"You guys would be cute together though." Seven words that changed everything. [boyxboy] (even though this is complete when you pick it up, please leave me comments)

And there we were, the two of us, standing at the entrance of his bedroom. "This is where you and I will get to know a lot about each other... And where I will thank you every single night for what you have done for me." "...Every night?" Mika was called a doll, but he wasn't to me... He just needed to feel human... Because all he could think of was repaying me with his body. He'd get completely naked for me and just simply let me touch him like it was nothing. I could never do that. Cameras, clothes, the way he presented himself - he was always under control... Nothing seemed to belong to him. Not even his body. How could a boy like me be the only one to give everything back to him? **Occasional heavy vice, possible triggers containing: rape, abuse, illness** Excerpt Playlist: http://8tracks.com/armincrackers/doll-excerpts

"Cross your heart?" "Cross my heart, hope to die, and end a life with just one lie." - When my light was snuffed out at a young age, I had grown accustomed to the darkness. The way that it covered the light for so long that I entirely forgot about it apart from my distant memories. It had taken care of me when I needed it most. It had taken advantage of me when I was at my most vulnerable point. Of the one I hold dear. Of all of us. This . . . darkness. It goes by a name. It calls itself Prometheus. And we must heed it's call. Or else Prometheus will take away the human life it so graciously allowed us to keep. But they cannot lead me. Control me. For even at the end of it all- I stubbornly control the fate of my precious life. Photo credit to Andressina on Deviantart

Long ago, my best friend was taken from me. They took him, and a part of me. I was empty, void of most happiness for some time. To me, Mikaela was my childhood joy. My everything. Now, I have found him. Rather, he found me. But his view on life was shifted. A freak of nature was what they called him. They feared him, believed the words that he truly is a monster. He was not. Original photo: 吉子 on Pixiv

The first time he saw it he was four years old, struggling to pry his mother's clawing fingers from their vice-grip on his wrist. He'd screamed and begged while she roared threats into his tear-streaked face, and then his voice choked in his throat when he saw those glimmering eyes lazily observing him from a shadowed corner. A forked tongue flicked out, the color of freshly-spilled blood. Thousands of staring eyes the same color as his. A dark stirring in his belly that made his mother seem less like a horribly invincible monster and more like foolish prey that had wandered too close. The ghost (demon?) disappeared once he'd blinked the stinging tears from his eyes, cringing at the way his mother's nails dug into already-scarred skin. That feeling the thing had sparked, though, insistently remained, quiet but ever-present, preying on the emotions he'd been forcing himself to swallow down ever since his father died. And it only got worse from there.

Flashing lights, roaring chants, millions of hands reaching out to grab him- he is exhausted of it all. They claim to want it, they claim they'll take care of it, they claim that they have the money to purchase it- but, really, it's not that he is spending restless nights thinking of. It is the lack of humanity they perceived he owned and the fact that he is more of an object than a living creature. Began ; May 27, 2016 Completed ; May 15, 2018