this is the thing no one tells you about monsters
about real monsters
they don’t lurk in your closet
or hide under your bed
but they still manage to come out of the shadows when you least expect them to
they don’t live in darkness
they don’t thrive in the nighttime
real monsters walk around in broad daylight
unaffected by the burn of the sun
they don’t need to hide in the shadows
and they prey
while it’s still light out
so they can see you better
no one tells you that real monsters don’t look like monsters
because their fangs are hidden behind soft smiles
and their claws are hidden behind warm touches
real monsters hide behind bright eyes
and messy hair
real monsters look like the boy you’ve known since second grade
real monsters look like your neighbor who greets you on your way to school every morning
real monsters look like your babysitter
real monsters look like police officers
real monsters look like someone you should have been able to trust
they look like someone you did trust once
they look like someone who broke that trust the same way they broke you
real monsters will rip you to shreds with the same hand that once held yours
real monsters will smother you with the same arms that once hugged you
real monsters will sink their teeth into you and suck all of your blood out of your body until there is nothing left
until you are nothing
and they will leave you rotting on the floor
knowing that no one will come to help
they will watch you die
watch as they slowly kill you
they will cover your corpse with traces of them that only you can see
so you can never prove that they killed you in the first place
real monsters are not convicted
real monsters are never convicted
real monsters will convince a jury that they did nothing wrong
real monsters will smile as the judge says “not guilty”
knowing that those two words killed you even more than they ever could
real monsters roam the streets knowing that they have won
knowing that they will see the inside of you once again before they ever see the inside of a jail cell
real monsters are so scary that they make you wish the boogeyman really did live under your bed
instead of right down the hall
Can i request s/o move alot in their sleep and they accidentally kicked the boys ass or kick them off the bed
I don’t move, like at all, but I talk sometimes and apparently it’s cute, or something like that. Plus I’m a light sleeper, so these poor boys… I just came back from a convention with the worst sleepers! Geez, I dedicate this to them and the fact I did not sleep!
Everyone had to wonder, how you and Noctis managed to sleep in the same bed at all and managed to get a good night’s rest. In the tent, you both seemed to understand that you had one side of the tent and anything beyond Ignis was forbidden territory, but in a motel bed, or any bed for that matter it wasn’t known how you two managed to survive a night without someone missing a tooth in the morning.
Currently you were laid, horizontally across the bed, your head and feet off the bed on top of Noctis who was starfished face down across the entire bed, the blankets and sheets were everywhere, and no one knew where any of the pillows went, they just disappeared.
Poor Prompto figured that he could easily fit on the bed with you two once, and it took the poor blonde only once to realize just what a horrid idea that was, when he woke up to Noctis, who started on the left side of the bed, as far away from Prompto as possible somehow behind him, an arm around his waist the Prince’s leg draped over the blonde and yourself, while you had somehow managed to lay on both his arms and legs trapping the sunshine to the bed along with Noctis who didn’t seem to notice at all.
People wondered why you two very small people needed a California king, and only your friends knew, that it was for both of your protection from the other.
Prompto adored you, he simply loved everything about you, but one thing. You slept like a fussy child!
You’d always start the night off right, one of you cuddled in the others embrace, yet by 4am, Prompto’s sweetiepie becomes the fruitcake from hell!
Your arms were thrown hitting the blonde in the face, legs jutting out of the blankets if you were too hot. Or if you were too cold, you’d proceed to take every single last piece of bedding and create a fort around you.
Prompto didn’t understand, he couldn’t understand, how you managed to take every pillow on the bed, and the fitted sheet, and cocoon yourself before waking him. He didn’t think he was that hard of a sleeper. Yet what he did know was the trouble of trying to take stuff back, which often resulted in him either getting an open palm to the chest, or a numb arm from your koalaing around said arm.
The only real way to stop your theft/ abuse was to lay on you, Prompto learned. He would entangle himself in your limbs with his own, and hold you down. It was easiest when you were on your side or laying on your back, which luckily you prefered.
Yet on hot summer nights, Prompto would rather just lay on the ground and wait until you stop your fighting match before climbing into bed with a spare blanket he left on his side of the bed.
Gladiolus couldn’t understand, he had fought monsters twice his size, slammed iron giants into the ground, but you, his adorable sweet girlfriend, could always best him when it came to sleep.
For some reason in your sleep, you became straight fight club!
The first time the man was awoken to a sharp pain in his side, he jumped awake ready to fight! Who dare tried to take him in his own house! only to find you beside him, having rolled over into his spot. Thinking you were just having a nightmare, the man laid back down, gathering you in his arms before closing his eyes.
Boy, was he wrong.
The next thing he knew he was waking up from being tossed off the bed!
HOW! Did you just Judo throw him!
Climbing back in bed, the man watched as you laid directly in the middle of the bed. Right in the middle of the bed in a fetal position, cuddling tightly to his pillow.
Sneaking back in bed nursing a bruised ego, Gladiolus found that as long as you laid in the middle of the bed, no harm came to either one of you. Yet if you were moved back to “your side” all hell broke loose.
You would hit hard enough sometimes to leave bruises, or rack your nails against his arms. You once pushed against the man so hard that you managed to launch yourself out the bed. Which of course scared the man awake when your body hit the floor with such a loud thump.
You’re sleep self is slowly becoming use to the large body inside the bed, and has now taken to laying across his chest or koalaing to him. Most nights you’ll even allow the large man to spoon you all night, which leaves both of you happy. Even if some nights he would wake up to a face full of boobs, your arms wrapped around his head, legs on his shoulder, and the man wearing you like a hat, just snoring your cute little snores away.
Gladiolus knew that you were still rather bad, but you were a lot worse.
You weren’t bad, Ignis often told himself, it’s just that after you pulled a couple of all nighters that Ignis realized that sharing a bed with you was rather difficult.
Most nights when you went to bed on your schedule you would curl up on your side, one hand resting on the man’s chest, your head tucked underneath his jaw and sleep soundly all night, not a peep.
Yet on nights where you haven’t rested in more than 24 hours, Ignis found you rather insufferable. You didn’t so much fall asleep, as you would pass out on your side of the bed, face down, half on half off the bed. He would often have to move your head to the left or the right to ensure you were still breathing, and by doing so he would release the demon that was your loud snoring!
You would then flip, seamless like some type of pancake to your back, covering the entire space of the bed, which Ignis never understood as he could not do that himself, and he was much longer than you, all the while snoring louder.
He often did find that, even when you were in this state, you would still cling to things with his scent on it, such as his pillow or a shirt that need wash. Yet should he himself climb into bed, you seemed to become aggressive and would often push, shove, or toss him away.
So the man would resign himself to the couch, knowing that it was only for a night, less than a handful of times of year, and he wanted to make sure that you had rested easy after working so hard.
Only to feel something climb onto the couch beside him around 3 in the morning, tucking into his side, he would pull the covers from underneath you, tuck you in tightly at his side, before wrapping an arm around you as he rolled to his side, assuring you wouldn’t fall from the couch.
After all what was loosing a couple of hours of sleep to assure your comfort?
a little girl asked me
if I believed in monsters.
I then grabbed the truth
by its collar,
I wrestled it to the ground,
tucked it deep
underneath my arm
and I said,
“Love, you know monsters aren’t real.”
And it’s times like this,
where I wish that my sentences
came with receipts so
I could take back my words.
I wasn’t being completely honest.
When I spoke to her
I almost choked on a secret
that has been stapled
to the inside of my throat
for longer than I can remember.
Not only do I believe in monsters,
but I’ve seen them whisper themselves into existence.
I heard they carve nightmares
into the eyelids of the innocent
and linger in dark corners
preying on the unsuspecting.
they’ve figured how to crawl through
8 millimeter film
and walk backwards into the dreams
of those who’ve never been afraid to sleep.
I believe in monsters the same way I believe in oxygen.
So how big is your closet?
How much space is underneath
the beds you shake in the middle of the night?
You are a vampire.
A werewolf in sheep’s clothing.
You swallow halos and spit out nooses.
How can I not believe in monsters,
when I see men like you,
walking with your knuckles scraping against the concrete?
You stand perched on the screams of assaulted women
and squeeze into costumes
that fool the public into thinking you’re human.
How dare you have the audacity to impersonate me?
How dare you pretend
as though there isn’t a woman out there
scrubbing the inside of her thights
until they turn stop sign red
trying to erase your fingerprints from her skin?
How dare you believe your blood is just as blue as mine?
When you speak
I can small Dante’s Inferno on your breath.
I’ve spent the last three months
trying to figure out how you escaped from hell
and wasted too many nights
thinking of painful ways I can send you back.
I carved galaxies in the back of my throat
just to make your world easier for me to swallow
but I can’t stand the taste of your behavior.
Every time you cross my path
I get the urge to tie you to a chair,
cover you in gasoline
and set your body on fire.
I am no Van Helsing
but I’ve seen enough horror movies
to know how to get rid of you.
But I know even if I killed you,
there are still millions of monsters out there.
Pretending to be men.
To you, monster:
I will love you back into the light whether you want it or not.
I know what you’ve done and I’ve seen what’s in your heart
and you cannot frighten me.
I don’t even mind if you get blood on my dress.
My heart is a reservoir, and you can claw
down through the black and the cold,
thrashing and writhing and roiling,
but you will never find the bottom.
“The humans are monsters!” Erik shouted, slamming his hand down against the table. You flinched at the sharpness in his tone.
“Erik, not all of them are like that-”
“You don’t know that!” Erik snapped, his eyes flashing. “You’re small and weak and naive! You have no idea what they’re capable of!”
“They deserve to die!”
Your eyes stretched wide, “Erik, you don’t mean that.”
His lip curled back in a sneer, “Don’t tell me what I don’t mean. You haven’t seen what I’ve seen. The humans must be dealt with one way or another. If that means death, so be it. Charles is ignorant and weak to think we can make peace. Peace was never an option.”
You gripped the table, “Erik, you’re frightening me.”
“You shouldn’t be frightened of me, you should be frightened of them,” he snarled, “They are the ones who would slit your throat if given the chance.”
10 Things I Hate About You [Part 7] - Theo Raeken Imagine
A/N: hey, guys! this was going to be the final part of my 10 Things series, but I got carried away and wrote eleven pages of dialogue and soul crushing stuff lmao. I know it’s been a long, excruciating wait, but thank you so much for bearing with me. I hope it’s everything you were hoping for (and more). I will try to finish this series with the eighth part being posted by tomorrow night or Sunday night.
Your stomach did a magnificent flip as the truck sped around the sharp corner with ease. Trying to focus your eyes on the road and your thoughts on anything but your destination, you became hyper-aware of everything around you. The radio was merely a hum of a song you weren’t familiar with. The volume was a bit too low to make out any of the words, but the music was soft and sweet. It was soothing, though only slightly.
Your ears were much more attuned to the drumming of Theo’s fingers against the steering wheel. Some people shake their legs when nervous. Others bite their nails. Theo’s habit was tapping his fingers against any surface. It was his one giveaway – otherwise, he would have been an infallible poker player.
In all honesty, you were anxious, too. The last several minutes of the car ride had been spent in complete silence, you lost in your thoughts and Theo lost in his.
Finally, he paused the rhythmic motion of his fingers to break the stillness.
“Do you trust me?”
It was a simple question. Four words. The answer, however, was complex.
prompt: vampire au with kevin and neil being the bloodsuckers. canon divergence occurs after Neil’s traumatizing trip to Baltimore.
“Neil? Hey, Neil.”
Things were not okay.
They found him in the Columbia house. A writhing mess of pale skin and jutting bone, blue eyes a thin slice of black in bloodshot white. He had been missing for weeks, for months. The Foxes had forfeited their chance at the Championships when their number ten had not returned from the riot; Andrew had all but forfeited his chance at finishing the semester when Neil Josten did not return to their ranks; Kevin and Dan had put their heads together for the next year’s recruitment, but it had been half-hearted on her part and a desperate distraction on his, and led to spats that made Wymack send them both from the office.
Is that really him?
Holy shit. Holy fuck. It is. Look at him, he’s a–
They found a shadow of Neil Josten crouched in the Columbia house bathroom, his face a mottled mess of burn scars and festering gashes. He hisses when they open the door. He lunges when Nicky takes a step closer, and Nicky is saved from having his throat ripped out by Kevin’s reflex alone.
The two fought. That is, Neil struggled to reach his original target, and Kevin easily pinned his wild but weak opponent with a bruising grip around his wrists.
The bathroom reeked of rotten things, of sulfur and mold, of roadkill left in the sun. The smell clung to Neil with all the jealousy of death, and permeated the kitchen Kevin had him pinned to.
“Leave us,” Andrew demanded of his brother and cousin. Aaron had not hesitated in following the order. Nicky, with one fearful glance and a stumbling promise to call Wymack despite it being the first day of summer vacation, retreated soon after.
They found a Neil Josten that lacked recognition or cognition. They found him with teeth too many and too sharp, which was something they associated with Kevin Day but not Neil Josten.