Constantly - Tumblr Posts
bro i relate SO much with laios’ only reason for being tidy is so he doesnt look like his dad
however he may feel about his father, the fact of the matter is that he looks just like him. add one thing, a beard, and thats even More apparent. but he doesnt like his dad, doesnt want to think about him, so when falin told him he was starting to look like him it probably freaked him out. so he fixed it as soon as he could, and now keeps himself maintained so when he does look in the mirror he doesnt see his father looking back at him.
i am in a very similar situation with my mother, as i look Very similar to her and people have been quick to point it out my entire life. i do not like my mother, for what she has done and has yet to apologize for, but when i look in the mirror i cant help but sometimes see her face. so i do what i can to differentiate, i wear round glasses instead of square, i cut my hair short while she leaves it long, i got piercings!
whatever i can do to look like Me and not Her
God damn it I thought I was past these stupid feelings!!!!! Fuck this fuck everything I hate english I hate writing I never want to write at all it sucks ass and I hate it!!!!!!!!!!!! Ahhhhhhhhhh
I HAVE THIS AS MY HOMESCREEN THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR INDULGING MEEEEEEEE
IM HAPPY TO SUPPORT THE CAUSE!!
Bonus round! First out of the two last @magnusforgaza commission I did! 🍉
I'm so glad I joined their project, and even tho their commissions are closed, there are artists who continue to offer commissions for charity- check them out 👁
Distortion Michael and post death book-ghost Gerry, hanging at a cafe for @apollosmoon thank you so much for donating!
Thanks to the organisers, artists and donators who participated!
i live in fear every time we creat new ocs bc i get so attached to them so quickly and im just like
please dont split please dont split please dont split please dont split please dont split please dont split please dont-
Harrowing: someone in your Fandom just made an innocuous and harmless post that nonetheless betrays a deep misunderstanding of the character and the character's narrative purpose and you just have to sit there and let them be wrong lest you be an asshole
Lucky Shot Part 2
His claws tapped a restless rhythm along the table, purple eyes flicking over towards the door to the guest room he’d had specifically refurbished for his little alien. They were sleeping, still under the effects of his chucklevoodoos, oblivious to the rage Marvus was barely restraining. He’d tossed his blood soaked jacket into the wash the sounds of his first two victims screams still ringing like a pretty chorus in his ears.
But that still left the last violetblood.
His insignia inlaid in the obnoxiously gold harpoon. A perfect target printed on his back. It was better than anything Marvus could have asked for.
“Why did you use your voodoo on them?” Polypa asked as she exited the guest room, her eyes narrowed accusingly.
“You know how lil mama be actin. If I didn’t they’d be up tryna walk it off.” He replied staring her down. Polypa stared back, the two of them not backing down as they locked eyes.
“Don’t do it again.” Polypa finally responded as they both broke eye contact. Marvus shrugged it off.
“Is what it is.” He replied before motioning to the harpoon, “This was stickin’ out they shoulder. Figured you should help a mofo out with the last one if you catch my drift.”
“Where are they now?” She asked, sliding into the seat opposite from him.Her olive eyes were narrowed in contempt as she observed the harpoon with an assassin’s keen glare. Marvus’ glare curled sharp and twisted in reply.
“They jus’ a lil lamb for the slaughter.” He hummed, “Don’ even know we comin’. The violet blood usually hangs out at the docks.”
Polypa gave a grim little smirk in response.
“Then lets pay our target a little visit.”
Your head felt like cotton as your conscious struggled to the surface, blearily opening your eyes you once more found yourself waking in Marvus’ guest room. Unfortunately, everything still ached fiercely when you awoke this time as well. Groaning groggily you slowly forced yourself to gingerly wiggle into an upright position against the frankly ridiculous amount of fluffy pillows. Who needed this many pillows? It was like a weird version of princess and the pea. Glancing around the empty room, your stomach sank at the thought that Marvus had gone to hunt down the perpetrators. Worry for your friends overrode everything else as you attempted to reach for the blankets to toss them off only to give a hoarse and breathless shout of pain as hot agony pulsated from your shoulder at the gesture. It knocked the wind from your lungs as you wheezed, eyes wide and teary. With a slam the guest room door banged off the wall with the force it was opened and there she stood in all her olive glory.
“You’re awake!” Polypa shouted, rushing to your side in an instant. Her comforting smell of popcorn and metal filled your senses as she gingerly wrapped her arms around you.
“What are you doing here?” You croaked, throat dry and scratchy. Polypa grabbed the glass of water by your bedside and pressed it to your lips.
“Drink slowly,” She commanded, “Marvus called me as soon as he found you.”
Her worried gaze warmed you as you greedily gulped down the ice cold water. Breathing heavily as she pulled the cup from your lips you gave her a small smile.
“He did?”
“He did.” She confirmed, taking a moment to fuss with the bandages on your face.
“Where’d he go anyways?” You asked.
“Just to toss some of his things into the wash.” She replied, her fingers trailed featherlight against your face and you leaned into the soothing touch. Pressing her head to yours Polypa sighed in relief to see you in recovery. “Don’t scare me like that again. I don’t know what I’d do if-,” Her voice choked off before she could even finish saying it and you shushed her gently as you pressed your forehead back against hers soothingly.
“I’m here.” You murmured, “I survived, its okay. Deep breaths Polypa.”
She sucked in a shuddering breath and wrapped her arms back around you, careful to avoid jostling your injured shoulder. With a heavy and grateful sigh you leaned into the comfort of her hold and closed your eyes.
“I thought I lost you.” She croaked, voice raw with emotion.
“I’m right here. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”
“You better not, who’s gonna stop Tegiri from insisting we watch Troll Naruto again?”
That dragged a laugh from the both of you.
“We seriously need to find him another anime to obsess over.”
“Yeah.” Polypa buried her face in your chest and you could feel the damp spots begin to form as she cried. Shushing her, you wrapped your uninjured arm around her shoulders and hunched over her in an imitation of a hug, gently swaying side to side as she broke down.
“Hey, hey, its okay. It was just a lucky shot.” You murmured. “Just a lucky shot…”
No one else has written it (I don’t think) and the Crow Strider Epilogues aren’t out yet, so I’m gonna write an au where the homestuck characters meet the hiveswap characters.
After I make literally any progress on my fancomic, of course.
I know I have a relatively small following on this account, but I figured i'd give this question a shot anyways:
you are so much more than that failed test. that interview gone wrong, your relapse, the missed opportunities, the words you wish you could take back. you are not your mistakes. you're a person who's trying. there are so many opportunities to make things right. you'll get there, even if it takes a few more tries.
Almost Insatiable
A wildcat prowls a dark thicket to hunt a lone deer for an easy meal. What he finds instead is a carnivore in its place.
Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Characters/Pairing: Husk/Alastor Rating: M Word Count: 4283 Mirror: AO3 Notes: Second (and late!) fic for Radiohusk Week, Day 4: AU, along with a bit of the second prompt for that day, haha. This is self-indulgent as heck but the imagery of these two as a literal cat and deer wouldn't leave me.
--
They say a strange-looking deer would walk through these parts of the woods.
Husk had only heard about it briefly, as a soft whispering through the trees. How it was a lone deer, all by itself, and that it made deep indents in the soil with oddly-sharp hooves. Sometimes, when it would make a sound, it was like a distorted echo, as if the animal was trapped within a twisted cave.
But to Husk, this simply sounded like easy prey.
He could only hunt at night. His wings, even when closed against his back, still made it too easy for others to spot him in the sunlight. And besides, his markings of red and black, with the patterns of white dots, were only suited to the dark.
The more he thought about this deer, seemingly waiting by itself on its lonesome, got him hungry. He could catch it, bite into its neck until the blood flowed past his fangs and onto his tongue. He’d been hungry for such a long time.
So Husk traversed down to the grove where few birds made their nests in, to where the trees looked a bit more burnt, and their boughs a bit more crooked. The leaves that hung off them were also a sharp red, even during the summer months. There were very few sounds, the air thick with the silence, but Husk continued on.
That should have been his first warning.
He wasn’t very cautious, the closest thing to it was in the way he stalked through the dark. If the silence was unnerving, and if the trees above looked like they moved or shifted after he walked past them, he outright ignored it. He was desperate for a quick kill—and deers were always so full of tender meat and blood.
Starving animals didn’t always have a choice in the matter anyway.
It took him longer than he liked, but Husk finally found the deer, catching the scent of it from the soft breeze. His paws walked through the foliage, carefully rearranging himself among the roots, which were so numerous along the forest floor. And even in the darkness that his eyes pierced through, much of it still looked pitch black.
That should have been his second warning.
The deer was a bright red against the shadows, along with patterns of black in its fur, mainly around its legs. It took a few steps into a dense thicket, the moonlight gleaming down to catch onto the many points of its sharp antlers. It was turned away, head facing that very same moon, as if entranced.
A lone buck wasn’t unusual, but even Husk could see how thin the deer was. As if it didn’t have enough to eat. The grass beneath its hooves were charred, and the red leaves hanging from the trees looked dry and unappetizing.
Maybe others thought the deer was strange because it was also starving.
Husk took another few steps, a leap across a low-hanging branch, wings slightly extended to muffle his landing. Golden eyes tried to shift through shadows, but it was only the deer—a bright red spot, like a bloodstain.
He grit his teeth, then took a breath. “Sorry for this,” he muttered, just before he would take the leap and dig his fangs into the deer’s neck.
Then the deer turned its neck completely around, the sound of bones cracking in the air.
Stark red eyes locked with Husk, gleaming in the dark. And that’s when he heard the noise reverberate in his skull.
How it echoed and sang and screeched inside of him. Husk shuddered, his wings flapping on instinct. If his hiss of pain hadn’t given him away, then his wings surely did.
But he looked ahead and he saw that same deer smile and how its mouth opened so wide it seemed impossible. An abyss filled with sharp edges, and its crown of antlers growing until it would reach the moon and pierce it deep.
Only then did Husk remember another part of the rumor too late.
The strange deer was said to have sharp, yellowed fangs, who ate his very own kind. He was alone because the other deer shunned him for his ferocity. And sometimes, it was not only deer that he would eat…
This is a carnivore.
And it was hungry.
Husk tried to escape, paws backing away, his tail flicking around erratically, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the deer. The roots tripped him up—sometimes it seemed they even moved, latching around his legs to keep him from escaping. He could only face forward, the brightness of those eyes entrancing. Burning. It wanted to eat him and it wanted to do it so slowly. A step forward, and the sound doubled in pitch. It made Husk shake, made him flatten his ears in a vain hope to escape the sound.
Instead, he only fell over, as if in rigor mortis. He couldn’t move.
They also say the deer played awful, awful noises just before it would feast. It would then leave its very own prey alive, for as long as it could, and let its screams ring in the air. Sometimes the screams would be so loud, it would travel miles through the forest.
Husk had heard it once, and thought little of it at the time. Just an unfortunate soul who had been hunted down by a particularly cruel predator.
When he could finally move his neck from its sudden paralysis, he saw the deer with its sharp teeth grinning down at him. Its antlers continued to grow, enough to even block out the shape of the moon overhead, streams of black fragmenting the white.
Then, it said, “What a strange-looking cat.”
Husk couldn’t even shut his eyes. He watched in growing terror as the deer eyed him all over, a tongue falling out of its mouth, hanging between sharp canines.
“I think I’ll keep you.”
He didn’t understand what the creature meant, but he couldn’t stop shivering. It was like he’d forgotten how to move his body, or even stretch his wings.
As the horrific backdrop of the forest continued to shift around them like some nightmare, the deer stayed still, drool dripping down its jaws as it seemed to pinpoint what best parts of Husk to start biting into and tearing. The awful, screeching sound was still there, if less intense. Even so, it still made Husk’s bones shake from the strain of it.
He waited, and waited. Then, he heard the hooves clack against the ground. Golden eyes swerved to see the deer come closer to him, antlers still extending upwards like writhing black snakes.
So it’s over, Husk thought, as he waited for the inevitable.
The deer leaned over Husk, mouth still half-way open. Those same, fire-red hooves placed themselves on both sides of Husk’s body in a sudden motion, trapping him effectively. They were so sharp, they might as well have been claws.
Then, it just continued to stare again. It was to the point that Husk was growing frustrated and almost wished for the deer to get it over with.
Instead, it tilted its head to the side. Its eyes still looked wild and manic, and its hooves shifted until they were pressing into Husk’s fur, with one just now nudging into his wing.
Husk couldn’t gather what was even happening anymore—until he felt the sting.
“Ow!” he yelled out, followed by a sharp hiss. He saw the deer pull out a bright red feather in between its double-cloven hoof, how it eyed the feather with such an oddly-satisfied grin.
“So strange that you even have wings! Just what are you?”
Even in the confusion and soft pain, Husk heard how the deer’s voice had changed; from darkly hungry to mildly entertained. He blinked, and he thought he saw those antlers, once so grand and multi pointed, had reverted back to a smaller form.
“I’m nobody!” Husk shouted, desperately and foolishly.
The place around him was still so dark and dreary, and the moon hanging high overhead illuminated the deer’s dark red fur. Bright eyes narrowed, but the grin never left, looking so sharp up-close that Husk couldn’t help but wince.
“Nobody? An odd name for an odd cat. Pleasure to meet you then, Nobody.” The deer chuckled, snout pressing against Husk’s fur, particularly just right below his neck. “My name is Alastor. And I’m just so lucky to have found you.”
His nearness made Husk tremble. He could feel a warm breath ghost over his fur. He caught more of that deer’s scent—a cloying scent like that of dying shrubs and flowers. His wing still ached, and the hooves kept him caged in within the space that was this deer’s lanky body.
And he saw how the deer—this…Alastor—was so close that Husk eyed a lean neck, open and vulnerable. If it was any other prey, he would have latched his mouth onto it and bled the deer dry, waiting until the body would stop twitching and feast.
Instead, he could only beg pathetically. “Get…away…”
“Should I?” Alastor questioned, laughing once more. “Weren’t you just about to eat me?”
Hooves shifted. It was so quick, Husk hadn’t even a moment to think. They had suddenly pressed down over his wings, splaying them outward so that he could no longer move them. Like sharp needles pinning him to a wall.
Husk shuddered, and his wings twitched underneath. Feathers and bones were pressed down by the deer above, cramping them until it hurt. Husk hissed through his teeth.
“I won’t…I won’t eat you! I promise I won’t. Just go away.”
Another tilt of the deer’s head. “But you were hunting me.”
“Well…How would you know?!”
Sharp teeth glinted, and the antlers seemed to extend once more, then retracted, back and forth, like some sort of unknown horror. “I listened to your every step.” Another tilt of the head, further crooked, until Husk heard more bones snap. “I listened to you breathe. I even listened to you apologizing to me.”
One hoof lifted slightly, only to step back down in a stomp. A hint of pressure, enough to make Husk let out another hiss of pain.
“Now, why apologize for your own nature?” Alastor’s eyes widened. A soft red light, like sky at desk.
Husk softly growled in his throat, staring up at the deer who was torturing him in soft and muted ways. The hooves dug into his wings, threatening to snap the hollow bones within them. “Why does it…matter?! Just stop!”
His paws were out, and his claws extended, but they didn't reach out for the deer. He should have been able to tear through Alastor’s flesh and fur, but instead he remained pinned by the hooves and by a sharp smile.
“I want to know,” Alasor said, the awful, screeching noise once again building up. It made the trees above them shudder, and even pulled off a few red leaves to flutter around them. “Tell me before I decide to eat you.”
And if there was any doubt in Husk’s heart then of Alastor’s carnivorous nature, he heard it now. The way bloodlust lined in Alastor’s voice, how it dripped along the fangs. The deer’s face hovered his own, the red irises now swimming in a pool of black, and he knew at any moment it would happen. The soft snapping of fangs over his neck, draining everything out of him.
Husk could barely control much of himself now; the tail that flicked around in a panic, the soft growls rumbling from his throat, and his glare, as if that would do anything against Alastor’s own manic stare. He also couldn’t help but speak, just at that moment, as if the deer was pulling the very truth of his chest.
“You looked… lonely, alright?” Husk snapped out. “And… I thought… you didn’t mean to be out here by yourself…”
And like an idiot, he felt sorry for this monster above him.
Alastor stared at him for another moment or two, the light in his eyes slowly intensifying, along with a strange hum that thrummed in the air, making Husk’s head pound. Then, faster than Husk could gather, the deer leaned down, fangs hovering just over his throat.
The very points of those teeth pressed into his fur, finding the flesh and just stopping short of puncturing through. A hurried breath moved in and out, a humid warmth falling over Husk. And then, he felt something wet touch him—and only dimly realized it was a tongue, one that lapped at his fur, just over the most sensitive part of his throat.
And Alastor was still staring, all while it– he –licked Husk, so softly and so torturously slow.
Husk clamped down on a sound that he desperately hoped the deer didn’t catch. Don’t purr now, of all times..
There was no doubt in Husk’s mind that Alastor was going to eat him, tearing his flesh from bone and doing it as slow as possible. The hunger was bright in those eyes, even more so as a tongue caught the taste of the wildcat who was now overtaken by fear.
But then, just as suddenly, the deer lifted his head away, even moving away those hooves from Husk’s wings. Instead of eating him, Alastor just laughed, the sound echoing around the trees, warped and distorted.
And when he grinned, there was no shine to the teeth now.
“You really are so strange! A predator feeling sorry for their prey! Oh, it’s a wonder you have even lived this long!” Alastor laughed even more, his long neck cracking with each breath. Then, as if worn out by his own amusement, he sat beside Husk, folding his legs underneath his body.
Was that it? Was this monster deer not going to kill him? Everything had fit the rumors until this moment. Husk, worried that any sudden shift would get Alastor pouncing on him again, slowly turned himself around so that he was no longer lying on his back. His wings stretched slightly before resting against him.
Should he run away? The deer was just sitting next to him like they were friends.
Alastor gave a long sigh, as if relaxed. Eyes shifted over to Husk. The antlers above him stopped their shifting, giving him the look of a normal buck. “You truly are a fascinating little wildcat, Nobody.”
At that, Husk couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
“That’s not my actual name.” He didn’t know why he considered sharing his name just then, and stopped himself before he could.
“Hmmm,” Alastor’s eyes latched onto Husk so greedily that it made Husk’s wings shudder in memory. “Is it because you’re also an outcast? The other wildcats don’t usually wander this far. You must be quite reckless.”
Husk growled, fur rising along his back. Ultimately, that was all he did. He didn’t want to risk getting bit by those fangs, in case the deer had another mood change. “We’re not alike, if that’s what you’re saying.”
Alastor’s grin widened. Unsettling, but it didn’t seem hungry. “I think we are. That’s why you came to find me.”
“No, I came to find you because I’m starving!” At that, Husk stood up on all fours, claws digging into the dirt and leaves beneath his feet. His wings half-opened, though they somewhat winced from the past stomping from Alastor’s hooves. “I barely even knew about you before!”
The deer looked down at him from his height, one hoof moving out from underneath his body to dig at the ground. Ears flicked, and then Alastor leaned his face near Husk’s again.
The wildcat couldn’t help but let out a snarl. “What?”
But Alastor simply pressed a snout against Husk’s cheek, though made sure to keep smiling and show off those wicked teeth. “Soft.”
Husk kneaded his claws into the ground, staying still, all as the deer continued to nuzzle him like it was no big deal.
He still felt like food that was being played with.
“No other wildcats look like you. I know about that.” Another tongue flick, one that hit the underside of Husk’s ear, making him shake his head slightly. “I’ve eaten plenty of those before. Stringy things. And they have such short tails…”
“Hey, don’t talk about my tail,” Husk grumbled, trying to move said tail further away from Alastor, who only seemed to be getting closer again. “So, I look different. What does that matter?”
“Ohh, it just makes you so much more fun.” Alastor snickered a little, then stood up again only to step over Husk’s body and press down on him, like he was trying to give him an awkward hug.
“H-Hey! Get off!”
“Hmm, but you’re just so soft. And it’s been such a long, long time since I’ve had a friend with me.”
Husk froze as growls continued to leave his throat. Even with his fur standing on end, it didn’t dissuade the deer from nuzzling into his back, or giving him an occasional lick across his head and cheek.
“Do you eat your friends?” Husk asked, the question leaving his mouth before he could take it back. But everything about this felt like the prelude to a slaughter.
Alastor gave a low laugh, one that Husk felt through his fur, the deer’s mouth so close to him. A snout nuzzled against his cheek again, even against his wings occasionally. “Not always.”
Another lick, followed by another nuzzle. It was such a soft action that Husk wasn’t sure how to react.
“I won’t eat you now, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re just too interesting… And you won’t even tell me your name.”
Again, on the tip of Husk’s tongue. He held back, enduring another nuzzle from the deer who clung to him like he was some helpless fawn.
“Why do you even want to know my name?”
He felt the snout nuzzle against his ear, followed by the nipping of teeth. Sharp nicks, but it didn’t hurt him. Why was this deer so damn affectionate with him?
“I love getting to know new souls.”
Said like some hell-creature from deep beneath the earth. And maybe Alastor was one, after all.
The whole interaction felt tense, Husk’s heart beating against his ribs, feeling ready to burst. The hint of teeth on him once more had painted a whole new layer of fear, even if Alastor didn’t draw any blood from him.
Maybe he really was just a lonely thing.
Husk hated feeling weak like this, but he thought Alastor’s previous words had been almost a plea. So he sighed, even as the growls deep in his throat never ceased.
“It’s Husk…” he finally admitted. It felt even more vulnerable than lying on his back, handing over a name to a carnivore like this.
But Alastor only looked down at him with that smile, eyes gleaming. “Ohh, Husker! That’s perfect for you.”
The deer would not let him go. He kept nuzzling the wildcat, pressing his sharp teeth just at his cheek, as if they were in some mock fight. Those thin legs now curled over Husk’s back, keeping him in place.
“A lonely Husker searching for me… Maybe it’s fate.”
“Or maybe I was just really hungry,” Husk growled. No, none of this meant anything. “Can you get off already?”
This is just making me want to eat him more, Husk thought. Whoever heard of a deer, nightmare version or not, getting cozy with a predator?
Alastor just ignored his words, getting even more comfy over Husk’s back. “If you want to eat, I have plenty of food I’ve hid away,” he said. “I promise that the meat is still very fresh.”
The image of a deer feasting on a carcass sent uncomfortable shivers through Husk. Maybe he wasn’t that hungry after all.
“I like to hunt for my own.” Still, his voice was strained. The deer wasn’t making it easy for him to move around or breathe, and Alastor’s hooves were once again getting dangerously close to his wings. Would he try to stomp them again, this time breaking bones so that Husk could no longer fly?
Instead, when he felt Alastor shift again, the hoof went to step just at the very end of his tail.
It didn’t hurt exactly, but it made Husk wince and turn his head. Why did this deer just step on him like he was dirt?
Alastor noticed—and didn’t stop.
“Ohh, and it’s a fluffy tail too!” The hoof circled over the red tuft at the end, thankfully not where he could crush bone, but once again, he was pinning Husk to the ground.
“You’re…stepping too hard.” Husk narrowed his eyes. “Get off.”
Alastor ignored him again, still playing with the tail with his hard appendages. “No other wildcat has this. And with such colorful patterns! You must have been completely shunned!”
Husk’s wings were cramped and aching, and his tail kept getting stomped on like it was nothing. Also, Alastor was saying nonsense while ignoring all of Husk’s warning growls. So what if the other cats didn’t get near him because of how he looked? He’d always been fine on his own.
And Alastor. Wouldn’t. Stop.
In the end, anger won out over fear. “Get! Off!” So it was reflex to finally leap up and give a small but hard bite over Alastor’s right shoulder.
It happened so fast, before Husk could think. He could feel the deer stiffen as fangs shifted through flesh, deep enough to hit bone.
Oh no.
He tasted fresh blood that dripped onto his tongue and over his lips. Husk quickly let go, but the taste wasn’t forgotten. In reflex, he lapped away the blood droplets that had caught onto his whiskers.
Alastor was still, eyes shifting from his small bite mark, a circle of indents, slightly torn through the fur, to Husk. The blood dripped down his leg to soak into the ground like rainwater. The strange hum reverberated in the air once more.
“It…It was an accident,” Husk said, able to slip out from under Alastor’s body and extend his wings. Maybe he could fly out of here quickly. “But you wouldn’t stop stepping on my tail!”
He couldn’t get over the taste. Oddly sweet, like sap leaking out from a fruit tree.
And that was when he noticed the branches around them seemed to close in, blocking out the shape of the moon.
The boughs were too thick to fly straight through, and Alastor was blocking his path. Husk could maybe swerve away, his speed one of the few things he had to escape from bad situations. But when the deer just looked at him like that, he found himself frozen again.
Alastor leaned in, all while the strange hum echoed. “You know… few others have even been able to get this much from me.” Another chuckle, distorted and eerie. The wind blew through the boughs above, rustling the leaves, swirling the fallen ones around their feet. “How did I taste?”
Husk blinked. “Wh… I don’t…”
Alastor moved in close to Husk’s mouth, fascinated, that hum still echoing around his antlers, before letting a tongue lap just across Husk’s lips.
Husk yowled and tried to push Alastor away.
“Ohh, tangy!”
“Psycho deer!” Husk rubbed a paw against his snout. The tongue had only smeared the blood even more on him. “What were you—”
But he stopped, seeing the deer lean over him again, mouth pressed so close to a shoulder. Not a vulnerable place, but even so, it made him hold his breath.
“Isn’t it only fair,” Alastor said, teeth gleaming sharp in the moonlight, “that I get to taste you in return?”
Husk held his breath. His wings were still spread wide, but he made no move to fly away.
“Will you eat me if you do?”
Alastor’s tongue roved over his fangs. They seemed to be even sharper and longer than before, as if they were growing before Husk’s eyes.
“Depends how delicious you are.”
Alastor didn’t wait, leaning in to slowly press his teeth into Husk’s shoulder, fangs shifting easily through fur and skin. He bit deep, and Husk just stood still, as if paralyzed.
It was said if an herbivore tasted blood, it would start to change. No longer would leaves, nuts, and fruits be enough for it. It would start to grow fangs, and learn how to hunt. It would start to become something else entirely.
Husk wondered whose blood Alastor first tasted to become this way.
When the deer let him go, red coating his snout and dripping down his fangs, all Alastor did was nuzzle at Husk again.
“You’re so tempting,” he said, then licked at the wound he had made on Husk.
The sensation of the tongue was near the base of his throat, and even as Husk winced at the fresh pain, he felt something else. It started within his chest, traveling upwards. It wasn’t the usual growls he had been giving Alastor before.
It was a purr.
Damn it.
He continued to do so, against his will, all while Alastor licked at the wound that marked him as the deer’s very own. But Husk saw the shape of his own fangs in Alastor’s fur, the blood that still seeped from those wounds. His own mark on Alastor, apparently the first to have ever done so.
And, as if by instinct, he reached out to lick away at the blood there, which fell thick on his tongue.
He was still hungry.
are u ever sick w longing. and i don't just mean romantic longing. i mean longing for a place you barely get to see, longing for friends you no longer have, longing for feelings you might have left behind in your childhood, longing for creativity, longing for a rich and more expansive life, longing for less inhibition. longing for more passion. longing for ur life to be so incandescent w something it thaws all the frost in ur bones. are u ever so consumed w it it rends ur heart in two. do u understand me
I fr just cried over being told I didn’t have apologize for overthinking. I am unwell.
Kaz, age thirty, deciding that the pièce de résistance of the myths about him is that he’s got a wife, so now he uses the mysterious and elusive wife in casual conversation (“Get talking, I promised my wife I’d make it home at a decent hour for supper”). This has the intended effect of being completely fucking confusing because now EVERYONE in the Barrel is working double time to try and figure out which poor sap is unlucky enough to be married to sarcastic little shit Brekker. Like Kaz would just mention his wife so much in conversation just for kicks but all everyone knows about her is 1) she’s radiant 2) she must be a Saint if she can withstand Kaz Brekker Himself enough to literally marry him and 3) Kaz is slightly scared of her
*Violently presses button for ability that's on cooldown*
OP you’re super brave for standing your ground in that unfortunate cesspool... this was so fucking embarrassing to read. The tone policing?? The avoidance? The gaslighting? Yuck.
Insufferable.
what it’s like to be silenced as a POC BTS Writer
I recently joined @bangtandarknet, a BTS writing network for dark fic writers because I wanted to get to know more people in the community as we are a kink/trope minority here and participate in events that centre around highlighting dark fics. What I did not expect is to experience racial microaggressions in a place where I was supposed to feel safe like any network should be. Before I get started, this is based on my own experience and what I felt during these interactions. What I have to share is about specific people and the way they handled a specific discussion. I want to be clear that I do not believe all members of this network agree or act in the same manner as these few.
I want to preface this with the fact that I’m a South East/East Asian immigrant living in the West. While growing up, I would usually ignore these types of racial transgressions in order to avoid conflict, but now, I realize all that does is silence my voice and the racism I experience. That is why I’m making this post.
For context when you read, Nova is @celestial-moonlight, Admin Chee is @chelsea-chee and Meggi is Megan (@caughtinpjm), formerly known as @bangtanspeaks. In regards to Megan from this post, it’s clear this is not the first time she has made racially charged comments.
I’m glad that Noxie (@scribblemetae) was there during my experience because I didn’t feel totally alone while speaking out. While she isn’t a POC, she did what all white people should do in this situation. Instead of joining her fellow white people in ignoring, invalidating and silencing POC, she listened, understood and stood up for me, and POC alike.
Below are the screenshots of everything that had been said and what happened to me on the network’s Discord server yesterday. I know that the proper protocol is to ask for permission to post these screenshots since it has their names on them so I did for Noxie and Virginia but with the rest, how can I lay out the truth if I was silenced in the first place? They left me with no choice but to do this.
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