aphidus
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Summary
A man who can't die is no tragic hero.
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Alphonse feels the world return to him in muted waves; The oppressive silence of the circuit. A fire raging on. One man who emerges from the ashes, defiant.
Series
- Part 2 of may the best man win
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This is a game they’ve played so many times, a dance rehearsed again and again whenever Byron strays too close. Alphonse bites down on his greed until his mouth is bitter with it. The answer is automatic now: “I don’t want to hurt you.”
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“I wouldn’t mind if you did.”
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War has made for stranger bedfellows.
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“What’s wrong?” Alphonse keeps his voice soft, like Byron is a spooked horse. A cornered dog. This role still feels unfamiliar to him—he was built to put the dog down, not to comfort it—but his presence seems to calm Byron, so he tries. And perhaps it’s nice to be needed, nice to be able to make someone feel safe after all the hurt he’s caused. Even if the mask is a little ill-fitting, it’s easy enough to slip it on.
“I think my teeth are getting sharper.”
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Byron has spent a long time pretending to be something he's not.
Series
- Part 2 of dog teeth
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"The actor, by reiterating you, sacrifices a moment of his own life in order to give you a story of yours."
Series
- Part 3 of may the best man win
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Byron had coaxed that realization out of him and soothed the thoughts that bound him, with his patient devotion and sometimes by unraveling his body beneath his hands. He remembers the wonderful blank that filled his head and something clicks.
Series
- Part 6 of may the best man win
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for days now a red-breasted bird
has been trying to break in.
she tests a low branch, violet blossoms
swaying beside her, leaps into the air and flies
straight at my window, beak and breast
held back, claws raking the pane ...
what do i have that she could want enough
to risk such failure, again and again?— Bird by Dorianne Laux
- Words:
- 6,999
- Works:
- 3
- Bookmarks:
- 7
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Summary
lay me down on eye-white snow
my slow brooding bed of robin wings
my body slit & smearing everywhere.
I will not name this new opening a wound.
here, there is no pain I didn't beg for.
I heard the howl, didn't dare run.
stood waiting for the sweet blades
of jaw & claw. you found me
wasted no time making a myth
of my thigh, my flesh turned to wind
the earth under me wet with my life.
I pray this is what they mean by always
that heaven is a persistent mouth.
Baby, I want you forever this way:
fangs covered in me, moon dyed red
bouncing off front teeth, my body
only certain how to twitch, your belly
round with my joy.- Poem Where I Be a Doe & You, by Effect, Are a Wolf by Danez Smith
- Words:
- 3,117
- Works:
- 2
- Bookmarks:
- 2
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may the best man win by aphidus, tolya (SolarSystem)
Fandom: I Am Your Beast (Video Game)
30 May 2025
Summary
to the finish line and back
[an f1 au for iayb]
- Words:
- 9,609
- Works:
- 6
- Bookmarks:
- 1
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The salt-and-ozone tang of her skin is still thick on Geralt’s tongue when Yennefer asks him if he’s sleeping with Jaskier.
Series
- Part 1 of an agreeable arrangement
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“Now, listen. I expect you to be very good for me tonight. And if you’re very good, you will get a reward.”
Ana has a surprise for Jesse.
(written for F*ck the Payload: A Kinky Overwatch Anthology)
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Summary
In this city, things like this happen all the time. A mugging. A drug deal gone wrong. A murder, plain and simple, motivated by anything from jealousy to that basest, most animalistic human wonder: what’s it like to kill another human being?
In Reaper’s experience, it’s usually pretty fucking intoxicating.
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Jesse wants to stay right here with the man he loves—has always loved—until the end of time. Idly, Jesse wonders if Reyes would like that, too.
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It’s the worst pain Gabriel has ever felt; like fire coursing through his veins, like the marrow of his bones bubbling and boiling over, like being eaten alive from the inside. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, not the enhancements in the SEP, nor his numerous near-deaths during the Crisis. It’s something else altogether, something terrible and unholy and wrong . Like it’s his soul that’s being torn apart. And maybe it is.
(written for The Reaper Zine)