#KEEP PUNKS SAFE FROM PREDATORS

[xxenbypunkxx]

IF YOURE IN THE OC OR LA PUNK SCENE STAY AS FAR AWAY FROM ZAINE DRAYTON AS YOU CAN!!!!

there are repeating stories i have heard from MANY different people discussing some of the really disgusting things they have done (being a predator, defending predators, selling drugs to kids, kicking victims out of their shows cause they asked for protection against their predator). I have also had not great interactions with them. they are NOT a safe person to have around, and THEY SELL DRUGS TO KIDS

[a-killer-obsession]

Hello!! I'd absolutely love to see an AFAB Z Reader with a little bit of P! As for that character, I think I'd have to choose the wonderful number 4. Thank you!

sorry everyone for the long gap between event fics, i promise i'm still working on them!

Milk

Prompt: Mink Reader + Pollen Additional Tags: afab reader, she/her pronouns, light somnophilia, masturbation, face fucking, forced orgasm, breeding kink, oral (receiving and giving), p in v sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, aftercare WC: 3.8

Event Masterlist

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

The island the Victoria Punk was anchored at was supposed to be uninhabited, and as such only a small team had disembarked to scout it out. It was supposed to be uneventful, but you'd stayed back from the scouting team anyway. As the doctor on the ship it wasn't a good idea to put you in any sort of harm's way, especially since you weren't much of a fighter. As a cow mink you were heavy set and slow, on the chubbier side, thought you had a lot of muscle underneath it. You could body a punch, and certainly reply with your own, but you weren't agile or well seasoned like the others. You had a good sense of smell and hearing which helped you stay out of fights, but usually if it came down to it you knew you could rely on the boys to keep you safe, just like they could always rely on you to patch them up.

The scouting team had the job of checking the island was safe from any sort of large dangerous predators before the crew could make use of harvesting any natural resources, so you were waiting patiently along with most of the crew, reading a book as you lounged with Killer on the skull deck, using each other's backs to prop each other up. Your ear twitched as it picked up movement, head perking up at the same time as Killer's haki alerted him to the incoming scouting party. Killer had been facing the island, and you held his shoulders steady so he wouldn't fall backwards as you took away his back rest, turning yourself to peer over his shoulder. The two of you watch with rising alarm as the scouting party breaks from the treeline, Heat running at the front of the group with Wire draped over his shoulder. Both of you are on your feet immediately, Killer rushing to help Heat on board while you run to prepare the infirmary for their arrival.

Your rubber gloves are on as Killer opens the door for Heat, Wire immediately deposited carefully on the closest bed, unconscious and dripping with sweat, his face flushed with fever. You touch the back of your hand to his forehead and immediately recoil at how hot his skin is, quickly setting about getting an IV line of fluids set up to account for the water he was losing through sweat.

“What happened?” You ask Heat as you work, your voice dependable and steady despite everyone else’s panic. Killer had shooed the rest of the crew out of the tight space, Kid appearing past the crowd at the commotion and furrowing his brows as he finds one of his commanders and long time friends unconscious and suffering some unknown ailment.

“It was some sort of flower,” Heat explained, “it came out of nowhere, swung down and smacked him right in the face like it was sentient. There was a puff of pollen or something and he went down”

“Must have been some sort of defense mechanism,” Killer noted, “Heat, tell the others to keep off the island”

“We'll set sail as soon as the pose resets,” Kid added, “have the ship ready to move as soon as it's ready, Wire said it'd take less than a day. I want away from this fucked up island”

“Roger that, Boss,” Heat replied, giving Wire one last forlorn look before leaving to pass along the orders, despite very much not wanting to leave his best friend’s side right now.

“How is he?” Kid asked you, he and Killer now standing on the other side of the cot from you as you worked, checking Wire's vitals and making hasty notes on a clipboard.

“He has a nasty fever,” you replied, “but there doesn't seem to be anything else wrong, no rashes or hives that might indicate this was an allergic reaction, his airway seems clear, he seems mostly fine. Whatever that pollen was has just caused a fever but I won't know the full extent of the damage till he wakes up. For now I think we just need to let him rest and hope the fever breaks soon”

And so let him rest they did. Kid carried Wire back to his own room where you felt he would be more comfortable, and you stayed at his side, dabbing his forehead with wet cloths and rechecking his vitals hourly. While he didn't seem to be getting any better or worse, at some point he started groaning in his sleep, followed by you noticing a visible tent in his leather shorts. That got you concerned, you had heard of flowers that released powerful aphrodisiacs for the purposes of increasing population numbers, but you'd never encountered them yourself. The symptoms matched what you'd heard though, so with that in mind you instructed the others to stay away from his room, under the guise of him being possibly contagious, but really just not wanting Wire to be seen in such a vulnerable state. It was fine for you, you were his doctor, it was all just natural processes, but you had a feeling he wouldn't want his friends seeing him pitching a (very large) tent in his sleep.

That brought up another problem though: what happened when he woke up? You wouldn't deny you had an attraction to Wire, but would it be taking advantage of him to offer yourself up to alleviate his symptoms? You were a doctor after all, it was all for the good of his health, right? Unsure of where you stood on that moral dilemma, you settled yourself into an armchair in the corner of Wire's room to rest, mulling over the pros and cons while you eyed his sweating body as he groaned and clawed at the sheets in his sleep. Perhaps it wouldn't even come to that, after all; Wire was a large man, and the pollen was likely designed for generic wild animals much smaller than him, perhaps the effects would wear off before he even woke up. Mind swimming with questions, you didn't even notice as you started to nod off, falling asleep in the armchair to the sound of Wire's heavy breathing.

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆

The heavy breathing was much closer when you woke up, ears twitching at the panting in front of you and nose catching the scent of masculine musk and precum not far from your face. Your eyes fluttered open, drowsy from your impromptu nap, immediately going wide as you took in the sight before you. Wire was entirely naked, dark tan skin glistening with sweat as he fisted himself furiously right in front of you. He hadn't noticed you waking yet, concentrating too hard on your chest, which you realised was mostly exposed, your shirt having been unbuttoned halfway in your sleep revealing your lace trimmed bra and ample cleavage. You should have felt violated by the situation, any sane woman would, but instead you found yourself rubbing your thighs together in need, unbearably turned on by the tall man taking advantage of you in your vulnerable sleeping state. You were well aware how fucked up that was, but you couldn’t help get horny at it, somnophilia was certainly a kink you indulged in. You looked up at him and watched his expression change to fear as he noticed you were awake, but he never stopped pumping his impressive cock, one of his hands resting on the back of your chair as he loomed over you.

“I- I can't stop- I'm sorry,” he groaned, risking coming closer now that he was already caught, resting a knee on one of the arms of the chair. His cock was so very close to your face, so you did the only logical thing you could think of; you opened your mouth and lolled out your long, rough tongue, using your hands to free your tits from your bra and holding them together, inviting him to cum on you. He made a confused whimper at the action, having expected backlash, and eyed your breasts hungrily, seeing now your pretty pink nipples and the full curve of your massive tits.

“Well?” You purred, “are you going to give me your milk or not?”

That finally set him over the edge, pushing his cock into your offered mouth and grabbing your short horns, setting a brutal pace as he fucked your face. You were glad for your long snout, allowing you to take far more of him than a human could before his impressive length hit the back of your throat. You also had barely any gag reflex thanks to your mink anatomy, so you had no issue with his rough treatment of your mouth, arousal pooling between your legs as he used you. You were used to being used roughly like this, no vanilla man ever slept with a mink, only those with kinks that you’d found yourself enjoying more and more as you experimented with humans. You were well aware of the strange appeal you held for some humans, with your animal-like face, long tongue, ample tits that alluded to an udder, and your cute tail that usually sprouted from under your skirt, lifting the hem oh so slightly. They were charms you took full advantage of; despite your sweet, innocent, bovine face you knew you loved it when men used you, and you knew you loved taking control as well, usually being much stronger and heavier than your lovers.

It didn't take long before you heard Wire groan and felt hot, thick liquid sliding down your throat, but this time it was your turn to be in control. He tried to pull his cock from your mouth (notably still hard, though you would have refused to let him go regardless) but you sunk your hands into the flesh of his ass, holding him still, your wide nose pressed against his pubic hair as you looked up at him with mischievous eyes. Men who came to you for sex often made references to milk, so naturally the act of milking a man had become something you had come to love, dominating your lovers regularly, enthralled by the act of forcing humans to give you their seed against your mink instincts to only breed with your own kind. You adored overstimulating your lovers, you loved to watch them squirm, hearing them beg for mercy only to force another orgasm from them, it was your favourite. And with the pollen not letting him settle, it was all the sweeter. He tried to pull your head away but you were an immovable object, relishing his overstimulated whines as you lolled out your long tongue and let it flick against his balls while you literally suckled on his cock. His hands went from trying to pull you off to holding you against him, letting out a string of curses as you groped his ass and sucked the life out of him, forcing another orgasm from him. Not till you had every last drop of his cum did you let him go with a pop, licking your lips and giving him an innocent look as he panted and held your horns for support.

“M-more,” he groaned, almost doubling over on himself as you started to pump his still swollen cock. You wondered how many times he would have to finish before the pollen would clear from his system, how many times could he breed you before it was done with him? The thought made your thighs rub together. Naughty mink, breeding with a human, you thought to yourself, a thought that often got you hot and bothered. You wanted him to breed you, you wanted him to pump you full of cum till it had nowhere to go and dripped from your abused cunt.

His head tilted and his eyes fluttered closed, nose moving like he was taking in a scent in the air, a shiver running through him as he smelt your arousal. You wondered to what extent the pollen truly affected him, were his senses elevated too? Or only in ways that allowed him to find a mate? You didn't have much time to think on it before he was on his knees, having to bend considerably to account for his height so he could lick and suck at your thighs, pulling your knees up and pushing them to rest over the arms of the chair as he blindly sought out the source of the sweet alluring smell. He pushed up your skirt and pressed his nose right against your damp panties, butting against your clit and making you moan, as he let out his own groans at your scent.

“Fuck, you smell so good. Want you-” was all he could manage to get out as his hands ran along your thighs and pulled at your panties, “want, want-” It was like his mind had been turned to mush, all he could think about of vocalise were basic needs, and right now he needed to taste you, it was all he could think about.

He tore the fabric from your body and you both moaned as his tongue made contact, licking long stripes up your cunt, not with the aim of pleasuring you but with the aim of tasting you, gathering your slick on his tongue and drinking it down like he needed it to live. Each swipe grazed over your clit and made you jolt, your hand burying in his short hair as he lapped at you, growing annoyed as your honey was replaced with his saliva. “More!” He growled, bullying his tongue inside you to get to the source, making a satisfied hum as he did so, deaf to your pleasured moans as he drank from you. He wasn’t actively trying to make you feel good, only selfishly trying to gather all your essence, but his ministrations and groans against your sensitive flesh felt so fucking good, and soon you were pulling on his short hair and riding out your high against his face, his tongue working overtime to gather every drop that gushed from you.

His eyes were practically black as he looked up at you, unnaturally blown wide by the pollen, his need for you insatiable but at least his thirst for your honey had been quenched. His tongue ran up your body, rolling over your soft tummy and leaving a wet trail of saliva behind as he travelled to your breasts, yanking your bra down further and sucking one tit into his mouth as his large hand groped the other. He suckled at the nipple and made a disappointed whine. “What, did you expect there to be milk? Because I’m a cow mink?” you huffed, pulling his hair hard to remove him from your breast. He gave you a look that was entirely unapologetic. It wasn’t the first time a man had expected you to be lactating, it was a little offensive to be honest. “Only cows that have calved have milk, dumbass. You ever seen me running around with a baby on my arm? Tsk”

“I’ll have to put a calf in you then,” he decided, his sultry voice making your pussy clench around nothing as he raised himself higher, his face now a hair’s width away from yours. His eyes ran down your entire body, your hair messy, your cheek wet with tears from deepthroating, your clothes pulled out of place to expose your breasts and pussy, your legs still hooked over the arms of the chair to spread you wide for him. His index finger played with your pussy, pushing your slick and his saliva around before the digit slid inside you, followed by a second. He watched you closely as he began to pump your cunt slowly, expecting you to start moaning, but you only huffed in annoyance at him, which made him raise a brow.

“You gonna breed me or what then, Wire?” you asked him, and his dick throbbed at the thought. Quickly he removed his fingers from you, pumping his cock a few times to spread your slick over his member before lining the fat head up with your entrance. You were ill prepared for his girth, but you were the one who asked for it. You both groaned in unison as he sunk inside you, stretching you wide as you clawed at his back. Your tongue came out to lick at his lips, and he sucked it into his mouth, your long appendage filling it. He could feel it at the back of his throat as your tongue explored, making his eyes roll back as he began a vicious pace with the intent of pumping you full of as much cum as possible.

“Ah, just like that, fuck,” you whined, enjoying the way his massive cock filled you so well, pulling against every inch of your inner walls, rubbing right where you wanted him without even trying. “Put a fucking baby in me, Wire, fuck me till I’m fat with your calf”

“Fuck, fuck,” he groaned, “I’ll give you what you want sweet heifer, I’ll make you a mother”

His mind was heavy with lust and his judgement cloudy from the pollen as he fucked you hard and fast. He came quickly at the feeling of your hot wet walls around him, but he didn’t stop for even a moment, the pollen not letting him. The overstimulation was driving him insane, your walls clenching around him as you cooed your praises and begged him to fuck a baby into you, gushing over his cock once, twice, a third time, his pace never once letting up. Sweat dripped from his body and made you sticky, your own sweat soaking the bunched up clothes around your waist, your tits and tummy bouncing with every hard thrust he gave you. Your cunt was milking him for everything he had, Wire groaning against your shoulder as he came again, the pollen still not letting go of the tight hold it had on him. It was starting to hurt, his cock throbbed painfully from the insistent erection. Including before you’d woken, he’d cum a total of five times, and the blood still refused to drain from his cock. Groans turned to pained moans as he struggled to find the energy to keep up with his body’s needs, pistoning into you desperately. You saw the pained look in his eyes, and realised something wasn’t right.

“Wire, shh, it’s okay baby,” you cooed, “you want me to take over?”

He whined and nodded in defeat, using the last of his strength to carry you both to the bed, his hips still moving on their own accord like he truly couldn’t stop as he laid himself down with you on top of him. You stroked his face soothingly and made hushed assurances as you took over the movements, riding him hard and fast, his fingers digging into your hips. He shamelessly watched and enjoyed the way your tits bounced, reaching up to grope at them and letting out strings of curses as you purposely clamped down around his cock, trying to spur on his orgasm. It was no longer about getting yourself off, you recognised that he was hurting and he needed this to be over, so you were doing everything you could to get him to finish in the hopes the pollen would finally let go of him, otherwise you might have to consider medical intervention. His body wasn’t going to be able to handle much more, he’d already lost so much sweat and fluids, and his cock felt raw from overuse, he needed this to be over.

“Come on baby, give it to me,” you purred, hoping dirty words would put him over the edge, “give me all your cum so I can get fat with your calf and you can milk my tits whenever you want”

“Ah~ hurts- hurts-” Wire cried, treating your tits like stress balls as he tried and failed to let himself go. “Can’t- gotta cum- can’t-”

“It’s okay Wire, let go,” you cooed, tweaking his nipples to try and give him extra stimulation.

“Hmmph-” he groaned as you tugged on his pert buds, his hands coming down to grab your waist as he suddenly began to piston up into you, “fuck fuck fuck, just like that, just like that”

“Cum for me Wire,” you moaned, “breed me, hnng, gonna cum too”

“Yes, yes, cum for me,” he growled, using a thumb to rub your clit furiously and groaning as he ripped another orgasm from you, your release dripping over his abdomen, surprising you that you even had anything left to give. “Ah, good girl, good girl,” he groaned, “so tight, so good, cumming, fuck, cumming”

He held you down by your hips so your cunt was flush with his front, his cock balls deep inside you and stretching you out as he whined and creamed once more, cum spilling out from where you were connected as his body shook underneath you. “There you go baby, there you go,” you purred, Wire’s entire body going slack as he let go, panting hard as he laid against the bed. You pulled off his finally softening cock slowly, the movement making him whine in pain. His cock was red and sore, and you felt so sorry for him. Sure, it’d been fun, and you were more than satisfied, but at what cost? You carefully pressed the back of your hand to his forehead, Wire looking at you through a half-lidded, confused gaze as you checked his temperature and found that his fever had finally broken.

You winced as you slid off the bed, trying your best to right your clothes so you could pour him some water and bring the cup to him. He noticed your slight limp and looked unbelievably guilty as you helped him sit up so you could guide him to drink. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, holding your wrist carefully in his long fingers.

“You’re just big, sweetheart,” you cooed, “i’ll be okay, are you feeling alright though? The pollen did quite the number on you”

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean to,” he pleaded, “I’m sorry”

“Its okay Wire, really,” you ran your thumb over his cheek, tracing the pointed sideburn, “you needed help, I was more than happy to provide it”

Finally convinced that it was okay, he let you guide the glass to his mouth and allow him to drink, emptying the glass eagerly before you helped him lay back down. You took one of the damp cloths you’d been easing his fever with and cleaned him carefully, finding him already asleep by the time you finished. You cleaned yourself up next, stripping off your dirtied clothes and climbing into the bed beside him. He stirred for only a moment to wrap his arms around you, before you fell to exhaustion as well, tucked into his chest as he held you protectively.

[dnpanimationstudioclone]

Cherri Bomb Redesign🍒💣🐸

Made my own version of Cherri Bomb 💣 I’ve ALWAYS dug Cherri’s whole explosion theme 🧨💥

One huge change. Shes now a frog 🐸 Was inspired by the glass frog but instead of her organs being exposed it's her skeleton! 💀 . Fits with her wild, high energy nature. Place I read a fact some big spiders have lil frogs around to keep their babies safe from predators, in return they get food & protection🐸🕷️! Figure it fits her and Angel's bond💖 I imagine she'd be Fat Nuggets Godmother💖🐷🕷️. CW frog insides

Instead of being a cyclops she's got a one part of her headskull cracked and shrouded with her bangs. Shes also got a lot of her limb bones broken. I def headcanon she died caught in an explosion💣 💥

Cherri-what doesn’t kill ya makes your stronger!…oh wait💀

Ngl Arcane Jinx REALLY inspired me, she just hits all the vibes for her.

Made her a warmer orange blonde. And instead of gradient her bangs and tail ends are tinted fiery pink in two cherry bomb like braids 🍒💣🧨

I can imagine Cherri as a freelance explosives/demolition expert/worker! Aswell as doing firework shows too!🎆 🎇💥🧨

Gave her a tongue peircing! And much longer tongue🐸

I imagine she can stick unto walls hence why she’s still got her toes exposed and has def hit people with her slimy tongue 👅 🤣

Made her shirt symbol bigger and in the center. Oh and she's wearing a binder bra

SHES TRANS!!!!!!!!!!! 🏳️‍⚧️ Another reason I made her a frog is to connect her to that(with how they can change gender) She & Baxter def vibe.

Gave her more protection with knee and arm padding, she’s often going into crazy terf wars(needs to last around enough). As well as baggier pants. Ngl I was def going for lowkey punk/radical skater gal vibes 🛹 she def someone that shreds. And the whole punk/rebel vibe was all the rage in the 80-90’s💀☠️ Added more green since she’s a frog and cherries have green stems 🐸🍒 Loved her bombs having that green color, hope canon Cherri gets more on herself.

What do u think? I’d love to know💖

Also done the whole Hotel Gang, including her BBF , the Vees, Katie & Tom, Mimzy and even the King & Queen of Hell

[sanjoongie]

Sex and Embers and Frost

A ~Cotton Tails and Simmering Fires~ Series

ღAuthor's Note: this is an idea that was cooked up between @starlitmark and me. I was very excited to breath life into the opening of this world with these alt/emo/goth/punk hybrid dragon boyos. Hopefully you love them just as much as mia and i do😭

ღPairing: Dragon hybrid! Hwa x Bunny Hybrid! reader (f) x Dragon hybrid! San ღGenre: smut with no plot ღAu: hybrid au, strangers to lovers ღWord Count: 3,921 ღWarnings: oral (f receiving), temperature play, hair pulling, biting, hints to predator/prey play, breast play, squirting, cum eating, size kink, penetrative sex without barrier, double penetration, anal sex (f receiving), dacryphilia, hints towards mxm, degradation kink, creampie, overstimulation, mfm orgasm(s) ღRated: 18+ MDNI ღSummary: when your bunny friends drag you to an Gothic club and didn't tell you, so you dressed up in your typical preppy fit, not expecting to catch the eyes of two hybrid dragons ღMasterlist ღNext Chapter ღDedication: @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland, @flurrys-creativity​ &@songmingisthighs thank you for all beta-ing.

When they first meet~

Your blue eyes scanned the beauty that was the club that your friends had dragged you to. The Gothic arches were gorgeous  and the cross-eyed gargoyles added to the aesthetic but… you picked at your skirt and winced. You were dressed in your typical pink and white, that offset your white ears and blue eyes, being a bunny hybrid, but it was making you stick out like a sore thumb in this goth club.

Unfortunately, because you had taken the time to observe your surroundings, you had wound up separated from your friends. This gave the perfect opportunity, however, for two very interested dragon hybrids to, for lack of a better term, to pounce on you.

A hand descended on your shoulder and you jumped in the air in surprise. You had been so hyper focused on the architecture that your sense of your surroundings had been dulled and you had been caught unaware. 

A low, male chuckle sounded from behind you. “You look a little lost there, Hops. This isn’t your typical crowd is it?”

Your eyes widened at the man who had turned you around. His jelly-pink lips had a ring piercing, and it was safe to say, that wasn’t the only thing that stood out about the man. There were scales along his hairline, near his temple and scattered along his cheekbones, that were a shiny, deep purple. And his eyes were silver and slit like a lizard--your brain screamed to you that he was a dragon hybrid and most certainly a predator animal.

You shook your head and attempted to stand a little straighter. "I'm actually here with my fluffle--"

"Fluffle," he echoed you, "Cute."

You teetered on your heels uncertainly. "I think I'll--"

"Oh, you're not leaving us, are you, Hops?" Another man came to lean over the first dragon hybrid’s shoulder, hand hooked on the other’s broad shoulder. His long hair was tied up halfway, with strands framing his face and the lower half still left hanging. His scaling was black but iridescent and his slitted eyes were an electric blue. “I just got here.”

The purple hybrid’s chin set stubbornly at the black hybrid joining. “I got this, Seonghwa,” He said flatly.

Seonghwa put the hand that was on the purple hybrid’s shoulder on his head and ruffled his hair. “What’s wrong, San? Don’t feel like sharing tonight?”

Your eyes darted from one man to the other, trying to keep an eye on the predators in front of you. Your heart was beating out of your chest. But when your tongue came out to nervously lick your lips, both dragon hybrids narrowed their eyes on the motion. Your tongue froze at the corner of your mouth, an instinct to remain still when such a moment occurred.

San went back to frowning, “Hwa!”

Seonghwa smirked confidently. “Why don’t we leave it up to her, hmm?” Seonghwa circumvented San and was now standing in front of you. His size was underlined by the fact that he had to tip your chin to get you to make eye contact with him. You could feel your ears going flat. “How about it, Hops? Let’s go back to our lair and you can decide who you prefer the most.”

You were trembling and your stomach was curling and before your better judgment could kick in--you slowly nodded your head. “Please,” You whimpered.

Both dragon hybrids smirked and you shuddered in Seonghwa’s grasp. “Perfect,” He said happily, “Let’s go.”

Your mind was a whirl and the traveling between the club to their apartment was inconsequential compared to the position you were in right now.  Your tiny body was sat between San’s legs. He was currently peppering kisses from the slope of your shoulder up your neck and back again. He had discovered it was an erogenous area for you and wouldn’t leave it alone once he did. His ringed hands were holding your thighs apart, firmly so, because Seonghwa was kneeling between both your legs. 

“Stop squirming, Hops,” San growled, “Or I’m going to fuck you before Seonghwa can prep you fully.”

Seonghwa made eye contact with San from below, “That’s hot.”

“Shut up, Hwa,” San snapped with no real heat behind it.

“Be a good bunny for me, hmm?” Seonghwa said while his eyes were on your core where your panties still covered it, “I want all your cute noises. Don’t deny me them, okay?”

You were nodding. You had no idea what Seonghwa had in store for you but you did know that you loved the way San’s hands felt holding your thighs apart and those plush lips on your skin. 

Seonghwa’s hands almost held your leg reverently as his eyes rolled up to meet yours and his lips touched your skin. One minute he was leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin there and the next you watched a curl of mist leave his mouth. You frowned, because you could have sworn it was similar to a breath you would exhale in the dead of winter and then you were distracted by a flash of silver--was that a ball from a tongue piercing? You squealed as cold metal touched your skin.

San's fingers dug into your thighs, holding you even wider. "Something wrong, little bunny?" The next time his lips touched your neck, his lip ring felt abnormally warm, almost hot and you yelped.

"Wh-what's going on?" You couldn't help but stutter.

"We're dragons," San said simply, "You're okay with a little magic in your foreplay, right?"

"Yes," You said in a tiny voice that was completely full of anticipation for what this night would give you.

Seonghwa's tongue is out in full force, as he uses one long lick to go from the inside of your knee to your hip bone. The cold gives you goosebumps, but much to your embarrassment, it also made your tail begin to twitch, waiting for that coldness to meet your throbbing, hot mess of a cunt.

San chuckled lowly in your ear. "Hops, your tail is twitching. Is he making you feel that good?" You whimpered in response, your tail only moving more frequently. San moaned into your ear, gripping your earlobe between his teeth before letting go. "He hasn't even kissed your tiny pussy yet. You're such an easy bun, huh Hops?"

Seonghwa's shoulders quake in silent laughter but still he moved his head to hover over your mound. Those slitted eyes narrowed to near slivers, the electric blue iris being more prominent and terrifying you. That was the same look a predator gives its prey before striking the final blow. Your heart beat out of your chest again but you also felt some wetness leak further onto your underwear. Your body didn't know what it wanted: flight or fuck.

The cold ball of Seonghwa's tongue piercing played with your clit through your underwear and your back bowed in response. Your hands descended onto Seonghwa's head and one of your hands became a fist to grab Seonghwa's ponytail. You yanked on it hard, almost as if you wanted to pull his tongue away from you. In contrast, your body rolled into his licks. You could feel the cold breath of Seonghwa's coming to life between your thighs and you shivered at the threat. 

San bit into your shoulder and you could feel his sharp canines making indents into the soft skin there. "You're driving me wild, Hops. You smell so fucking good, like a damn sugar cookie."

"D-don't eat me," You pleaded from the animal side of your brain, only aware that a dragon hybrid had put his meat-ripping teeth into you.

Seonghwa's dry chuckles could be heard from in between your legs, no longer silent this time. "The irony," he said with a crooked smile on his face before he pushed aside your panties so he could have full access to your dripping cunt. "Wonder if she tastes like a sugar cookie too?"

You yelped and gasped at the same time because simultaneously as Seonghwa thrusted his long tongue inside of your hole, San let his lip ring turn momentarily burning hot. "Careful, Hops, or I might find that more appealing than our current activities."

"S-san," You mumbled his name, even though your eyes were on Seonghwa with his eyes closed, tongue fucking your cunt.

"This is what I'm talking about," San growled. "You stutter my name like that and I'm going to want to play Chase the Bunny."

His tongue swiped at your skin and finally let go of your legs. Seonghwa's leather jacket fell to the crook of his elbows as he braced your legs open instead. He took on your weight like it was nothing. San's previous occupied hands began to massage your breasts through your tight shirt. "Been wanting to play with these nipples all night."

Seonghwa's tongue had begun to curl inside of you, reaching a spot that was dangerous. Your eyebrows furrowed. "No wait, don't--I'll--"

Your body began to shake and you cried out as you squirted all over Seonghwa's face. It was pure good luck that Seonghwa already had his eyes closed but that didn't stop him from opening his mouth, accepting your wetness.

San's hand became slack against your breasts as his mouth dropped and he laughed in disbelief. "Did you just make her squirt?"

Your body was like a ragdoll against San's body when Seonghwa finally opened his eyes. He wiped his face with his hand, looking quite pleased with himself. "Fuck, Hops, that was hot."

You are whining in embarrassment but you still can't move. "I'm sorry."

San's light laughter peppered the air. "She's sorry, Hwa."

Seonghwa stood up, tweaking the end of your ear. "Don't be embarrassed, little bun, you just gave me the highest honor."

San unceremoniously shoved your body off him and you collapsed into Seonghwa's arms. San quickly began to unbutton his pants, the chains that connected from belt loop to back pocket twinkling merrily. "I'm so fucking hard, I thought I was going to come in my pants with her fucking tail playing with me."

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at San. "New kink unlocked?"

San mockingly sneered at Seonghwa, showing another peek of his sharp canines. "Shut up."

Your skirt was already high up on your hips and your panties pulled out of the way but that wasn't enough for San. He easily ripped your underwear from your body with an impatient snarl. "This tiny puss is mine."

The air is filled with the smell of sex and faintly of embers and frost.  "Right, Hops?" San asked.

You looked up to Seonghwa, who shrugged. "Don't look at me. Unless you're saying your cunt belongs to me already. Then I won before San even got to prove himself. Kinda sad, don't you think?"

You gulped and swallowed but there was no moisture there. Your voice sounded tiny even to yourself but you somehow managed to say, "My tiny puss is yours… Sannie."

"Well, that's it, I'm fucked," San announced. 

With that, San pushed into your pussy, firmly and without pause until he was fully seated inside you. He was panting behind you. "Bet I'm so fucking huge inside of you, the way your cunt is clenching me, Jesus, you're tight." San slithered a hand from your hip to your stomach and pressed down, causing you to moan. "Fuck, I can feel my dick imprint, jesus, Hops."

Seonghwa petted your hair and ears. "You are a tiny thing. We could spit roast you right now and you would have no issues, would you?"

"B-both of you?" You squeaked. "At the same time?"

Seonghwa tipped his head to the side. "You can do it, right? You're a sweet little bunny that would give her all to us, right? A sweet little slutty bun who would take everything she got given, even if it drove her to tears. You'd cry big fat tears to be stuffed by both of us, wouldn't you, Hops?"

"You're not talking about my mouth anymore, are you?" You whimpered in realization.

Seonghwa smiled so sweetly even though he was thinking the filthiest thoughts. "Such a smart girl, Hops."

He tipped your head and rewarded you with a deep kiss, his lips still wet from when you had squirted all over his face. His lips and tongue took over your senses until it was all you could focus on. You didn't realize you were whimpering into his mouth until he started to chuckle and released you. "Forgot San was inside of you, didn't you."

You gasped. "S-san, I--"

San simply chuckled evilly behind you. You did not get to see the dirty look San sent Seonghwa. San had not, not truely, realized what he was getting into, letting Seonghwa challenge him. "I'm going to fuck you so good, that's the only name that's going to be falling from your lips."

"Unless," Seonghwa stared down San, "Hops agrees to being double stuffed."

"You can get her cute little mouth, I get this!" San snarled as he pulled back and then thrusted harshly into you. Your breath caught in the back of your throat at the pressure. 

Seonghwa's gentle hands pulled at your sensitive ear, pinching the bottom and making you yelp. His other hand quickly chucked your chin and his thumb slipped against your bottom lip. "And as lovely as that would be," Seonghwa agreed, on the surface at least, "I think that Hops would be better equipped to take us both at the same time. Then she can truly decide who she will choose at the end of the night."

San mercilessly pounded into you, making you grab fistfuls of Seonghwa’s sleeveless shirt, your tongue swirling around Seonghwa’s thumb that was still in your mouth. "This tiny bunny pussy is mine," San snarled.

Your head bobbed, humming in agreement. Seonghwa, however, was unsatisfied with the current predicament. "San," he growled.

San let out a loud, frustrated noise but halted the slapping of skin on skin. You breathed heavily and whined at the loss of the pleasure between your legs. San patted your hip, in an attempt to reassure you. "Don't worry, Hops, I'll fill you up, we just have to do a quick position change."

Seonghwa raised his eyebrows. "Let me slip inside of her. I bet she's so fucking wet, her slickness alone could prep her for me to fuck her puckered hole."

"Am I your fucking fluffer?" San snarled, "Should I put my mouth around you instead and make sure you're ready for her?"

A shiver traveled from the soles of your feet, throughout your body, making your tail flutter and your ears flip-flop. A slow, sure smile pulled at Seonghwa's lips. "Oh, does our bunny like the idea of my cock slipping between San’s plush lips?"

You could feel your face heating up. "You're both really hot."

"Oh, Hops," San sighed, "Fine. Slip inside of her. You won't have a hard time, she's probably loose now from taking my thick cock. Just hurry up!"

San pulled out of you and Seonghwa turned you to face San. He smoothed an appreciative hand down your spine and then pushed inside of you. "Oh fuck this bunny pussy!" Seonghwa exclaimed.

San chucked your chin and guided your head to his pelvis. You licked your lips at the sight of more scaling along San's hips and what amounted to a true treasure trail from his belly button to his cock. "Pretty," You couldn't help but coo, reaching out to trace the purple scales.

"Am I pretty to you, Hops?" San said in a low, soft voice. "Wanna touch? Wanna lick? Go on. I'll give you a tip. The skin along our scales is very sensitive."

You held San’s twitching cock out of the way so that your rough tongue could glide along the soft scales and skin. San watched with hooded eyes and his muscles jerked as it made its way along the treasure trail, to meet at the base of his cock. Just as you were about to lick your way up San’s shaft when Seonghwa grabbed a handful of your tail, making you yelp and cry out. "Okay, I take back my teasing from before. Her tail twitching against your cock is hot."

"Are you done yet?" San growled, once again no longer being the center of your world.

"My dick is drenching, Hops," Seonghwa observed as he pulled out of you. "Gonna fuck you full of dragon cock, huh? You ready to be double stuffed? You better give us those big fat tears you promised."

"I'm ready," you said in a shaky voice.

San held you in a reverse of the position you three had started in. His hands were under your knees as he sunk into you, face to face, and feet off the ground. He bit into his lower lip, tongue playing with his lip ring as he bottomed out again. Then Seonghwa approached from behind, nails digging into your hip bones as he pushed into your other hole. You were whimpering and moaning the entire time, taking both of their thick, long cocks. Once they were both bottomed out inside of you, you tossed your head back to rest against Seonghwa's shoulder.

"How do you feel, Hops?" Seonghwa asked.

"I'm so full," You whined.

"You like it though," San teased, a smirk playing with his lips, "I can feel you clenching down on me so hard. I'm surprised you didn't come from both of us entering you. You're such an easy lay."

"M-move?" You managed to ask, one ear flicking backward to listen to Seonghwa, while the other focused on San.

They did so without further ado, and you could only let out pitiful cries as they fucked you in both holes. You swore you were going to burst but also the pleasure was immeasurable, coursing along every damn nerve you possessed. When one pulled out, the other one pushed in, and it was a never-ending roller-coaster of rapture between your legs. The only thing your animal brain could focus on was the smell of strawberry jam coming from behind you and a sea breeze from behind you. Were those Seonghwa and San’s personal scents? They smelled heavenly.

"Poor Hops," San laughed, "You look so fucked out right now? Is your tiny little brain full of white noise right now? Getting fucked so good by a couple a dragon dicks, huh? I can barely understand how a tiny puss and ass like yours is taking us but I guess that just speaks volumes on how greedy you are for us. Taking us so fucking well, aren’t you Hops?”

That’s when the tears began. They welled up in your eyes and then started to slowly run down your cheek and dripped from your jaw to your bosom, only to make a trail down the valley of your breasts. You just felt a lot of things. You felt safe, you felt adored, you felt full and you felt sexy. It was just a lot and so the tears came easily. Your bottom lip trembled and you pouted as you said, “I’m taking you so well.”

“Aw, Hops, you look so fucking cute, crying for us,” San cooed mockingly.

“I can’t believe how well she’s taking my cock in her ass,” Seonghwa said in reverence again, “Damn, Hops, you really were built to be a little toy for a couple of dragon hybrids, huh?”

You can barely reply between the alternate thrusting, unsure if you’re getting better pleasure from the thick cock in your pussy or the long cock in your ass. “So. Fucking. Good.”

“Oh shit, I’m gonna come,” San cried out, his thrusts starting to become erratic but somehow hitting deeper inside of you. 

“M-me t-t-too,” You whimpered, feeling the curl in your stomach ready to snap.

“Gonna take all of me, Hops? Gonne let me fill you up with dragon cum, right? I bet you get a little bump from all the fucking cum I’m going to unload on you, oh fuck--!” San thrusted deep inside of you, holding himself there and grunted as his cock shot his load into you. He throbbed and twitched and continued to unload and even when he pulled his heavy cock out of you, there was still more shooting out. 

You would have been fascinated yourself if not for the fact that you were twitching and whining and convulsing from your own orgasm. Your pussy wouldn’t stop fluttering around him and it was like echoes of your pleasure continued to radiate from your lower half. It was both pleasing and exhausting and you were pretty sure you had never come harder in your entire life than in that moment. However, you still had another hole and dick to worry about.

“Now for the real show to start,” Seonghaa said, tucking his tongue between his lips.

“Are you kidding me?” San said with disbelief. “Like you could out do that performance.” He promptly dropped his head to your shoulder to relax.

You started to whimper, feeling a bit overstimulated. You shook your head desperately, your ears softly hitting your cheeks. “No. It’s too much. Too much!”

“Oh, come on, Hops,” Seonghwa grunted, “You can come for us again, can’t you? Gonna fill this ass with my cum. You want to be filled with both of us right? Come for me again, sweet bun.”

“Hhhhnnnnn,” You started to cry out as you felt another climax burst over you, this from Seonghwa fucking you up the ass.

You started to cry again, the pleasure being above and beyond everything you had experienced. With San out of you now, you had no choice but to focus on how your ass was taking every thrust of Seonghwa’s, pushing into it like you couldn't get enough of his cock. 

“See, I knew you could do it, Hops. You’re such a sweet little slutty bunny, just for us, right?”

“Just for you,” You repeated tiredly.

Seonghwa let out a desperate cry himself, fucking your ass as his climax tore through him. He unloaded into you too, and you whimpered at how fucking dirty this entire endeavor was. But it felt so fucking good, you didn’t have any regrets.

But the original question still floated in your mind: who would you choose after this?

"I chose you both," You said with a hoarse voice, sounding barely alive.

"Sorry, Hops, I can't hear you with my cum leaking out of your tiny hole, you wanna repeat that?" San muttered, his head still against your shoulder, words muffled but still just as mean.

"I choose you both!" You shout with a rough voice. "I can't pick. I want you both."

You bounce against Seonghwa's chest as he laughed behind you. "Bet you didn't see that coming, huh, San?"

"I hate you, Seonghwa," San grumbled. He raised his head and kissed your quaking nose. "Fine, Hops. You get to have the both of us."

"Just like that?" You wondered.

"Well, hardly," Seonghwa corrected you. "Your body is ours now. Don't you know how dragons are with treasure? We're greedy sonsabitches. Once you're a part of our hoard, you never leave."

"What he means is, your sweet little body is ours now, Hops. To do with what we want, when we want. And you know the best part?" San leaned forward to push aside your hair so he could directly speak into your flickering ear. "There's more of us."

This time it's Seonghwa's turn to finally narrow his eyes at San. "Really, you're going to bring the rest of them into this?"

San shrugged. "You started it."

"I'll end it, you hatchling," Seonghwa threatened.

San stuck his tongue out childishly at Seonghwa and you giggled when the purple hybrid called the black dragon Grandpa.

ღNext Chapter

Tagging: @hijirikaww @toxicccred @starillusion13 @flurrys-creativity @stardragongalaxy @a-soft-hornytiny

[total-drama-brainrot]

Total Drama Psycho Noah AU, after the 'London Adventure' and the truth being revealed, Chris then decides to make this a reward challenge... The reward is that EVERYONE gets to be in First Class, with NOAH... Chris and Noah are curious to see, who will be brave enough to actually enter First Class, after learning about Noah's insanity... How would Courtney + Gwen + Duncan reacts to seeing the video of Noah's insane side showing? 😈 Would Alejandro and Noah still be friends? 😈

Listen, as much as this idea is so fucking funny to me, I really don't think it'd work from a storytelling perspective.

Though (not to push any agendas here, but-) if Chris were to hypothetically have the remaining contestants go against Noah in an enclosed space, in a sort of predator-vs-prey scenario, it'd probably play out something like The Beast chapter in Slay The Princess... without the "eating them alive" aspect, of course.

(Heavy Content Warning for that link, by the way. There's a lot of violence/gore/body horror, among other stuff, by virtue of it being a horror game.)

Maybe he'd lock everyone in the First Class cabin and turn off all of the room's electronics, so the only source of light in the cabin would be the wavering moonlight from whatever tiny windows are dotted around. Noah would use the cover of darkness to his advantage and toy with his competitors in a similar vein to how the Ripper had in their challenge that day, darting silently through the shadows to 'capture' his castmates, picking them off one by one.

It'd be a fun game of cat-and-mouse for Noah. For the others? It'd be a living nightmare. They wouldn't have the luxury of knowing that Noah wouldn't really hurt them, and the bloodlust they'd seen on that screen would be terrifying to watch but downright petrifying to experience first hand. They would be genuinely fearing for their lives, in a way that Chris hadn't been able to prompt since the early days of Island, and the host would love it.

Not that he would do that. And not that Noah would actually attack anyone either. (Without reason to, of course.)

But you are right about one thing; if this AU were to become a fully-fledged story, the London challenge would have to be a reward, just to keep Noah in the competition. Because he literally snapped Zeke's arms like chopsticks- his team would vote him out in a heartbeat just by virtue of him being so dangerous.

Which means the whole of Team Chris (plus Duncan) would be sharing a poorly-lit, structurally unsound cabin with someone they're terrified of.

...Owen notwithstanding, since Owen's a sweetheart and he knows Noah.

But the others would be immediately on guard around him. Noah, knowing there's no reason to keep up his ruse of sarcastic apathy, would probably relish in their fear- he enjoys tormenting people, after all, especially when that torment is purely psychological. So he'd carry on playing the 'unhinged, bloodthirsty sociopath' just to watch the others squirm.

He'd probably make a huge show of still having the Ripper's knife, tucked safely in the sleeve of his white undershirt, and comment that he and Duncan could be 'knife buddies' or something. If only to see how the punk's pierced face would drain of all colour at the prospect of Noah having a sharp object. (Duncan would absently rub at the puncture scars on his hand, to Noah's delight.)

But it'd eventually get boring, I imagine, so Noah would do something to reassure his teammates that he's not some ethics-devoid monster hellbent on destruction. Because having your teammates be in a state of constant paranoia around you would get annoying after a while, and it'd impact their performance in the competition (which Noah isn't really all that concerned with, but Owen is, so Noah doesn't want to do anything to jeopardise their chances of winning challenges).

So he'd drop the exaggeration of his more violent traits, and intentionally show off the unharmful aspects of himself- namely by koala-clinging to Owen and acting 'normally' like they'd done before the London challenge, and/or by approaching Tyler to ask how he was feeling after being stretched on the rack and sheepishly apologise for leaving him behind (showing empathy and remorse, to humanise himself n front of his teammates).

He's insane, not heartless.

As for Alejandro...? I have no idea. Would he even want to risk approaching Noah to find out if their shared comradery was all a ruse? Would whatever tentative trust he had in Noah be completely shattered by the reveal? Or would he be so engulfed by his need to win the competition that he only views this new development as a boon, since now Noah can be more of a physical asset for their team?

It'd probably be a mix of all of these. Alejandro would be left off-footed by the reveal of p!Noah's 'true self' (however much of his 'true self' he's willing to show to others) but I imagine he'd be quick to ally himself with the guy who can break bones like they're chalk and deceive a whole cast of people for two and a half seasons, regardless of any personal misgivings.

[xxnomadsxx]

okay, we know how Branch found the feral things and started a grey troll village in your nomads au. And how Creek ended up in the village. BUT, how did the rest of the occupants come to be? Did they willing leave their kingdoms? Were they abandoned? Did they get lost and lose hope of anyone ever coming for them before they met the feral creatures and the others? I really wanna know some backstories.

Oooooo-This is a tough one.

Everyone in the village has there own story for why there their. These are a few examples I thought up of how they got there.

Pop: There are very few Pop trolls in the grey village (mostly due to their toxic positivity of always looking on the bright side for normal Pop trolls ) they basically were separated from the main tribe and didn’t find the putt putt trolls on there way out when escaping. Soon they lost all hope of finding the tribe and went to live in the wood (it went reeeeaaallly bad) a few were eaten and the rest went grey, they were kinda just wandering around for a few years till the (very few) nomads and feral (trolls?) showed up. They were taken in and found Branch there too. The grey pop trolls also were told were the village was but they didn’t go back because they were too ashamed about being grey.

Funk: There is a group of funk trolls in the village who all came in at the same time. They were researchers who were left behind by vibe city and had no hope of getting back to the always moving ship, so they went grey and were later found by a small hunting team and Branch while trying to create some traps to keep them safe (there are more funk trolls I’m just showing off random examples of how trolls got here)

Classical: There are a few classical trolls who can’t fly in the village due to wing injuries. The injuries go from difficult to stay in the air, to broken beyond repair, and looking at how there body is shaped (they have the bodies of LITERAL babies can they walk?) I don’t think it’s easy for them to get around since symphony vill is probably mostly made to fly around. It got too difficult for them and just left going grey in the process. 

Techno: There once was a dead techno troll who had some troll eggs with them beached on a nearby river to the village, they took in the techno eggs (The eggs HAVE to look like fish eggs right.. RIGHT?!) the trolling when they hatched just sorta knew there mother was gone and were born grey. they grew up in the village which didn’t…really help them get better and just sorta caused them more issues.(there have been a few lost techno trolls who had damaged fins to the point of not even being able to go back)

Rock: A lot more rock trolls live in the village then the other genres, mostly cause of their more feral and aggressive personalities (they look like biters) so some just had bad experiences in there lives that it just became too much and they just ended up Leaving volcano rock city. There is a rock troll who can’t hear in the village, and due to his deafness he felt like a freak to troll kind since he couldn’t even listen to music (which is kinda a big deal) he left and turned grey wandering the woods until he was found by some feral(trolls?) who have done the same routine of taking in grey trolls a lot at that point.

Country: There aren’t to many country (I feel like it would be harder for them to turn grey since they show how sad it can get in Lonesome flats) but the some who do show up have tons of kids, a while back a couple of country trolls were deemed criminals for liking another genre of music and playing it too loud, to which they were promptly kicked out of town, who later turned grey from getting forced to leave there only home. They were found fighting predators by a hunting team. (this was way before world tour so a lot less tolerance for other music)

Subgenres: There are some subgenre groups running around, like indie trolls, steam punk trolls, some grunge too (and many more) they usually are abandoned or just turn grey from living a isolated lonely life or some other reason like family was killed or taken by huge predators or what not.

Honestly most of them stay grey or go darker in color because they live in the village. It isn’t really going out of its way to help them get their color back but is really just a home for them. Growing up there influences many of the kids born there to turn grey or go grey later in their lives.

There are many other reasons why any of the trolls would be here these are just random scenariosthat I thought up to show as examples

[silverwolf-108]

Yandere Ghost x Fem!Reader x Yandere König

Two Predators and One Prey Pt.2

Summary: Your stuck with the predators for a month and your carrying their children. You manage to break free from them and finally had freedom. About few years later, you and your kids are having a normal life, but the normal life is taken away from you.

Warning: Violence, obsessive behavior, blood, kidnapping

You stare through the window watching the snowflakes come down. You place your hands on your swollen belly, yes, your carrying the predators children. You can’t let your children see you be captivated by them.

You sigh heavily rubbing your swollen belly ‘Don’t worry my kids, mommy will get us out.’ You pull out your phone from your pocket make a quick text. You look at the window and see Ghost and König are almost coming from their duty to find woods for the fire place.

You hurry to your and the predators share bedroom. You slip your phone into the pillow, grab the book from the nightstand and pretend to read. You look over from your book meeting them standing of the open door.

You put the book on the nightstand then open your arms wide letting them to cuddle you. König sat on your right side and Ghost sat on your left side placing their hands on your swollen belly.

“I’ll go cook dinner.” Ghost left the bedroom heading to the kitchen. You hid the smirk knowing what he’s gonna do. Yesterday you found sleeping powder you found in the hidden book shelf, when two of them aren’t home you put a little sprinkle of sleeping powder in all ingredients so they cook then eat then go to sleep. That is your plan to escape from them.

All of you sat on the kitchen, you told them your not hungry because you had a snack from pregnancy craving and you couldn’t help it. They understood and Ghost wrap your plate leaving it on the counter.

——————————-

You sat up on the bed watching them sleeping between you, you took a deep breath held your hands and slap their faces. They didn’t wake up. You cheer from the inside slowly get off from the bed, you grab the duffel bag from under the bed swung it on your side and head to the front.

You deactivate the security from the keypad using your hacking skills and head outside. You meet a man waiting for you outside, he wave his hand at you from inside his truck. You hurry in and drove off. “Thank you so much Mike.” The man nod his head.

“No problem, glad your alright. Can’t believe those punks keep you inside the cage.” You sigh heavily “Yeah, glad they didn’t notice I had a friend who always got my back.” You and Mike are friends, well secret friends because both of you work together and your captors didn’t notice. After you got captured by them, you wait for the time and now here you are. Your freedom.

“So… where I do take you? Somewhere safe from them.” Mike ask. You look through the car window watching the stars from the sky and said in monotone “Take me to the airport… I’m going to live in France so I can be far away from them. And call my parents and explain everything please.” Mike nod his head.

—————————

3 Years Later

“Mommy! Look! We got you flowers!” You look away from the book your reading and see your young twins held flowers in front of you. You smile at them “They’re so beautiful, I’ll treasure them.” You grab the flowers and they smile at you heading downstairs to hang out your parents.

You sigh softly that it had been few years after escaping from your predators. Your parents stay with you in Paris after they got a call from Mike. They’re both happy and shock seeing you back in the airport. So they made their decision to stay with you in France after Mike explain everything about you. Now you never see those soldiers ever again.

You place the flowers on the table heading downstairs to meet your parents are cooking for dinner and your kids are helping them. Your mother notice you “Hey sweetie! Dinner almost ready.” You smile at her and join in to help them.

All of you begin eating while having a conversation. After that you tuck your kids to bed and help your parents to clean dishes. You head to your bedroom and your parents head to guest room. You check on your kids before heading to bed and see them sleep peacefully. You smile at them and head to your bedroom to get some sleep.

——————————-

You jump in surprise hearing two pair of footsteps from downstairs. You grab your silent gun and dagger from your drawer and hurry downstairs. You heard the two voices coming from the kitchen. You lean on the wall slowly take a peek from behind the wall.

Your eyes widen in shock meeting two familiar man’s. It’s your predators. And front of them are your dead parents laying on the floor and their body’s are torn apart. You held your silent gun at Ghost that his back is facing you and shot him on the shoulder. You hurry from your hiding spot and hide behind the couch.

You heard Ghost groan from the shot and hear König voice. “Mein Leibe, come out, there’s nowhere to hide.” His tone sound dark and it made your spine shiver hearing his tone. You peek behind the couch and you don’t see him.

Suddenly the couch was push forward and you were grab from behind. You look over meeting König held your shirt from behind and glare at you. Ghost came out from the kitchen and see his shoulder is patch up.

You swung your dagger at König face but he grab it and throw it away. You held the gun in front of his face but Ghost grab your wrist squeezing it causing you to let go the gun.

“How?… how did you punks found me?” You growl. “We had our ways, now your coming with us. But first… where our kids?” Ghost growl. You were to say something but you heard childish voice.

“Mommy… what’s going on? Who are those guys?” Your son, Jason. “What’s going on mommy?” Your daughter, Saline. They both yawn and look at Ghost and König.

Ghost walk toward them slipping his mask up to reveal his face in front of the kids. “Don’t you dare touch them.” Ghost scoff from your words. He knees down front of them “Hey kids, I’m your father.” They titled their heads confused.

“Your our father? But mommy told us you and that man who is our second daddy are in war and died.” Jason tell him. König place you down and quickly held you in bridal style holding you tightly from escaping. He walk toward the kids “Well your mommy kept it a secret. The reason your mommy lied to you is that she want to surprise you once the time has come.” He lied.

“Is that right darling?” He glare at you. You shiver from his glare and look at your kids “Y-Yes! It’s suppose to be a surprise for your guys birthday and it seems the surprise came early. You see their boss call me and told me they’re alive so they be home on your birthday.” The twins look at you and their fathers.

“So… it’s suppose to be a surprise for our birthday and they came early?” You nodded at them. They widen their eyes and in their eyes sparkle. “Daddy’s!!!” They jump into Ghost arms.

Ghost put them down and grab you in his arms from König letting him hug them next. “You think you escape from us? Your going nowhere. You and the kids are staying with us.” Ghost whisper to your ear. Your body started to shake as fear came into you.

“Alright kids, listen we’re going some place to live.” König tell them. “Really? Let’s go wake up grandma and grandpa.” “Don’t worry, I already greet them and told them about you two and mommy that we’re staying in America. Now let’s get your stuff.” He head upstairs with them.

“Please… let me go and my kids.” You whimper “You mean our kids. And your friend Mike, we found out about him and kill him so he won’t save you now.” Ghost scoff. He captured your lips in his ignoring your whimper. “Ghost! We’re done.” He broke the kiss away look over the stairs see König and the kids coming downstairs and in his hands hold the twins backpacks.

All of you head outside and went into the truck that park front of your house. You sat on the middle seat from the back and the kids sleep on your both sides laying their heads on your thighs. You look at the soldier sitting on the front seat as the truck drove off.

You sigh in defeat that your freedom is defeat and gone. Now your stuck with them along with your kids. “Y/n, once we go to our new home, your going to have a bad punishment.” Both of them said in dark tone and it’s making you scared. Now your living your worst nightmare with them.

[goldenponcho]

Dr. Roxanna Gorman

This turned out more detailed than I thought it would. Here’s a preview of my Outlast Trials Prime OC coming in the next chapter of Milkbones, taking place in 1999 when Murkoff reopens Sinyala, waking the assets from cryogenic stasis where they’ve been stored for further use, and making Roxanna their new addition.

Rox is a 33 year old animal lab tech, who after taking a new job released all of the predators in their collection upon the other scientists after learning of the cruel experiments they were performing. She went on to instead experiment on humans, targeting those who expressed noticeable apathy toward nature and the environment in general. She will often eat the remains when her experiments are complete or cannot resume further. She is also a HUGE music lover of all kinds, but especially metal and punk.

Murkoff was already keeping an eye on her by her late teens, but after the lab incident, they made attempts to admit her to a new facility. Her mother did a lot to keep her daughter safe even after her tendencies came to light, but after her death, Roxanna was hunted down and captured. Five years into her stay, she was subject to the current model of the morphogenic engine, when she experienced a long phantom pregnancy as women always end up doing. Soon after, she ended up carving her teeth and nails (which had grown think and hard after the engine) into points, making sure she had the best defense possible in this place. She was then used as a Guinea pig to test out a couple of sensory enhancing devices, which greatly enhanced her hearing and sense of smell.

Her code name given by Murkoff is “Beethoven” both after the composer and after the Saint Bernard from the movies.

She has a complicated outlook on the other Assets. For example, she absolutely DESPISES Leland Coyle, pissing him off any time she can, but she also really enjoys spending time around him because she can’t help finding him genuinely funny and a good time. She’s a big fan of Mother Gooseberry, and she’s honestly fascinated by Franco, both disturbed but also…CURIOUS about his proclivities.

[starlitgroves]

more syscourse cause im mad feel free to skip

im not gonna tag this or mention anyone specifically because i dont want to be fucking attacked but our largely inflated sense of justice is going GRGRGRGGR so i need to make my point a bit here so im sure weve all seen the pluralpunk system punk argument currently going on, at this point i was about to go yay !! new tag so people will stop bitching and leave each other alone !!! but noooooo someone went and made a flag going grgr i hate anti endos heres a flag with a dead animal in the mouth of its predator. which, weird in the first place to make that, why are you so pressed its a tag on tumblr pls go touch grass, but depicting a prey animal DEAD on a flag 'reclaiming a term from the evil stupid antis' is?? did you not connect the dots??? that people would interpret it this way???? like if its reallyyy about the field of psychiatry as a whole sure whatever, but don't get mad at people for missing your symbolism when the thing youre symbolising had nothing to do with the conversation.

and THEN theres the people attacking the person who pointed this out are?? are they ok??? like, idk abotu yall but they probably just opened the syspunk tag, saw that bullshit, blocked, then went 'hey guys thats really weird' on their own account, they most likely !!! did not go snooping on that persons account first to see if that person has a cdd or not before blocking because !!! thats kinda weird !!! same thread for the people who are going 'I HAVE A FUCKKING CDD BITCH YOU FCUCKING BITCH WE HATE YOU ANTI ENDOS ARE EVIL YOURE VICTIMISING YOURSELF BECAUSE ME AND THIS OTHER RANDOM GUY AND THE CREATOR OF THE FLAG HAVE CDDS' compared to the people i have personally seen saying 'chains + predator + its dead prey + creator aggressively hating a group of people = people in that group thinking it was targeted' girl.... nobody cares if you have a cdd or not you're just mean, youre just yelling at abused kids, idc if you were also or are also an abused kid, having a shit life does not make you unable to make someone elses life shittier also even the creators response if awful,, like 'idc if you feel unsafe by the possible insinuation that people are going to hurt you' ??? weird which brings me to YET ANOTHER POINT because no im not done i could talk about how stupid some people are forever the extremely negative generalisations (which are on both side, but i'm specifically referencing the response from the flag maker, specifically specifically "tbh If it made anti endos feel unsafe..I kinda don’t care lol anti endos never made anyone feel safe" do you now see how cynical that is?? why do i feel like i have to beg people to treat each other with like a smidge of humanity, like are you reading this?? you dont care if you make other human beings feel unsafe like thats not even really my point but i have to keep coming back to that bit there but like actually my point is, stop talking to each other, i'm being so fr, youre like evil siblings that need their own corner but get jealous then ruin it then argue then need their own corner and the cycle just repeats, use the tag filters, use tags properly, if you dont like a post, block the user, i thought this was basic internet knowledge and btw !! this is coming from someone who is technically anti endo, but you know what !! i interact with endos and other system types on discord servers and stuff because it is (and let me say it real loud for the people who have their head in the ground) A PUBLIC SPACE. if you dont want to interact with an individual so bad, it is your job to facilitate that, but guess what !! theres always going to be overlap because not everyone can control everything, so everyones best bet is to just shut your mouth, please i am begging shut your mouth, if you happen to come across one another accidentally and it comes up, just say smth like "i know we wont agree on this topic, so lets not talk about it" because lets be so fr, there are bigger issues, which i know sounds very hypercritical of someone who has spent the last however long typing this out but whatever, because its the internet nobody will care by tomorrow, just treat each other like people

[whiskeysmulti]

♡ for a drabble about what made my muse realize they’re in love with yours ((OOC: I'm a nosey lil bean, and I think it would be fun. How about a Hibari and Gokudera? ))

ship headcanons- no longer accepting!

Word count- 815 Verse: TYL Ship: 1859

Have you ever felt you were chasing an impossible dream? Something ethereal and just slightly out of reach, so close you can taste it yet you open your eyes and it was all just a fantasy. That one person you know is forever out of your reach, and you wouldn't dare to ever develop feelings for them. Yet, for the first time in your life, they're the first person you found solace in, the first one who actually made you feel safe.

This had to be just a dream, Gokudera told himself. Sure Hibari was attractive, sure he was strong, sure he was… more than a street punk like Gokudera could hope to obtain.

Was that all there was to this? Just sexual desires and pining, that was the basis of a relationship psychologically, wasn't it? But logic and psychology were useless when it came to affairs of the heart. But there was that question, what exactly was his heart feeling?

He'd been cornered before by the hungry skylark, his heart pounding like a trapped animal as the older male grew closer and closer. Was it from fear? Was it desire? Perhaps a bit of both. No other man had enticed Gokudera as much as Hibari had. That one unobtainable person who drifted along and did as he pleased, what a dream to be that carefree. His presence alone could strike fear into any enemy, and bring comfort to those in need in mere seconds.

Perhaps comfort was all Gokudera was seeking? There was no way this was love. The thought of bedding him was a prevalent ideal dream Gokudera wouldn't dare breathe out loud in front of the others. Infatuation at best, he'd keep it to himself.

However, as they grew older and more aware of their feelings, boys often do stupid things, and Gokudera was no exception. The more time he actually spent with Hibari, the more he realized, perhaps the aloof Cloud wasn't as unobtainable as he seemed.

An elegant party years down the line, the two having been through mission after mission together, Gokudera started to see Hibari in a bit of a different light. It wasn't alcohol making him think this, he'd been sober the whole night in case anything started, he wanted to be in top form should he have to protect the Tenth, that was the Right Hand's duty after all. Yet once again, his eyes drifted to Hibari, chatting with a few of the ladies as ever as a gentleman as always, Hibari seemed to always draw his own crowd too, men and women alike and something in Gokudera told him he didn't have a chance.

A single shot of whiskey downed to break his sobriety and an overwhelming presence behind him, Gokudera turned when the lightest, gentlest tap hit his shoulder, and there in a perfectly pressed suit and dark purple dress shirt, stood the smirking son of a bitch that had been on his mind the entire night.

This wasn't an invitation to a slow dance, this wasn't a business affair, this was something a little more personal. "Outside, now." Straight to the point as always, Gokudera thought as he followed Hibari to the balcony and stepped over to lean against it and look at the stars.

"What did ya want?" Yankee habits die hard, Gokudera lit a cigarette and hoped this wasn't a confrontation.

"Something you need to talk about, Gokudera Hayato?" Busted. Hibari had also been watching him and caught a few of those side glances. Plucking the cigarette from Gokudera, Hibari tossed it off the balcony and stepped closer, as if cornering his prey. "You've been watching me all night. If there's something you want, then say it." A delicate finger grazed down the pianist's cheek and slowly, Hibari moved his thumb over Gokudera's lips. "Hmm? I'm waiting."

"It's nothing." Leave it to Gokudera to take a vow of silence when his feelings were brought up. Who could blame him? He was face to face with a blood thirsty predator and backed against a balcony like he was the prey this time.

The diabolical bastard inside Hibari was laughing at how good Gokudera looked face to face and too shy to look him in the eyes. "Maybe, one day when you're ready, we can make it something." Hibari teased and leaned in kissing Gokudera. Perhaps that was enough of a sign for him that he was interested, it was okay to pursue something with him in the future. Impossible dreams are sometimes within your grasp if you're willing to reach for it.

The cigarette had long since dropped from Gokudera's mouth, yet his lips were still burning. His heart was racing and he needed a cold shower, he needed some sort of wake up call to tell him if this was just a dream or not, if not, perhaps a relationship with Hibari was something worth chasing.

[istadris]

That plotbunny is way too good! I’m such a sucker for metamorphosis and feral behaviour, I just can’t help myself.

It’s hilarious that Luigi, known for being demure and sweet, is quite the vicious predator once the right circumstances arise. Foxes are focused on family units and territory, and are known to actively defend their territories from other red foxes. Territorial disputes are usually settled by aggressive displays, chasing, and general harassment. Mario finding a guilty pleasure in dumpster diving is either the raccoon instincts or just Mario being Mario- no one really knows.

Whilst Luigi is desperately trying to keep Junior safe from harm and away from street punks and muggers, any passerby would think that this poor child is being attacked/harassed by a fox (and animal control should be called immediately!) Somewhere else in Brooklyn some crazy red-head rocker is screaming at a raccoon while trying to calm a quite fancy looking cat trying to scratch out his eyeballs.

(Referring to this post )

Oh yes, Luigi becomes a feral little screaming furball! The problem is, even at it's most intimidating, a fox is still a little thing and Luigi isn't the most intimidating person to begin with. So people tend to laugh at him...until he jumps and bites their balls off. He's so stressed the whole time, he deserves to go a little feral, as a treat.

At some point someone calls animal control and they manage to grab Luigi, which makes Junior laugh a lot...until the humans start talking down to him and ask him nosy questions like "where are your parents ? Do you need help getting home? Did the mean fox bite you ? Can you show us where ?"

"Hey, where are you taking him?"

"Don't worry, that nasty fox won't hurt you anymore"

Junior then panics because as much as Luigo annoys him, he's his only point of familiarity and safety in this crazy human world, and so he throws a tantrum, manages to get Luigi back and run, and now animal control are looking for a homeless kid that just stole a rabid fox.

Mario claims it's the raccoon instinct that made him rummage through a trash can for a week old pizza pie. No one can tell how much he is honest about it (and given how much Peach wants to rub her cheeks against everything to stake her territory, including on Bowser, she's not going to argue).

But aside from the trash panda tendencies, he's actually a huge help to Bowser and Peach, giving them tips and keeping them from dying in the most stupid ways several times over.

"Whaddaya mean we can't just jump up that building? Aren't there any blocks with healing mushrooms around here ? Hey, what's this guy with a hood waving around ? A "gum"? He looks wimpy, lemme take care of that"

Bowser actually befriends a bunch of punks who think this big guy who managed to flip an entire police car is the coolest dude ever, and they go gaga over his pets (Mario managed to convince Peach to act in the cutest way she could). He's looking for his kid ? No problem, they'll keep an eye out!

[idlenight]

I have to admit that I don't know all your sidesteps. That needs to be changed. :) 1, 9 and 24 for Clementine and Rain?

1 - what is their secret identity? do they have any nicknames? what is the meaning behind them?

Clementine Price is what she called herself after her first escape. She likes the color orange, and I have no specific reason for her last name other than it sounded good with Clementine. Most call her 'Clem', Ricardo calls her 'Knuckles' because she solves her problem with her fists (she calls him Sparkles).

Rain Becker isn't much of a sidestep i'll be honest, she has become more of an oc than an mc. Rain to mirror River's water based name, Becker for the same reason.

Originally Rain was another re-gene that was essentially just a genetic-twin of River, now she has evolved into being one of Hollow Grounds siblings. The last name might change depending on what we'll get to know later.

9 - how honest are they?

Clementine is honest in a brutal way. She doesn't pull any punches in any sort of combat, including a fight of words. (and she does see everything as a fight, everything is a fight for survival). She only lies by omission, and only to keep herself safe.

Rain is a professional liar, you kind of have to be growing up in the bad part of Los Diablos (most of the city is the bad part tbf). At this point it's not even on purpose, so many tiny lies slip out when she's not even actively trying to lie. It's hard to keep up with sometimes.

24 - how do they typically come across to strangers? to friends? do they frequently use their telepathy to influence others’ perceptions of them?

Clementine comes across as a threatening punk, brash, rude. Her friends see the walls for what they are, a carapache to keep the oh so soft insides safe from predators. Clementine does not use her telepathy to influence perception, they can think what they want. It would be ideal if she couldn't hear what they were thinking though.

Rain comes across as well put together, polite, but maybe a bit... hoity toity? She definitely has this air of superiority to her. It's not fully true of course, Rain wears mask upon mask upon mask. What her friends see is not consistent either, she will be a different person with different people. Who is she when all the masks have been pulled away? Rain doesn't know, she's scared to find out.

Rain also has some kind of telepathy boost, though i haven't figured out what kind yet. If I settle on something that allows altering perceptions, she would do so in a heartbeat.

Thank you for the asks for my less vocal Steps, Wonda!

For those interested, the questions are from the Sidestep ask game!

[letsmakepoppunkgreatagain]

I know you are just a pop punk blog but I've seen you reblog posts from @anacondavice in the past and you should know that the guy is a predator. He's harassed women and abused at least 6 that have come forward. He's been called out by @strawberryxslut and @captainamericanidi0t in posts with evidence.

As a blog that supports the pop punk community please block this scumbag or help to make vulnerable women aware of his abuse. We don't need this in the community. Thank you

Hi, everything went down on my birthday and I was inactive for a few days because I was extremely busy with work.

(Everything posted was on queue)

I did see the messages on my personal account when I came back on two days later on the 15th and posted it to this blog as well because I used to reblog him a lot here.

I will go ahead and post the screen shot again here to boost and pin the original post so you all can read.

Also, I am very grateful to everyone who reached out to me on both my accounts to let me know of what was going on. We need to keep this community safe.

Thank you all.

[furious-rogue-stuff]

A Feral Interlude, Chapter 2: Ravaging Intrigue

Pairing: Victor Creed x Isabela Montecristo | Sabertooth x Vipress

Disclaimer: This series will have canon-accurate and heightened levels of violence, adult themes, slight dub-con/non-con overtones and undertones, descriptions of bloody gore and sadism, and graphic descriptions of sex. *Post-Origins movieverse.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word count: 12,000+

Series Summary: Victor Creed's reputation as the Sabertooth proceeds him. He clashes with a mysterious feral woman, an enigma and anomaly to everything he knows. What began as a hunt becomes a dance between like-minded predators.

🚨Warning: Violence, gore, language, mentions of rape, and some feral power play. I do not own any aspect or character of the Marvel Universe nor elements of the X-Men Origins movieverse.

A Feral Interlude Masterlist

A Feral Interlude, Chapter 2: Ravaging Intrigue

"—you're telling me your dumb shit of a son swiped one of the most advance pieces of technology to date right out of your safe because he wanted you to sign over his trust fund?!" the former colonel bellowed at the disgraced DIA Director slumped in the steel chair across from him.

Reginald DeLaughter curtly nodded, averting his eyes away from the CIA agent who had far too much seniority for his tastes.

"Tell me, Delaughter, can you even fathom just how much shit you've caused because of your inability to: a) Keep your con artist punk of a son in check and b) Safeguard not only one of the most advanced tele-computers, but the batch of top-secret digital documents involving agencies that not even the executive branch knows about?!" the agent rounded the table and gave the man an implacable stare from his one good eye with a scowl.

"I'll have your goddamned badge!" DeLaughter jumped to his feet and inched towards the agent. "My fucking son is dead; didn't know what the fuck he was taking, let alone that he would get killed over it!"

Without flinching, the agent shoved him back into his chair and loomed in his face as he seethed, "That's the problem. Everything on that portable machine you had tossed into a safe instead of secure at the Defense Department like it should've been has hundreds of files," he paused and fixed the man with a cold glare, "each of which involves matters of national security that were compiled through hundreds of missions and contacts. Men and women have died to scrap together this intel, and under your watch, someone now has said information for sale to the highest fucking bid. Do you have any fucking idea how many angles the U.S. can get screwed in because of you?!"

When the man yet again looked away, the agent hauled him up and slammed him against the cement wall. "If it were up to me, an asshole like you would be court marshaled and tossed into a detention cell to rot like any other terrorist bottom feeder," he spoke contumely, adding, "but you're the FBI's problem now. You have a future of obscurity to fall into now, and if anything happens to this country, you shall be judged."

Tossing the man back into the chair, the agent stalked out of the room and headed down to brief his squad. They were on the hunt now for the retrieval of as much of the lost intel they could piece together. The hope was to avert any leaks as well as determine what target had the most to lose. He couldn't wrap his head around just how the spy knew about the computer, let alone about the asshole's son stealing it and running off to Vegas with it.

The world was a dark place outside of America. Nick could only imagine who wanted the information and what they intended to do with it. Most of those files had no backups. Going digital was supposed to be the ultimate safety precaution, but of course even that wasn't fail proof. It was damage control time.

With renewed fears brimming inside of him, he marched down and took the elevator down to the sub-levels of the Pentagon, ready to tackle the tyranny looming in the shadows.

                      _____________________________________

Her Chanel heels clicked mutely across the polished floors of the consulate's lobby as she crossed the stairs and headed for the bank of conference rooms that required three forms of ID to access. Showing her counterfeit credentials to the guard, she passed through security and headed down the long and opulently decorated hall for the conference suite.

Knocking on the door with the back of her knuckles, she waited until the door clicked automatically open and allowed her entrance.

"Mademoiselle Montecristo," the man with the thick French accent and Armani suit greeted as he rose from the lacquered table by the window, crossing the room to take her hand and kiss the back of it. "Thank you for being so prompt. Please," he gestured her into the room and pulled the chair out for her.

"I trust your superior has gained the information he needed from the machine, Monsieur Basset?" she spoke, getting right to business as she stared at the man across her through her tinted glasses.

Clearing his throat, the man reached for a folder and slid it towards her. "My employer would like to contract you for another venture," he announced as she flipped through the file, scanning the information. "We would pay you the same sum as before—"

"This is a counter-insurgency job. My quote is double the sum," she interrupted, gazing stoically at him while she drummed her red-painted talons over the picture of the target.

"Mademoiselle—I would have to confer with my employer…"

"If the French government wishes to eliminate targets cheaply, they have agents for that. I was told your employer wasn't directly affiliated with the regime," she countered smoothly, tucking a rogue strand of hair behind her ear.

"He is not. But this mission would involve more than eliminating the target. We need to find direct ties to him and Khomeini. It will help the French government, and ensure my employer's future ventures in Iran aren't jeopardized by any...extremism," he stated and sat back stiffly in his leather-backed chair.

Her camouflaged nails halted in their drumming as she stared keenly at the man. "Information isn't cheap; neither is assassination. When your employer agrees, you will wire the documents to the same bank as before along with a French bond to cover the deposit," she announced curtly, her eyes cool behind the amber-tinted frames that obscured the eerie russet ring around her pupils.

"Understood, mademoiselle," the man gulped and tried to remain composed under her predatory gaze.

Standing, she politely shook his hand and headed for the door, before a rogue thought made her pause. "Ah, monsieur. Did your employer dispose of the machine?" she turned and glanced at him over her shoulder.

"Oui…vendu sur le marché noir," he replied cautiously.

"Ah, bon," and with that, she exited the room and headed down to the crisp November air of the nation's capital. There was no question that she'd have the job by the end of the day, so she decided to dedicate the rest of the early afternoon to shopping in D.C.

She had completed the job from Vegas the week before and had received her fee, which had been wired to her account in the Cayman Islands. The only reason she had taken the job was to create distance as well as call the Frenchman's bluff. He had folded earlier than she'd expected, so she had been forced to cancel the espionage job at the last minute in order to head to Washington.

Tommy DeLaughter had been puddy in her hands. All it took were a few touches of rapture and he had adoringly broken into his father's safe and taken the portable computer out. He'd even written the blackmail letter under her alluring gaze, suggesting what to write in murmurs that forced him to cling to her every word. Once done, she'd taken him to Las Vegas like an overgrown puppy, keeping the rapture active with a few caresses before sending him to book the high roller's suite with his father's card while she went to the Stardust to crash the conference. She had calculated that his body wouldn't be found until the next morning, either by housekeeping or the FBI. She had been right, but she hadn't anticipated getting ensnared in an encounter, let alone one so…

Sighing, she brooded and stalked out of the car as soon as the chauffer pulled it open for her. Dismissing him for the rest of the day, she strode out and busied herself with idle shopping at all the designer boutiques, absently ignoring the chill while her mind continued to wander.

He'd caught her fancy. Even now, his check was tucked into her vintage Chanel purse—the urge to fish it out and inhale his musky scent an unruly impulse she managed to suppress. She figured he wouldn't make a move until he had sufficient background info on her, which she also figured was the reason that a week had gone by with no reprisal.

The Sabertooth is on the prowl…

She was sure he wouldn't find much, but she wasn't sure if she should take solace in that or not. Centuries of practice and the ravages of time were two of her advantages—ensuring little remained of her origins. If anything did remain, it wasn't anything sufficient enough to pose her great harm. Besides, Creed didn't even bother to learn her name, a funny thought to her now that she headed towards the bank. The man was a tempest, made up of keen brawn and cunning, but thinking ahead didn't seem to be one of his strong suits—or at least nothing he seemed to worry about. She assumed he wasn't accustomed to letting his prey survive an interlude with him, if they even stayed alive long enough through the encounter, that is. Being mindful of things like his prey's name was a frivolous expectation to have of him, which somehow added to his charms. His intelligence hidden under the rouse of brute indifference had made an impression on her; it was only a matter of time.

He'd most likely get as far as Berlin, which was really the only time she'd left a trail she couldn't account for. Thinking back on that time always brought to surface memories she didn't care for. Sometimes the images haunted her for hours before her mind found something else to anchor to. She'd submerge them, shoving them away into the muddy recesses of her mind until the next spark of light revealed them in the darkness. The biting wind roused her to the soft snowflakes that began to waft down from the graying sky.

She didn't know what his means were, but knew he was resourceful enough to get the answers he wanted one way or another. Anticipation hummed in her mind; being the mouse meant she wouldn't know when the cat was near until he pounced.

As she walked into the sprawling bank lobby out of the cold, she submerged her idle excitement and keyed in to find the delivery had been made. Smiling, she made arrangements for a courier to transport her things to the West coast before depositing some collateral into the state of the art vault. She was amused the Frenchman took her for an ignorant fool. Of course she didn't expect him to tell the truth, but selling a telecommunication innovation on the black market?

Whenever she wondered if she took too many precautions, arrogant bastards like the Frenchman always set her at ease. Well, most of the time they did.

Sighing to herself, she went back out into the cold afternoon—absolutely resolute on taking a vacation once this job was over so she could properly focus on being pursued.

                      _____________________________________

The pop of kindling blistering in the fireplace snapped Dan out of his doze, dropping the book from the crook of his arm to thud on the carpet. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stared out the window. Twilight had passed hours ago in the winter countryside his cozy cottage resided in. Grunting, he got up from the leather chair and picked up the book before stretching and popping his back.

Grumbling to himself, he shuffled lethargically into his study to return the book to its assigned slot among the thousands of other books that lined his walls from floor to ceiling. The light from the fireplace in the living room shone into his study before it was dimmed faintly by the shadow that emerged in the doorway.

"S'been a while, eh Danny-boy?"

"JESUS CHRIST!" Dan Dresner whirled at the voice and practically stumbled back over one of the stacks of books that littered the floor. The predatory chuckle sent a chill down his spine before his mind could recognize its owner. "C-Creed—W-What're you doing here?! Trying to give me a fucking heart attack?!" he stuttered, trying hard to lower his voice back to his gravelly tenor instead of the nasal octave it had risen to.

Smirking subtly, Victor prowled into the dimly lit room, fingers skimming idly along the book spines that lined the wall as he invaded the shorter man's space, not bothering to brush the melting snow off his coat shoulders. "Now is that anyway to greet a smiling old face from your past, Dan?" he mocked deviously, his cool blue eyes implacable while the smile expanded to flash his wicked canines. "I gotta say," he added as he glanced around the room with derisive intrigue, "not too shabby a place you got here. It ain't your style—being holed up so far out in the country."

Raking his fingers in his eye-length mop of dirty brown hair, Dan tried to smile at the man, but his lips only managed a twitch. "Trying to stay out of trouble. Easiest way to do that is to stay lost," he answered and glanced at his desk drawer, where his revolver was snugly hidden.

Victor followed his glance and sneered a grin. "You wouldn't even finish blinking, Dan, so don't be rude," he growled patronizingly and enjoyed the flinch that coursed through the tacto-empath. "I've come to call in a favor," he announced as he crossed over to the liquor cabinet nestled in the corner by his desk.

Dan watched as the feral helped himself to his bottle of scotch. "I didn't know I owed any favors," he muttered absently and immediately regretted it.

Victor's chuckle heralded his regret. "Oh I beg to differ. You could've ended up like every other fuck-stick associate of mine after the Island. Did you really think you got away alive without someone keeping you around for later?" he stated with a sinister edge as he regarded the man over the rim of the glass he took a long sip from.

"What do you want?" Dan queried, his throat tight with terror and looking like a much older Irish-blooded rogue as he realized what Victor was saying.

Finishing his drink, Victor helped himself to another and leaned against the edge of the desk. "I know you were Stryker's dutiful information source. I need you to get me background info on a…target of mine," he stated, the command irrefutable in his tone.

"I don't know what Stryker told you," he attempted, but paused when Victor's cold eyes hardened savagely. "I-I'd need access to databases that are long gone now. The closest thing would be getting access to Department H's resources, and we both know how shit out of luck that venture is," he stated his case in a quick rush, trying to abate his fear since he knew Creed fed off of it.

"What's this 'we' business?" Victor barked and plopped the empty glass down on the desk as he pushed off the edge to stalk towards Dan. The man backed up against the corner shelf, thumping against the books when Victor continued, "I don't care how the hell you get the information. It isn't my fucking problem, but if you're going to keep dicking around with me then it will be a problem—for you," he snarled, pointing his index claw into the man's chest so he could watch it lengthen dangerously to prick through his sweater. "Stryker isn't around to coddle you, Danny-boy, and trust me," he growled and inched closer to bare his teeth, "I'm not the coddling type."

Victor knew he wasn't lying, but he wasn't going to take any fucking excuse. Dan might've not been a direct teammate, but he wasn't a full labcoat. The man had joined the project under the niche of intelligence liaison, which afforded him direct access to the facility's resources and Stryker's protection. He figured staying behind the scenes was his smartest bet, so he only worked for and answered strictly to Stryker.

Unfortunately for Danny-boy, Victor knew why the mutant larcenist had joined the project, and it was strictly for self-preservation's sake. Stryker had kept him tucked in his pocket because he followed orders and never stepped out of line, as well as because he was a figurative fountain of knowledge; knowledge he gained through touch. Dan was a walking talking library of information fit for only his former superior's unscrupulous scheming. So, there was little clearance given to anyone but the colonel—that is until Victor started doing Stryker's insidious dirty work. He knew the extent of the man's mutation and had gotten the details of how he'd ended up mixed up with the former colonel, which was a similar circumstance to how Victor and Jimmy had joined the team.

"W-What's this target's name? Who do they work for?" Dan conceded and sputtered, his anxiety so strong that Victor wrinkled his nose at the scent.

Backing down the intimidation factor, Victor strode casually towards the desk and allowed the man to exhale his relief. "Montecristo. Dunno anything else about her; s'why I'm telling you to find out for me," he spoke, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he leaned against the desk. He watched the man's brows furrowed in bewilderment. "What?" he snapped, his mouth taking on a scowl.

"I thought you were done hunting other mutants, with the Island going down and all—"

"Who said I'm done hunting mutants, Dan? What do you think this will be if you don't do as you're told," Victor cut in, the blistering threat edged into his tone. "And who said she was a mutant?"

"I-I only mean—it isn't typical for you to be hunting down some broad, so I figured she had to be mutant is all," Dan stammered, edging towards the closest cluttered table for a stray pad and pen. "Montecristo…like the book?" he asked and glanced over at the massive feral dressed in black.

He grunted and raised a brow, cocking his head to eye the tacto-empath. "What book?" he asked gruffly.

"The Count of Monte Cristo. Famous novel by the same guy who wrote The Three Musketeers?" Dan offered and crouched down next to several piles of books stacked by the lamp he turned on. Fishing for a few moments, he found what he was looking for and stood. "The only time I've ever heard the name—Monte Cristo. It's an Italian islet; means "the mountain of Christ". It isn't a common last name, but there's a brand of Cuban cigars named Montecristo," he explained and handed Victor the heavy book.

Looking at the dusty cover and reading the engraved title, Victor grunted and tossed it onto the desk. "Do I care to know what it's about?" he asked with a cautionary grumble to his voice.

Tensely, Dan sat down on a footstool and shrugged. "Might give you a clue about who this chick is?" he tentatively remarked, and to Victor's noncommittal grunt, he continued, "The protagonist is a guy who gets royally screwed. Takes place throughout Europe in the early 19th century and Napoleon's exile from Paris is the background of the plot…" Dan highlights several important elements of the plot while Victor patiently listens, his expression unreadable but etched in the ferocity that characterizes him. "…Dantès becomes the Count of Monte Cristo and lures all the people who betrayed him into traps where they all meet their destructions, revealing his identity to them once his revenge upon them is completed. It's twisted and revenge-driven, with a few moral allegories in it, but the revenge is the strongest element in the book—!"

"What happens to Monte Cristo?" Victor interrupted, resting his hands along the edge of the desk.

Dan gulped at the sight of his wicked claws fanning out over the beaten wood, answering, "Dumas wrote it so we assume he and Haydée go off together, but the important part of the ending is that while revenge had fueled Dantès, he found peace once he recovered his humanity. As Monte Cristo, he had disconnected himself from humanity and given himself to revenge, but once he allowed himself to forgive he became Dantès again—recovering his humanity…it's all about realizing God's Providence and the importance of waiting and hoping that he'll intervene in the world; punishing the bad and rewarding the good," he paused when Victor's brow furrowed.

—What's the point of living like an animal to begin with? Her voice echoed in his mind, triggered by the juxtaposition of humanity and revenge Dan rambled on about. She'd been talking about taking what was willingly given and the uselessness of it—the pointlessness of taking if there hadn't been a struggle to live, and when taking pride in her struggling prey meant she was in control.

"I'll be checking in with you by the end of the week, so you better have more than a Lit. lecture for me when I do," Victor announced and pushed off the desk, stalking to the door.

"Creed wait!" Victor turned and glanced sharply at him over his shoulder. "I'm going to need more details than just her name. What she look like? Any scars? Or a picture?" the tacto-empath interrogated as cautiously as he could with the feral man eyeing him so harshly.

"If I had a picture don't you think I'd given it to you, jackass?" Victor berated, turning slightly to add, "She's a reptilian-based feral. Doesn't look like a lizard, but she has palm green eyes with a coppery ring around her pupils, retractable incisors and fangs that reminded me of an alligator's, and black talon-like nails that can tear into shit just as good as mine. Her skin shimmers different tones and she emits different types of pheromones she can only transfer through touch," he paused and remembered the shadow of a scar etched close to her womb. "She said she was older than me…dunno how much older. Also said her specialty was espionage, but she's skilled in killing," Victor added instead, figuring the scar wasn't prominent enough to turn up on the type of search the man would be undertaking.

Dan wrote everything down in a coded language only he could understand, which was just as fine since Victor expected the fucker to report verbatim for him. "I'll get right on this," the man murmured and stood, hoping Victor would leave like he came.

"You better. Don't make me regret keeping you alive this long, Danny-boy," he quipped sadistically and smirked, throwing a wave of departure over his shoulder as he walked out of the study.

Dan heard his footfalls course through the house before the door slammed shut. Slumping down to the footstool, he shivered, and not from the burst of cold air that had invaded his house from Victor's departure. He knew the fucking animal would be the death of him; sensed it without having to touch anyone to read the writing that was on the wall. As soon as Stryker started finalizing project Deadpool and word got around about James Logan going on a killing spree looking for Stryker and Creed, Dan had gotten the fuck off of the Island and headed north. Not too soon, considering he heard about the devastation on the news a few days later. He'd also heard most of the lab staff and all the test subjects had perished or vanished in the destruction, with a few rumors about Stryker, Logan, and Creed getting away floating around in the aftermath.

With Victor confirming as much, he knew he was fucked if he didn't comply with the brutal feral's demands. Dan knew there was nowhere to hide. Creed would track him down, probably enjoy torturing him to the edge of death before bringing him back and starting from scratch. Resigned to his fate, Dan prepared to revert back to his nefarious trade from before he was a mutant operative, except instead of identity theft and white-collar crime he would be invading for knowledge for the sake of his own well-being.

Shit…wouldn't dear ol' Ma be proud…

                      _____________________________________

"—when can I expect him to be eliminated?...Bon. See that the documents not get out until after he's dead. Has she asked again?...she isn't a fool Basset. See that l'information trickles to the right parties. It would be preferable if she be éliminé simultanément. Je veux qu'il ressemble à un mauvais allé par incursion…Oui, as soon as the news breaks and the deal is assured, come back to headquarters…Très bien. Maintenez-moi signalé," he hung up the rerouted line and headed away from the bank of pay phones, making his way out of the platform up to the surface of the sprawling train station. His chauffer was waiting at the curb for him, opening the door for him to slide into the back of the opulent Rolls-Royce. The swarthy Parisian businessman stared placidly out of the window, allowing his thoughts to untangle.

That fucking femme fatale thought she could get one over on him? It was laughable. Her smug ignorance would be her undoing.

Armand de Lioncourt was not a man to be trifled with.

He hadn't built his telecommunication empire because he was an imbécile. Like any other entrepreneur, he had paved his way on the backs of others, most of whom were ash under his Italian leather loafers—with their innovations becoming Armand's intellectual property. Nothing would stand in his way; not Khomeini, not the meddling U.S. government, and certainly not some mutant femme too arrogant for her own good. When his head technician told him the tele-computer showed signs of driver duplication, Armand had fumed, ordering the man to extract the information and proceed with his research. He couldn't afford having the woman possess delicate evidence of his criminality, especially when the computer had confidential intelligence of one of his Middle Eastern subsidiaries that would lead to a direct connection between him and Iran for the authorities to trace.

Everything was a delicate process. The theft, murder, and concealment of said dealings were of optimum importance. Basset new that, so when he told him the woman had asked about the computer, Armand knew it was a silent gloat; I have you in my pocket, Frenchman.

She had come highly recommended from a Russian cohort, attesting to her skills but unable to shed any light on her mutant prowess. Truth was, she was so good at what she did that no one lived to reveal just what her talents were. Those who did live never knew what happened to them. The rumor was, she had some form of hypnosis—ensnaring her victims so completely that they handed over information and even walked off balconies they were so utterly devoted. No one had any knowledge of her age or the level of her mutation. Hell, no one even knew where she'd emerged from; most background checks hit a wall at three decades ago, leaving many clients to speculate on just who or what the fierce woman was.

Regardless, as soon as she and Nagarajah were out of the picture, Armand could relax and focus on his future investitures in the fledgling global-telecommunication industry. The computer would be the crowning jewel of his empire, a victory he would flaunt in the world's face. With any luck, the raid would be so precisely messy that agencies would be pointing the finger at each other for months, allowing him to coax the right people into action and solidify the next phase of operations: gaining a foothold in the Middle East before the Americans did.

Smiling pleasantly at nothing in particular outside his window, Armand headed for his meeting in Paris' financial sector, assured that by the week's end he'd be known the world over as Armand de Lioncourt, and not just the Frenchman.

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He was going to unscrew Dan's head off his fucking shoulders. The fucker had ordered him to come down to this library, refusing to wait for Victor at his place out in the countryside. At first the nerve of it had astounded the ruthless feral, but the indignant fury that followed had made him hungry for mayhem. No one had talked to him like that. Not even that motherfucking bastard Stryker! He was still reeling from the bristling rage as he stalked through the massive public library, hunting the tacto-empath down through the tall and robust stacks and wings that reminded him of a dusty mildewed-smelling maze.

"Goddammit Creed, you're not going to harass me in my own fucking house! Either meet me at the library or do your worst. Nothing you could do scares me enough to fuck with these people!" Dan had seethed from a combination of trepidation and reckless bravado before hanging up on Victor.

He had called the Irish mutt to let him know he was coming so he'd have his wits about him and got an earful instead. But under the other mutant's mouthy audacity Victor had sensed his hysterical fear. It was that sharp scent that he was tracking now as he rounded a quiet cluster of stacks and study lounges that allowed for more isolated privacy from the rest of the tomb-like library.

Barging into a study room tucked into a poorly lit corner, Victor slammed the door behind him and narrowed his eyes at the man who jumped out of his chair and pressed up against the wall. He was clutching several notepads to his chest and staring at the larger mutant with terror, looking like a disheveled conspiracy nutcase.

"Who the fuck do you think you are," Victor seethed through his bared teeth and slowly advanced around the table towards him. "Did you think by making me come here that I wouldn't gut you and splash this whole fucking library with your entrails, you goddamned fuckwit!? You better start talking before I crack your fucking head open and see if you've really got a brain in there!" Victor hissed and cornered Dan who'd backed into the wall and stammered up at him.

"J-Jesus Creed calm down I-I didn't mean any fucking disrespect I just couldn't stay at my place—c'mon I'm scared shitless already just give me a fucking chance to explain before you go berserk on me!" Dan sputtered and held up his notes as he pleaded his case.

"You're tone's all fucking wrong, Danny-boy. Get it together before I pull you the fuck apart!" Victor snarled in the man's face and loomed imposingly over him.

"S-Sorry—I'm sorry," he inhaled shakily and lowered his gaze submissively. "This shit you got me looking into is really heavy, Creed. You didn't tell me this woman had so many strings attached to her," he babbled and inched away from Victor to grab a stack of papers strewn out over the table.

Raising an eyebrow, Victor watched him collect his notes and lay them out in some unique order that only he comprehended. "Start making sense, Dan. You're tap-dancing on my fucking last nerve!" he snapped and yanked a chair out to sit across from the skittish tacto-empath.

"Okay, okay," he murmured conciliatorily and pushed his hands through his hair before staring at Victor. "For days I couldn't find a goddamned thing on this broad. I ended up breaking into a government installation just west of here, and still the only intel I got on her was a blip in South America. Seems she was a rumored operative for Pinochet in '73, and since the U.S. had backed the military junta, they have a really flimsy file on her," Dan explained as he sifted through some files and found a page. "This is the only picture I've found," he slid the black and white snapshot towards Victor, who snatched it up and stared at it as Dan continued, "all they know is that she's strictly freelance and not affiliated to any regime or any special ops. She has absolutely no allegiances and that's what was on file…up until two days ago."

Glancing at Dan, Victor tossed the blurry picture of Montecristo entering a military-occupied headquarters into the mess of papers on the table. "Quit the suspense bullshit and get to the fucking point," he growled at Dan and fixed him with a glare.

Unflustered by Victor's impatience, Dan pressed on, "I heard through the covert grapevine that a tip came from D.C. naming this jackoff Malik Nagaraja as a co-conspirator of Ruhollah Khomeini, some theocratic extremist exiled from Tehran. Rumor is Nagaraja is orchestrating some sort of coup that will get Khomeini into power and royally fuck everyone else doing business in Iran. If these guys get their way, Iran will revert to conservative theocratic power. Khomeini and Nagaraja are working this from the outside; the first is in Paris and the other is here in the states. Nagaraja got put on the most wanted list at three government covert agencies and Khomeini is under surveillance by the French…but what's going under the radar is that a person of interest linked to Nagaraja is your target."

Victor's shoulders straightened at the last part. "What's the order?" he asked coolly.

"Order is to secure her and Nagaraja to be taken to some hush-hush unit in Washington. This is black ops shit. A special outfit put together to be under the command of an intermediary representing the three agencies. The brass has no idea how she's involved, but they know enough about her to go in with lots of gear. This is all top-secret, so you're probably wondering how I found out about all of this," Dan attempted with a tentative glance towards Victor.

"Oh, enlighten me," Victor grumbled humorlessly.

Leaning over the table as if to impart something sacred, Dan announced, "All of this is a smoke screen. The word is Washington's getting played big time and no one's the wiser because they're following the wrong trail. Some big shot in Europe set this all up to create a domino effect. Montecristo was hired by this guy to kill Nagaraja and get a smoking gun linking him to Khomeini, but for some reason he decided to throw her to the wolves too. Whatever the reason, he's setting it up for her and Nagaraja to get taken out by this black ops outfit. It's probably in order to deflect attention from something else, but there's a huge problem he didn't count on…"

"I swear to fucking Christ, Dan—!" Victor growled in exasperation before Dan continued.

"She can't be taken out," he cut in quickly. "The file I got on her is shit, but it helped me track down other leads," he explained as he pointed down at his coded notes. "She's been involved in half of the skirmishes throughout South and Central America in the last two decades. The junta's know of her, the guerrillas know her, and none of them fucks with her. She's worked both sides, depending on which suited her interests at the time, and she falls off the radar until something else comes up. Because of her vicious reputation, she earned the codename La Vibora," he paused when Victor seemed to perk up, if his gaze intensifying and his jaw clenching with intrigue could be called 'perking up', "it loosely translates to 'the Vipress'."

The image of her lips tightening and her expression smoothening after he called her viper the first time stood out to him and caused a wry smile to creep across his lips. Dan looked at him nervously. Victor snickered to himself. "It fits," was all he confided to the other man as he leaned back against his chair. "Beyond her busy work life, what else has the little viper been up to," he mused, pursing his lips wryly at the weary stare Dan gave him before he plopped down into his own chair.

"That's just it, Creed. There is no record of Montecristo before 1950. She's a ghost; hasn't ever left a trail, other than the few tidbits I scrapped together. This unit in D.C. is what I'm worried about; there's talk in the underground that they're organizing some bureau that'll round up mutants, nothing like what Stryker was doing," he paused as he tossed his scribbled pad onto the table. "It's all one big set up, though. They don't know about this other guy, and he thinks they're going to do him a favor. He's got some flunky setting it all up in D.C., which is how I found part of this stuff out. The guy—Basset—talked to a buddy of mine about getting help disappearing with a huge trunk of secrets, so to speak. Little does he know him and his boss will probably find themselves strung up by their heels and gutted like slaughtered pigs…which is supposedly one of Montecristo's calling cards. This chick is no joke—!"

"I want you to keep digging," Victor cut in, as irrefutable as before.

"Are you shitting me?" Dan balked at him. "After all the shit I just told you you're still going to go after her?"

"That's just the thing," he growled and crossed his arms, "you haven't told me much of anything, you dumb fuck! Just a bunch of hyperboles and spook-talk. It's only made me more curious. I want to know everything about her," since she's worked so hard to bury it all, "like for starters, what the fuck's her first name?"

Dan sat back in his chair and rubbed his temple. "I thought you didn't bother with such trivialities, especially when a broad's involved," he muttered bemusedly.

Glaring at the weary mutant, Victor rumbled snidely, "Have you ever been skull-fucked by a fist, Danny-boy?"

Stiffening with fear, he stammered, "N-No—!"

"Then this'll be your first time if you don't watch your fucking mouth," he snapped. "What the fuck is her name?"

Dan gulped before telling him flatly.

Victor repeated it to himself, as if testing it out while he recalled her in his mind's eye. Mental snapshots of her devouring that DeLaughter kid, lying sprawled out on her side before him—wrapped in his arms and pressed taut against him, her eyes hooded but preternaturally glowing up into his under the light. Her name as well as everything else Dan found fit her.

"The intel you get enough for a profile?" he inquired as he lazily cleaned under his claws with his car key before extending all five nails of his right hand up to the light.

He smelled the apprehension saturate Dan's scent as the man tentatively spoke, "She's suited to hostile environments with severely high temperatures. Probably has a voracious metabolic system, but is most likely a poikilotherm—which would force her to avoid certain frigid environments or seek a heat source, regardless of her fast metabolism. She probably has an abnormally high regenerative trait as well as an age suppression factor…that's about all I can think up—"

"I expected a helluva lot more than that," Victor snapped, his expression surly as he leaned forward in the chair. "I'm starting to think I was wrong about you Danny-boy. I don't like being wrong. If I am ever wrong, I rectify things until I don't care about being wrong," his lip curled back in a slow and nasty grin as he added, "usually, that means stringing the problem up and peeling the flesh off of it until it's a tangle of bloody screams and tendons. So tell me, was I wrong to count on you, Dan?"

The blood drained from Dan's face while his hazel eyes went wide with horror. "N-NO! Of course not! You know I'm good for it—just give me a couple of days and I swear by that time I'll have everything on her there is! By the time I'm done you'll know everything from her favorite movie to her cup size," Dan assured in a gush of words, sitting stiffly and trying not to make any sudden movement as if he sat across from a starving mountain lion.

Victor snickered sardonically, musing privately that he damn well already knew her cup size: a large C. He guesstimated as much from how full her perky tits had been cupped in his massive hands. He submerged the leering smile as he shoved his raunchy memories away to fix Dan with a sly look.

"Keep digging, and get back to that country shack of yours. I'll be checking in for more dirt, and you better have a lot more for me when I do," he stated gruffly and stood. Bewildered, Dan nodded and began collecting his notepads. Victor turned to stride out the door, but suddenly whirled around and prowled down around Dan, slamming a huge hand with lengthened claws down on the collection of papers the tacto-empath was about to gather up. Stiffening, Dan balked in terror at the feral when he inched nose to nose with him and snarled, "Oh, and the next time you ever cross me, or get insolent with me again, you'll fucking wish you were dissected and under a microscope somewhere, cuz that'll be a fucking reprieve from just how fucking berserk I can get. You fucking understand?!"

The breath wheezed out of Dan's throat when he attempted a response, his fear spiking when he thought his inability to respond would get him gutted. Instead, Victor took his petrified expression as his response, smiling mildly and patting him on the shoulder roughly before resuming his exit out of the room. Still racked with panic, the tacto-empath went about doing as he was told, too scared shitless to even think about doing otherwise.

Stalking through the library, Victor descended the wide staircase across from a sitting area in the main hall before passing the librarian's unoccupied desk, his mind preoccupied.

He was amused that the lofty bitch was getting set up, but couldn't help find commonalities between her situation and his own. It reminded him of Lagos. That one fucking assignment had changed everything, tearing things asunder between his brotherhood and his thirst for carnage. Before Victor knew it, he had become Stryker's pawn; his fucking hellhound at his every beck and call. Becoming the Sabertooth wasn't something he could completely blame on Stryker—no matter how much the beast told him so—but the manipulation had widened the fissure between him and his brother, and Victor would have to live with it, rescind to the rage and betrayal he held towards Jimmy instead of the nagging conscience that blamed otherwise. He submerged it like everything else that didn't matter anymore. That gnawing curiosity of his would always pester him, however, which is what got him involved in this cat and mouse game to begin with. He wondered if Montecristo had become a pawn unknowingly or had rescinded herself to it like he had. Whether Dan's fears were warranted or not didn't matter to him. He still owed the 'Vipress' for the humiliation and nothing was going to stand in his way, especially not some covert human bullshit.

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It was snowing outside, the night sky turbulent and heavy with wintery gloom. She absolutely hated snow. It made her feel claustrophobic and weak, desperate for any form of warmth in which to take shelter in. Whipping her wet hair back, she let the preternatural locks air dry while she laid out her gown on the bed. She turned towards the vanity to pick up the teardrop necklace and faced the full length mirror. Fiddling with the clasp, she stared blankly at her reflection, taking in her nudity with idle practice. The overhead light caught the shimmer of her skin, which was reflected in the mirror.

Goddamned artificial light. It'd been a pain in the ass since it became the new advent of the 20th century. Candlelight had always been too faint to reveal her physical mutation, so she'd never had to worry about someone catching the shimmer of her skin until electricity and artificial light became the mainstream.

Securing the necklace, she eyed herself and went about brushing her unruly straight hair. It had a tendency of cascading without any wave or kink according to how it was rooted to her scalp, making it an aggravation to deal with. Leaving it loose was out of the question for the event, so she had to tame it into an upward twist, causing it to fan out like silky tendrils down their fastening at the back of her head and for the usual rogue strands to escape and dangle from her temples down to her clavicle.

Huffing at herself in the mirror, she punished her hair with a can of hairspray, hell bent on having it stay in its configuration for as long as possible before it unfurled and snapped free of its styled bondage. For the hundredth time she thought about hacking it all off, but was again reminded that even if she did it would instantly grow back, just like a lizard that loses its tale immediately grows a new one. Sighing, she moved on to applying her makeup before inspecting herself in the full-length mirror again. Her hourglass shape never betrayed the strength and savagery that hid inside of it, which made her the perfect agent for the kind of work she'd been doing for centuries. No one ever suspected her of being anything more than a beautiful gold digger, at best. It suited her intentions just fine, but every once in a while she wondered if things for her could've been different.

The shadow of the scar etched close to her womb always made her think of him. All the possibilities that slipped out of her fingers when—

She stared blankly at her reflection when a triggered memory flashed vividly into her mind's eye. Staring into the mirror, the memory played out for her in the reflection. Her hand lingered over her flat belly as she cocked her head to the side and pensively stared at her reflection. He had come up behind her, snaking his massive hand around her waist to rest over her navel as he swept her hair out of the way in order to murmur something in her ear. His pale skin clashed with hers, but seemed to radiate a heat harnessed by his blood and flesh, all of which he'd pressed cheekily against her before gazing at her through the mirror. She saw his glacier blue eyes staring back at her with the joie de vivre glint in them that unnerved everyone else, especially when accompanied by the roguish smirk he flashed at her before he ducked down to nuzzle her neck.

She didn't feel the heat of his skin; couldn't remember what it felt like nor recall the gravitation she had once felt when he held her possessively and teased her with his steely voice. The memory being reflected back at her began to fade, and no matter how much she willed it to last, it flashed away, the only image lingering briefly was his temple brushing hers and his blond hair dangling out of place when he muttered something and smiled.

Only the words remained, ghosts in of themselves to her hollowed out memories. Izzie…Make your pick: Sigyn, Idunn, or just Valkyrie. Whichever you are matters not because you are only mine.

Staring at her present reflection, cold and alone, she still remembered what she had responded coyly over 30 years ago.

"Just because you fancy yourself to be Loki doesn't mean you can sway another immortal, Eirik…"

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Like most conservative practicing Muslim men, Malik Nagaraja was a boorish, misogynistic, and horny skirt chaser with an affinity for exotic models and a penchant for liquor. Currently, she was providing both as she laughed softly at his cheap jokes and toasted to the night. The sprawling ballroom was packed with elite guests from all walks of life, many of which owed each other favors or came to ask for them over champagne, hors d'oeuvres and snobbery. Along with the gala guests were a slew of armed bodyguards tucked in and around the atmosphere, precluding her from simply snapping the man's neck and getting it all over with. All she had to do was tempt him into touching her bare skin, and then he would beg her to go back to his suite in the hotel. Basset had received the proof linking him to Khomeini, so all that was left was to kill him and disappear.

Meanwhile, a waiter clearing a table of empty champagne bottles took the opportunity to speak into the microphone concealed in his shirt cuff, confirming the presence of the Vipress and Nagaraja. He went ahead with his cover and went unnoticed, ducking out of sight to play eagle eye for the outfit waiting to pounce in the interior stairwell of the building.

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It hadn't been hard to track Nagaraja, especially when his name was listed as a guest to the new hotel's penthouse ballroom. Security was tight and so was the guest list from the looks of it. With all the bodyguards decked out head to toe in black, Victor figured he blended in just nicely. He figured the opportunity was too good to pass up, even if he was going in half-cocked. There was no question that some sort of ravaging intrigue had possessed him at the idea of cornering her in a room; watching her aghast expression blaze her gorgeous face before her scent betrayed her to him. The short term was what mattered at the moment, so he didn't think too long on the impulse, and now here he was, prowling a gala. He breezed through the bustling main hall, avoiding the blue bloods and pompous dicketry of the scene in search for who he assumed would also be attending the formal social event.

The smells of colognes and perfumes mingled together with the scents of alcohol, starch, and tension that hung in the air. His keen nose wasn't picking up the desired scent, so he crossed the hall to enter the main ballroom. The sumptuous art-deco designs were illuminated by a massive crystal chandelier that had the marble floor gleaming with light that poured down from the ceiling. Tables topped with expensive linen cloths and china darted the ballroom, leaving a wide space in the middle and by the snowed in veranda doors and windows for people to dance and mingle.

He really hated theses fucking things. He could smell the stink of old impotent men and fat bitch women as they got sloshed all around him, the carrying on of the rich and the corrupt a pointless spectacle he was tempted to bring to a screeching halt by gutting or twisting someone's head off for the hell of it. The image of carnage sending people into hysteria made a wry smile quirk his lips.

A waiter scooted past him, but not before Victor snatched a champagne glass off his tray and guzzled it quickly as his eyes scanned the huge room. Loping over to the bar, he glanced around before his eyes honed in on a woman in a backless gold dress socializing with an arab-looking asshole. Watching them, he gestured for the garçon to top him off, not even bothering to give him a look when he hesitated at the sight of his retracted claws. He watched as the woman laughed and her profile came into his view. There's the little viper.

Leaving his empty glass at the bar, Victor strolled casually over—picking up another full glass of bubbly as he went—and getting the tail end of their conversation when he came nearer.

"—would like very much to see your portfolio. I know an associate of mine is looking for fresh new talent," the man offered smugly.

"A diplomatic figure as yourself? I wouldn't dream of imposing," she flirted and sashayed closer to him, giving the man a better look at her supple cleavage in the Gucci grecian-styled gown. Victor saw the hunger in the bastard's eyes and—as he anticipated—saw how his hand hesitated at his side, a clear indication he was aching to touch her silky skin. Oh, she planned on using rapture on him to lead him out of the gala, eh? He was savage with smugness as he came up behind them just as the nefarious fuck was about to caress her shoulder in a gesture of wanton intimacy.

She was smiling into the man's dark almond eyes when she felt someone approach out of her line of sight. "Well, fancy seeing you here, Isabela," the gloating purr of a greeting sent a chill up her spine and caused Nagaraja to pause and look peeved at the tall feral before she tensely turned to stare incredulously at him.

Her look was priceless. She looked taken aback, surprised and rancorous once awareness set in that he had interfered in her hunt and was blowing her cover. The idea that he would catch up to her before her mission was complete never even factored into her considerations. She had grossly underestimated him, and the viciously proud look in his crystalline blue eyes antagonized that fact further. Before her mind tangled up in her contingencies and musings on just how Victor Creed had tracked her down so quickly, her heart skipped when she realized he'd referred to her by her Christian name.

"Victor…what a pleasant surprise," she spoke after a few seconds of silence, in which Nagaraja glared back and forth between them. "It's very nice to see you again," she spoke smoothly, her cool mask recovered as she turned to face him fully and took a sip from her glass. His nostrils flared before forcing his sneer into a smirk. No matter how cool she played it, he knew he'd rattled her. Could smell it in her scent. His cock hardened at the pungent shift while he took her in with a leering glance. Her long hair was fastened up with a few long tendrils dangling across her collarbones. The teardrop necklace hung between the swell of her cleavage, which was a mouth-watering sight. All in all, she looked like one of the Greek furies incarnate wrapped up in the gold silk that left him itching to tear it off of her.

"And who are you?" Victor glanced over at the haughty bastard who was glaring him down.

"Oh, do forgive me Mr. Nagaraja, this is—"

"Victor Creed," he cut in before dismissively turning his gaze back to her. "Didn't think we'd run into each other so soon, eh?" his smile was implacably vicious as he ignored further pretense.

"How do you know each other?" Nagaraja interrupted again, his face puckering in sharp disdain.

Jesus you'd think she had his balls in a purse somewhere, Victor mused before interjecting for her, "Isabela and I go way back. You might say I discovered her and took her in all sorts of poses," he chuckled and finished his glass, the raunchy implications causing her to press her lips together and her eyes to hone in furiously on his while Nagaraja looked confused .

"Yes," she hissed softly, "Victor was a photographer I worked with. His work is very good. He might not look it, but he's supposed to be a master in our industry."

The double entendres of their verbal jabs was lost on the supercilious man, who huffed at Victor before glancing at one of his bodyguards. Victor caught the glance, and couldn't help but grin. "You keep praising me like that and I'm liable to blush" he mused surreptitiously. "But I digress. I just came by to say hi, and see if Isabela would like me to shoot more loads in her—"

"Oh Victor, you silly puss," she interjected with a deprecating chuckle, her nostrils flaring in a fronting gesture only the two ferals understood, "we can talk business later. Why don't you go to the bar and accost someone for another drink?" She stepped back into her target's blind spot so he wouldn't see her skin shimmer copper before adding, "I promise you a dance if you mind your manners."

Victor barked a laugh, which caused several heads to turn in their direction, along with the approach of a few stout bodyguards that Nagaraja silently gestured for.

From across the room, the waiter watched the display and simultaneously spoke into his cuff, "Vipress and Nagaraja still present, but there's another bogey on the scene."

"Getting visual confirmation," his earpiece responded as the hidden camera in the frame of his glasses took snapshots of the threesome and the bodyguards that were slowly making their way to them through the crowd. "Fallback, repeat, fallback. Bogey identified to be codename Sabertooth. Tagged as target, be advised, Sabertooth is now a target. Fallback, we're coming in. Over and Out!" Putting his tray down and heading towards the exit, the agent's chance to escape was thwarted when all hell broke loose in the ballroom. He fell dead to the floor along with dozens of others as a flurry of gunfire erupted in the penthouse ballroom.

                      _____________________________________

"If by dance you mean the horizontal mambo, then sure," Victor quipped lasciviously. "Been kicking around the idea of taking the fee you stole out on your sweet ass," he growled and stalked towards her when he was suddenly grabbed by the shoulder.

"That's enough, 'fella! Now come with us or we'll carry you out," a big brawny bastard with a swarthy face ordered, to which Victor glanced at with sadistic amusement and tossed his champagne glass aside.

"Well, 'fella', if you don't get your hand off me, you won't get it back," Victor hissed and deliberately flashed a fang. Balking at him, the bodyguard hauled his arm back to turn Victor towards him, but when the feral mutant didn't budge, he dug his beefy fingers into his shoulder and tried yanking back again. Snorting, Victor grabbed the guy's thick wrist, snapped and pulled. The sick crunch of bone and tendon snapping and tearing apart was followed by a gush of blood and a shrill howl of agony as the man crumbled to the ground, cradling the stump of his maimed wrist and bleeding out quickly. Laughing sardonically, Victor glared down and around at all the faces that balked at him, waving the bodyguard's hand comically at them before tossing it aside. The beefy and bloody extremity landed in a woman's lap, and a sudden wave of horrified shouts and screams went up as Victor looked over his shoulder at the fuming reptilian feral dressed in gold. She held his gaze with a blistering glare and sneering lips before remembering her objective of the night.

Suddenly, the chorus of screams was heralded in by the multiple clicks of guns and the eruption of raucous gunfire. In the flurry, Victor plowed into a group of bodyguards to his left while Isabela swept like a graceful lizard through a cluster of flunkies before rushing a flurry of blows at them and snatching one of the guns form one of the guard's holster. She emptied the magazine in 10 seconds, shooting at all the guards that were between her and Nagaraja while Victor was painting the surroundings crimson and gory. Meanwhile, the bystanders that were milling out towards the elevators were boxed in by the sudden appearance of armed tactical operatives that swooped into the chaos. Just as Victor tore through a bodyguard and disemboweled another in one swift motion and Isabela tried to get through the flurry by snapping limbs and doubling over men standing between her and her target, a warning shot from a rifle echoed to the ceiling.

Victor and Isabela halted in their advances and snapped around to look at the entrance of the ballroom.

"NOBODY MOVE!" the shouted order came from the black ops commander, followed by the clicks of dozens M16s aimed at anyone still standing in the blood bath. "Malik Nagaraja, Isabela Montecristo, and Victor Creed: You're all being detained under the jurisdiction of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforce—!"

"Yah gotta be fucking kidding me!" Victor hollered and prowled back into his fighting stance while Isabela extended her vicious teeth and snarled seemingly in agreement with him. The operatives hesitated and glanced at each other, not sure how to proceed without just blasting everything in sight. Ironically enough, neither of them initiated the first defiant offensive. Scrambling up in the mess of blood and gore, Nagaraja dove for a gun and started shooting wildly in Victor and Isabela's direction before his bodyguards joined in by shooting away at the special ops team, sending the whole scene back into chaos.

Victor got clipped in the shoulder by a bullet, which forced him to turn from the blow and see Isabela take two bullets to the chest. She wavered on her high heels but barely staggered from the shots. Instead of betraying shock or pain, her expression became murderous as she looked down at the bullet holes that were oozing blood and back at Nagaraja. In a flash, Victor watched as she crouched down and in one deft motion sliced the ankle straps of her heels before leaping right out of them and into the fray, her feral roar nothing he'd ever heard before. Swinging back around, he grinned at the squad commander and started making his way through several men with his extended claws, splashing and spilling them out into puddles of mayhem and carnage that left him bristling with bloodlust.

Isabela felt the bullets push themselves out of her chest just as she ripped a bodyguard's larynx out and commandeered a dead operative's M16, her preternatural hair unfurling and whipping around her. Nagaraja was pinned in a corner behind a mess of strewn chairs and an upturned table. He was huddled like a child behind fours bodyguards who were shooting at the black ops team who were in turn getting gunfire from all directions and having to contend with a berserk Sabertooth drunk on gore. How he hadn't gotten pumped full of lead was beyond her, but she suspended her astonishment long enough to tactfully open fire on a cluster of commandos that had been advancing towards Nagaraja's posse. Just as Victor plunged his hand like a pitchfork into the black ops leader's stomach and up into his ribcage to heft him like a lump of hay into the air, he heard the popping of gunfire intensify behind him as opposed to at his sides. Looking over his shoulder, he tossed the gurgling and convulsing man away like a gutted ragdoll in black fatigues before turning to watch Montecristo take shelter behind a kicked over table. The few stragglers left alive were concentrating their gunfire at her, to which she returned in quick spurts before her rifle clicked empty. Amused, he took his time to crouch down and prowl at the half-dozen men with M16's on all fours, overwhelming them with the intensity of his strikes and the laugh that seemed to bubble just under his growls of effort.

She heard the blood curdling cries and the wayward pop shots just over the gunfire from Nagaraja's men. She looked over the table's edge and watched Creed literally pick apart the tactical team. He was actually grinning from ear to ear, and the dilated look of sadistic glee in his eyes made her heart clench. She'd seen that look before, and she couldn't believe how reminiscent this whole ordeal had suddenly become to her. Shaking her head, she tore her gown for better mobility and pulled her avid gaze away from Creed to get Nagaraja in her crosshairs.

The party was over.

Vaulting with lightning quick agility, Isabela galloped towards the closest wall and leapt onto the vertical surface, making for a stunning sight as she ran the circumference of the room on the walls towards Nagaraja and his goons. All the horrified men could do was balk in terror as she leapt and fell upon them to be torn asunder. She took sadistic license with Nagaraja and sunk her crocodile-like fangs and incisors into his jugular, relishing in his scream before tearing a chunk out of his neck. The man desperately clutched at his throat while she spat the chunk of his flesh to the side and plunged her slender hand into his chest, clutching his heart and crushing it in her grip. The smell of gunpowder residue, blood, fear, death, and something wild was a dizzying mixture that made her take pause before yanking her hand out of the now dead bastard's chest. She turned to look back on the gratuitous scene behind her just in time to catch Creed's misted blue gaze. He was covered with blood and gore; his sleeves were dripping from cuff to elbow with it and his face was caked with it. She suddenly snarled at him when the reminder that he'd started this clusterfuck slapped her in the face. He seemed to read her mind because his lips pulled slowly back into a gloating smirk that she wanted to slash and kiss off his face all at the same time.

The last few moments had been a blur for him, but he'd damn well paused in gutting a guy when he'd seen her galloping on the walls like a crafty lizard. Seeing her tear a chunk out of the arab fuck-faced bastard had reminded him of the night at the high rollers suite when he'd stumbled upon her ripping out DeLaughter's jugular and carotid—it'd been enough to turn him on all over again. The sight of her standing among a heap of bodies and butchery, dress torn and soaked with blood, hands talons, and lips dripping with it; hair loose and eyes glowing wrathfully at him—well, if he thought she looked like one of the greek furies before, she sure as hell looked like one now.

"Reinforcements near arrival! Repeat reinforcements—!" Victor stomped on the intercom that was crackling out of a straggler's reach before lifting the fucker up by his vest. Just when he was going to deal a death blow to really finish him off, Isabela practically breezed to his side. Snatching the man with a deft precision, she ripped the pins off his belt and hurled him towards the enclosed veranda. Victor's grunt of surprise was choked down when she grabbed his bloody lapels and yanked him down to the ground and on top of her just as a loud series of pops chimed gratingly after a shattering crash of glass. A small tremor went through the floor before all the fire alarms began to wail overhead. She shifted firmly against him before shoving him off completely and scrambling to her feet. Victor brought her back down hard by yanking her legs out from under her and rolling on top of her. The fucking bitch had used him as a shield! They wrestled for short moments before she flipped him over her head and leapt out of his reach.

Crouching into a predatory prowl across from him, she snarled, "You fucking brute! How dare you sabotage me—!"

"The same feisty cunt I remember," he snapped viciously at her before adding, "I didn't sabotage anything. As a matter of fact, I was hoping to get you before these fuckers snapped you up. If you're looking for a saboteur you should really think twice about who you work for, viper!"

"…" the anger faltered in her burning green irises, but the russet ring around her pupil seemed to narrow at him. "Stay out of my way, Creed," she suddenly seethed with composed fury before vaulting on all fours with lightning grace towards the now blasted out veranda windows and doors. The winds and snow were billowing wildly into the gashed structure as she galloped out and up onto the building's façade. He watched as she fearlessly leapt off the balcony ledge to dive across the expanse between the hotel and the avenue below onto a church roof. Victor could hear the helicopter coming over the howling winds in the distance and decided to pursue her, not keen to letting her have the fucking last word—or saunter off for a second time without ruthless reprisal—and damn prepared to get his way.

Diving off the ledge to gallop after her, he tore and slashed at every surface he landed on to gain purchase and momentum. The snow wasn't hindering him as much as it seemed to be doing for her, so before long he'd gained on her and could smell the anger and trepidation in her scent. She was trying to get as far as way as fast as possible. Her talons were biting into concrete, glass and steel as she leapt and vaulted across buildings, scaffolds, and even vertical office windows, anything to get the hell away from the goddamned feral hell bent on making her night even more a debacle. She didn't know where the hell to go, but knew staying in the city was suicide, so she sniffed out the closest trail of wilderness. Before long, her hands and feet went from pounding and grappling man-made structures to cold ice and snow. Her limbs were going numb from the cold, but she was far from ground zero. She couldn't stop though. Not with Creed giving chase. Gritting against the pain in her muscles and the debilitating cold night, she bared her fangs and pushed herself to gallop through the leafless trees and cold snow before her hands skidded in a large clearing and she slid on her palms in knees over a frozen surface.

This was the sort of hunt Victor was built for. They didn't call him Sabertooth for nothing. His high metabolism and huge muscle mass made him a wild killing machine and a furnace of heat. The cold barely registered to him when he was giving chase to his prey, but even he was surprised when his claws scraped ice and gouged for ground. Gaining his bearings, he prowled after her on the frozen lake, growling predatorily as she tried to scamper the grueling expanse. She was panting, her breath puffing in the cold as she tried standing on her bare feet. They were now in the middle of the lake, and Victor was taking his time, stalking her cautiously over the ice while she tried to keep as many yards between them as possible.

"Cold bothering you?" Victor mocked gruffly over the gusts of wind. "Nowhere to go now, so be a good bitch and come get punished," he sauntered towards her in a steady pace.

She crouched and snarled at him warningly as she backpedaled as best as she could before her foot skid and she fell hard on her side. The harsh thwick of her fall sent a splintering shift through the frozen surface and Victor braced himself. Isabela tried to grapple onto her feet but as soon as she moved the ice began to snap around her before buckling. Victor watched with startled bemusement when she clawed desperately for purchase before the buckling ice shattered and she went under with a surprised cry.

Isabela yelped more from the shock of falling through ice than the actual biting agony of the ice boxing her in and the freezing water that sucked her under. She held her breath, but the water was so cold it felt like hundreds of needles were stabbing her. No matter how hard she thrashed and clawed, she couldn't muster enough momentum to barrel back to the surface. The opening in the sheet of ice loomed over her like a cold halo of light within the engulfing freezing darkness.

Her lungs began to burn, but the sensation paled in comparison to the excruciating sting that began to hollow her limbs. Her thrashing began to quiver as the breath went out of her and ice water filled her mouth. Drowning—this is drowning…I'm drowning and dying and—and I can feel it. I'm going to die…finally die…finally…

The halo she stared up at began to grey out and shadow over as her body stilled and the cold seeped into her very marrow. Her lips parted and she suddenly felt utterly weightless. She couldn't see anymore, nor feel herself rise up.

This is death…finally…

____________________

Read Chapter 3: Dizzying Need

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[chorusfm]

Justin Sane Sued Under New York’s Adult Survivors Act

Anti-Flag’s Justin Sane has been sued in New York: A statement from Sarhadi reads, in part, “Justin Geever used his platform as a celebrated, self-proclaimed ‘punk rockstar’ to groom and lure vulnerable girls into feeling safe in his presence. While he sang about protecting women and standing up to abusers, it appears he was hiding an addiction to power and control, harming countless women who have been unable to speak up before now. Today I hope to encourage his survivors, and survivors of other predators in the music industry, to feel hope again. What sexual predators take from us cannot be restored, but we are no longer the silent victims they want us to be.” --- Please consider becoming a member so we can keep bringing you stories like this one. ◎ https://chorus.fm/linked/justin-sane-sued-under-new-yorks-adult-survivors-act/

[painsandconfusion]

Oh yeah?? Listen up.

Adrift at sea:

There's a slim likelihood of being found and rescued, but far more likely than in space. That's a GOOD THING. Keep them clinging to hope like it's the last ice cube in hell.

Don't need to worry about oxygen, and they can make their own clean water without too much work. SO. They get to deal with the sloooowwww drawn out starvation, predators, storms, and burns instead.

Whumpee slowly pulling apart their makeshift-craft to make fire on the cold nights, knowing that if they take too much, they'll capsize more easily - or just sink altogether.

If they sustain an injury before or during, it's going to be constantly getting soaked in salt water, both infecting the wound with the unsanitary water and burning like hell.

Using up the very last of their resources to send up a flare or even throw out a message in a bottle, knowing they only have one shot at catching a passing plane or ships attention. If they fuck that up, they're out of resources.

The 'other ship in the distance' thing works just as well here.

Lucky of space-whumpee to have a ship, isn't it? sea-whumpee is just stuck there on a raft or something. So incredibly difficult to see or find amongst the sparkling waves.

Okay, gravitational pull of planets and stars isn't something I can replicate here, BUT; What about circling predators? Sharks and orcas, sirens and mermaids, birds that peck at the flesh and rotting sores no matter how much you shoo them away? The longer you sit, the more attention you attract. The more blood you lose to the water. The more predators come.

...okay you got me on the cryochambers- it's nice not knowing if you'll ever be woken up again.

BUT SEA FARING WHUMP STILL KICKS YOUR LITTLE SCIFI ASS, YA PUNK

CUZ THEN WE ALSO HAVE-

Hallucinations and mirages on the water

Whumpee losing what they managed to hunt and eat because they drank salt water, and their stomach rejected everything.

Thinking they can swim because they've always been able to, only to realize their body is FAR too weak and exhausted for that nonsense now that they've been out here for a week. Scrambling to pull themself back out of the water with convulsing limbs and spitting water.

Near-drowning?? There's SO many opportunities.

Seeing something big in the water, making multiple passes to check them out. Whumpee having no idea how to stay safe in that situation or how to shoo the thing away.

Eating the wrong kind of fish and getting poisoned.

Sun. Burns. So many sunburns.

Whumpee quite literally tying themself down when there's a storm because they know they're not strong enough to hold on for that long. Praying to any god that's still listening that they don't tip over.

Whumpee trying to entertain their deteriorating mind by rasping ragged melodies through a throat the salt and sun and air have scraped dry.

Trying to stitch and tie together some kind of clothing from fallen sails or debris so they can stay a little warmer at night.

Staring at the stars by night and watching themself drift further and further from home with no way to stop it. Hoping they're reading it wrong.

Whumpee taking a risk and swimming a quarter mile or so to some other wreckage to see what they can salvage, knowing full well they could be dragged under by a predator on the way or lose their own craft forever if they're not fast enough.

Hi all, sorry for the gap in posting, life’s been very busy but whumptober was a success! I’ll be getting to my asks within the next couple of days.

In the meantime…