#mrdickgrayson

[plowolffe]

“You’re not a monster,” I said. But I lied. What I really wanted to say was that a monster is not such a terrible thing to be. From the Latin root monstrum, a divine messenger of catastrophe, then adapted by the Old French to mean an animal of myriad origins: centaur, griffin, satyr. To be a monster is to be a hybrid signal, a lighthouse: both shelter and warning at once. 

Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

[cabezadeperro]

Hello :) id=274, maulrex?

274 | asofterworld prompts

[CW: rex is stuck in a cell and slowly losing his marbles. also blood and non-graphic injury tw]

The cell smells of spice. It’s small and dark, its ceiling so low Rex’s head almost touches it. The walls are always damp and when the sun sets and night’s long shadows flood it, he can hear the skittering sound of little feet crawling under his cot, over the walls. The creatures wake him up, again and again, their little needle teeth chewing at his fingers, at his toes, at his face and his ears. 

Rex’s counted five sunsets. No one’s tried to talk to him yet. Once a day a droid arrives with a tray full of food--cheap and tasteless but not rancid, and enough quantity to leave him sated--and leaves. It has yet to answer any of Rex’s many questions. Rex knows under whose orders he was caught and trapped and jailed, like an animal--it’s been three years since Mandalore and the end of the world, but he knows that the Pykes still work for Maul. 

He fills his days by working out in the little space he has, trying to keep the madness at bay, and glaring at the camera that watches him from its corner, high up on the furthest away from the ray shield. 

But then the sun rises and sets and rises again, and no one comes. The droid keeps bringing him water and ration bars, its mouthless face smooth like a mirror, and no one else does.

Rex waits. He begins talking to himself. Stops sleeping at night. Forgets to eat, sometimes. Breaks the droid, once, out of boredom and frustration, and ever-growing panic, and then goes hungry for days.

And the camera keeps watching him, silent. He begins to hate it. Tries to pry it off the wall, keeps trying until his fingers bleed, and then returns to his cot, to suck them clean.

At first, he tries talking to the things that bite, but it only makes them more aggressive, less scared of him.

He’s stopped counting the sunsets by the time he begins talking to the camera up on the wall. 

[khas-lana]

Hewwo your fics are *chef kiss* please never stop

Aww thank you so much hun! 

I have plenty more in my inbox, so I’ll be going for a while still. Thanks so much for all your love, too! <3