are you so scared?” Her voice was low as she traced his jaw, eyes glassy as he took a deep breath and counted.

One.

His father was dead. He couldn’t hurt her or the child- children.

Two.

She hadn’t died in childbirth. Madja had saved her. She was alive. Her and his firstborn son were okay.

Three-

“Eri…Talk to me…”

He hated this.

Himself.

His own anxieties self sabotaging his relationships with the only people- person he really cared about.

He swallowed thickly before replying, the feel of her delicate skin against his own dragging him back to surface from his suffocating fears. Ones he might have drowned in if not for her addictive salvation.

“Last time.” Was all he could say, jaw taught. “I almost lost you- the both of you.”

“Eri-“

“I am not my father. You…You are more than what your womb can give me- one was enough. More than enough. You are more precious to me than the heirs you may provide.”

“You…You do not want more children?”

She knew her husband was wary about the first, but had hoped he might have been convinced to have more. She was happy to compromise with his darkest fears and stop at two if it meant she could have at least one of each.

“My Love, I would have as many as you would be happy to give me, but…But it is dangerous. The Healers said-“

“Eris.” She was firm, pushing his hand further against her slightly raised stomach. “You have no reason to be afraid. You are High Lord- we have the best Healers at our disposal. After last time-“

She felt him still at the memory, a chilling sense of fear scattering its way down the bond.

“It was a miracle you both survived.” His voice was cold as she ran a hand through his choppy auburn locks, knowing that his reaction was not one of disappointment, but rather sheer unadulterated terror.

Worry for both his Mate and unborn child.

“Eri, we are both okay- we will be okay.”

And then he nodded.

A shaky breath with it, no less.

“Another, then?” Came a breathy half-laugh, his amber eyes glinting in the soft light of the room.

“Another,” she replied, eyes just as glassy, an incredulous smile on her face as he nuzzled his face against her womb, fresh tears of his own gathering against her gown.

If only the first time they had found out had been as simple.

“Must you leave me?” Eris drawled against the crown of your head, inhaling the scent as if it were his last drop of water in the vast, dry plains of Summer.

“It is all but only for a few hours you fiery baby,” you teased as he grinned against your silky hair, revelling in its softness against his cheek. “I would extend the invitation to you, though, I am certain you would not be interested in having tea with-“

“If by tea you mean talking about your sinful novels and eating pastries-“

“I’ll have you know we have distinguished talks-“

“About Sellyn Drake?”

“How do you know about Sellyn Drake?”

It was then he went quiet, which made you giggle, leaning into him for support as his hold on you tightened.

“Will you take the guards I have assigned to you? Perhaps too at least three of the hounds-“

“It is my birthplace Eris,” you wanted to roll your eyes at his overprotectiveness but knew it only came from love. “No guards. No hounds.”

It was then the eldest hound gave a high pitched whine, the very same one that had taken to curling up protectively over your stomach and defying Eris for the first time ever in her meticulously reared existence.

You were lucky he hadn’t caught on.

“How will I survive these awful meetings without knowing you’ll be right behind those doors to greet me once they have ceased?

Your smile became wicked.

“Perhaps I will have a greater surprise for you this evening-“

You barely finished your sentence before his hands had found themselves desperately grabbing at your rear, you smiled into his needy mouth as he pulled you into a tender kiss, laughing wildly as he squeezed the cheeks to slip his tongue right through your lips.

He would be in for a surprise alright.

You breathed in the air of Velaris with a melancholic peacefulness, whilst Autumn was your new home- the Court in which you presided over, nothing could ever beat the place in which you had grown.

Only two days prior, you had discovered you were pregnant- a miracle in itself. You knew of Eris’ remaining self doubts, ones that failed to be distinguished even after snuffing out Beron. How he had assured you that it wasn’t necessary to provide him heirs, that the risk of childbirth was not worth losing you.

You knew he was nothing like his father, and had often caught yourself daydreaming of what you could have- what your brother had.

It wasn’t until the Healers excitedly told you of your newfound condition that you thought it could ever be a reality.

You wanted to make it special. As special as Fae pregnancies were, and so you decided you would visit your long time favourite bakery and have them ice a celebration cake in such a way that would reveal the surprise.

One you hoped your husband would take well if not for his ridiculous overbearing attitude.

“Gods, you reek of Eris,” your cousin grimaced, nose scrunching as she pulled you into a hug. “No…Wait. What is that?” She pulled away perplexed, her pouty mouth falling open in disbelief as she suddenly recognised the sickly, sweet aroma- one also tinged with your husband’s delicate spice.

“Mor-“

“OH MY GOD! MOTHER’S TITS!” She squealed, loud enough for all of Prythian to hear. “You’re pregnant with that asshole’s child!”

You frowned.

“That asshole is still my Mate you know.”

“Cauldron boil you I suppose,” she retorted, a grin on her joyous face as you rolled your eyes with a half smile, knowing her jests were all in good humour- despite everything.

Despite the truth. Despite the truth and what you knew of Eris, the very truth your family now did too, there was still a long way to go for them to truly accept him.

“That is why I enlisted your help,” you continued, her arm now looped through yours. “I have been glamouring my scent so he wouldn’t find out until I had planned something special.”

“He has turned you soppy, Cousin,” she mocked as you giggled, knowing it was very much the other way around. “But who am I to say no to free pastries?”

After you and Mor had sufficiently stuffed yourself with cakes, you especially savouring the taste having suffered without it for far too long. It wasn’t that Autumn desserts were bad, you just missed the sweets of your childhood.

That and you were growing sick of spices and apple.

You had felt a pair of eyes trailing you but presumed it was due to the fact you were still Princess of the Night Court, your presence was greatly missed in those parts of Velaris you seldom frequented since being appointed High Lady Of Autumn.

After you thanked your favourite baker, receiving the delicate cake and had practically forced the money into her hands, making sure to visit again soon, it was almost time for you to leave the City of Starlight.

“Why can’t you stay for dinner?” Your cousin whined, still hanging off of your arm like she did when you both were teens. “I’m sure your husband can manage those few hours-“

“We will visit again when I reveal the news to everyone. I swear on the Mother Mor…You better keep it a secret- especially from Rhys!”

She raised her hands in mock surrender.

“Besides,” you continued, blissfully unaware of the presence gaining on you from behind the narrow alley. “Eris-“

It was Mor who screamed first.

You felt the dagger pierce your side, but the sharp pain in your stomach that followed was worse than whatever the assailant had set out to do. A dull ache that had stolen your voice away as you fell to the floor, helpless.

You felt yourself waning as Mor’s loud voice became faint, the last thing you saw were her shaking hands, covered in blood, as she removed the Autumn Court dagger from your marred flesh.

Eris jolted when the bond was flooded with pain, his hands scouring burn marks into his ornate chair at the head of the meeting he had been called to at the sudden intensity of it.

He hardly had time to react before the large oak doors swung open, revealing Lucien who, to anyone else, looked normal, but the most disheveled Eris had seen him in years.

The Advisors quickly bowed and deserted the room before Eris had the chance to send them away, Lucien’s shallow breaths enough to warn them of the severity of the situation their ears were not Privy to.

“Someone was sent to kill her,” was all the Emissary said. He knew Eris would understand and was never one for pleasantries. “Rhysand has her in the Town House-“

And that was all he needed to winnow straight to where his Mate was being held.

“Brother,” Lucien called out, only steps behind the High Lord, jogging to catch up to the man barrelling through the doors adorned with Night’s symbology. “Rhysand has her room guarded, I warn you-“

“She is my Mate,” he growled, animalistic. “I shall do as I please.”

“High Lord,” Rhysand greeted sarcastically as Eris stormed his way into view, heart beating so fast he was sure he might have a heart attack if he didn’t reach you in the next few seconds.

“Rhysand if you do not step your ridiculously shoed foot aside-“

“She is safe. Our Healers do not need another High Lord breathing down their necks-“

“Safe? Someone tried to kill her. I think you and I have very different definitions of ‘safe’, High Lord.” The title was spat with venom, not respect.

“It was an Autumn Court Soldier.” Rhysand’s tone was pointed, “if she hadn’t been with Morrigan, perhaps nobody would have found her in time.”

Eris’ face paled.

“Autumn?” His jaw became taught. “Where-“

“Azriel took him to the dungeons. I assured him to leave the bastard to you, that you would most certainly provide the deserved punishment.”

Eris couldn’t thank him.

The horrible lump in his throat stopping him.

The one that had never left since his cursed birth- the one that had remained even when you had entered his life, the one that only shrunk, but never ceased to exist.

You had been hurt because of him.

Targeted.

Almost killed because he had been unaware- unable to stop it.

He knew he didn’t deserve you, but this was enough proof for him to make that very lump increase tenfold. Increase to the point where he felt he was going to suffocate.

He was drowning. He was erratic and his salvation- his only respite, was laying unresponsive in next the room over.

Whenever he got like this, which was rare as of late, you were the one to soothe him.

Kiss away his fears- quash the traumas his father had so lovingly provided him.

He felt like he was going to die.

He wanted to.

A life without you in it was not worth living.

He felt a familiar claws scraping at his mental shields and could only blame his lack of response for their intrusion, sending his brother a sharp glare in return regardless.

“Get out of my head Rhysand!”

“Let him see her, Rhys,” came Feyre’s gentle voice as she emerged from the chamber in which you were being held, and Eris might have thanked her if not for the red tainting his vision. “You would act just the same if it were me.”

Rhysand looked torn for a moment- as if he had only just remembered his little sister, now his only sister, belonged to another male.

That someone else now held her heart.

“Try keeping your emotions in check High Lord,” came his suave voice, though Feyre knew he was masking his own fears. “Wouldn’t want to exasperate her further through your…Unfortunate bond, would we?”

And with that, the High Lord of Night made his exit.

A silent acceptance that Eris was the one now entrusted to look over you.

Feyre sent Eris an apologetic smile before catching up with her own Mate, lightly berating him before they could turn the corner.

He didn’t even bother to listen.

You were more important than any domestic material he could have on Rhysand to poke fun at him for later.

You were more important than anything.

He thought he had prepared himself for the worst, but he would never forget the way your face looked in that moment.

Pale.

Sickeningly pale.

Not the delicate, moonlit expanse he spent his nights caressing- worshipping, wondering how he got so lucky, but a pallid shade that almost brought him to his knees.

You were the only one who could ever bring him to.

He knew he had memorised the shade of your eyes- an ethereal violet, the only place he’d allow himself to get lost in, but was horrified as they remained shut.

Perhaps to never open again.

Because of him.

Or so he told himself.

He wished then he had spent every breath- every fleeting second of his centuries of living looking into those eyes if it meant never having to forget the way they looked.

The way you gazed upon him- with love.

Not with fear, disappointment nor disgust, but the way his mother did.

Even when you had wanted nothing to do with him, before you had accepted the bond and would refuse to meet his gaze, forced to trail behind your father and brother as a well-bred female should- or so was told.

Even when he knew he was the only one in love- would do anything for you regardless, he would rather go back to that moment, see those eyes narrowed at him in fury, than never see them again.

“The dagger was laced with Fae bane,” came the voice of Madja, he knew that because you had forced him to be attended to by her when he had suffered a particularly nasty thrashing at the hands of his father.

One you didn’t trust the Healers of his own court to remedy.

“By the Mother child, sit before you faint on me.” His face might have been have been paler than yours- blood colder and far more disheveled. “She is alive. After she wakes, Mother knows she will, I must warn you, she will still require an extensive recovery period- especially because of the baby.”

Especially because of the baby.

The baby.

The baby. The baby. The baby.

“T-The what?”

Madja breathed sharply through her nostrils.

“I see.” She sighed, adjusting the pillows beneath your limp neck. “I was under the impression you were aware. Do not fret, I have not informed anyone else-“

“She…She’s pregnant?”

It was then any semblance he was gripping onto fell through his hands like the tears threatened to from his piercing eyes.

His chest felt like it was on fire- consumed by the same flames that rested within him, his ribcage screaming out with each wavered breath as he used the wall for support.

He was having a panic attack.

He was having a panic attack and you were not there to save him.

“Leave,” he gritted out when he felt Madja inch towards him. “It will resolve itself in a minute- go.”

She was in no mood to argue with a High Lord- a temperamental one at that, and, deep down, trusted him enough to be left alone with you. He might’ve been the only one she would’ve taken that order from.

She knew that you loved him- that he loved you more. Perhaps even deeper than her own High Lord loved his own mate. She had practically raised you, it was not hard to tell. It was a palpable love.

A fiery, all consuming love.

When the woman had finally left, he let himself fall to your bedside, one hand clutching his chest, the other trembling and taking a firm hold of your much smaller, much softer one.

One that was ice cold.

He gasped through his tears, so foreign against his skin- his skin that had become so hot, his Magic uncontrollable, that they evaporated as soon as they fell upon his freckled cheeks.

The words came tumbling out before he could even rationalise- process what they meant. Apologising- for everything.

Apologising for being your Mate, for cursing you to be bound to such a fool as he, one that had broken his promise to protect you- to keep you safe.

He sobbed unabashedly- unashamedly into your hands, the frail digits slowly becoming warmed by his powers as he continued praying the hardest he’d ever prayed- the only time of three that he had ever put his wavering faith into the Mother, to keep you and his unborn child steady.

Steady and awake.

He wasn’t sure if Madja had been vague to comfort him or simply because she too was unaware when you would come to.

Or if you would ever.

He hadn’t even become a father and he had already failed his one duty.

If he felt worthless before, it was nothing to what he felt now- kneeling on the cold stone, his head against your womb with his fractured cries ricocheting off of the bloodied material.

He would burn it.

Buy you 1000 dresses to make up for the one he destroyed- never wanting to smell the scent of your blood, the one which made him gag and tears gather ever more strongly at the corner of his russet eyes.

He would burn it alongside the very man had done this to you.

Burn him slowly.

He would burn everything for you, the entirety of Prythian- himself to ensure your safety.

And now his child’s.

“E-Eri?”

And that’s when he really did properly cry.

You couldn’t understand what he was saying, his hoarse voice muffled by the fresh linen Madja had given you after attending to your wound.

Then you realised he wasn’t saying anything at all.

He was crying.

He was crying and trying to hide it.

“I-I’m sorry-“ your voice was weak, and it was your turn to cry. “I-I should’ve listened to you, I-I should never have come, I put our baby in danger-“

You spoke without thinking, but it was then you gasped.

Your baby.

“The baby is okay-“ Eris let out, his own voice breaking, finally lifting his head and allowing his watery gaze meeting your own as if saying it out loud finally made him accept it.

Realise what truly lay ahead.

“T-The baby- our baby,” he choked out, and you let him bring you into his arms, as you hiccuped against his shoulder as he held you. “My star, I can never apologise enough if I made you feel you couldn’t tell me-“

“No,” you sniffled, wincing as you shifted, “I-I came here to surprise you, I-I had someone bake a cake- I-“ you burst into tears again. “I-I didn’t mean for any of this to happen…I just wanted to make you happy!”

You were still thinking about him.

He was supposed to be the one comforting you and yet all you could do was apologise- apologise for wanting him to be happy.

“My Love, you make me happy. With every breath I take knowing you are my Mate fills me with more joy than anything tangible- anything else the Mother could ever gift me,” his words were sincere as he delicately held you, mindful of your wound. “There is nothing in all of Prythian that matters to me apart from you.”

He felt himself becoming tense as his fingers brushed against your cut- the one he refused to look at because it turned him feral.

“Are…Are you happy then?” Your voice was so small it almost broke him. The fact you even had to ask. “I know how you feel-“

“My Light, that news alone leaves me the happiest I have ever been,” he was struggling to maintain his composure with his Mate so weak- trembling in his strong arms. “A child is a blessing, one I am honoured you would ever give me…” His amber gaze became crescent shaped as he smiled, still in disbelief. “I love you. More than anything. More than I ever thought possible.”

You didn’t know why you were crying anymore.

The pain, the fear, the love you felt oozing from the bond or your husband’s words.

The confessions that spilled from him so readily- easily after years of coaxing him from his shell, that hard exterior even you had to work through.

“Our baby,” you echoed, the only words you could find as you revelled in your Mate’s tears.

A rare sight if any.

“Our baby,” he affirmed shakily, his free hand remaining protectively splayed on your flat stomach, swearing there and then he’d keep you safe- the both of you safe, no matter the cost.

The same cost that later that evening, when you had spent enough time wrapped up in Eris, Madja shooing him away exasperatedly, the man who had dared do this to you paid for.

The cost he paid for when Eris knew you were amply surrounded by people- family who loved you, people at your beck and call by your bedside, giving him enough time to deal with the very scum that had once been part of his- your Court.

The very cost that was hours of torture- brutal torture lovingly provided by the very blade that had harmed you- a hundred fold.

The man couldn’t even scream his last words, his tongue cut from his mouth as he was burned alive.

Eris, with a snarl on his powerful face at the memory of you so helpless.

And with the blood of his enemy covering his shaking hands, all he could think of was you.

You and his child.

#fanfic #acotar #acotar fic #acotar x oc #acotar x reader #eris acotar #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #eris vanserra x reader #eris x oc #eris x reader #dad!eris

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celaenaeiln · 8 months

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I feel like Nightwing doesn't kill is a promise. That's why criminals fear him. He won't kill. He'll make you wish you were killed, tho. He'll make sure you live, but the pain is what scares them. But maybe that's my way to look at it. Cuz my pretty boy is unhinged and feral in the most adorable way, hehe 😅😅

YESSSS! More than a promise to Bruce, it is a promise to himself.

Nightwing is only the nicest, sweetest, charming guy to civilians and allies but when he's serious criminals are terrified of him.

The pure ice in his voice. He's itching-daring-the criminal to even try and shoot him. Just begging for it so he can give him the proper retribution.

Here he's throwing a criminal from a speeding subway. He knows the action won't kill them, but it will seriously hurt them.

More than that it's how he instills fear which has my greatest admiration. Dick is the symbol of hope and rebirth to the good and the heroes but he's a masked terror when it comes to villains. I love how he just doesn't go around scaring them the same way. Every single villain, he terrifies them in a different manner than he did the previous.

Here's my favorite of the series:

"Do you have any idea what it feels like to burn to death?"

-the ice in his voice while surrounded by flames of anger both literal and figurative.

"Residents on floors one through three died instantly when your bomb went off. But four and five the floors...fell through on them. And floor six...they burned."

*fanning myself because that was too hot*

He's special because he purposefully brings forth people's strengths and uses them to destroy themselves with it.

Bludhaven is the worst fictional place in all of DC. It's been alluded to in the DC Legends of Tomorrow and other comics but Bludhaven is almost practically inhabitable because of the way it is rife with crime. Riddled and filled.

To be able to clean up such a city that corrupt to its core, Dick had to be the brightest light to shine so the good will bask in him and seek reform like the citizens who were so desperately relieved at the reappearance of Nightwing during the Ric Grayson arc.

But he is also so unhinged and vicious and overwhelming enough to quell the worst of the worst and drag his city up from the mud. His mind is like a razor blade made of diamond in order to cut through the bullshit of his city and keep everyone in check.

That means he's unhinged and powerful and he revels in that insanity and strength to become someone worth looking up to.

He's so feral in the way his eyes shine just a little too bright and his perpetual smile always has a touch of wildness clinging to its edges.

He'll cackle with joy because for him he is living in the moment. Just pure, unadulterated joy that comes from being free and alive in a way we can't explain.

#he's so twisted when he's on his own #dick grayson #nightwing #i remembered a quote I saved many years ago that describes him I'll post #cl anon asks

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peachdues · 6 months

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IN THE NETHERWOOD

PART III TEASER • werewolf!Sanemi x Red Riding Hood Reader

A/N: both Part I and Part II are posted!

Sanemi Shinazugawa was no stranger to fear.

Fear was a rational experience; it was what kept him alive, kept him moving, even when everything within him begged him to give up, to stop.

He’d known fear that day when the monster attacked his family, maiming him and Genya while killing everyone else. He’d known it again the first time he shifted, the moon ominously down upon him as his skin rippled and his joints contorted.

He’d known it again when Kanae had sounded a single warning howl in the night, never to be seen or heard from again.

But this was not mere fear.

This was terror. Pure, unadulterated and boundless terror like he’d never before known.

It was paralyzing; the kind that locked you where you stood and would not let your body move, no matter how much your brain screamed at you otherwise. It broke him out in a cold sweat, his body unable to regulate its own temperature as it trembled.

And yet, the terror was not his own; not there, sitting with his pack mates as they rested during their nightly patrol.

It was precisely because it wasn’t his terror to begin with that ever hair on Sanemi’s body stood straight on end as the sensation rippled through him like the aftershock of some earthen calamity.

There was only one way for him to feel such soul-shattering trepidation when he was otherwise safe and sound; because that meant Y/N — his mate — was anything but.

Sanemi sprung to his feet, not caring at the wide eyed alarm of his closest friends as they voiced their concern. He was far too focused on thundering her name down their shared bond, demanding that she answer, that she give some sort of sign as to her location so he could run to her, help her, protect her —

Another surge of that hot, frantic alarm and then nothing.

The bond went silent.

And Sanemi knew terror — true terror.

#demon slayer #sanemi shinazugawa #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #kinktober

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dystopia-incognito · 5 months

Text

Male Werewolf x Female Reader

Warning: NSFW (minors DNI) contains sex/dubcon A short spicy story of 1,977 words about a young woman encountering a werewolf.

A little side note: I NEVER write, I'm a nervous wreck for just posting this. That being said.. I wrote this little dabble specifically for a very special person the night before their birthday as a surprise and I might never actually finish it. Do enjoy it for what it is, though! <3

Freedom. In a tranquil corner of the world, nestled by the edge of a serene lake, Y/N found her escape from the bustling village that had kept her busy for far too long. The cool, inviting water lapped gently at her feet as she sat on the grassy shore, her emotions swirling like a symphony. It was the first sensation that washed over her. As her toes touched the water's surface, she felt liberated. Here, away from the ceaseless demands of her family and the never-ending chores of the village, she could finally breathe. By this quiet lake, she could be herself, unburdened by obligations. She smiled and hiked up her modest dress a little higher to not get it wet, the lush grass beneath her bare legs seemed to embrace her like a lover. Overhead, the leaves rustled like ancient scrolls, and the rhythmic ripples of the lake provided a soothing lullaby. In this moment, she merged seamlessly with the natural world, an integral part of a harmonious landscape. The water's gentle caress on her ankles brought forth sheer delight. She wiggled her toes, savouring the exquisite sensation. With each movement, every ripple she created in the water, she found a wellspring of unadulterated joy. Her laughter echoed, blending harmoniously with the songs of the birds in the nearby trees. Her gaze was drawn to the horizon, where the sun's golden glow painted the sky with hues of orange and pink. Her thoughts wandered to the future, where dreams and aspirations converged. Her heart swelled with optimism and a sense of adventure, as if the world itself were an open book, waiting for her to write its next chapter. It was a future where her heart would find its truest desires, where every sunrise held the promise of new adventures, and where her spirit would soar unburdened.

As the sun descended lower, casting elongated shadows across the water's surface, she closed her eyes for a moment. The soft breeze gently played with her hair and gently kissed her cheeks, carrying the fragrant scent of the surrounding pines. It was a tranquil pause, a chance to gather her thoughts amidst the serenity of her secluded haven. But as the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting the forest clearing in a deepening twilight, she suddenly became aware of a presence. It was a sensation she couldn't ignore, a feeling that sent a shiver down her spine. Beyond the familiar forest clearing that had always felt like her refuge, something new and unsettling had emerged.

The tranquil harmony of nature seemed disrupted as if an intruder had entered this sacred space. She stood up slowly, brushing her out of her face, slipping hastily into her boots, her heart pounding with an inexplicable mixture of curiosity and trepidation. She scanned the tree line, her eyes straining to pierce the gathering darkness. And there, between the dense shrubbery and shadowy trees, she saw it— a pair of eyes glowing with an eerie luminescence. The intensity of their gaze sent a chill through her, and she felt a sense of foreboding. She considered the possibilities: perhaps it was a lone wolf, their eyes reflecting the fading light. Or, in the depths of her imagination, a more ominous thought took root— a creature of legend and terror.

As she slowly retreated from the water's edge, she couldn't tear her eyes away from those glowing orbs in the darkness. Her instincts told her to be cautious, to respect the untamed wildness of the forest, and to tread carefully as she made her way home. With each step, she couldn't shake the feeling that the presence she had sensed was something beyond the ordinary, something that had been drawn to the tranquil haven she had sought for solace and reflection. The mystery of those glowing eyes haunted her thoughts as she ventured back toward the village, journeying through the forest's depths. With a heart pounding in her chest, she hurriedly attempted to make her way back through the dark forest.

Fear of the possible threat had her senses on edge, and as she ventured deeper, an unsettling disorientation began to grip her. The once-familiar forest now felt foreign, as if the trees had rearranged themselves while her attention was drawn to the mysterious presence by the lake. Thick greenery pressed in from all sides, making it difficult to discern one path from another. The foliage seemed to conspire, creating an eerie sameness that made every turn look alike. Her footsteps, once confident, now faltered as uncertainty took hold. Panic threatened to consume her as she feared she had strayed from her familiar way home. The forest's natural beauty had transformed into an intimidating maze, where every tree and every shadow appeared as a deceptive mirror image of the last. As the encroaching darkness deepened, she battled her rising anxiety, pushing her body through the underbrush, trying to remember the landmarks she'd used countless times to navigate these woods.

It was a race against time and her fear, an urgent attempt to find her way back to the safety of the village before the night's secrets fully unfurled, and her fear of the unknown became a reality. As the unsettling sense of being stalked by what she could only assume to be a werewolf tightened its grip on her, she felt a growing unease that urged her to flee. Panic and adrenaline coursed through her veins, driving her to her feet as she started running through the dark forest. With each pounding step, her surroundings grew increasingly unfamiliar. Trees loomed like shadowy sentinels, and the underbrush seemed to tangle at her feet. She ran aimlessly, her heart thundering in her chest as she picked up speed, the urgency of escape driving her forward. In the oppressive darkness, the sound of her breath and the rush of her footsteps filled her ears. But then, she began to hear something else— a haunting, primal sound echoing through the trees. It was the unmistakable sound of pursuit, the creature she had feared drawing nearer with each passing moment.

The relentless rhythm of its power and grace echoed in her ears, a chilling reminder of the danger that chased her through the labyrinthine forest. She dared not glance back, for the terror had become all too real, her only thought was to find her way to safety in this perilous game of survival amidst the darkness. Her heart was pounding in her ears and her limbs failing her as she ran through the forest, her breath ragged and laboured, each step became a monumental effort. In her desperate flight, she suddenly tripped over a gnarled root, sprawling to the forest floor. Pain seared through her, but adrenaline surged through her veins. She scrambled to get up but hit the ground again, exhausted she realized, her escape had come to a heartbreaking halt.

Her body refused to obey her commands, with trembling limbs she lay there, chest heaving as she fought her burning lungs to breathe. She snapped her head up to look around, her nightmare had vanished into the shadows but she knew it was only a matter of time before it would catch up to her again. Willing herself to move, she managed to roll onto her back, peering into the direction she had come from as her eyes adjusted to the darkness surrounding her. Long minutes passed, and then over the sound of the blood rushing in her ears, she heard it — rustling of leaves and twigs, the eerie whisper of fur against the night air. The werewolf, with one giant leap, emerged from the shadows and fixed its feral eyes upon her.

Frozen in fear, she felt unable to breathe, dwarfed by its imposing size, she could feel the creature's hot breath as it drew near on all fours, coming as close as to hover over her. The scent of the forest and the wildness of the beast enveloped her, and for a moment that stretched into eternity, they remained locked in a tense and inexplicable stillness. Y/N couldn't tear her eyes away from the werewolf's gaze, and the creature's intelligent eyes seemed to calculate the situation, caught between predatory instincts and fascination with her presence. Then, with a hesitant and almost tender movement, the werewolf lowered its large head and sniffed her.

It was a surrealistically intimate moment, where the boundaries between fear and curiosity blurred into something she couldn't comprehend. Y/N, still frozen in place, allowed it to happen, her heart pounding in her chest. The forest rustled, the night held its breath and she and the this wild beast existed in a tense and enigmatic moment. She now was at the mercy of the unknown. Not knowing what the future held, in that fragile moment of shared vulnerability, something unexpected had passed between them.

…

And then the spell was abruptly broken as it leaned in, got a hold of her face, and licked it. Its tongue left long clammy strokes over her cheek and down the side of her neck. With its wet snout, it nudged the low neckline of her dress for access. She gasped and thrashed in sheer surprise, struggling to get away, but the werewolf muscled her back firmly to the lush forest floor. It withdrew slightly to look at her, growling a low, possessive warning which vibrated through her very being. In horror, she watched the beast's thick, viscous drool drip from its fangs and felt it land with a deliberate and heavy splat onto her chest. Shivers ran down her spine as the invasive syrupy substance tenaciously clung to the soft slopes of her rising and falling chest, lazily pooling down into her cleavage as it glistened in the dim moonlight.

She could only expect the worst, powerless, as it continued to sniff her. Its keen sense of smell and big paws explored her curvacious body, moving downwards to dip underneath the hem of her dress, sending her nerves on edge. Its snout then pushed upwards, moving her dress along with the motion, to nuzzle apart her thick trembling thighs. Her fingers dug into the fresh earth beneath her and her skin prickled as goosebumps appeared all over her body, But before she could even flinch it let her know once more, and quite vocally, she wasn't allowed to move. Taking two deep huffs of her, the werewolf's hot breath washed over her sex. A strangled noise escaped her, and then, without any warning, it hungrily began lapping at her. The sudden sheer sensation of it drew a high-pitched wail from her lips, like a wounded animal, her body curled in on itself, thighs clamping down weakly around its powerful head. Her hands shot down to grab white-knuckled fists full of the beast's thick mane as it continued, absolutely unbothered, to wetly slobber away at her. And it was too much at once. Her stomach tied in knots, and she shook with mixed emotions tumbling away inside her, even if pleasure slowly but surely bloomed in her core. Then the creature's head snapped up, licking its lips as sure goal-set glowing eyes met hers to stare her back down into submission, into the moss and dancing leaves beneath her. She was overwhelmed by it, the werewolf's sheer masculinity and assertive power made her feel more vulnerable than if she were completely exposed to him. It, on the other hand, wasted no time and grabbed at her, pulling her in and pushing her back against his hips eagerly. Her insides contracted involuntarily as it ripped at her dress for easier access to more of her body. She was met with throbbing heat on her newly exposed skin, carnal desire and the sheer size of Him against her tummy. Her mouth went dry with the realisation of what would happen next..

- FIN

#monster fucker #werewolf smut #werewolf lover #werewolves #werewolf x female reader #werewolf #my writing #please be gentle it's my first time (posting any of my writing that is)#werewolf boyfriend

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kittenintheden · 2 days

Text

Before Morning's Light

surprise early morning Oristarion bang because I felt like it, enjoy.

Rating: E Pairing: Astarion/Orianna (female OC) Word Count: 750 Content: 18+, wake up from dual nightmares and then bang the demons away

***

They wake in their shared bed in the Elfsong at nearly the same moment, both panting and fighting against their nightmares’ pull. Instinctively they find one another for comfort, hands entwining and bodies pressed tight until the shakes stop, until her heartbeat slows. They rest on their sides, embracing as best they can.

It’s very early morning, judging from the way the only light in the room comes from the yellowed and washed-out streetlamps on the street below, and as they catch their breath, they meet one another’s eyes. Bleary with sleep, steeped in the terror of a receding nightmare. An understanding sort of mirror.

Ori tilts her chin forward and kisses him, softly.

The thrum of fear and anger still pulses with nowhere to go, twining along their nerves and preventing them from settling back to rest.

Their eyes flick back to one another and a current passes between them.

Ori’s hands go to his waistband as his fingers reach up underneath the hem of her sleep shirt, their movements frantic and hurried as though this can’t happen fast enough, both uncharacteristically fumbling. She makes an annoyed hiss as she grabs hold of his shirt and yanks it up to give herself more room to work.

“Who tucks their bloody shirt in when they sleep?” she grouses in a whisper as she looks down. She can see the hard ridge of his arousal straining against his thin breeches and she needs it free immediately.

Astarion’s hand is fully under her clothing now, hooking his fingers beneath the waistband of her smallclothes and already pulling them down her hips with no mind whatsoever to whether he might tear the fabric. “Who doesn’t wear breeches to sleep at all?” he grumble-whispers back, bending her knee up to make it easier to get this stupid thing all the way down and over her ankle.

“Someone who plans for this exact eventuality. What in the hells is this fucking drawstring-” She pulls at it, trying to dig out the knot and prying a subdued groan from him as her nails scrape against the skin over his pubic bone.

“Get, would you get out of the-” He lifts her freed leg up over his hip and reaches between them to knock her hands out of the way so he can take over. It takes a few seconds for him to work the knot apart, and then he and she both shove them down, breeches and smallclothes together, over his arse and hips to free him. His cock springs up toward her, eager, and he thrusts between her legs without thinking, seeking her warmth.

He misses the first time, his desperation making him sloppy, and they both snipe quietly at one another until she puts a firm palm on his hip to hold him in place and rolls herself up to catch the tip of him, adjusting for angle, and gets him partway in. Then he thrusts up once, twice, and he’s inside.

They don’t even communicate the need before they each get a hand over the other’s mouth to muffle the debauched whimpering noises they make as they begin rutting with total abandon, her leg tight over his upper thigh and gripping for leverage.

Their bodies are teeming with adrenaline and nerves and need. It’s like they were already on the edge, their arousal hypersensitive and ready to burst. It’s pure, needy, unadulterated fucking, no artistry or thought behind it, only the base desire to rock and ride straight to the top.

Astarion comes first, his eyes slamming shut and his back curving with it, his moan trapped behind Ori’s fingers. His shaking free hand goes up under her clothes, flat on the small of her back as he pulses and continues to fuck into her as long as his body will let him. Close, close, close-

She cries through gritted teeth and behind her own barrier, shivering through her climax before she slows and they melt back down into the mattress beneath them. Hands drop away from mouths, chests heave for breath.

“Ohfuckohfuckohfuck,” Astarion whispers, eyes still shut, limbs going heavy.

Ori presses her mouth to his forehead, huffing out her breath. “That’s one way to exorcize our demons, I guess,” she breathes.

From somewhere beyond their privacy screen, they hear Gale groan, “By Mystra’s holy tits, would you two shut the nine hells up, you aren’t as quiet as you think you are. It’s not even daylight. Gods.”

Astarion collapses into silent giggles against Ori.

“Sorry, Gale,” she whisper-yells.

#astarion smut #bg3 smut #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x female oc #astarion x oc #not your sweetheart #kitten writes

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deviousdeliciousness · 10 days

Text

Jarred

A tiny is rude to a giant, so the giant decides to teach the tiny a lesson - one they'll undoubtedly remember.

Time-out can gain a whole new meaning when you're four inches tall. (And a jar can feel claustrophobic even if you can so easily fit inside.)

~~~~~~~~

"-Yeah? Well I think you're stupid!" Tee shouted back up to Jack, stomping his foot on the counter for added emphasis and crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.

Jack's expression turned blank, then darkened. His jaw clenched, and there was an audible grinding of his teeth.

Tee couldn't help but falter, physically taking half a step back as a dark scowl settled on his giant friend's face. Suddenly, yelling at the much larger being didn't seem like it'd been such a good idea.

"H-hey-" Tee started to stutter, raising his hands in front of himself in a placational manner, but he cut himself off with a surprised squeak as Jack's hand shot out above him, ripping open a cupboard door with far more force than necessary and snatching up something inside.

Tee craned his neck up to see what, and his heart stuttered in his chest as he saw-

A jar.

Jack was holding a large glass jar, one of the tall ones nearly twice Tee's height, and he was unscrewing the lid with vicious efficiency. Tee nearly jumped out of his skin when Jack slammed the lid onto the counter, and fight or flight mode finally hit the tiny like a train as he saw the giant's hand menacingly swoop forward in his direction.

Tee wisely chose flight.

He spun on his heel and bolted, his heart all at once hammering up from his chest and into his throat and his legs pumping frantically as he darted across the counter, the back of his neck practically burning with the undoubted glare of the furious giant behind him.

Tee barely made it ten steps.

He let loose a blood-curdling scream as Jack's palm collided with his back, giant fingers curling inwards around him like a Venus flytrap.

He thrashed wildly in the grip, any semblance of rational thought having abruptly fled his mind in place of pure, unadulterated terror, but he just as quickly froze - as still as death - when the fingers around him squeezed just shy of making his bones creak with the pressure, the threat as clear as day and all the more sickeningly petrifying for it.

He whimpered - a short, aborted sound - as his feet lifted up off the the counter, and he had to forcefully repress the urge to uselessly wriggle like a caught fish as the movement came to a stop with him aloft in the air, knowing - dreading - without having to look that he was being held above the opening to the jar.

He sent a desperate, pleading look to the giant - to his friend - but Jack's expression was closed off and so, so cold.

Tee's tentative hope that this was all a sick, twisted joke to get back at him withered and died a horrible death.

In the next moment, he was dropped. He landed awkwardly, barely catching himself from twisting his ankle as he landed hard onto the cool glass bottom of the mason jar, gasping out a shocked breath. He flinched backwards into the glass behind him as the jar was set none-too-gently onto the counter, and he craned his neck up high to stare with uncomprehending, fear-filled eyes at Jack.

The giant peered down at him dispassionately from the open lid of the jar. As if he hadn't just obliterated the carefully built, more than just tentatively hopeful trust a tiny had fully placed in his giant's hands. A gift so rarely given. A gift that was now destroyed.

There was movement in Tee's peripheral, and in the next second, his line of sight to the giant's face was blocked by a solid black lid, one that clacked gratingly against the glass before it begun to be twisted, Jack screwing it back onto the jar with what Tee could only perceive as a detached sense of finality.

"No," the tiny whimpered, sliding down the side of the jar and curling his knees to his chest, arms wrapping around his calves and gripping tight. This couldn't be happening. His - Jack wouldn't do this to him. He wouldn't.

But he had.

The tiny's head smacked into the back of the jar when he flinched as the giant's hand suddenly wrapped around the container, lifting it once more and making Tee's stomach drop into his guts with the too-quick movement.

There was a squeak of the cupboard hinges, and Tee had to quickly blink his eyes (which stung with tears that he refused to acknowledge or dare let fall for fear of them never stopping) as the light around him suddenly dimmed. He peered muzzily at his surroundings, which were ever so slightly distorted through the thick glass.

His breath froze in his lungs as he took in the cold, empty jars all around him, lifeless and covered in a thin layer of dust. None showing any sign of use, of ever - or only the rarest of occasions - seeing the light of day.

He snapped his neck forwards again and frantically scrambled to the front of the jar from where he saw Jack looking down at him, one of the giant's hands already loosely gripping the cupboard door's knob.

Tee shook his head, slightly at first, then with more desperation as his panic renewed with a stomach-dropping vengeance, his palms pressing up against the glass and his eyes wide and irrefutably pleading. He knew the giant wouldn't be able to hear him through the container, but a litany of frantic pleas and cries fell past his lips anyway.

"Please - please Jack don't do this. I'm sorry - I - I won't yell at you, or-or call you stupid or- do anything bad ever again. I was- I was wrong. I was wrong - please! I - you - you were right! About everything! I swear I'll listen to whatever you say, I'll- I'll do whatever you want - j-just - just don't leave me here!"

Jack just continued to stare dully at him, stony expression unchanged except for the briefest flicker in his eyes as hot tears abruptly spilled over Tee's blotchy cheeks.

They weren't enough.

(After all, Jack would have to care for him for his cries to matter.)

Slowly, inexorably, the cupboard door began to shut, and, tone foreboding and so, so sickeningly empty of anything close to concern, consideration, Jack finally spoke in the moment before Tee's world was pitched into terrifying, solitary darkness.

"You'll learn your place."

~~~~~~~~

OOooohoohooohooooo~ a lillll' angsty I know ;33

This one kinda got away from me, but I had fun hehehe

Also I'm posting this sleep-deprived and with exactly zEro brain matter present at the moment, so fingers crossed that it's actually decent *finger guns*

#g/t #g/t community #giant tiny #giant/tiny #gt writing #fear play #g/t fearplay #mason jar #trapping #g/t angst

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