#cajuncur

Thanks, now I have to deal with THIS in my head:

Another Reason || Not Accepting

I. There’s something psycho-sexual about the intimacy of being consumed. She doesn’t know how much of Marion is in the Rougarou as it rips chunks and pieces from her limbs- thighs or calves, arms, or her softer meat- breasts or backside. When it laps up her blood and creeps into intimate places, that mix pleasure and pain. The thing that Beth fears most is that Marion is trapped, comatose, inside the beast. That she will be powerless to stop the monstrous side from murdering Beth outright. That it will go for her organs ~particularly her heart or lungs~ and there won’t be anything she can do about it. II. The rare times Beth couldn’t feed the Rougarou...for example, the nine months she was pregnant with Styxx and barred from the magick of life, Beth knows the creature killed. To sate it’s desperate hunger it prowled the dark and took others. Others who could not defend themselves, others who had families and friends. Other lives that were complex in association. And Beth feels the weight of each one so murdered, as if she’d selected them herself because she knows the creature doesn’t discriminate. III. Beth has tried to reconnect with Marion some time after their fight. She knows she carries the blame for driving a wedge between them out of a very bitter and blind jealousy of her older sibling. But something broke that day, and she feels like there’s a chasm between them that cannot be spanned no matter how many apologies she makes, what gifts she brings, or how hard she tries to make things better. She also knows that being an abused and only child that Marion might not ever understand why Beth fears when people express feelings toward Andy, and why she pushes them away after. Maybe she doesn’t even understand it herself. All she knows now is that everything is... different. IV. Beth lives in fear for Marion. While the creature that lives inside her is powerful, potent, a predator, she doesn’t think it’s any match for an aeons old immortal demigod, the scion of War. She knows her husband doesn’t like the woman, and he doesn’t like the sacrifices Beth makes out of a sense of duty and friendship. That he knows Marion wants to have Beth the way he does, and that some day his patience will come to an end. She’s terrified of what he will do to Marion, what the creature might do to him, and it’s a bad situation all the way around. She tries to keep as much space between them as possible, preferring to meet Marion on her turf rather than his. But that does nothing for the nightmares she has about their tense situation. And maybe the restlessness of her dreams, the sweat, the sometimes mournful way she calls out Marion’s name only adds fuel to his deadly fire.

Upsetting Headcanons || ACCEPTING

That sinking-shrinking-expanding feeling doesn’t quite give up the ghost. Instead it clings more tenaciously to any scrap of him it can get a hold of, so much that he cringes when she makes that sound. Blisters his skin off like peeling paint in a heatwave with curses that are both filthy and creative, and he’s got to give her point; he’s not sure some of them are even physically possible, not that he’s tried. And admit to. When his animal brain suggests he turn, he run ~unarmed and unprepared for confrontation with anything more harmful than his doe-eyed sibling~ he can quite complete the impulse because she’s grabbed onto and doesn’t seem to care for letting go any time soon. But what is more disturbing is what lies beneath that sky-mirror gaze.

He’s seen that look before. In himself, in others.  Shit.

Having to explain the dogs to his twin was… not the most ideal thing that Ford had ever gone through. Not only that, Ford then had to explain why they would be taking their family’s home temporarily off of the market so that the dogs would have a place to stay. For three months. Ford had gone back for Poo-yi, but after that, he didn’t go anywhere near Marion’s residence until she’d finally called him. He ended up losing almost a month of work due to his sprained ankle, and wasn’t about to put himself in anymore danger.

With Marion back amongst the fleshed and dogs back in their rightful home, Ford welcomed himself for an evening so that the two of them could… possible talk -- he hadn’t yet figured that part out. Cassidy called him stupid for coming back. Ford assumed his twin was right. 

Everything happened in a flash. Like a firecracker, everything went from a small sizzle to an explosion of sound, noise, and danger. He had been completely incapsulated with her. The closer the monster emerged from Marion, the more intoxicating she became on his senses. Whether it were pheromones or Ford’s never ending tango with Death remained uncertain. But for now, Marion did everything in her power to make sure that Ford and Death wouldn’t meet on that day. 

In the chaos, Ford felt his ankle twist down the stairs and he stumbled into the darkness, doing little more than yelp in pain as his now changing companion shoved him mercilessly into the darkness. 

“Marion!” Ford shrieked, more strained than a grown man should have been being, left alone in the dark. But once the basement door closed and the lock was latched, Ford’s flight instincts kicked into overdrive, and he panicked. The pain in his ankle suddenly meant nothing. All that mattered was finding light -- any light. Without advertisement, Ford was afraid of the dark.

Fumbling through his pockets, Ford discarded anything and everything that wasn’t useful. His phone had been left upstairs, but mercifully, he’d still had his lighter on him. Shaking hands failed the first few flicks, and Ford cursed Marion’s name in the process. But finally, the saving grace of flame illuminated around him, and Ford breathed a sigh of relief. However, by the second breath, he was panicked by another sensation. 

The smell was all too familiar; intimately familiar. Ford froze in his place. This wasn’t a fresh kill; it was preservatives. Almost frantically, Ford moved the flame of the lighter above and around himself, looking for any sort of indication of light. The dim glow of the single bulb chain glimmered. Ford cursed further as he pushed himself back onto his feet, reaching for the chain. 

“Okay, so...” Newt was in the process of flipping through a file when he stepped into the room, looking remarkably lackadaisical seeing how the creature...person? Being in confinement was supposed to be very dangerous. He’d done very dangerous before. He could deal. “Your file says limited powers of human speech, so how’s about we have a chat instead of immediately jumping to the-”

He looked up from the file. Then back to the file. Then back up, again, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. The pictures in the file were of something that, if he was being honest, looked like a werewolf and the Rake had a demon child. What was in the secured containment portion of the room was...a regular person. A dirty and slightly crazy-looking person, but a person.