#AND I WAS LIKE damn that thing must be running away from a predator i should go

[wigglepiggle]

hoooollyyy fuck i was chillin standing around outside and a fox ran right next to me and it scared the shit outta me man

I was probably gonna be fine standing there but i don't wanna take chances with animals that could probably severely injure me-

[nuggetpool-hi]

Guess who watched X-Men origins again

OK SO I got THOUGHTS of this movie but specially Wade's fight style because it's really similar to our current Deadpool's fighting style... so yeah I wanna yap about that hi

WELL FIRST OF wanna talk a lil about Victor, Logan and Wade's different styles... from a mortal's view point I am no expert on this just insane about these movies and I need to write my thoughts or i'll explode

Starting with Victor!! the ultimate kittycat girlypop

I love his kitty self I'm sorry ANYWAY EXAMPLES

OKAY SO VICTOR. Victor's style is obviously very animalistic but also stylized, he makes the fight a show for himself! He likes to hunt and he tries to always give chase or play around a bit before the kill, just like a cat playing with his food!

AND IF you pay attention to the start of the movie, this game he's got with his target isn't initially how he fought, he kinda developed it as the years went by and the eviler he got the more he played with his food. The first few wars he goes to he's fighting like a human soldier, then you can see him slip up some animal jumps and uses his claws more until at the end he's full on predator chasing his prey (just like when he captures Scott, my god I love that scene he's terryfing)

AND A BIG DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HIM AND LOGAN (that I will also talk about later I guess) is that with this play thing Victor has going on it SHOWS that he THINKS about the stragety when fighting, he's aware of his surroundings and his target's strenghs and weaknesses, he's good at coming up with solutions on the spot (see his fight with John, he can predict where he's going to teleport and catch him) and how to give a good chase without losing WHILE LOGAN WELL, at least in this movie he seems very lost when fighting?? he mostly just launches at his target and attacks, if the target runs away he chases, very animalistic but in a feral-based on instincts way... prolly why he coulnt win agaisnt Victor at first, because he was being blinded by his rage while Victor was quite literally playing with him lmao

ANYWAY LOGAN our favorite traumatized babygirl

and boy does he suffer in this one aughh EXAMPLES

Now you must be wondering why did I put the bathroom scene, well I feel like it represents Logan's general situation pretty well! (and its silly let me be), hes confused destroying everything and just keeps making it worse every time he tries to fix it.

The thing about Logan in this movie is that he's honestly just- confused and angry from the moment he killed his father, he runs away over and over again from EVERYTHING and he's constantly being manipulated BY EVERYONE!! Poor man has no idea what to do with himself of who he can actually trust but damn he tries, his enviroment is contantly changing and he's trying his best to adapt but he does it in a messy way.

The way he fights and acts in general is animalistic, yes, but more of the "scared dog attacks" kind of way, he's always acting on his instinct that it's mostly led by anger. When he fights he just throws himself and tries to slash whatever he can, he runs he hides and then when he gets the chance to he attacks again.

He constantly has little to no control of the situtation WHICH IS SPECIALLY SEEN pre-adamantium where he keeps losing to Victor because unlike him- he has no plan, he's being manipulated and kept blind of everything ON PURPOUSE which obviouly puts him in a disadvantage so yeah.

AFTER he gets the adamantium you can see his skills strengen with his knowledge, the more he lears about his situation the more focused he is and his fighting it's cleaner, he still moslty just launches himself head first into fights BUT he's not running away, he's able to evaluate his situation and adapt (See his fight with Gambit, he looks at him when running away and then destroys the stair so Gambit can't run away OR with Deadpool where he decides to gain height as a way to create the space needed to evaluate his enemy?? that one might be a lil bit of a stretch tho)

WADE WILSON THE ULTIMATE CUTIE PRINCESS

let's ignore how dirty they did him ok...

OKAY SO SADLY- The bullet scene is pretty much the only scene where we see him fight and it's honestly not enough to tell how his normal style is BUT I WILL SAY his general style is fancy to look at and scarily effective (which is mostly seen with our current Wade but you can see a bit in origins deadpool) he makes a show for everyone to see, which is also his stragedy to make himself even better at combat! He uses a lot of fancy movements and acrobatics that help him AND takes his enemies off-guard, confusing them as where they should attack or what he's going to hit?? anyway-

Comparison time yippieee THIS IS WHAT THIS POST IS SUPPOSED TO BE ABOUT LMAO

I did not get side tracked idk what you mean.... and now seeing it over and over I'm realizing not that noticeable.... so it's just not that much to talk about oops

LOOK AT THIS WADE, LOOK AT THE MOVEMENTS HE DOES WITH HIS LEGS!! HIS HANDS??? THIS MAN IS SHOWING OFF he's using all kinds of acrobatics and fancy movements while fighting, he attacks with his hands and dodges using mostly his legs, he's using all he has!! and it's making Logan lose BECAUSE LOGAN CAN'T FOCUS!! specially since he's so "target locked will attack", Wade makes it SO HARD for him to focus on a pose long enough to actually stab him also Logan ain't too good at dodging, I'm guessing it could be because he heals? dunno

now what inmediately came to my mind upon rewatch was THIS scene (maybe because I saw it recently who knows)

THE SETTING IS SO SIMILAR!! Wade is using a lot of fancy movements to get up, dodge and attack all way too fast for Logan to process, once again Logan is looking everywhere confused about where to aim bc this silly red guy it's dancing on his face and he's struggling to keep up JUST LIKE IN ORIGINS except well he IS able to get a hit bahah

Dodges like crazy, jumps over Logan (he did in origins too) just moves a lot between every attack

Actually now that I think about it Wade feels a bit less effective in the car, like yes sure he's putting up a good fight but Logan still feels like he's leading it BECAUSE WADE IS MORE EFFECTIVE WHEN HE HAS MORE SPACE!! he likes to be able to move around and do gimnastics while Logan it's a lot better the closer he gets to his target so omg yeah... ALSO LIKE WADE STILL TRIES TO MOVE AROUND he shoves Logan away from him, he gets out of the car choking logan with a seatbelt and gets to the back, he tries to create space because that's where his speciality WHILE LOGAN keeps trying to get closer to have him in his power, which he gets to do since the car isn't allowing Wade to move as freely as he would want to...

AND YOU CAN SEE HIS FANCY MOVEMENTS WITH FRANCIS TOO he's constantly circuling him, dodging and spinning while Francis is just trying to get a hit, Wade keeps his enemies chasing him when he fight THAT'S the way he controls it and gets it wherever he wants aughh

ANYWAY YEAH I think that's it, don't really know how much sense any of this does since I've been writing it on-and off the whole day lmao it's so messy but yeah feel free to add onto it I'd love to see opinions on this wahoo

Might keep talking about stuff I find interesting in the movies bahah this has been funn

[yandere-writer-momo]

Monster F-er Anon with some smut (For our Sexy Bushy Eyebrow Husband)

Weretiger Katsumi x Rabbit!Darling (Beeding Kink, Praise, Potential Pregnancy and as much smut as you damn want when it comes to Katsumi)

It’s Mating Season and Darling is trying to get to her den, however she realizes she’s being Hunted and proceeds to run away from the Predator, only to get caught, but instead of being killed, he’s rubbing, hugging and purring in joy for finally catching his ‘Beloved Mate’ and takes her to her- sorry, their new home

(I love Katsumi SO much, he’s so cute)

I have wanted to do a leopard reader so you’re getting snow leopard reader!

Happy Freaky Friday!

🌶️ Yandere Baki Shorts:Little Mate 🌶️

Weretiger Katsumi Orochi x Snow Leopard Afab Reader

When (your name)’s humans had abandoned her in the wild in favor of a new shifter for their exhibit, (your name) was so afraid. She’s never been in the wild before. So this was all new to her…

For the first week, it took her awhile to get used to being on her own… to being able to survive. Her white coat made her easy to spot for predators… a snow leopard had no place in this jungle nor the wild in general. And she was terrified of every sound around her.

She spent most of her time curled up in a small den she had found. The young shifter only came out whenever she was hungry to catch fish at the stream below, but even then… she felt as if she was constantly being watched.

(Your name) caught fish again today, she had gotten better over the last few weeks but it still did little to quench her hunger. She was too afraid to venture out further in the forest for other things to eat. Especially with the strong pungent scent that permeated through the air. There was a bigger predator around and she was terrified to interact with them.

As she picked at her fish, her white ears and tail shot up once she heard a branch snap from above her. Her head darted up to the top of the tree above her only to see a large tiger that stared at her hungrily.

(Your name) quickly shifted into her snow leopard form and started to flee in terror, the larger tiger leaped down and gave tail. Her head pounded from the strong scent that came from the tiger, he must be the one who had marked territory all over the outer perimeter of her den and the forest… she truly hoped he didn’t catch and devour her.

(Your name) was soon knocked to the ground, the tiger pinned her to the ground without much effort. His golden eyes stared deeply into hers while her body shook like a leaf.

She felt herself shift back to her more human form while tears fell from her face. She was going to die… he was going to eat her…

The tiger surprised her when he licked the side of her face, a man now laid on top of her. The tongue soon replaced with lips that eagerly kissed her cheeks. An excitement was held in his now black eyes.

“You’re a leopard… you’re so cute!” The handsome man exclaimed in excitement while he slowly pushed himself off her. His orange and black ears flicked back and forth. “I’m sorry if I scared you…”

(Your name) could only cry while he tried to shush her. His thumbs wiped away her tears with a frown.

“Hey it’s okay… I’m Katsumi.” Katsumi introduced himself, the tiger shifter pressed his forehead to hers. “Please don’t be sad… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you… you just started running before I could talk to you.”

Katsumi frowned at how thin she was. He’s never seen a shifter like her before… she didn’t belong here… she had to have been forced here… but it was the perfect opportunity for him! He’d be able to mate with another big cat!

Katsumi wrapped his arms around her trembling form. The man rested his head atop of hers. She probably had no idea he had made several attempts to court her… poor thing.

“How about you come to my den? I’ll take care of you.” Katsumi cooed while he stroked her soft ears. So cute… so helpless. She was lucky he took an interest in her! She’d starve to death soon…

“R-really?” Katsumi felt his heart flutter at her big eyes. So adorable… so trusting. He’d never let her go…

“Yes. I’ll get you something to eat.” Katsumi purred, the young man rubbed his head against hers. “I’ll take care of you.”

(Your name) took Katsumi’s hand as he lead her into the forest. The tiger’s purrs never ceased…

.

.

.

Over the course of a few weeks, Katsumi brought her plenty of food and even some pelts to keep warm. The tiger constantly fretted over her well being.

The large den was spacious and full of pelts… so many pelts that one would think a family lived there rather than two shifters.

Katsumi was quite chatty. Apparently he too was abandoned but he was taken in by a pack of gray wolves, which explained his sociable behavior… and how cuddly he is.

“You’re finally putting on weight… I’m happy.” Katsumi whispered, the man pressed hot kisses to her soft ears. “(Your name)?”

“Yes, Katsumi?” (Your name) nervously tried to scoot away from Katsumi to put distance between them. As of late, he’s been more touchy and she wasn’t sure why.

“Did you have a mate back at the exhibit?” Katsumi asked with a dazed look in his eye, a loud purr rumbled in his throat.

“No… they moved me out in exchange for panda…” (your name) bitterly laughed. “I mean… we were both endangered species but I guess they weren’t able to find another snow leopard-“

Katsumi pressed his nose against (your name)’s with a purr. “Does it matter if it’s a snow leopard? What about a Siberian tiger? I’m endangered too…”

(Your name) furrowed her brow in confusion. What did Katsumi mean- oh… oh. Katsumi wanted to mate with her?

“I’m a good provider right? I can take care of us and our young!” Katsumi exclaimed while he gestured to the den. “Plenty of space! And we’re both big cats… it could work.”

(Your name) felt her blood go cold. Katsumi took her in to mate with her… he wanted young…

“Katsumi-“ Katsumi pressed his lips to hers to silence her protests. Her body grew warm from the touch, what was happening?

“Cats can induce ovulation…” Katsumi whispered as he pressed kisses all over her cheeks and neck. “We’ll mate everyday for the next five days! That way we ensure plenty of cubs.”

“Katsumi, I don’t know-“ an overwhelming heat overtook her body. The young woman shook in fear. Her heat… her heat cycle was here… but how?

“See? Your cycle is here. It’s time to be bred, darling.” Katsumi gently laid her on the pelts he had collected, the tiger crawled on top of her as he helped her undress. “We’ll take care of that, okay? I’ll make you feel so good…”

Her head felt heavy and her body felt so hot… she couldn’t move nor could she voice her protests. Her body was on fire and the coolness from his skin soothed it. She’d let him… yes. Katsumi was big and strong… he’d be a good mate.

Katsumi smiled at the way she went slack under his touch. The man disrobed himself as well. He feasted his eyes on her body while she admired his.

“With this, you’ll be my mate… and I won’t leave you! You’ll be my lifelong mate.” Katsumi beamed at her, the weretiger lined himself up at her damp entrance. “With this, we are officially mates…”

(Your name) threw her head back when he entered, the tiger hissed at the sensation of her tightness. She was so damp and so tight… she was a dream.

“So perfect…” Katsumi whined, the man shallowly thrusted in and out to test the water. “You’re so good for me.”

(Your name) could only grab his biceps to try to ground herself. This was entirely too much. He was too big for her smaller body.

A scream ripped from her once he picked up the pace. His pert balls smacked against the flesh of her ass while his tail tangled with hers. Whines and gasps left his lips while he began to fuck into her like a wild beast.

“Yes! God!” Katsumi cried while he chased his high. “Gonna get you pregnant… you’re going to carry my cubs… you’re mine!”

(Your name) could only grasp onto his back while her own high began to creep up on her. A mantra of tumultuous cries escaped her lips as Katsumi continued his assault. The man’s face became more beastly while his high rapidly approached.

(Your name) came with a sharp cry, her orgasm sudden and violent. Her walls violently spawned around Katsumi, the man buried himself to the hilt within her while he came. His hands tightly grabbed the fatty flesh of her hips to hold her still while he emptied himself into her. The man panted in satisfaction.

Katsumi then sunk his fangs into her neck to create a mate mark on her, the young woman cried out in pain. Katsumi licked up the blood with a smile.

“You’re my mate… you’re mine.” Katsumi nuzzled his head against her face. “We’re going to have so many cubs… I can’t wait to meet them.”

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

I hope you don't mind me asking this, but why do you like Celegorm? I love that you're vocal about how stupid the Feanorian woobification in this fandom is because people who claim that they did nothing wrong or that they're not villains clearly hasn't read the Silm, but while there's still a level of sympathy to most of them, Celegorm is just genuinely the worst and I can't figure out what there is to appreciate about him lol. I'm sorry if this comes across as a bad-faith question, I really want to know how you like him while not ignoring, trying to deny, or worst trying to justify (which I have seen FAR too many people doing) his canon actions

you're totally good anon! i'd be happy to answer this. just want to preface, i perfectly get where you're coming from and why people hate celegorm, because he is, as you say, the worst. he's horrible. he's done awful things to countless people -- and by no means is he the only feanorian to have done that, obviously, but celegorm's actions in luthien's story make him a type of squicky that's unique even among the brothers. he, hm. how can i put this. he deserves nothing. and yes, people who try to justify him are just wrong. stop reading the silm if you want a mass murdering sexual predator to be glorified ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

that said! the succinct answer is that it's all about the vibes lol. all the feanorians are awful people, but celegorm is, imo, that particularly entertaining kind of awful. there's a certain interplay between his successes and failures that i find unbearably endearing (derogatory). he is canonically charming and magnetic and charismatic enough to sway people with his rhetoric, and i love that. i love that he's opportunistic, clever, and sly, and pounces on the chance when he spots it. the fact that his speech in nargothrond is explicitly paralleled with feanor's before the flight of the noldor says a lot. i find it compelling that while, in many ways, celegorm is the most distant from his family -- friend of a vala, a great woodsman and hunter which are two things that neither his father nor his brothers are ever even mentioned around -- he is the only one among the sons of feanor to be directly, textually compared to feanor, and feanor during one of his most pivotal and infamous moments, no less. the guy must be a force of nature when he really wants to be. yet at the same time, he's endlessly reckless, arrogant, and shortsighted, and he does not get to get away with his actions. his plans flop (just like he will continue to flop until his karmic and also really fucking funny death in about thirty years' time, i'll get back to that), his intentions are discerned, and he gets thrown out in disgrace for treachery with the embarrassing declaration "a maiden had dared that which the sons of feanor had not dared to do" following after him. it's that particular blend of hyper-competence followed hand-in-hand by prompt abject failure and humiliation that makes him so appealing to me.

oh and. another thing about celegorm is that he has the added charm of being a fucking sore loser and a petty bitch -- trying to kill luthien even though she spares his brother's life when she'd be justified throttling him and curufin with her bare hands and i just. he's sooo funny. what is wrong with him. so many things are wrong with him. tfw you kidnap and tried to rape this woman and she does you an untold, absolutely herculean grace and kindness that you know damn well you do not deserve and your reaction is to try to kill her for daring to show you compassion. he's insane.

then. then then then then. he gets chased by own dog and runs away "in terror." you know you've messed up when your dog finally has enough of your bullshit and runs you down because he's fed up with all the terrible things you've been doing. not to mention his dog also dies fighting next to a man that he hates, using his last opportunity of speech to say goodbye to said man. like. beren and luthien's story leaves celegorm, as skilled and magnetic as he canonically is, in absolute shambles and it's hilarious. how does one recover from that you may ask. and i answer one does not recover from that.

but that's not even all. after that saga of blunders he hangs around for about three decades doing absolutely nothing of note, then in his attempt to regain some relevancy winds up having the most mortifying death ever. my dude you were the "let's ambush doriath guys" spokesperson. you campaigned for that shit. this was your desire. this is what you wanted. and you walk in there and the guy who's *checks notes* THIRTY-SIX compared to your one-thousand-something KILLS YOU. elves are not developmentally matured until they're a hundred. your killer is like thirty. this is, generously speaking, about an eight year old by your standards. a fucking eight year old kills you. yes i know dior was not actually a child at the time but the fact remains that celegorm quite literally has more life experience than the entire human race and he's done in by the son of a human. then to add second insult to first insult to extreme injury, two of your brothers are also killed in this battle and in the end you all don't even achieve what the fuck you came there to do. THIS WAS YOUR PLAN. how do you lose that badly. holy hell. if i were him i'd stay in the halls of mandos forever out of pure embarrassment. you simply would never see me again. you think i'm walking out into society and showing my face around the block when an eight-year-old ended my life? nah. no sir not me

plus well. on a more serious note, dior is luthien's son. luthien, whom celegorm thought he could control, whom he saw as an object to further his aims and to lust after. he's killed by the son of the woman he tried to rape, and there's nothing more fitting than that.

so! there you have the basic rundown of why i like what's explicitly laid out about celegorm in canon. he's an objectively horrible man, it's just that i find the way he goes about being objectively horrible extremely funny. but i also think he is ripe for exploration in the realm of speculation -- and that speculation enhances what we do know about his actions during b&l and after until his death. aside from the kinslaying at alqualonde wherein all the sons of feanor participate, we see him and curufin acting unambiguously villainous a good bit before the rest of their brothers -- at the very least, they are clearly more willing to do horrible things at the point of time of b&l when compared to the likes of maedhros and maglor. like, they are out here committing actions that no sane person can rationalize as being anything other than abhorrent. it's clear that they've already given up on the idea of being "good"; they've already given up on keeping their hands clean and they've already shed whatever qualms they might have had in the past.

my thoughts on why? this is by no means canon, but tolkien does seem to like giving the legendarium's major villains some sort of arc and some type of insight into what they become (melkor gets history, sauron gets history, maedhros and maglor get history), so i don't see why celegorm should be any different. and for me, celegorm and curufin, especially celegorm, give the impression that they fell into despair and disillusionment far before the other feanorians did. and their response was to accept that they have no way of going back to the people they used to be, that they've already been rightfully damned, and if they've come this far they may as well do whatever they can to achieve what they fell so low for, because what does it matter anymore? it's part of why i think celegorm sees maedhros trying to look at beleriand and the war against morgoth from a larger perspective than just the silmarils, and both disdains and pities him for it. they've already been doomed and they already can't hope to make amends. they should do what they're here for -- and while, in celegorm's eyes, maedhros isn't willing to do what needs to be done, he is. i think that sort of mentality is fascinating. in a way, it's a self-fulfilling prophecy -- maybe if celegorm thought there was any meaning to him being better, or even just any meaning in not being nearly as awful as he resolved to be, then he wouldn't have stooped so low. but he did believe there was no hope for him, he did believe that he could never be forgiven -- and in believing that, he did go past the point of no return, beyond which he truly, legitimately couldn't hope to be forgiven. also, i just personally like the "well i'm a terrible person so i'm going to act like a terrible person"-type villains better than "oh no i'm a terrible person it makes me so sad and full of despair"-type villains (looking at you, maglor). again, none of this is canon, but it's my reading of celegorm's character, and i think it sheds some light on why he's so awful in b&l and afterwards. in his mind, it's already over for him anyway.

i hope this answered your question anon! i like celegorm, and i enjoy his character, because there are shades of a sad tale behind his descent to being the worst, he's entertaining while he's being the worst, and most crucially of all, he gets his comeuppance for being the worst in an extremely satisfying way. i definitely wouldn't like him (or the silm at all) so much if he'd been, like, successful in anything -- but thankfully he is written by an author who knows full well what an utterly reprehensible character he is. and boy does tolkien not spare him from that karma. he is simultaneously a singleminded and relentless fallen prince, a repulsive monster, and the story's laughingstock (one of them anyway). honestly, none of the feanorians tickle my brain quite like he does. i love him and i would beat him with a shoe

[penny00dreadful]

Return of The King - Part 2

Last time it was my birthday, this time it's my 1st wedding anniversary! 👰 I like to celebrate by getting my stuff out there! So here, have a part two to my 'Steddie vampire fic with a twist' which has a title now!

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 AO3

He was going to die. This is how he died.

“That’s mine.” A voice said to him with just the faintest tinge of amusement.

Eddie’s heart stopped. Like fully stopped in his chest for a second and his stomach dropped out of his ass before his heart kicked back into high gear. He couldn’t breathe and time seemed to have crawled to a stop as he stared at the dark figure in front of him, looming somehow large and threatening despite their similar heights and the lightness in his tone of voice. His brain was firing off warning signals left and right telling him the thing in front of him was a predator and he was prey, a constant blaring signal telling him to run, get away, escape, hide.

“What are you doing in my room?” Steve Harrington asked him. His face was completely obscured by the darkness and he was more intimidating than Eddie had ever seen him. He was further in shadow than anything else in the room, like he was sucking all the residual light into the void of his figure. 

Eddie was frozen on the spot, he couldn’t move, the terror coursing through him had completely locked up every part of his body. He felt like his heart was getting dangerously fast, almost to the point of bursting, lodging itself in his throat like it was looking for an escape route. He could feel adrenaline starting to flood through him, making him shake and his eyes must have been as wide as saucers.

Steve was dead. Steve was dead, how was he here? How could he be here?! It had been a month, he… his neck was gone, his body was cold, he was… he was empty, there was no life- 

How could he be here?!

This had to be some completely fucked up Vecna shit. This was god damn low, even for him. To use Steve in this way… it was barbaric. Eddie didn’t know how long he’d be able to take it before his heart either gave out or broke in two. He knew he wouldn’t be emotionally strong enough to keep himself from giving into Steve if he started to push his buttons and if Vecna was in his head then it was only a matter of time.

At least Vecna was targeting him. Eddie couldn’t imagine the devastation if he’d targeted the kids or Nancy or god forbid, Robin. If it was Robin who’d been sent visions of Steve… Jesus he didn’t even want to think about what it would do to her.

Steve cocked his head to the side and though the movement itself wasn’t inherently dangerous, the motion was enough for Eddie’s terrified state to kick his body into movement, making him jump backwards. His knees stayed slightly bent, like he was just looking for an opportunity to bolt.

“Woah, Eddie.” Steve said, sounding cautious. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.” He raised his hands as if to placate him but again the movement caused Eddie to flinch back, hip checking the foot of the bed painfully hard and sending him crashing to the floor. He fell flat on his ass, scrambling backwards until he collided with a thump against the wall under the window, unable to tear his eyes away from the approaching shadow.

Everything was starting to hurt now, not physically but emotionally. The reality of what was staring him in the face, some fucked up mirage of a dead pretty boy sent here to psychologically torture him to death was crushing down on top of him. Eddie’s throat was closing with grief, he couldn’t swallow anymore and his eyes were burning. His brain was crying out in devastation and his heart was crumbling around him. It hurt, it fucking hurt.

And he was alone. 

He was here, all alone. 

No one knew where he was.

No one even knew he came here to get away.

He was going to go missing again, presumed dead again…

They might never find him.

And he was struggling to remember a favourite song, any song that had brought him any kind of joy over the last month.

God this was all so fucked.

As the shadow of Steve got closer, Eddie continued to try to back up, to get as far away from the thing his brain was telling him was hunting him. He just ended up slipping against the floor as he kicked his legs out, his breaths were coming in short and sharp, he starting to hyperventilate and shit this really wasn't going well for him.

He curled up into himself, just waiting for the inevitable emotional and physical blows to come crashing down, digging his fingers into his hair and resting his forehead on his knees.

“Ed-”

“Can you just... give me a minute, man?” Eddie sniffled, his voice shaking. “I’m trying to get a handle on a favourite song.”

“I’m not Vecna.” Steve’s soft reply came, his tone of voice understanding.

“Uh-huh.” His knees were starting to get damp and he tried not to think of all the shit Wayne had to suffer through in life by taking a train wreck of a nephew in all those years ago. “Real convincing. Sounds like something Vecna would say, you dickless lump of unseasoned bolognese.”

Silence pressed in around him as he waited for the strike. Something to cut through him physically or emotionally. Rip him limb from limb, pop his eyes, punch a hole in his chest or just plain torture him until he expired.

Instead he heard a muffled exhale, something halting and breathy that almost sounded like-

Eddie looked up incredulous, his hands still clutched into his hair. “Are you laughing? Are you seriously laughing right now?”

Almost against his will, he felt his body start to come down from the panic gripping him.

Because he could see Steve highlighted by the moonlight spilling in the window, his face, his cheeks, his nose, his moles, his eyes, the part of his brain screaming predator quieted, now only whispering rather than shouting. The darkness of Steve’s figure seemed to lessen, no longer terrifying and unknowable, but familiar and comforting. There was no way to describe how he looked other than angelic. Ethereally beautiful in an almost unsettling way that made Eddie think of brightly coloured frogs that secreted poison and venus fly traps sitting motionless and open. 

But now that Steve was no longer this looming, threatening presence shrouded in darkness he didn’t feel quite so dangerous anymore. Well, that was a lie. But he didn’t feel quite so dangerous towards Eddie. It was like just looking at him had helped the calm settle over his bones.

Steve shook his head, his hand still covering his mouth trying to quieten the giggles coming through but it was a rapidly losing battle. Eddie’s own mouth was starting to curl up against his will, his disbelief was bubbling into mirth in his chest, threatening to explode forth.

“Stop laughing at me!” Eddie found himself giggling through his words, Steve’s own laughter had become infectious.

Steve exploded, throwing his head back with loud braying cackles that made him sound like a demented witch, listing dangerously to the side before he caught himself.

“I’m not- I’m not laughing at you, Eds. I swear.” He giggled. “You’re just really funny.”

“That’s laughing at me!” Eddie had to hold himself back from swatting at Steve’s leg. While Steve’s laugh filled him with light, made him so warm and alive and bright in the dark room, Eddie still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still on the wrong side of the predator/prey relationship.

“I wasn’t laughing at you.” Steve sighed away the last of his giggles. “I was laughing at what you said. I told you, you’re funny.”

Steve Harrington thinks I’m funny.

Eddie’s heart rate was starting to pick up again but this time it had nothing to do with fear. Steve’s smile grew fractionally wider, blinking across at him, so warm and bright and full of life.

“I’ve been called many things sweetheart, but funny’s not usually one of them.”

“Well maybe they can’t see what I can see.”

Eddie felt his eyes grow soft and the smile slip from his face while his heart shattered and reformed a million times over. He nudged himself closer, just by a fraction, just enough so he no longer had the safety net of the wall behind him.

He held his hand out to Steve, palm up, who’s look had morphed into confusion and a bit of concern at the change in attitude before he placed his hand palm down in Eddie’s.

Eddie could feel the ridges and wrinkles of his palm, the warmth of his skin, the rhythmic pulse of a heartbeat under his wrist, too slow to be anything human but there and strong.

“Fuck.” Eddie whispered into the air between them. “It's really you, isn’t it?”

Steve tightened his fingers, holding his hand firmly but softly at the same time. “It’s really me.”

Eddie allowed his eyes to roam over Steve’s figure. He was so whole. His neck was all there, not a scar or wound in sight as though he’d never had his throat ripped out by tiny gnashing teeth. His eyes were glittering and thoughtful in the moonlight so much the same as they used to be but there was something different in them too. Their usual hazel-honey colour was present but there was a starling yellow undertone to them that hadn’t been there before. It only flashed occasionally when they caught the light just right. It should never have been visible except to someone who’d spent entirely too long gazing at those eyes and Eddie was exactly that kind of pathetic human to have committed them to memory.

Steve’s cheeks were steadily starting to go pink under his gaze and god he was right here. He was right in front of him with their hands intertwined and it felt so good but it also hurt. It still hurt so much, like he was going to be snatched away at any moment. 

Eddie chewed on is lip. “You were dead.”

Steve nodded. “I was.”

“Are you-” Eddie swallowed. “Are you still dead?”

He didn’t feel still dead but what other explanation did they have?

“I don’t know.”

“What do you know?”

Steve shrugged, casting his eyes around as though looking for the answer in his dusty old bedroom. His eyebrows furrowed slightly and he sniffed. Eddie thought he might be smelling the air, but there was no smell here other than dust and that stale scent that often clung to fabric when it was left alone for too long.

Steve’s eyebrows relaxed and a sly smile slowly spread itself over his face. He pulled his hand out of Eddie’s grip to place his elbows on his knees and his hands under his chin like he was a teenage girl ready for gossip before looking Eddie directly in the eye.

“Have you been sleeping in my bed?”

Oh god, it was so creepy. It was so creepy what he’d been doing. Eddie glanced over at the rumpled sheets, a far distance from how the bed had been when he’d first found it, all clean lines and hospital corners which he couldn’t recreate if he tried.

His face was getting hotter and his heart was getting faster and Steve could definitely see his blush if the widening smile was anything to go by. Eddie suddenly felt pinned as prey again but very different than before, trapped under Steve’s fiery stare.

He needed to get his solid footing back, he needed… he needed to chill the fuck out. Get back on track and try not to tackle the man in front of him and pin him down or roll over and beg Steve to rip him apart.

Steve was still staring at him like watching Eddie squirm was the most interesting thing he could be doing, like he could tell exactly what Eddie was thinking, like a cat watching a mouse caught in a trap.

“I have come to a decision.” Eddie announced, with all the false bravado he could muster.

“Oh yeah?” Steve asked, not swayed in the slightest.

“You’re not Vecna.”

“Duh.”

“Okay, smartass.” He grinned. “You’re not Vecna, you’re not as dead as you used to be, but you don’t know if you’re still a little bit dead?”

Steve sat up, running a hand through his perfect hair. God damn it of course it was perfect, it looked so soft. It flopped back down over his forehead making him look even more devastatingly handsome than before. “Yeah, I figured I could use your help with that.” 

For some reason that was what made it hit him all at once.

Steve was here.

He was back.

Something was wrong, he wasn’t back the same but it was him.

Eddie wasn’t alone in this anymore. 

The Fellowship… things might be able to get better.

Fuck.

It was like he could finally see in colour. 

Like he’d been looking at shadows on cave walls his entire life and was now able to go outside.

It was like he was back into himself in an instant, the Eddie who’d been desaturated with trauma and drowning in responsibility was brought back to life.

He had so much energy, he was almost bouncing with it. He had to find out everything. And he had never been the type to be able to put a book down once it got good. He always had to chase until he got answers and those big goddamn eyes were looking back at him, alive.

“What are you?” Eddie was scooting forward until he was well into Steve’s personal space.

“Uh,” Steve’s boyish confidence seemed to leave him all at once, recoiling slightly as Eddie leaned into him, poking his cheeks and examining his eyes up close. He swatted Eddie’s hands away from his hair, but not before Eddie got to feel it. The famous hair, buttery soft and silky and so thick. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I am, I was hoping you might have some idea, you’re the Lore Master or whatever.”

Eddie sat back a little and tilted his head. “I think you mean Dungeon Master but Lore Master is also an objectively cool name so I’ll take it.” It was a really cool title after all. “I assume I'm the first one you've sought out?” 

Steve smirked again. "You're very sure of yourself."

Eddie didn't want to say that if Steve had had the misfortune to visit anyone else first it probably would have been a disaster of epic proportions. He didn't want to say that he'd have known about it immediately because he was now the one who was called first whenever someone had a breakdown or some shit went sideways. He didn't want to say that if it had happened that Steve had visited anyone else, the Fellowship could have ended up broken beyond repair. More than it already was.

Instead he just shrugged. 

Steve shook his head. “No, Eddie, I don’t want to see them yet. Not until I have this,” he gestured to himself, “figured out.”

“Right.”

“But everyone’s doing okay?” Steve smiled, as though just the memory of them was enough to light up his life. “I’d say you’ve been driving them crazy with your dice game. Everything that had happened must have given you some great ideas? And you’re probably run ragged driving them everywhere, now that I think about it. Probably more than I was with the cracks everywhere. At least you have a night off for sleepovers and that kind of thing, right?”

Eddie looked over at him, Steve had so much hope and joy in his face at the idea that everything was continuing on as normal and Eddie wished he could keep it that way. “No. We haven’t been doing any of those things.”

“Why not?”

God, this was going to be difficult.

“Everyone’s kinda… fucked up.”

“What? Why? Do they need help? What happened?” Tension had taken over Steve's body in a flash, that animalistic danger was radiating off of him again in waves. He looked like a snake coiled to strike.

Eddie held a placating hand out. He really should be scrambling back because the energy Steve was giving off was terrifying but it also wasn’t because it wasn’t directed at him. He just knew, deep down in his soul that Steve, this Steve, would never hurt him. Eddie felt safe, wrapped up in a bedroom, isolated in a house no one knew he was in with an apex predator who could probably snap him in half. 

He managed to get a hand on Steve’s sleeve, gently pulling his gaze back to himself. “Sweetheart… you died. That’s what happened.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped in surprise. He looked shocked. “Really? That’s it?”

“That’s it? That’s it? Hell yeah, that’s it! Stevie baby, you fucking died. Don’t tell me you thought they wouldn’t be mourning you?”

“I mean, I knew they would for a little bit but I thought they would have moved on by now.” 

“I don’t think you understand how important you are to the group. Everyone was- still is devastated! Jesus, I’m still in mourning and you’re sitting right in front of me!”

“You?”

“Yeah me! You were my god damn lifeline for the worst week of my existence. I’m supposed to just move on from my knight in shining armour who died tragically and selflessly before I could really get to know him? Get real. I was about two seconds away from wearing a black veil to your memorial.”

“I think you should’ve.”

“Probably best that I didn’t.”

They sat and considered each other for a long moment. Eddie catalogued all the information he’d gotten about this Steve so far. He certainly seemed like himself. So he could possibly be some kind of Vecna sleeper agent. He said he needed help with the whole being dead thing. So was he back to life? Undead? 

He didn’t look like how he’d expect any undead creature to look. Even in the pale moonlight Eddie could see the healthy glow to Steve’s skin, felt his thick hair, he seemed strong. He could move incredibly fast. When he was unknowable in the shadows he seemed terrifyingly dangerous. Like he radiated fiersome predator energy without meaning to. Even now that instinct to run, get away, escape, hide was still there at the back of Eddie’s mind but it was less scary than it had been and was now more... thrilling.

Though that could have something to do with Eddie’s own fucked up sexual proclivities.

Overall Steve still seemed Lawful Good. Goofy, bitchy, charming, handsome, sexy, gorgeous…

Okay, moving on.

Eddie was pretty sure he was settling on what Steve might be. He wasn’t rotting, he wasn’t non-corporeal, he wasn’t leaking black ichor or trying to eat his brains. There was just one last thing he needed to see to confirm his suspicions.

Time for the plan of attack.

“Let me see your teeth.” Without warning Eddie surged forward, managing to just barely brush Steve’s top lip with his finger before his wrist was caught in a rock solid grip.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Figuring you out.”

“What does my mouth have to do with it?”

“Your mouth is very important.”

Steve cocked an eyebrow at him, but still held him firm.

Eddie pouted, attempting to play up the dramatics as much as humanly possible. “Stevie!” He whined, shaking the wrist that was still being gripped, allowing his hand to flop around. “You’re no fun.”

“I'm plenty fun, you’re just a menace.”

“I’m not a menace, I’m your Lore Master.” Eddie tried to dip his voice as low as it would go, taking on that rumbling timbre he usually used for his baddies or whenever he needed to reduce someone to liquid in the bedroom.

He felt a grin spread over his face as Steve’s cheeks got a little pinker and his eyelids fluttered just a tad before he schooled his expression back into one of exasperation. Eddie looked over his face again trying to pinpoint why the whole undead thing felt a little… off.

“You know, you look… deceptively normal.”

“Should I not look normal?”

“Well if my suspicions are correct, I would have expected you to look… I don’t know, paler? More dead? Red eyed?” His wrist was still being held prisoner so he leaned forward and stared at Steve wide eyed in a way that usually unsettled people, trying to get him to crack again. 

Steve only seemed amused. “What are your suspicions?”

“What are yours? You must have an idea by now.”

“I do but,” Steve huffed and shook his head, “I don’t know if I’d be correct. You guys are the smart ones who know all about this nerd supernatural stuff, I just know what I’ve seen in movies and shit.”

“Okay, well just before I say what I’m thinking I want to check your teeth again.”

“Okay.”

Steve finally released his wrist, allowing Eddie to reach forward and pull his top lip back. 

Damn, that was disappointing. They were just normal regular human teeth. Eddie still had a finger on his lip when he just barely caught a mischievous glint in Steve’s eye.

Steve raised his tongue, pressing it against the roof of his mouth and Eddie yelped and snatched his hand back as two short fangs shot down from his gums sliding over his canines.

Steve laughed, his fangs catching a little on his bottom lip. Eddie had apparently left all sense of self preservation behind, throwing himself forward again, practically climbing onto Steve’s lap to get a closer look, grabbing the fangs between his fingers and wiggling them to see how firm they were. 

Yep, they were really set in there and they were so short and stubby. There was no way to describe them other than cute. 

He angled his head to look up into the roof of Steve’s mouth where his tongue was still pressed, watching in awe as he removed his tongue, his fangs slowly retracting back up into his gums, leaving two small holes in their wake.

“Oh, gross.” Eddie said, fascinated. “Do it again.”

Steve just cocked an eyebrow and angled his head to give him a better view. There was a bump in the roof of his mouth and as Steve pressed against it, slower this time, the two holes in his gums opened wider, his fangs lowering in time with the press of his tongue.

“Looks like some kind of muscle.” 

Steve lowered his head and it was only then that Eddie realised how close they were. Their noses nearly touched, Eddie was in his lap, knees on either side of his thighs but Steve didn’t seem to mind, his hands lightly resting on Eddie’s hips.

Maybe don’t try and fuck the apex predator for Christ's sake, he thought to himself but he couldn’t find it in himself to move. He looked down at his own hands and pressed his fingers together.

“My fingers are numb.”

“Yeah, there’s some kind of venom coating the fangs.”

“What? Dude!” He smacked Steve lightly on the chest. “You couldn’t have given me some kind of warning?”

“You didn’t exactly give me a chance, you just kinda…” Steve moved his hand in an arc, “dove in.”

Eddie shrugged before taking a deep breath in. “Well, I believe I have come to my conclusion.”

Steve smiled at him, wide and sharp and enchanting. “Care to share with the class?”

“Maybe.” Eddie tried to put on an over the top performance of being coy, trying to ignore precisely where he was sitting. “What do I get in return?”

Steve’s smile somehow turned sharper. It was hungry and predatory and Eddie’s heart stuttered. “You’ll take what I give you.”

Eddie had to bite down on his cheek and he had to bite damn hard to try to get some control over himself otherwise his heart was going to fly off into the stratosphere. He swallowed around thin air and forced his voice to come out evenly.

“Vampire.”

Steve nodded, squeezing his hips lightly, just once. “I thought so too.”

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 AO3

@romanticdestruction, @darkwitchoferie, @justforthedead89

[thesightstoshowyou]

I love your work so much! Would you consider writing number 28 for the man from Hush? I was so excited to see you talking about him haha, it's such an underrated movie! xxx

Thank you so much!!! Heck yes I will write for him! I’m also working on week 4 of bloodfest and it features this asshole 😁

I have a few other The Man stories on my Masterlist if you haven’t read those! ❤️

~~

28. "This is not what I expected."

Warnings: Predator/prey, blood, wrist trauma, heavy gore. Dead dove do not eat.

Blood drips into your eye and you hiss, thick crimson stinging and clouding your vision. You close it on instinct, your vision now halved as you sprint through gloomy forest. You don’t think to wipe it away; flight is the only thing on your panicky animal brain.

A loud twang echoes around the darkness, followed almost immediately by a startling crack as the bolt collides with a tree trunk inches from your head. Wood splinters, chunks scraping your cheek and clinging to your hair.

You shriek and duck, staggering to your left, your burning leg muscles barely managing to make the turn. Grunting, huffing, panting like a dog, you will yourself to keep moving, keep running!

Gripping a nearby oak, you use it as leverage and push, hurtling yourself forward into the brush. Twigs crack underfoot, foliage rustles, lungs gasp, blood leaks. You don’t risk a look behind you, but you must be putting some distance between you and your pursuer, how could you not be—

Your foot, your god damned foot catches on a root protruding from the earth. A shocked cry catches in your throat as you crash to the ground. Palms and knees split open and bleed when you attempt to catch yourself, your wrist crunching horribly under your weight. You roll once, twice, three times before you skid to a stop in a flurry of dead leaves and pine needles.

You fell! How could you fall? You need to get up, get away, this man is trying to kill you! Anger at your own stupidity forces you off the ground. Nauseating pain shoots up your arm and you whimper, cradling your wrist to your chest, reaching for a branch with your working hand. Get up, get—

TWANG

THUNK

All the air is knocked from your lungs. You’re tossed sideways when the crossbow bolt hits you in the waist, tunnels through your guts, and explodes out the other side just below your rib cage. It comes to a stop in the trunk of an alder, your viscera pinned to the tree by the dripping projectile. The end wobbles a few times before falling still.

Shock.

You feel nothing at first. The bolt went through you at such great speed your body has yet to realize the trauma it has sustained. All you can do is stare, wide eyed, mouth hanging open, lungs frozen and refusing to draw in air.

You may not be able to feel just yet, but you can hear. Boots crunch on undergrowth as your assailant approaches, plain white mask the only thing visible in the darkness.

“Oh no, this is not what I expected.” His words drip with sarcasm, his hands exaggerating his mocking body language. “All you animals fucking trip. Every single one.”

Air returns to your lungs and with it comes agony. Stabbing, wretched pain envelops your torso, but all you can do is gurgle, wet iron bubbling in your throat. Your shaking hands clutch uselessly at your abdomen, entry and exit wounds gushing blood until the dirt beneath you turns to mud

Crouching next to your twitching form, the man studies your injuries, then traces the path of the bolt until his gaze falls on the tree.

“Damn, what a shot, huh?” he exclaims. He makes a whooshing noise and a swooping motion with his arm. “Just straight through!” Pointing to the alder, he adds, “I think that’s your liver.”

Your vision blurs, the woods around you getting darker by the second. You’re thankful for it as the man pulls his knife from its sheath. Though, instead of using it on you, he lays the crossbow across his knees and begins carving something into the foregrip.

He shrugs, “Might be a bit premature, but I’m pretty sure you’re not gonna last much longer. Agreed?”

[ladygenius]

Crimson Nights & Predators Part II

Description: After sneaking away at Rossis wedding to escape from lurking predators y/n and Spencer discover a safe place for both of them

Pairing: Reid x female bau reader

Content: pining, jealousy, just protective cutiepie Spence

Warnings: alcohol consumption, a couple swear words

Wordcount: 1150

Her serenading giggle echoed through the luxurious halls of the ancient building. Kings and Queens must have dined here some long-forgotten day, Spencer thought to himself. Her hand in his definitely made him feel as if being of Royal Blood himself.

As they were running through the halls and up a lavishly carpentered staircase their laughter almost managed to overshadow the splendor all around them, leaving even the countless portraits of ancient aristocrats staring down with jealousy. Jealous of those joys and passions only bodies of flesh and bone could be touched by.

But what had that to do with Spencer's and y/n's relationship?

Even now, it was obvious to him, that this was nothing but a dream, he would eventually have to wake up from. But right now he didn't care about the real world. The next day at work or his next awkward move when he felt self-conscious around her. Right now, he wanted this fairytale.

"Where are we going, y/n?", he couldn't help but be curious.

"Oh, you'll see.. Alright. It must have been about.. here!" After turning another corner, she made an abrupt halt in front of the most opulent-looking door they'd come across thus far. All the others were white but this one was made of elegant mahogany wood, all shiny and adorned with little golden ornaments. He had to admit, he was more than intrigued by the secrecy their little adventure had in store.

And y/n knew. She smirked at him proudly, as she admired his perfectly sculpted profile while he was admiring the sight of the mysterious door.

Oh, he'll fit right in there, she thought to herself with anticipation.

"Wait till you've seen what the inside looks like Doc", y/n gently slipped in front of Spencer, their bodies briefly touching.

Carefully she turned the knobs of the winged door and got them both open simultaneously with some effort. "Ready to have your mind blown?"

By god, Spencer was quite convinced he couldn't possibly be ready for anything this woman had in store. The luscious timbre of her voice alone was enough to make his head spin.

She stepped into the room confidently, darkness swallowing her at first, but the light thrown in from outside the window still allowed him to admire her perfect silhouette. He followed her cautiously, barely being able to make out a thing while y/n was clearly looking for the light switch. A sudden noise made them both startle, as the heavy doors to the room slammed shut. Y/n burst out into laughter about the high-pitched shriek that had just escaped her throat. Or was it Spencer's?

"Damn, I can't see a thing. Where's that goddamn light switch?"

"Woah easy, agent y/l/n. Weren't you here before?" He was quite amused by her sudden outburst.

"Why, yeah. But it's not where I remembered it somehow." As he was trying to help her find it, she almost stumbled over his feet, instinctively holding onto his chest to steady herself. 

"Careful there, Klutz." His strong grip on her waistline immediately sent chills down her spine. While his eyes were slowly adjusting to the lack of light, the two of them stayed like this much longer than it took for y/n to regain her balance. He could now make out the linings of her face again, losing himself inside the gleams of light reflected in her widened orbs. The crimson-colored fabric underneath Spencer’s fingertips almost seemed to vibrate against his skin as he felt his own flesh burning, melting until it could finally be one with her.

“Oh”, y/n’s hand reached somewhere behind his back, her chest leaning in on him closely. With a sudden clicking sound the room lit up in flames – that’s how badly the actually quite cozy sepia light dazzled his vision at first. “Found it.” She shyly took a few steps away from him, her cheeks tinted in a soft shade of rose.

It was only now that Spencer took notice of the imminent splendor that was the essence of the room - or rather - the hall around them. His face froze as he was admiring the endless sea of bookshelves filling every corner of what must have been the single hugest library he has ever seen his entire life. How could I not know about this? he asked himself.

“So?” y/n cockily folded her arms in front of her chest, observing him closely. “Is this awesome or is this like, awesome squared infinity?”

His heart lit up at the woman of his dreams being equally excited about this sight of pure pleasure to him: books as far as the eyes could see, stacked from ceiling to floor onto the most extravagantly looking bookshelves. Their copies protected by fancy leather and clothbound covers, some of them undoubtedly first prints or at least rarest collectors’ editions. Not even he could read all of them in a week.

“Oh my god”, was the first thing Spencer could utter after an eternity of simply staring in awe. “This is incredible, y/n. How on earth did you find this?”

“Well, it might be that earlier this evening as I was taking a little extra-long in the restroom to hide from certain coworkers of ours, I started strolling around. And I couldn’t get past this door without risking a look by the life of me."

Her fingers carefully ran along the curved surface of an expensive-looking globe in the library's center. The dreamy look on her face was a sight he couldn’t ever possibly get enough of.

“Knew it!” Y/n victoriously chimed as she got open the top part of the globe, literally splitting the world in half with just one move. Yeah, that depicts perfectly what she’s doing to his own on a daily basis. The inside of the globe revealed an old-school minibar. “You really wanna drink some of this?” Spencer exclaimed in his signature surprised high pitch as y/n was studying the different bottles inside.

“Oh, come on, Rossi pays this place a fortune for tonight anyway. I’m positive they can spare like two fingers of whatever this stuff is in here. Yuck!” She scrunched her nose disgustedly at smelling the bottle but went along pouring the dark liquid into two fancy whisky glasses anyway.

“This might be a little rough. But you know, we’re in a gentleman’s environment today, so we’re doing gentlemanly stuff. To going astray.” Her glass clinked against his own.

No. To going astray with you, Spencer thought to himself.

Final Part III

[zero-to-zero-to-zero-again]

Ophidiophobia (1)

Ophidiophobia: Overwhelming Fear Of Snakes

Word Count: 1,711

TW's: Unintentional Fearplay, Little Bit of Angst, Fear of Death, Profanity, Referring to a Person as "it"

Characters: C!Tommy, C!Wilbur

Summary: Tommy's new home in the forest is very safe...except for the giant snake that slithers about the place. That's fine, though. How hard can it be to avoid a single naga?

Aka: I have naga brainrot and I'm about to make it everyone's problem

Of course the stupid snake had to decide to take a little sunbath right near the only pond in the whole forest. Sometimes, Tommy had to wonder if the giant beast's every action was just to spite him. It was the only thing that made sense. Feel like climbing? Snake in the tree. Trying to take shelter during a storm? Snake in the cave. Thirsty? Snake by the water.

And yet, he wasn't planning on moving away any time soon. This decision rested on two blatant facts:

The naga's presence scared off most other predators

He had to prove that he wasn't going to be pushed around by some bitch that just loused about most of the day without a care in the world.

Tommy glared spitefully at the golden scales glistening in sunlight. Part of him wondered if he should just go for it. If they were asleep then he'd just be able to dip in and dip-it was looking at him.

He backpedaled on the branch. The leaves snapped together without his hands to hold them apart, effectively serving to provide him with cover. He grabbed his chest just to make sure his heart was still beating inside. It was. Very fast.

"Are you stalking me?" a silky voice inquired. Tommy's blood ran cold. It was talking to him. That...was fine. That was totally fine. It could taunt him so long as it taunted him from a distance. "From stalking me to ignoring me. You really must decide whether you're obsessed with me or not."

"I'm not!" Tommy shouted overzealously. He clapped a hand over his mouth. What was he thinking?

"Ah, right. And in your pursuit of totally not being obsessed with me, you've been following me for at least a week now."

The winged boy ground his teeth together. How was it possible for him to hate the naga even more than he already had?

"I'm not following you! You're always wherever I'm going!"

The naga snorted. Tommy dared to peek through the leaves just to ensure it wasn't trying to sneak towards him while he had his guard down. The snake didn't seem bothered at all. It rested its chin on folded arms, savoring its every care-free second spent in the sun.

"You caught me. I've been using my soothsaying ability to figure out exactly where you're going to be and get there first."

Tommy stiffened.

"Really?" he asked.

"No," the naga laughed. It's laugh was so deceptively sweet. Like a siren's song. Tommy's face heated.

"Fuck you!"

His shout only seemed to further egg on the giant snake being as its light chuckling crescendoed into an all-out fit of laughter.

"Ugh, I hate you!" Tommy hollered.

The beast propped its torso up on the soft soil at the water's edge. It leaned its chin into its hand, drowsily staring at nothing in particular in the distance.

"Don't be like that. I'm only teasing."

"Tease someone else," Tommy muttered.

"Who else is there? I only have one stalker."

"I'M NOT STALKING YOU!"

Tommy flew off in a huff to the sound of smug tittering behind him. Maybe by the time he came back, the damn thing would be gone.

...

Tommy's head was on a swivel. The naga hadn't left until there was hardly any sun left to soak up. The clearing was likely the last place you wanted to be at night. If not for the fact that the nocturnal animals were on the prowl than for the simple fact that Tommy wouldn't be able to see them.

That meant he was on a timer, racing the sun as it slowly crept across the burnt orange sky.

He dipped cupped hands into the cool water and raised it to his lips. He savored each greedy sip he managed to get down before taking the time run a few handfuls of water through his hair. He threw it over his head onto his outspread wings, shaking the cool droplets from his feathers in a spray.

"Huh, I'm surprised you came back."

Tommy choked on his next sip. He coughed hard, dislodging clear liquid from his throat straight back into its source.

Glittery gold eyes were locked on him from the edge of the treeline. Slitted pupils tracked his every breath. And yet, it had the nerve to still lay there so casually as it watched him.

"You almost...you almost killed me, you dick!" Tommy shouted between ragged breaths.

"Oops," the creature deadpanned.

Right. Tommy almost forgot who-or what-he was talking to. This thing wouldn't care if he died. Hell, it probably wanted to kill him. It was even scarier closer up. Clean, white talons at the ends of its slender fingertips, two sharp teeth on either side of its mouth, and an eerie amount of bronze scales lining its face.

Not even a beast of its massive size could close the distance between them before Tommy would get a chance to react but that didn't make him feel any safer. He retreated back a few more paces, ready to take off at the first sign of trouble. Er-well-maybe the second sign of trouble. The beast itself was practically trouble incarnate.

"I would have been gone already if you hadn't hogged the pond the whole day," Tommy snapped.

"You'll have to forgive me for blocking access to the only water source in the entire forest," the naga said flatly with a roll of its eyes.

Tommy knew it was being sarcastic but how could he possibly dispute that? The only reason he wanted this pond in particular was because it was the sole water source in the naga's territory. If he admitted to that, he'd probably be called a stalker again.

"You're such a dick," Tommy opted to mutter instead.

"So you've said."

"And I'll say it again!"

"Do it."

"You. Are. A. Massive. Dickhead."

The snake flipped itself onto its back, coils shifting ever so slightly against the shrubbery surrounding it. It pressed a hand to its chest.

"I'm heartbroken. The rabid gremlin child thinks I'm a dick," it sighed.

"I'm not a child!"

"But you are rabid?" the snake asked, inching away slightly as though Tommy had just admitted to radiating poison.

Tommy growled in frustration. There was no winning when he was talking to this thing, was there?

"Fuck you. I'm leaving."

The boy stormed off.

"Nooo. Please. Come back. I don't know what I'll do without you around to insult me," the naga said dryly.

Sardonic prick. If Tommy never saw that snake again, it would be too soon.

...

Tommy stretched his feathery limbs skyward with a groan. Soft pops and creaks rippled through his joints. Morning had come quickly. He was almost disappointed to find the sunlight streaming through the foliage. As beautiful as the sight was, it was also his sign to get up.

It came as no shock to him that the naga had returned to the pond. Now that it knew he needed the water, it would probably stay there all day just to spite him. A brass tail was laid straight out behind him, his arms folded beneath his head as he laid on a rock inches from the water's surface.

Its head was turned to the side, eyes closed gently. Sleeping. It was sleeping.

Tommy swallowed thickly. He couldn't go a whole other day without a drink. His dry mouth had carried over from the previous day given how little he'd gotten. He raked his fingers through messy blonde locks.

It was worth a shot. He wasn't afraid. Not in the slightest. If that naga came at him, he'd punch it square in the jaw. Knock out.

He glided on the morning breeze and landed on the opposite side of small body of water. If he followed the stream long enough, maybe he'd be able to find a new source but it ran too far beyond the border of the naga's territory for his liking.

He kept his eyes glued to the snake as he landed. As silently as possible, he knelt down beside the pond and dipped his hands in.

"So do you have a name?"

Though he should have been terrified to hear the naga's voice-and to a degree, he most certainly was-Tommy was surprised to find that the first emotion he felt at the sound was annoyance. He finished drinking and took a step back. The monster hadn't moved so much as an inch.

With its eyes still closed, Tommy had to wonder how it had even known that he was there.

"Do you usually ask your meals what their names are?" he demanded.

"Mm, sometimes."

That answer didn't quite sit right with him. He didn't know what he'd been expecting.

"Tommy," he stated.

"Tommy," the naga tried the name for itself. "Hello, Tommy, I'm Wilbur."

Tommy didn't like whatever game they were playing.

"I don't care?" he said in a tone laced with confusion.

The naga-Wilbur-scoffed.

"You're supposed to say, 'Nice to meet you Wilbur. Sorry for calling you a dickhead. I now see what a kind and gentle soul you are.'"

Wilbur's impression of his voice was gritty, nasally, and loud. Three things that Tommy absolutely was not.

"Nice to meet you Wilbur," Tommy said. His voice was a caricature of itself, more akin to Wilbur's mockery than his own tone. Wilbur smiled contently. "Dickhead."

Wilbur sighed. He lifted his head up ever so slightly.

"Here am sharing my pond with you and you can't even bring yourself to acknowledge my kindness. I'm honestly a little hurt," Wilbur purred.

"Good," Tommy snapped.

The naga raked languid fingers through his cocoa locks. It blinked bleary eyes at him.

"You've stuck around a lot longer than I thought you would," Wilbur remarked. "Is that desperation or do you really love me that much?"

"It's just...quiet around here."

The pair seemed equally surprised by the genuine nature of the response. The naga hummed.

"That's why I like it, too."

Tommy idled there by the pond, savoring the exact tranquility he'd come for. It wasn't until the snake's scales slid against the rock that he remembered the exact reason he wasn't meant to stay there. He flew off into the trees, leaving Wilbur to lay there alone.

~

This piece ran a little longer than I thought it would so I'm chopping it up into a few parts. Stay tuned! The next one's where it gets angsty ; ) Should be out soon.

Part Two Part Three

[livingobserver]

A Thought Conversation With Myself; Because I Think, It's what I do (Within..., a clue to my true identity)

At some local bar while "Social Drinking" a news report about another Shark Attack (all that running and screaming), comes on the TV...

Lucas: Yah see? Right there. Prime examples of Human Stupidity. Going into waters where the fish have bigger mouths and bigger, sharper teeth than they and, are much faster. I mean would any of them go into Bear or Lion Country armed with only their swim suits, Speedo's, thongs and G-strings? I think not, or I would hope not. (Might be interesting to observe though.) Why? Why is there not the same Common Sense at a beach? It can't be just wanting to hang around a couple hundred other mostly naked folks. Because there are loners engaging in the same damned stupidity. Perhaps even more stupid (If that's even possible, but apparently is), in that they are alone. I figure the ocean must have a lot more pull/control on the Human mind than the African Plains or the rivers in Bear Country. The Ocean causes people to go dumb. Extremely dumb. Like hiding behind the chain saws in a horror flick dumb. Yeah that's one of the very few good commercials out there along with George Washington crossing the Delaware Turnpike..., I think it was. (Downs a double shot of Blackberry Brandy cowboy pain medication and Cold prevention. :) Remember the bar is local, meaning within stumbling distance. NO DRIVING!!) The Bartender glances up at the TV to see what I'm watching and says, "Most folks loose their minds when they get to the ocean. Must be the Sun." Lucas: And there it is! The answer to one of life's greatest, if not mostest stupid mysteries. Humans willingly becoming bait for sharks, not forgetting the Rip Tides that turn people into driftwood pretty damned quick. It's the damned Sun! But wait..., aren't people attacked on overcast days as well? Another theory crushed. Oh well, doesn't help to think about it too much. I think I'll just remain a spectator..., rather than the bait. Because Nature abhors arrogant stupidity. No, I didn't forget about Nude Beaches where sharks don't worry about digesting clothing (even if they could worry about such things). But the whole image of Sharks eating Naked people? Yeah that is a bit over the top. :P Yes. You got it. You can call me Lucas. (I had to give you something for wasting minutes of your life reading this) Well done, you're smart enough to stay on the dunes well away from where the monsters lurk. Though I'm thinking there is probably more than a few Human Predators lurking the dunes above a crowded beach. No matter where ya go, right? If nothing else at least, always be aware of the environment you are in..., IN ALL WAYS..., stay sharp. Stay Intelligent. Stay alive and uninjured. CHEERS! :)

[myprideandprejudice]

A prompt I once read by @writing-prompt-s

DISCLAIMER: English is not my first language but this was fun practice.

“Nobody will hear you scream!” the serial killer said to their would-be victim. Too late did they realize that this meant that no one would hear them scream either. 

“Oh, word?” said the young girl calmly, after chewing and swallowing the piece of cloth that once gagged her. As the man in front of her stared in horrifying realization, she lifted her hands from the railing of the chair she was so abruptly seated on earlier, and effectively tore through the thick rope that bound her as if it was nothing more than thin thread. 

He took a step back and then another as she slowly lowered the blind that covered her hazel brown eyes. His breath hitched once his back hit the wall behind him. The girl chuckled.

“Not so tough now huh?” she said while rubbing her sore wrists. His hands tried their best to hold tightly onto the cold stone of the bunker he had taken her down to, his gaze quickly moving from her shape to the stairs that would lead him to the exit; however, by the time he took another peek at the predator he unknowingly locked himself in with, she was gone. 

Driven by pure instinct, he sprinted to the stairs, his feet not fast enough to keep up with the alarm bells going off in his mind. This must have been how his victims felt each time he had done it before. He fiddled with the keys to the heavy-set metal door, when he felt a wisp of cold air on the back of his neck, making his hair stand on end. 

“Leaving so soon?” He heard the cheeky whisper come from behind him and he gulped, debating whether to turn around or not. Then, he felt it, a sharp object running down his back, leaving a stinging feeling behind. 

“Where did she get a knife from?” he thought, certain he had taken away all of her belongings and disposed of them before even going down there. 

The pain got stronger, so he bit his lower lip and held back his voice. He refused to please his attacker but he could feel a trail of warm liquid run down his leg. He looked down, not sure whether it was blood or he had peed himself in fear. 

As his eyes met the hard concrete floor beneath his feet, his eyes widened at the sight of large claws wrapping themselves around his ankles. A gasp was the only thing that managed to leave his lips before his head hit the floor and he lost consciousness. 

The young girl, if you could call her that any longer, dragged the large man down the stairs, the trail of blood thickening with each step his head bounced off of. She hummed a dissonant tune as she sat him up on the metal chair and waited for his eyes to open once more. 

A few hours had passed before he regained consciousness again.

His head bobbed into place and his eyes slowly blinked open, the dried blood making it hard for his eyelids to unstick. He was met by a pair of the darkest eyes he had ever seen, and they framed the face of the beautiful young woman who stood before him. 

“Where am I? Who are you?” He said, his voice barely making its way through his dried-up mouth. It felt like he hadn’t drunk water in years. He tried his best to keep his head up, to stay alert. 

He tried looking at her again as her beauty mesmerized him; she looked at him worryingly. 

“Damn it” she muttered, biting the long black nail of one of her thumbs. She turned around and started walking, deep in thought, from one side of the room to the other; it was hard for him to stay awake, let alone keep track of her movements but he managed. Then, she stopped and clasped her hands together. 

“Well, it doesn’t matter.”

A maniacal laugh left her mouth and she covered it with both hands before facing him again. Her eyes were wide with excitement and her mouth couldn’t contain a wide grin, wider than humanly possible. 

That alone was almost enough to completely bring him back to his senses, his lizard brain once again reminding him he was in danger, but he couldn’t move; he could only hold tightly onto the railing of the chair he was on, knuckles whites and half-closed eyes. 

“This is it, I’m about to die,” he thought, his whole life suddenly flashing before his eyes. He was almost certain that what dripped down his pants this time was definitely urine. She drew closer, her abnormally cold hands now on top of his own. The wide smile still framed her once beautiful features. 

“Let’s play a game, James,” the woman said, in a voice all too distorted to be her own. He couldn’t dare close his eyes so tears streamed down his face instead. She was so close he could feel her breath, a mix between rotten eggs and citric. She cackled again before caressing his face with the end of her long claw-like nails. 

“If you can guess who I am, then you are free to walk” she spoke again, her voice unchanged. This time, she looked down, focusing on leaving thick scratches on his arms instead. The room grew silent; James, who had no idea how this person even knew his name to begin with, rattled his brain in search of a plausible answer. 

“Tick tock, tick tock,” the woman said, not even bothering to look at him. Her head shook languidly as she continued to hum a song he was sure he had heard before. 

He tried his hardest not to focus on the burning sensation that was starting to consume his arms as she cut through his fragile skin, but to no avail, he knew he was going to bleed out and die there. 

The tears started to fall again, blurring his vision. He bit his lower lip but it was useless, countless whimpers still managed to escape him. Before he knew it, he was sobbing his little heart out. 

He yelped once he felt her claws dig deeper into his inner elbow. She tutted in disapproval as she closed the distance between them. He closed his eyes tightly as he felt her hot breath on his face. The image of the endless bodies he had claimed before suddenly appeared in his mind, haunting him.

“Do you honestly think you can escape me, you little wimp?” a voice way deeper than he had heard so far growled by his ear. “Here, let me dry those tears out for you” it continued, now in a sweet, feminine voice, as it placed its soft hand over his eyes. It started as a warm feeling, one that slowly escalated to scorching hot, so much so he couldn’t help but screech in pain.  It was then he understood what it meant. 

“I will burn my name into your brain James, let’s make sure you never forget not to harm my prey” was the last thing he heard before he passed out again, along with a name he was sure was never outright spoken: Nicholas. 

[cybermoonmoon]

I was on a chat where the problem of how to get by if you woke up as one of the few people left on the planet. Others vanished. Gone. Of the current near 8 billion. Earth now has 700 thousand folks scattered over the globe. Human population during the Ice Age.

"Getting it Right"

First things first. Where do I get food fresh water for the rest of my life. How long will antibiotics be fresh? What are natural substitutes? Zombies and biker gangs are features of civilization. Which is now gone as are most violent sociopaths. These are unlikely to show up and ruin your day.

Water systems will run till the power fails. If you're in a region with hydroelectric you're good for a few months to a year. Other places hours if lucky days weeks. One must learn to think long term. 'Very long term'. Your life depends on it. This is why so-called primitive folks do this. Careful planning if one wants to live.

Besides the needs of the body. Health of the soul is critical. You need reasons to go on. Mourning. You've not only lost loved ones but your whole world. Some may not cope and will perish. Others will find a way. My life experience has shown me that hope can be found in even the worst of circumstances. Purpose partly found primal practicalities will assert themselves.

Wildlife came through the event. So you'll need to learn to hunt fish dry smoke salt and save what you caught. As your ancestors and Native peoples did. Predators will become a problem.

Firearms. Pistols a long rife. Nothing stupid fancy. Simplest sturdiest you can get with repairing spares cleaning oiling items. Ammo. Careful what kind. Heavy weight one shot one kill. Don't want a pissed off wounded Mountain Lion coming at you. You will need all this to stay alive. City slicker no experience? Read the damned books and practice! You won't disturb the neighbors.

If a rural person you're ahead of the game. You know most of this. If like me. Books! Everything you need to know is in them...libraries will save your life. If not a reader or never had respect for knowing...you are dead. Period. Canned or dried food are only good for few years. No one is coming to help or protect you. You'll be a farmer/hunter. You'll learn these skills or die. Nature has no sense of humor. Just survival.

Life in the city will be too dangerous in time. Infrastructure prey to storms earthquakes rot. Poisoned residual water bad food encroaching predators. Study plan leave. On foot bike or car leave while the roads and bridges are still stable. I live in Brooklyn. I'd get as far away from that toxic waste dump as I could.

Take care where you decide to settle. Your goal is a rural sturdy cabin with a well. Find several as backups with wells in walking distance of each other. That and each with good drainage healthy soil, you'll learn how to spot these. Also a defensive field of fire...just in case.

You'll learn that a flood plain is called that for a reason. Be near but not at a stream. Never a river these floods. Fish and game will be a major calorie source. You'll mix your diet as the crops ripen. Mixed protein intake matters.

Tools seeds a root cellar dug all the preindustrial basics. If educated, and paid attention you'll know what books to look for. Libraires aren't called the 'fortresses of civilization' for nothing.

Who lives? I think a very young urban/suburban person of the 21ost century may not make it past a year. They wouldn't even know what questions to ask. They'll die of injuries infections tainted food water poisoning or an animal attack.

I'd say the best survivor would be rural quick witted educated by life strong. Mid-20's through 40's. Before or after that it gets seriously dicey. Not impossible...but.

Food water shelter. Commercial seeds will start to go bad within six to ten years. Even the newer stuff. This is why a farm plot will be your savior. You'll need to harvest not just the crops, but their seeds, and have a surplus of two years of planting seeds and dried veggies fruit. Perhaps when things stabilize keep bees. Honey wine. Planning.

The homestead will be hard work but can be done. Native Peoples and your ancestors did so with far less. Some like you...alone. Prepare for storms or other natural disasters that could wipe you out. You have backups that might survive but expect the the worst. Nature is life and death. But nature gave you that brain that purified water and imagined then found Black Holes.

Life and times. My nearest neighbors might be in da Mid-West or Canada. So except for cats, and hunting dogs it's just 'me'.

Art. Figure how to play da fiddle. Folks did this in colonial days so can you. Make up songs dance write. You can critique your own stuff now. Bleep the New York Review of Books. This will keep you emotionally healthy and center your sanity.

Go to nearby towns for new tools supplies while they're still good. I'd get sturdy off road bikes with tools and spares. None of that electric stuff. Find a classic Land Rover keep it in tune. These and similar not too uncommon in rural areas. Good four-wheel drive proven all terrain ride. Enough spares could last years.

Haul bikes and supplies with it. Major even dangerous expedition but worth the risk for long term value. No SUVs. These gas guzzling gaudy toys packed with electronics won't survive. Neither will you if you get one. After the gasoline no longer clicks. This happens. Rovers' can use other mixtures...so I've read. Again reading.

Land basics. One has to know where you are how to get back if you broke down. This is why you have bikes on your Rover. Maps. Local stock and make 'your own'. Things will change as time go on. Roads no longer passable...fallen trees wash outs. Bridges unstable marshy land expanding. Remember there is no one to save you. How long one lives will be the same as our ancestors...dumb luck, and your hard work.

Another possible reason to go on besides working the land hunting writing bad novels talking to the cats would be human company. 12 years into this farming life perhaps a change. A hunter gatherer group slowly traveling east all these years might stumble on you. Unlike in the violent end-times films. This would be a pleasant encounter. Neither you nor they are competing for resources with a whole planet to share.

You'll meet trade laugh exchange tales of survival fuck dance perform your bad poetry. Hang out for some days, and they'll move on. Though now they know you're there and will come back every few years. In time others might show up. Same thing laugh perform trade drink honey home brew, and they move on.

One day some of these bands come back with your daughters, and sons. I can see an annual solstice meeting of clans developing as your children, and grandchildren return to your homestead for the festival.

If this were me, I'd be taking my extended families around the farm in my aged Land Rover. The little ones amazed having never seen a car actually running. I'd play Little Richard and da Beatles for them on my iPhone. Powered by them solar panels I scrounged up. So humanity at least in the first post event generations lives in peace. In the future villages city states.

Though this time we might get it right.

[bundleoberries]

I

Cries of the damned, smells of rancid rotting flesh and dilapidated buildings were the main things assaulting the senses of the girl within the hostel. She shivered; holding herself while hiding behind a bed, just out of view from the snarling and thrashing head mere centimetres away. 

It had all happened so quickly, hanging out with the other equally as fucked up people as herself, passing around a bottle and sharing stories to ease the tension of the overwhelming situation. That was until they heard a simple noise.

Thump.

It came once and they had all stopped, not daring to breathe at all as if it would stop the noise from repeating.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The noise alone shook the girl with uneven and messily dyed purple hair to the very core. She had heard those noises for as long as she remembered.

Thump... Thump... Thump...

Her eyes dilated as the people around her became overwhelming even though all they were doing was breathing.

Thu-thump thu-thump thu-thump.

Her breathing grew quicker. She was having a panic attack as well as surreal flashbacks.

All the more louder they had grew in sound, the noise of something approaching.

Thump.

It wasn't human.

Thump thump.

Then a voice, as innocent and sweet as honey, asked a question.

"Did we board the doors?"

Everything was in simultaneously slow motion and as though it was fast forward. The sound of skulls cracked against floors, shrill screams as the once living and youngest out of the group was now a fresh corpse. The monster became more confident with the kill as it turned to the nearest person who'd screamed and leapt onto them, a deep red launching into the air and covering the carpeted floors for no-one to clean as more of the population within the hostel became another death count at the claws of these... Things.

They could best be described as eight foot tall bats with tiny wings that were torn and ripped and frayed. Freakishly long limbs that looked akin to black branches. Front facing, beady black eyes; a predator. However, they seemed partially blind as the girl had managed to notice and relied mainly on their hearing due to the fact one of the kids, only fifteen years old, had almost managed to escape the grips of death via the overgrown bats until she had let out a faint whimper. She was dead in mere seconds. 

Kumi used this lack of vision to her advantage, ducking in and out of a viewing point.

She just needed an opening to get out of this place. She'd been stuck in the restraint of the overtaken building for roughly five minutes, just barely managing to avoid the clutches of death from the monsters that had invaded but by the gods, it felt like hours. Running on low adrenaline, Kumi had little strength in her thin arms to throw a distraction however she wouldn't have to; there was one other current survivor who had let out a whimper a bit too loud.

The kid was gonna die but the opening was there.

Leaving behind the wake of disaster with pangs of guilt for the person she could have saved, Kumi sprinted and thanked her lucky stars she'd gotten a lot of stamina over the years as she outran inhumane creatures. Her hair which was frayed and tangled flew behind her as she ran in the humid night air, tears flying out of her eyes out of the force of the wind and as the images of those once living were taken from her. The monsters must have been alerted to her sprinting as two of the bat-like creatures who were previously feasting on bone perked up and gave chase. She couldn't help letting out a little whimper of defeat.

Was this how she was to meet her end? She'd survived 20 years of her life to which many would've given up and made friends with a blade or a rope. Was she really about to become food for an overgrown excuse of a bat?

Running on sheer adrenaline, the young adult scrambled round a corner, hoping to have turned it sharply enough that the two freakish beasts were confused.

She was sadly mistaken.

The next thing the scrawny and lanky girl knew, she was flung against the stone wall that would've blocked her path if she had been cornered by the creatures, which she had. The pain in her body surged and made her seethe, lucky to have avoided a blow straight to the back of her head as she slumped in a pile. Disorientated she just saw the white glow in their eyes sway as her vision tried to focus. 

She was going to die. 

She closed her eyes in defeat, ready to feel the pain her death would bring. A crunch of bone and flesh made her screw her eyes tighter until she realised... She was unharmed. Kumi opened her eyes in shock as she looked at her hands before out at the view ahead. A figure; a human, was bashing the legs out from under one of the bats as the other lay in a pool of its blood, twitching. A figure shrouded in dark clothes yet she could make out a gold shine of glasses, a silver glint reflect off what must've been a necklace and dreadlocks in the light of the midday sun. Someone else was alive and furthermore, helping her survive. Once both of the bats had been knocked out, the person ran over to her. Kumi was able to take in more of the person's appearance.

They were a bit smaller than themselves by the looks of it, with deep hazel eyes and faint stubble on his chin. Looking Kumi up and down, they held their hand out.

"Do you have a place to stay?" Their voice was low and monotone, a gentle rasp gracing over the last word that left his lips. Hesitantly, Kumi shook their head as they took the stranger's hand who pulled her up firmly.

"Come with me then." He nodded his head, letting go of their hand in order to make her decision as the stranger began to walk away, not looking over their shoulder.

What if this was a trap? A ploy for some horrid people to commit terrible actions upon them again? Traces of doubt flooded Kumi but her body had decided as her feet began to move for them, gravel being crunched on below as they caught up with the stranger.

Kumi was going to find out one way or another if this person was going to kill them or help as they both began a gentle jog in order to reserve energy down an unfamiliar path for the scrawny girl.

[chipen]

EACH  OF  HAWKS'  INCREASED  AVIAN  SENSES  is  finely  tuned  to  the  villain  -  his  scent,  the  texture  of  him,  every  staple  and  the  mixture  of  bright  blues  in  those  gorgeous  eyes.  he  truly  is  a  predator  -  honed  in  on  prey  beneath  him,  locking  talons  with  a  creature  just  as  powerful  as  he  and  wrestling  it  into  submission...  or  at  least,  assuming  he  did.  in  reality,  one  of  the  things  he  liked  the  most  about  dabi  was  that  he  was  his  weakness.  both  in  a  sense  of  quirk  (  how  easily  could  he  render  hawks  useless  with  his  flame  ),  but  emotion  too.  wit  for  wit,  quip  for  quip,  blow  for  blow  -  dabi  would  meet  him,  dabi  would  tame  him,  and  hawks  would  forget  about  his  mission  -  forget  about  being  a  caged  bird  and  surrender  himself  beneath  hot  palms  and  the  curl  of  acrid  smoke.  did  dabi  know?  he  wonders  it  often.  was  he  playing  with  him?  but  also,  did  it  matter  if  he  was,  when  their  clashes  felt  so  god  damn  good?

their  bodies  slide  together  in  sinuous  lines  -  hawks,  though  smaller,  engulfing  his  prey  in  a  shroud  of  supple  red  feathers.  length  drags  against  length  between  those  filthy  kisses,  and  the  avian  hero  finds  himself  moaning  each  time  he  must  chase  dabi's  lips,  annoyed  chirps  following  suit  until  he  could  catch  them  directly  then  kiss  with  ferocity  before  the  same  game  was  played  again.  hot  -  bordering  on  painful  palms  sear  through  the  entirety  of  his  bodysuit  with  practiced  ease,  leaving  hawks  in  nothing  but  red  boxer  briefs  and  blinking  with  a  bit  of  surprise.  that  cocksure  smile  is  gone,  replaced  by  the  narrowed  'o'  of  his  lips  and  the  chill  of  hideout  air  skating  across  his  sunkissed  flesh.  slowly,  very  slowly  hawks  fists  his  talons  into  the  sheets  next  to  dabi's  head,  gilded  eyes  gleaming,  and  then  he  grins.  ❝ what  am  i  suppose  to  wear  home  now,  hot  stuff? ❞

but  he  doesn't  expect  an  answer,  instead  capturing  dabi's  lips  one  more  time.  this  kiss  is  a  bit  slower,  hawks  savoring  the  slide  of  his  tongue  along  the  roof  of  the  elder's  heated  mouth,  curling  against  that  cool  piercing,  before  nipping  along  his  jaw,  over  scarred  tissue,  and  along  his  chest.  once  there  -  the  hero  peeks  up,  meeting  dabi's  bright  gaze  and  fluffing  out  his  wings  with  delight,  as  both  palms  cup  his  pectorals  to  squeeze.  ❝ from  the  moment  i  met  you,  i  wanted  to  touch  these. ❞  and  touch  he  does,  sinking  his  teeth  around  a  pierced  nipple  to  suck  with  no  small  amount  of  viciousness,  laving  his  tongue  upon  the  bud  as  if  it  might  grant  him  taste.  it's  an  entirely  lewd  gesture,  and  hawks  is  filthy  about  it,  cheeks  hollowing,  wet  noises  filling  the  air,  teeth  nipping  the  nerves  -  before  he  pulls  away  to  glance  up  at  him.  the  same  moment,  his  hand  has  wandered  south,  those  lethal  claws  fiddling  lazily  with  his  belt  buckle,  before  dragging  at  his  zipper.

❝ both,  huh. ❞   he  echoes,  licking  around  the  other  nipple  thoughtfully  and  not  so  discreetly  rutting  his  aching  length  into  the  villain's  calf.  ❝ in  that  case- ❞  great,  red  wings  fan  wide  as  he  pulls  himself  upwards,  shimmying  his  body  onto  dabi's  chest,  so  that  bulge  in  his  underwear  sits  quite  comfortably  near  his  face.  hawks'  talons  brace  against  the  wall,  and  he  looks  down  at  him  with  a  lurid  smirk  painting  those  painfully  handsome  features. ❝ -  why  don't  we  start  here? ❞  he  hums,  running  one  hand  through  snowy  hair.  ❝ need  to  get  that  fucking  scent  of  someone  else  out  of  your  mouth  before  i  lose  my  mind,  dabs. ❞

As  obnoxious  as  the  extortionate  price-tag  on  hawks’  top-floor  apartment  with  its  unparalleled  views  and  modern  furnishing  were  the  anaemic  walls  and  sturdy  metal  doors  not  just  as  so.  As  far  as  functionality  went,  yeah  it  was  inconspicuous,  segregated  from  the  outside  enough  that  it  prevented  the  prying  eyes  of  the  uninvited  to  get  too  close  but  there  was  something  about  it  that  really  didn’t  convey  the  hospitality  that  the  bar  had.  The  reminder  of  the  bar’s  lacquered  top  and  the  top-of-the-range  but  illicitly  procured  alcohol  made  him  consider  how  much  more tempting  it  would  have  been  to  ravage  the  poor  hero  out  in  the  open  like  that.  Considering  himself  an  accommodating  guy  he  settled  for  having  a  space  that  was  still  mostly  vapid  greys  and  prison-esque  interior  but  he  could  tell  from  the  perfunctory  glance  Hawks  gave  it  that  his  touch  was,  at  the  very  least,  somewhat  appreciated.  Not  enough  that  his  hands  didn’t  immediately  occupy  themselves  with  liberating  him  from  his  dark,  tattered  jacket,  in  long,  undulating  black  it  coiled  around  him  followed  by  the  tattered  remnants  of  the  shirt  Hawks  had  kindly  ruined. 

 With  each  piece  of  clothing  discarded  their  kisses  grow  hungrier,  more  impatient,  the  bed  close  enough  that  the  back  of  his  knees  could  have  knocked  into  it  but  far  enough  away  that  he  could  have  groaned  in  unbridled  frustration.  It  was  a  precarious  game  the  two  of  them  played,  any  others  unfortunate  enough  to  still  be  within  the  vicinity  should  be  thankful  they  made  it  this  far  before  his  greedy  hands  began  divesting  him  of  his  signature  jacket.  His  eyes  ravaged  his  black  bodysuit,  the  sensuous  way  it  flushed  to  the  outlines  of  every  honed  muscle,  dipped  down  further  and  further  before  disappearing  beyond  the  inviting  band  of  his  trousers.  Hawks  explores  the  lithe  plains  of  his  chest,  the  grotesquely  striated  skin  with  avian  acuity,  each  suture  that  holds  him  together  for  once  doesn’t  radiate  revulsion  when  pinned  beneath  it.  Dabi  could  dismiss  it,  deciding  it  was  nothing  more  than  heady  arousal  blinding  them  both,  but  there’s  something  more  under  it  and  it’s  becoming  far  too  evident  for  him  to  remain  in  denial. 

They  regard  each  other,  the  aureate  -  eyes  of  the  number  two  hero  alight  with  avicular  hunger  and  within  his  own  a  blue  fire  of  lust  corralled  beneath  a  slightly  furrowed  brow  and  long,  white  lashes.  He  was  flushed,  even  if  the  pallor  of  his  skin  could  not  hold  the  roseate  color  fully  the  heat  was  inescapable.  ❝  that  might  be  the  lamest  fuckin’  thing  i’ve  ever  heard  you  say.  ❞  but  the  sultry  smoke  that  wreaths  his  tone  betrays  him,  the  searing  lust  that  left  his  nerves  attuned  to  every  touch  no  matter  how  ephemeral  is  evinced  in  every  part  of  him  now. He  cannot  deny  the  way  Hawks  does  this  to  him,  the  way  he  does  it  back  in  return.  As  the  back  of  his  knees  thud  against  the  metal  frame,  the  splayed  hand  against  the  ripples  of  scarring  on  his  chest  thrusting  him  down,  he  unceremoniously  falls  into  the  serpentine  coils  of  dark  sheets,  white,  tousled  hair  flaring  around  him  in  a godless halo.  Hawks  show  no  hesitation,  straddles  him  with  the  confidence  of  a  man  who  had  decided  what  he  wanted  and  took  without  remorse.  Each  undulation  of  his  hips  is  torturous,  the  friction  enough  to  evoke  shudders  of  need,  groans  of  frustration  but  never  anything  akin  to  satisfaction.  Resolving  himself  to  finally,  finally  rid  him  of  that  infernal  black  shirt  his  hands  shift  from  his  hips  to  the  hem  and  it  burns.  The  fire  is  more  ravaging,  coruscating  flares  than  it  is  heat,  an  exercise  in  complete  and  utter  control,  never  once  so  much  as  searing  his  skin.  He  could  watch  with  rapt  attention  as  it  reduced  his  hero-attire  to  ash  but  his  attention  is  affixed  only  on  that  cocksure  smile  and  his  golden,  lidded  gaze.  ❝  ya  really  gonna  let  me  have  a  say  in  it  ?  ❞  his  drawl  is  utter  provocation,  meeting  the  downward  grind  of  his  hips  by  arching,  chasing,  calloused  fingers  finding  skin  where  once  there  had  been  cloth.  ❝ both. ❞  the  way  it  rolls  off  his  tongue  salacious  complimented  by  the  haughty  tilt  of  his  head  and  curl  of  his  amorous  mouth.  ❝  i’m  feelin’  greedy,  if  y’really  intend  to  go  round  after  round  well,  i’m  gonna  say,  both. ❞  there  was  a  challenge  then  in  the  flickering  fire  confined  in  his  gaze,  in  the  flash  of  teeth  that  snare  his  bottom  lip.  make  me  fucking  cry  if  you’re  so  convinced  you  can. 

[headingalaxys]

Here is my official submission I did for NYC Midnight.

Title: Dottie

Synopsis Farmhand Danny has to reign in his rambunctious cow Dottie that has been wreaking physical damage all through the town. Slowly he becomes aware that this is not an ordinary cow that he’s trying to subdue. 

It was 2:42pm, twoish hours before sundown, and the cloven-hoofed creature approached its first house in the neighborhood. One that had been surrounded by a great Yew tree that had hundreds of years to take root within the healthy soil and form itself around the small quiet house. With only one inhabitant that barely liked to leave, it would be easy for a predator to set up a trap to get the lonely tenant to leave. 

Smells of apples, caramel, and black tea filled the senses of the cow's snout. It wandered closer and closer to not let any living thing be aware of its major presence within the vicinity. With caked-in dirt that filled in the cow's loud bell, it would be impossible for anyone to hear it approach. 

It snuck around to the backyard, which had a small garden and an opening to an underground cellar that must be connected to the more significant part of the house. It had to be. It searched for a way to break the lock, and to its surprise, it found a key still jammed within it. It got to work putting the safety under pressure and finally making it turn even though it had a ton of rust. Access has been granted. Now time to wreak chaos. 

The tenant heard the cow make its way up the stairs. They were too frightened to react. They simply sat at the table with their last meal in hand. She gracefully tapped her fingers against the delicate glass. There was nothing she could do. The cow had already spread its deadly disease. The town was finished; the town was as good as dead. Dottie came in and filled the room with dread. Nostrils flare wide like angry bulls. Smoke arising in the room like hell had just opened its overflowing gates. It needed to let some lava out. 

************

2:43pm, another tick against time. A few red dots began to blow in the wind. It wasn't blood, or at least some of it. He began to latch onto the back of his trusted distressed overalls. 

'Only a few more homes to assess on damage, and then I can head home. But I'm damn tired of that damned cow making my life a mess around this time. I could be at home making love to my wife or tending to the livestock, anything other than this before the snowfall rampages through the town bull.' Agaited that yet again that even his high fences couldn't keep the crazy cow at bay. He runs a hand through his wavy hair.

He bangs his hands down loudly on the door like thunder bringing on a storm. Unaware that he disturbed some of the dust and dots from the cows' earlier visit. 

"Hello? Anyone there? It's me, Danny, the trusted farmhand. I came on behalf of my crazy cow. I need to do a quick damage assessment." He waited for a few moments until a middle-aged woman answered the door. She looked tired and as if a cold was just beginning to catch onto her soul. But there wasn't too much to tell. You have to have a microscope to see where the beginning damage was beginning from within the deepest parts of the skin.

"Hey, there. How are you, Danny?" She asks. 

"I'm fine. I just need to take a statement from you and gather some answers, and I'll be on my way." 

"Sure." 

"Did you come in direct contact with the cow?" He runs a hand through his hair spreading the microscopic parasites through his thick brown locks. 

"Luckily, this time, no. It only came inches away from my face, and scoffed. It wandered away after a few moments. I'm glad I wasn't headbutted by a beast like that." 

"I know. Can you at least tell me which way she went? She decided to bother the ones north or the pear grooves." She pointed over to the west. If you hurry, you can catch her before she terrorizes another home. She coughs a little and wheezes as if she's just inhaled a large puff of smoke. 

"You're allowed to poke around so that you can give me an accurate insurance claim." She starts coughing a little more challengingly with more phlegm. "Pardon me." She excuses herself. And as she left, he had to question all of the numerous spots that appeared on her arms and legs. They looked harmless, like normal chicken pox. But in her 30's? 

"Thanks. Laura-Lee. It should be mailed to you by the end of the week. Take care of yourself and your um. Rashes." 

"Oh yeah, these, nothing that a little benzoyl peroxide couldn't fix." And with that, she hurriedly shut the door so she could tend to the intensifying itch that was beginning to consume her entire being. It was time for the Dottie disease to up the ante. 

Danny scratched his head but didn't want to think about the accumulating dots on Laura-Lee. He left her to her devices and went on his way to continue to look for his rampaging cow Dottie. 

Danny begins to wander up again on the lonely dirt road. There were speckles of red that made little lines in the dampened dirt. He raised an eyebrow. Concentrating on the ground isn't the best thing for now. 

He thought about his sweet wife and all of the fantastic sweets she made during this time of year. Apple Pie with black tea sweetened with honey and cream. As the nights stretched longer, it was essential to be at home where the cold couldn't nip into your soul. He loved the feel of her warm hands. Simply spending time together was more than enough to fill his soul. He always felt more alive and light through the long Winter night. 

3:13pm Danny finally arrives at the next house. It was bigger than the last. It was an old couple's home. They had been there for decades. The two men had built their homes from stone and concrete together in their youth. When he saw that a few of the rocks were displaced by the beast, his eyebrow raised. 

The spots were slightly larger and somewhat visible to the naked eye. They were beginning to slowly inch their way toward his neck. 

'This thing certainly has a lot of underlying strength.' He bit his lip, still trying not to overthink it. He closes the door and knocks. Hoping that both the tenants, Ryann and Clay, have yet to come within close contact with the cow. 

"Ryan? Clay? Are you alright? Are you okay? I saw some of the stones from your house roll away." His rapturous banging continued until one of them finally came to the door. 

It was Ryan, the shorter man of the two. He had a stout nose adorned with spectacles. He was wearing his favorite blue flannel and acid wash jeans that had been torn from the recent struggle. 

"Oh, Danny, hello. I assume you're here to try to get back on the trail of that rambunctious cow? We've already met them, as you can see." He lets out a slight lighthearted chuckle. 

"Yeah, exactly. But are you okay? Your leg is bleeding just a bit." There were beginning to be small patches of blood staining the disheveled denim. 

"Yes, it hurts, and I have to disinfect it. But I'll be alright. If not, I have my car, and the general hospital isn't too far away." He could see the old man's excessive preparation as if he was right above Mauna Loa. And spots. 

"What about Clay? Is he okay?" Worried now that these spots looked just the same as the ones he saw on Laura-Lee. 

"He's fine; he's just asleep; sonny, he's okay." Trying to steady his shaking voice, the dots had begun to override his immune system. And just like Clay, he would not be able to keep the torrent of deadly pinpricks at bay. Danny would be in the same boat soon enough since the dot had begun to spread far and wide on the tattered denim and moved toward his socks and upper leg. 

Eyes wide and curious, Danny does not immediately leave. He needs to get some questions answered to ease his mind for the trek up to the next house. 

He inspected Ryan's form more to see if there were any other things he may be missing. There were mass aggregations of dots that were coming through the side of his neck. 

"What did Dottie do to you and your home? Was the damage extensive?" He asks while subtly trying to look for more of the dots. 

"Well, the back wall is completely gone, and my partner Clay does have a broken leg. So we will have to keep this conversation short." 

Danny retook a quick look at the man's leg once more where the laceration was, and holy moly, there it was: more of those dots with now a green ooze or film spilling out onto his somewhat translucent skin. 

Danny's wide ocean blues connected to the older men's weathered chestnut eyes. Danny had to swipe some of the strange dust that was trying to stay in orbit only near his eyes. 

"It's already too late, son. And that's okay. We've had a good life. But protect the rest of them and especially your wife. Your loved ones are precious because you only have one. She went up that way to that family of four. Hurry, son, hurry. Find the cow, find the cure, kill it before sundown." Ryan shoos Danny off to pursue the cow before it can reach its last house in the line: His own home. The last one that hadn't been ransacked. 

He raced back down the path. To his horror, specks of red painted the ground. Death had begun filling the air. Horrors abound. 

4:01 pm Only mere minutes of sunlight left. 

Danny chanted out the word 'No.' as if it were a magical chant that could buy him some time, spare his poor wife who doesn't know a lot of things about tending to a farm and especially not how to ward off an angered cow that seemed to spread an illness that over time had claimed the entire town. He thought about how each year, three families would disappear and no one ever heard from them ever again. 

His feet pounded against the dirt path. His long sprint was beginning to take a significant toll on his boy. EVELYN! EVELYN! MY LOVELY EVELYN! He runs faster and faster, but his lungs start to collapse. There just isn't, anyway. His lungs collapse a little, and he begins to wheeze. His eyes now face downwards, and he sees the damn things everywhere. All are painted in red. 

No. NO! His eyes roamed the landscape. He was close to the farm, but all he could see was that the lights were on. He also noticed that damned cow banging on the back cellar door. 

BANG! BANG! BANG! It sounded as if gunshots were being fired off to start the race. 

"HEY, DOTTIE, BACK OFF!" Danny was sweating profusely now, and not just from the run. The dots had begun to fill in his vision and make him feel dizzy. He collapsed to his knees, and his legs felt like lead. He finally felt the colony of dots that had accumulated. They were everywhere in this gooey mass. The smell of rotting flesh burnt the hairs within his nose. 

The sound of wood giving way reaches Danny's ears. 

No! 

He dragged himself even though he was beginning to lose some of his vision. There was only about a minute of sunlight left. His body felt heavy and the dots crawling all over his skin felt like an army of fire ants. He moved his decaying muscles forward, and he needed to see her. He needed to save her. Evelyn. 

4:07 pm Dusk was here, and the sun was gone. Danny barely managed to drag himself up the stairs. The front door had been beaten down by the beastly cow. He sees Evelyn's decomposed body full of spotted spores and green goo. If it weren't for her long onyx hair, he wouldn't have been able to tell it was her at all. A shattered saucer and cup surrounded her remains. 

All Danny could feel was pure anguish. He wanted to cry to the heavens of her name and of her injustice. He no longer had a voice, and red spots began to fill in the airway of his throat. He was succumbing to Dottie's disease. 

Before his eyes closed one final time in the corner of the room, he could see the outline of the deranged cow that brought disease and death. Smoke poured off from its nostrils. It let out a loud hellish 'moo,' and with that, Danny, too, died and became a part of the blobby mass right next to his wife. 

[ghostofnibelheim]

azure-steel​:

‘You’ve given me nothing!!’ He did not speak them, but his eyes could say more than his mouth ever could in this moment. Cloud did not think he was wrong, how could the total decimation of his entire life compare to this?  In his eyes it simply couldn’t. Did he really believe that this… this… was payment enough for that debt?

The man must still be out of his damned mind!

But the words were there on the tip of his tongue, yet before he was able to spit the venom of his sentiment right into Sephiroth’s face - those acidic pale jade hues shining down at him like a myriad suns hanging in a polluted sky, and the fire which burned within was as cold as ice - his voice was snatched away with the harsh tug of his zipper, though this was before his hand was forcefully removed from the man’s hair.

A beast like grip which seemed so effortless to the former SOLDIER, yet took everything the mere infantryman had to resist, and that was a frail attempt at best, not without the obligatory groan of pain as the bones began to twist in the depth of his wrist. And the way in which his eyes shifted over his form, as he lays there utterly helpless and exposed beneath that mako drowned glare; like a predator sizing up it’s next meal , it was enough to have him turn away, a brisk, sharp, movement of his head while Sephiroth spoke, to look at anything but him, anything at all, the usual droll, disinterested drawl as though he was speaking about the weather outside, as though he didn’t even care.

Of course, Strife should have figured by now that he didn’t.          He never had.                Nor was he about to start now.

And he HATED this man, hated him with every fibre of his being, for what he did, what he’d taken away so brutally, for abandoning the very things he once stood for.

Even as he’s flipped onto his front an the drawl continued, Cloud found he wasn’t really taking in what the guy was even saying; already aware that whatever experiments had been exacted on him were extreme at the very best, this…  it all seemed a little far fetched. A wince as Sephiroth touches him upon his latest injury, an arch of his back accompanied by the softest whimper; a sound he’d tried to stifle and failed. The pain there was still excruciating, but no more than the following words which fell from the former SOLDIER’s mouth.

                         “I guess that makes you a monster in your own right, now.”

The world seemed to stop then, time itself halted within the very moment it took for Sephiroth to finish that sentence and for Cloud to absorb it, wrench it apart and piece it back together in his own mind; anything to force what he was telling him make some sort of comprehensible sense. He felt his mouth run dry at the prospect that he could even be anything even similar to the demon he witnessed tearing down the very walls of Nibelheim, who’d pulled apart the fabric of everything Cloud had once known and loved.

No. He was wrong. HE WAS WRONG.

“Shut up!!” a harsh whisper as the grip he now held upon the man’s lap tightened exponentially. “I’m nothing like you! So just.. shut up! SHUT UP!” There was no screaming this time around, yet no less urgency to his tone.

Cloud did not know what any of it meant, but all he did know was that he was beginning to wish he hadn’t even asked. But he was no monster, he couldn’t be, Sephiroth was lying!

He was lying!!

“Shut up… please...”

‘It stings, doesn’t it?’

The wound, and the truth. He wondered which pain was worse, as he sat there, slowly dabbing the wet cloth on the bruised area of Cloud’s back, feeling him writhing, whining and trembling under the pressure of his hand which, for as gentle as he may make it, would never be able to soothe and comfort from the weight of reality.

He could be telling him more. Of the excruciating pain he had to go through as parts of him were extracted, cut out of him like unessential parts and dissected. Of the screams all of them had moaned and cried in those halls while operated with no anaesthesia of any kind. Not just him, or Zack, or this man either. Everyone who had survived his wrath in Nibelheim had become fair game for Hojo’s maddening thirst for experimenting.

And to make what…? He had yet to fully understand.

Really, those he had killed had been graced in comparison.

So much torture and agony Sephiroth had witnessed in that laboratory, so much his mind had eventually become numb to it all. He had convinced himself to be in the pits of hell, and there he would have spent the rest of eternity.

That the cycle had broken had been both a relief and a new gate of suffering in itself. Maybe the laboratory had been Hell after all, and they were just starting to climb out of it. Perhaps this was to be their Purgatory to be in, now.

Though the thought that any kind of Paradise could be waiting beyond this kand of cold and bitter feeling was laughable at present.

But of all that musing, he said nothing. Cloud had actually done as told, whether by force or subconscious despair, he had said the one word that could get his tormentor to comply. And so, Sephiroth was silent. Just focusing his effort on the cleaning of those wounds, on the sensation of rejuvinated lungs pushing against pale skin against his leg while fingers clawed into the hard fabric relaxed ever so slightly.

“That’s better.” He said quietly, though leaving it unspoken whether this was a reward for the blond’s ‘please’, or a mere guess on the relief to his back wounds.

[margowritesthings]

Good Girl (pt. 1)

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 752

warnings: suggestive, the explicit stuff will come in part 2!, death of a snake, shameless praise kink

a/n: ummmm yeah this is totally because of this video and I'm not even sorry. Ive been in a bit of a block so I thought just a lil drabble about Arthur would help!! Its gotten away from me a bit lol it's turning into a full blown thing but I'm out of my block yay!! as always thank you all for the lovely support and kind words on my work, it means the world <3

tagging: @musicallisto (i can't find the rest of my taglist!! i'm so sorry- please do drop me a message if you'd like to be added)

You spot the predator moments before Arthur does and seconds before his horse, but it is just too late. The snake hisses, Belle rears, and you’re forced to grip onto Arthur’s waist with enough force to surely bruise him. All the air is knocked from your lungs as your back hits the grass and you brace yourself for the weight of Arthur landing on top of you. You wince, but the second wave of impact never arrives, Arthur somehow managing to divert his fall to right beside you.

“Goddamn!” He curses, quickly rolling over in a panic to check you over, his large, calloused hands holding your cheeks as his eyes roamed over your features. “You alright?”

You just about manage to nod through his firm, concern-fuelled grip as the pain in your back begins to subside, “I’m fine. It was just a shock.” 

As soon as he knows you’re okay, Arthur turns his attention to Belle, the stunning white mare he loves most in the world (second only to you, of course). She is spooked, bucking and squealing as the serpent on the floor slides ever closer. Arthur is quick to throw the knife down, expertly hitting the poor thing in the head. A shudder runs down your spine as you watch the life leave its body, managing to identify it by the shape of its head as a highly venomous viper. Close call. 

The impact of your fall is still ringing in your ears, so you watch from the ground as Arthur holds his gloved hands up, slowly approaching the steed. His voice is low and gruff as he speaks to her, bravely stepping forwards, never faltering in his steady pace. “Easy girl, you’re alright…”

Belle begins to calm, allowing Arthur close enough to reach out and pat her gently on the neck. She softly neighs, almost nuzzling Arthur protectively. It’s a sight to behold, enough to warm your heart wonderfully. 

“Good girl.”

…oh.

The beating of your heart, originally from the sweetness of the moment, quickens and travels down, past your belly and manifests into being able to feel your pulse between your legs. 

Oh god.

You feel downright wanton, practically panting as you watch Arthur’s tanned hands gently caressing Belle’s neck and only seem to be able to picture them all over you while he whispers sweet praises. Is it weird to feel jealous of a damn horse? It feels so wrong and you’re almost certain your cheeks have become flourished with the deepest crimson but by God do you want to hear him say that to you. You always did love how kind Arthur was to animals, but what you’d just witnessed seemed to have unlocked some carnal need you certainly hadn’t expected to realise when you woke up this morning. 

“You sure you’re alright, darlin’? You ain’t hurt?” Arthur’s brows are pulled together when you drag your gaze from his fingers to his face. His features are saturated with worry and you can’t blame him when you realise you’re still sitting in the dusty mud, mouth agape and eyes wider than plates. You don’t even know how much time has passed, but considering how sedate Belle is, it must have been a while. 

A hand is extended towards you and you take it, letting Arthur pull you to your feet as you nod, “I’m good. Really. Just… flustered.” You reply honestly, though Arthur seems to think nothing of it as his hands grip your hips, helping you onto the saddle. Not that you need the help, but he’s ever the gentleman and you’re pretty sure he likes the excuse to hold you, even if just for a moment. 

There isn’t a verbal agreement that you’re switching places, but when you feel Arthur’s hard chest against your back and his arms snake around your waist, you instinctively shuffle into him and grab onto the reins.

“Shouldn’t be too long before we’re home now, I'll keep watch for any more snakes.” His breath tickles your neck, sending a shiver down your spine and not at all helping extinguish your growing arousal. You nod, nuzzling into him for just long enough for him to pick up on the silent request for a quick kiss on the cheek. It’s not nearly enough, but it’ll have to do for now. You kick your foot against Belle’s side and she sets off into a canter almost instantly, now seemingly feeling herself again. 

“Atta girl.” Damn, it’s going to be a long ride.

part 2