#Knives and Ivory

[homestuck-music-tournament]

Knives and Ivory

Album: Midnight Crew: Drawing Dead Composer: Kevin Regamey Leitmotifs: None Characters: Midnight Crew, Spades Slick

[eye-coded-rat]

(ep4) CAT3C7494-19111831-29012024

Collection (blood) -/- musical [letter]

Dear old grandpa Augustus, thank you for introducing this gentleman with a bag of tricks! In the olden days we didn't sell dangerous artifacts in the black market, we just traveled the world gifting Hungry Violins to people!

Also, sidenote that Gentleman with Bag asked Uncle Violin about himself and Uncle casually divulged his Entire Life Story. as you do.

Hungry Object that will make your performances GREAT... just gotta pay the price. Your options are:

Don't Feed (everyone who hears your music will get Very Violent, this may lead to eating eyes and the peeling of flesh)

Feed It Yourself (ouchie fingers, blood everywhere, not ideal)

Outsource (so a couple music students go missing, no biggie!)

And last note: this case was filed by Gwen, as far as I can tell all the others up to now have been Sam's.

[angelstills]

Scary Movie (2000)

[vampirevatican]

judd's shirt, and how he smells...

he's gonna have a musk. like canon wise it'd be after sharpening his knives or like he's working out or something but he's got man musk

i like to think the birch household actually has good shampoo and skincare stuff, though i also am a firm believer that only elliot, leah and diane have an actual routine

judd? literally any soap, though nothing with a flowery scent?? like motherfucker smells like the woods. he's got an earthy smell to him. like i think he's the only one in the house that uses irish spring or like very plain ivory soap.

to the ppl that think he'd use a 13 in 1. i need you to stop. his hygiene routine is very simple but ima need some respect put on this man because how else is he gonna maintain that hairstyle? not to mention dude is definitely a go-getter.

anyway he just has... boy/man/male scent, ya know? like that common smell between all cologne and men's soap? yeah that.

so with that context... you've taken some of his shirts, for girlfriend reasons.

ya know like, when he's not around and you wanna pretend he's there. or you just don't feel good and wanna think about him comforting you... it's for emersion you swear!

----------------MDNI (nsfw below)-------------

yeah right you're getting off to that shit.

sure you could put it on a pillow and think about him being there

could cuddle with pillow judd or if you have a huge stuffed animal that works too

but ik why you clicked 'read more' and yeah i get it

jessie was onto something... and so was a manga i read...

just taking his shirt and keeping it for a bit? and you just take a big whiff... a deep sniff. oh yeah.

at some point his werid ass ziplocs his most sweaty shirts and keeps them just for you

doesn't point out why or explains, just points you to where he keeps them.

Looking in the drawer you find a couple of plain and graphic tees in rows. Lined up, side by side and in... ziploc bags? You look back at him and he looks at you, shirtless and dead lifting weights. "What." he sounds so nonchalant, neutral tone, same as always. "You're just gonna let me have them now?" He continues lifting and looking at a wall with a couple band posters on it. "Better than you being a klepto over my shit." He smirks slightly and looks back at you, "What? You don't want them, princess?" You squint, mainly at the pet name and was going to argue but just pouted and looked away grabbing the shirts and stuffing them into your overnight bag. "Yes." you mutter and he laughs.

[cirrus-grey]

Within it I could spy an assortment of trinkets, ranging from battered knives and chipped porcelain to fine jewelry, small ivory figures and even a set of gambler’s dice.

"Luck assumes a myriad of forms," he proclaimed...

(From episode 4)

I thought those dice sounded familiar...

[ceaseless-bitcher]

THE DICE IN EPISODE NINE WERE MENTIONED IN EPISODE FOUR.

“The stranger reached over and retrieved from behind the log on which he sat an unusually shaped sack. Within it, I could spy an assortment of trinkets, ranging from battered knives and chipped porcelain to fine jewelry, small ivory figures and even a set of gambler’s dice.”

DUDE.

Thank you to my dear friend who suggested we check!

[sp4ceboo]

CHAPTER 2 ~ LATE NIGHT TEARS

beneath a crimson sky masterlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5

pairing: stray kids ot8 x afab!reader

genre: apocalypse au, dystopian, dark, adventure, action, thriller, fighting, eventual smut, romance

a/n: excuse another set up chapter, shit will start going down very very soon

chapter warnings: mentions of death/death threats, sad vibes ngl

chapter word count: 2.6k

After Chan agrees, things progress surprisingly fast. Although he sends Chan a warning look, Minho doesn’t object, and Seungmin looks at you coolly, as if he hasn’t quite put his confidence in you but doesn’t object to sharing a space with you, either. Felix just looks happy. You get the sense that he trusts you just because you haven’t given him a reason otherwise.

If any of them take notice of your row of kitchen knives, they say nothing.

They decide among themselves who is going where. In the end, Felix and Seungmin stay back with you while Chan and Minho go to fetch the others. You talk a little with them, finding out that Felix owned a cafe and Seungmin was doing a masters in law. The blonde happily chatters with you, informing you further that Chan was a lifeguard and Minho a dance teacher and sometimes part of a troupe, as well the lives of the others, while Seungmin stares out the window as it begins to rain, occasionally chipping in.

It’s altogether far too easy to talk with Felix. There’s something about him that’s warm, something about the simple way he trusts you that makes him all the more trustworthy - he puts you at ease in an instant, his low voice comforting and familiar. The way he tells you about his friends makes you like them before you’ve even met them.

By the time they get back, it’s nightfall. They’re soaked, droplets of water sliding from their hair and onto the linoleum floor in tiny rivulets, starting in tributaries at the hems of their shirts and turning into not so small waterfalls - you notice they’re all shivering slightly, the tips of their noses and their cheeks flushed scarlet. Pulling off his mask, Chan runs his fingers through his hair and slicks it back, dropping a stuffed backpack on the floor beside him, careful to avoid the quickly growing lake around his feet.

There’s the four you haven’t met yet gathered in a small huddle behind him. The handsome, tall guy must be who Felix described as Hyunjin - the artist who models on the side. He shakes the rain off him, droplets flicking from the ends of his messily tied black hair onto the younger man beside him. To their left, a shorter man laden with muscle removes his mask, revealing a cheery smile that makes his evident strength a little less intimidating.

Your eyebrows raise as Minho slaps the butt of the last of the new arrivals. You stay quiet.

Felix and Seungmin go to greet the others, and you remain sitting where you are, giving them some privacy. They speak quietly, though occasionally a bright laugh rings out, and you’re struck by how familiar they are with each other - Felix told you that they were lucky they were all together when the first horseman came, but you find it hard to believe they wouldn’t have found each other one way or another if they hadn’t been.

You catch flashes of damp skin and ivory grins as they wring out their clothes. Curious glances get sent your way until Chan peels off and sits beside you; you’re positive that nothing could hide the affection in his smile as he looks over at them.

“It’s a lot when you first see all of us together, huh?” he says, his voice confiding and bemused.

“A little,” you confirm. “But it’s nice, really. It’s good to hear laughter.”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I can’t count how many times they’ve saved me. They’re family.”

You’re startled by Chan’s easy confession, enough so that all you can do is stare at him in shock, surprised to find that he looks relaxed, his eyes far away and his hair sticking out at all angles from where he’s rubbed it dry. Your brain takes that particular moment to note that he’s got a soft, inviting mouth - it compliments the sharpness of his nose well. Unfortunately, neither of those things is something you could respond with.

When the muscular one approaches, the other three behind him, you’re still scrambling for a reply. Eventually, your mouth, which had been previously hanging open like a trapdoor in effort to make a sound in answer to Chan, snaps shut and you send them a pleasant smile as they assemble awkwardly in front of you. Over their shoulders you can see Minho attacking the bags they brought with them, unpacking them with organised ferocity.

“I’m Hyunjin,” the artist-model announces, as you predicted. “Nice to meet you.”

“Jisung,” the one whose butt Minho slapped says. You notice his hair is slightly shaggy, curling around his reddened ears and at the nape of his neck, and he regards you with a neutral expression, as if he hasn’t formed his opinion on you yet.

“I’m Jeongin,” the youngest adds, and unsurprisingly, you can see the suspicion thinly veiled in his eyes.

Your gaze slides to the last one to introduce himself, the muscular one. According to Felix, he must be Changbin, who was in the army. The moment your eyes lock on his, a distant memory surfaces of you and a boy in the school library, hiding from the stern librarian and trying to stay quiet despite his infectious laughter. You almost don’t recognise him - not just because he’s gotten rid of that ridiculous bowl cut he had when you were thirteen, but because his frame has filled out with muscle.

God, it suits him.

You search his face for a flicker of recognition, for anything, but you find nothing. Unexpected disappointment slices through you - he doesn’t know you, either because he’s forgotten you or because he doesn’t care. Either way, you guess it doesn’t really matter who you were friends with when you were kids. It still hurts, anyways.

“Nice to meet you all,” you say once Changbin has introduced himself, trying to keep your voice bright and your eyes off him.

Though the lab is your space, you feel like an intruder as they talk among themselves. Even Felix has forsaken you, moving across the room to prod at Changbin’s arms as he pesters him about something or other, twin smiles brightening their faces.

You feel lost. You can’t help but question Chan’s motives again - you don’t belong with these men, nor does your presence benefit them in any way, and yet they still smile, unflappable despite the distrust you see in some of their gazes. It’s clear to you that Chan himself doesn’t trust you fully, either, but he seems to like you well enough.

The same can’t be said for Minho, though. Jisung is talking to him but you can feel his gaze pinning you down, watching you in a way that makes you want to sink into the ground below your feet.

There’s a warning in the sharpness of his glare: you hurt them, you die.

The more time you spend with them, the more you realise how tightly knit they are. They work as a unit to distribute the food for dinner (you receive a can of beans, cold, of course, and a stale granola bar) and to count up and evaluate the supplies they have left, with your additions from the convenience store; they pair up to share blankets when they decide it’s time to sleep while you get one all to yourself; and now that they’re all quiet, you’re half certain they’re breathing in sync, too.

It’s not even weird. You can tell that this harmony is what has helped them survive for so long, not only physically, but mentally too. Together they are self-sustaining, confiding in each other, falling into their separate roles without having to be asked: you get the sense that even the sleeping arrangements are non verbally premeditated, down to the Hello Kitty blanket Changbin and Felix are sharing.

They fit together like puzzle pieces. You’re not sure if there’s space for you.

If that concerns him, Chan doesn’t let it show. He beckoned you over to sleep beside him, which unfortunately meant that you also ended up next to Minho. That in itself seems like a precaution. You have no doubt that he’d happily incapacitate you before you could even start thinking about doing any funny business, if you read the look he gave you as he shuffled a little closer to Jisung well enough.

Thankfully, Chan’s half pointed towards Jeongin, enough so that he doesn’t have to stare at you as he falls asleep. After a while of staring vacantly at the spot just over his shoulder, you realise how pleasant it is to lie on and under blankets after over a week of slouching on the hard floor; they’re soft, and the one beneath you is slightly warm from Minho, which would be disconcerting if it didn’t feel so fucking nice.

Despite the knowledge that you’re in a room with eight other steadily, defiantly beating hearts, that you’re not the only living person left in the whole world, you find that your eyelids won’t droop closed.

Sighing heavily, you roll onto your back and stare up at the ceiling. You’re reminded of the school trips you went on when you were younger, where you’d listen to everyone else’s breathing slow as they fell asleep, still up and wriggling about in your sleeping bag like a caterpillar ready to hatch.

At least back then, there wasn’t the looming possibility that you were the only person awake on the whole planet.

Careful not to hit either of the boys beside you, you squirm, shifting around in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. You’re just about to turn over again when you hear the blankets rustle, the sound of someone to your left getting to their feet and padding out of the lab interrupting the soft sound of the others’ breathing.

Instinctively, you shut your eyes, pretending to sleep. Your fingers tighten where they’re clenched in the blankets. You wait, counting fifty of Chan’s breaths before you get up and follow.

You’re entirely unsure of what you’ll find. You don’t bring a knife - you didn’t hear whoever left pause to take one, and if worst comes to worst, you have the taekwondo classes you took with Changbin, way back when.

Quietly, you ease open the door, stepping out into the corridor. You check the little kitchenette first, which is empty. Your boss’s office is the next closest, but you notice the communal room’s door is ajar, different from how you last left it - you’d been hoping closing it off would shut out the memories of the first horseman and his rictus grin.

Pushing it open, you realise with a jolt that whoever is within is crying: the only illumination within the small room is a splash of red tinted moonlight, but your eyes are adjusted enough that you can see the way he’s hunched over on the sofa, sniffling a little as sobs shake his shoulders. From the longish black hair, you’d guess it’s Hyunjin.

You know you should leave and give him privacy, but the night gives you bravery, as if the inability to see makes your lingering embarrassment exist a little less.

“Hey,” you say softly, coming round to sit beside him on the sofa.

Hyunjin tugs his sleeves over his hands so he can wipe his tears away. “Sorry, I must have woken you up.”

“Don’t worry, I was up already.”

You find that now you’ve bitten the bullet and decided to talk to him, no words reveal themselves to you. Telling him ‘it’s okay’ would be a blatant lie, and asking him if he’s alright would almost be worse; you can’t think of any better options, and frankly, you’ve always been a bit clumsy with your words.

Instead, you awkwardly hold your arms out. “Is it okay if I, uh - ”

Scrubbing at his eyes, he nods, his arms already wrapping tight around you before you can reach out for a cautious hug. Closing your eyes and resting your chin on his hair as he cries, you rub gentle circles on his back, holding him a little tighter when little sobs slip out from deep within his chest. You feel tears prick at your own eyes. There’s no guessing what aggrieves him, although with the current condition of the world he doesn’t really need any excuses for crying, but all the same, his vulnerability awes you.

A treacherous thought enters your mind: you could kill him now.

You could grab a knife, cut his throat, dump him somewhere outside the lab and claim he left and never returned. Logically, you could even take him as hostage and demand they hand over all their supplies and weapons, but you don’t. You can’t. In truth, you owe them.

Besides, you don’t want to stab Hyunjin, or strangle him or whatever violent thing a more pragmatic and heartless person would do - most likely, Minho would slaughter you if you did, anyway, and you wouldn’t blame him.

At least with these men, this little band of tight knit survivors, you won’t die alone.

In response to that realisation, you link your fingers with Hyunjin’s, smoothing a comforting thumb over his knuckles. A small smile raises the corners of your mouth as he sighs into your shoulder - albeit accompanied with a little sniffle - and you squeeze his hand tightly in a silent pledge: I’ll fight for this family as if it were my own, because I hope that one day it will be.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask abruptly, startled by the rude din of your own voice. “It’s okay if the answer’s no.”

“I… I think I do, if that’s okay,” Hyunjin replies, still with his face buried in your shoulder. “It’s nothing specific, really. I just miss the way things were, you know? And my family, and my dog, Kkami, and the dog before, Kkomi.” He shrugs. “Somehow I even miss just seeing people in the street. I wish I could go outside and get bumped this way and that by a crowd. I don’t even think I’d care if I got mugged or hit on. At least it’d be normal.”

You laugh but sober quickly. “I get that. Holy shit, I get that. Crazy how things changed so fast, huh?”

Hyunjin nods in agreement. “I can hardly remember the - ”

The door bursts open. Your heart lurches as you glimpse the lightning silver flash of a knife, and you jerk upwards on instinct, the coffee table toppling to the floor with a harsh clatter. It takes you half a moment to recognise the raging blur - his features are twisted with a savage, fearsome type of protective intent, his hair still mussed from sleeping.

Eyes blazing, Minho brandishes his knife as he zeroes in on Hyunjin. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin replies sheepishly. “I just didn’t want to wake anyone.”

Minho’s eyes soften, even as he rolls them. “All that fuss for nothing.”

Jeongin appears in the doorway. “I told you they’d be fine,” he grumbles. “You’re paranoid.”

“You gave me the knife,” he huffs. “Don’t act like you weren’t even a little bit concerned.”

Wiping his face, Hyunjin gets up, and you follow him back to the lab. The guys all squint up at you, expressions varying from wide eyed to amused. Chan sighs when he sees everyone is unscathed, half in relief and half in exasperation before promptly ordering everyone back to bed.

This time, you have no problems falling asleep.

taglist: @estella-novella @0bticeo @lixies-favorite-cookie @smashleywow @realrintaro @extremechaoswarning @4l17h4 @hyunjinsjeans @insufferablyunbearable (let me know if you want to be added)

[autismprotocol]

Guys I made a discovery!! (Spoilers for EP 4 and EP 9 of Protocol)

I’ve been re-listening to all the current protocol episodes with my grandma over spring break (me and her have been listening to tma together for 2 years) and I think I noticed something that I haven’t seen anywhere else. In episode 4 when Augustus is reading the statement about the hunger violin, the statement mentions a few things the stranger has in is sack along with said violin

When I heard gamblers dice be read my jaw dropped to the floor!! there is no doubt this stranger was carrying around the dice from episode 9: Rolling with it. Because of this tie-in I think this strange trinket man will be a recurring avatar. My guess is he will take a similar rolls as Salesa, dealing in cursed artifacts that were gifted power by the entities.

Just in case it comes back here’s a list of all the stuff mentioned to be in the Trinket man’s sack

Battered knives

Chipped porcelain

Fine jewelry (this one is kind of vague tbh )

Ivory figures

I’m guessing because the dice are mentioned with extra emphasis, we won’t see anymore of the for mentioned items but you never know

I think we all need to be on the watch for The Trinket Man

[zuzuelectricbugaloo]

Color Spectrum Duo Origins Part 2: Run, Rabbit, Run

Part 1

Rating: Teen

Romantic Relationships: None

Cw: Minor swearing and alluding to Killer’s prior act of cannibalism

Synopsis: Color runs. A Killer chases.

Word Count: 1, 844

His opponent yelped, diving to the side just before Killer could reach them.

“Hang on! Can’t we just—fuck!” The skeleton rolled in the snow, a knife impaling the ground and sizzling through the quickly vaporized ice seconds where their torso had been.

“Sorry, I’d rather make LOVE,” Killer jokes, “not love.”

They kicked themselves back onto their feet, but it was too late. Killer had gotten close enough to pull them into an Encounter.

Usually, monster culture etiquette dictates an Encounter is commenced with cordiality. Souls are sacred, the very essence of a monster, the culmination of their entire beings, Souls and Intent could arguably be defined as the true heart of monsters. Folkways then are guided with a caution always for the fragile magical constructs.

His Intent is sharp and vicious, his magic wrenches his victim’s Soul from their chest and pulls it out to hover before them.

Killer disregards their alarmed, pained cry, determination burning him from the inside out. His magic pulses through his body when he sprints and spins his blade in his gloved palm.

A quick Check to reveal what exactly this interloper’s intentions are, and then lights out. The knife in his fisted palm glows an ominous crimson as he holds it aloft, prepared to strike—

—Only to falter at the Soul’s unusual appearance; cordate but not inverted, a pearlescent ivory center outlined by blinding colors rapidly shifting from one to the other — and the information that flickers before him.

* COLOR ATK 0 DEF 0

*A skeleton who absorbed six of the seven human Soul Traits.

*He’s a weak vessel in the wrong place at the wrong time.

*LV 1 HP 0/0

To survive, you need to adapt within a moment’s notice. To process any and all changes in the environment around you. To fight and defend yourself effectively even with limited information. To do anything and everything to survive without hesitation.

It was a lesson hard taught. Years of agony and torture and suffering his cruel teacher, but this lesson of utmost survival was ingrained into his Soul itself.

Never falter.

Never doubt his superior.

Never surrender unless brought to heel.

And yet, the momentum of his clenched fist stuttered. His thoughts ground to a halt as he absorbed this information. It echoes in his mind, his record player Soul spinning and crackling in wild red-white circles as he stares, frozen.

Something about it it’s not him it’s not him this is real this is real has a cold, tight grip around his Soul.

*A weak vessel in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No, no, no, that’s not possible. Killer was – this is just another – it had to be a trick. A game. A ploy, or, or challenge of some kind! Why—?!

Suffocating fear floods his body like he’d been dunked in an icy river and he shuts down, looped tape of orotund voices splitting his skull open and blasting from his irate scribbled mess of a Soul.

Killer faltered.

The interloper side-steps, narrowly missing Killer’s full-bodied lurch, and bolts, yanking his Soul back but it’s not a true monster Soul, right side up like a human’s and glows polychromatic like the flames to flee the Encounter, gunning for the inner forest.

His mind catches up to his failure before his staggering body could and once more, poleaxing fear withers him out and fixes him in place, even as his mind screams through the voices that he’s in danger and won’t survive—!

But Survival was not an option. It was a must.

Do what it takes to endure must outlast must persist failure is not an option

They are a Killer. It’s all that they know.

And they must never lose a hunt.

They take off after him.

Color curses as he dives behind a snow bank. Sanguine knives pierce the ground beside him and he lets out more colorful (he could already hear his friend’s snickers) curses.

He yelps when a knife with seething Intent flies through the flames pouring out his skull and thuds into a tree in front of him.

He flings himself back onto his feet and nearly tripped over himself in his haste to get away, stumbling over a rock hidden by puffs in the snow. His misstep is punished with a knife piercing his shoulder, and he hisses at the flare of pain the scrape against his glenohumeral joint sparks.

Color slides, ignoring the ache of dropping to one knee and bends the other back for support and evokes a blaster, the draconic vestige materializes on his right hand and its jaw unhinges, mana crackling before it surges out as a powerful rainbow blast. Once it’s fired it dematerializes as quickly as it had appeared.

He hears a startled noise but can’t make out if anything else is said. Already he’s back on his heels and pivots before bolting away once more.

As he runs, he curses how a previously pleasant day of landscape photography could have spiraled so far out of control so quickly.

Hysterical laughter bubbles in the back of his throat. His chest heaves with the exertion but he can’t teleport out, he needs to find the liminal space he entered through to get back to the Omega Timeline. The special portals hidden by Core are accessible only to those they’ve granted the Codes to. He just needed to get to the “door” and he’s home free.

If he could outrun the cannibal chasing him and survive long enough to make it, that is.

“You totally gotta go to this AU! He said,” Color sarcastically intones while replaying Epic’s earlier words. “It’s sanctioned by the Stars,” he pants, sweat dripping down his skull while his Soul frantically pounds in his chest, “and I heard it’s got the most beautiful forest, he said. Nothing could possibly go wrong, he said!”

He pauses mid rant to hunch over with his hands on his patellae, gulping down air he doesn’t need to soothe his frenzied mana.

Frightening snarls are followed by blades whirling passed him and impaling the snow.

“AAAaaaand we’re running again!” Color yelps and books it.

“Epic, I swear if I live through this, I’m gonna kick you right in the damn shin,” Color growled.

Apparently a supposedly pleasant, positive AU has cannibals running around. Why not? It’s just Color’s luck.

He needed to put as much distance between himself and his lethal assailant as he could.

On their end the Killer doesn’t let up on their assault. They pull knives from their jacket pockets and continue to throw dagger after dagger after the skeleton in a rapid fire series of attacks. If their prey slips even a bit one would land. They noticed how physical attacks incur minimal damage. Attacks laced with magic, rippling with malicious Intent, however, make their frightened prey stumble and keen in pain. Their victim is unusual, an abomination to the natural order of all things Chara’s giggle is a whisper “Sounds familiar” but they are a skilled hunter.

All prey have weaknesses to exploit.

They don’t care if this NPC or test from Nightmare or whatever the stars-damned fuck this “skeleton” is. They will not be the one who suffers, not this time.

With the taste of iron, of blood and their own ashes from their burned insides on their tongue, they persist. They are Unnas, spirit indestructible, and if they wish for him to die, then he will die.

With their newfound clarity they shift tactics. The hybrid summons their blaster and pours all the wrath and anguish they carry into the blast. Their blaster mirrors their own hateful countenance, Determination grows from black rivers to floods that pour out their sockets and mouths, cooking up their insides and boiling their marrow as they burn alive.

Blaster and evoker both unhinge their jaws and roar a deafening scream.

The moment the air burned with tangible hatred, Color drops, flinging himself to the snowy ground a fraction of a second just in time. The blast misses him, eviscerating instead several acres of forest.

Color’s Soul aches at the devastation. All that beautiful scenery, gone. Obliterated out of nothing but sheer misdirected hatred.

His mourning lightens when his eye spots a strange ripple in the air ahead of him, visible only to him.

He brightens, Soul lighting up with hope once more. That was the door!

Color plants both hands by his skull and kicks his legs up, flipping himself upright and lunges forward. Almost there, almost there, almost there!

His hand reaches for the translucent Codes shifting and humming within the liminal space.

Only for the sight of his freedom to be ripped from his visage as a katana impales him, sinking into his scapula and breaking through his sternum.

Color chokes on fire, his eyelight flaring and flames spiraling in pain. The cruel Intent tears through his mana network, buzzing angrily and disrupting his magic in its attempt to subdue and kill kill kill.

Blinded by pain, Color reacts on instinct.

He whirls around while the Killer closes in, another katana in hand, and with a slitted eyelight evokes his blaster. Firing right at the strange target hovering in front of the cannibal’s chest.

It lands, and Color is unprepared for the way the sound that it tears from his assailant shrieks through the forest, shrill visceral agony cracking in an anguished scream.

The impact blasts them back, skittering and tumbling several feet away onto their chest.

It…it made no sense…Color trembled, shaken by the sound and adrenaline and his instincts howling for him to run. His Intent was to protect himself, why were they spasming and mana flaring like he’d taken a shot at their Soul…?

Color stills with horrified realization as the cannibal’s claws dig into the snow and they slowly start crawling towards him. Despite their continued choking, hacking up splatters of bitter, black fluid, they force their trembling body towards him.

The strange, erratically spinning lines of crimson and ivory magic…that was their Soul.

And Color had shot his magic, powered by several human Traits, right at it.

Horrified revulsion simmers in his nonexistent gut and he doesn’t know what to do, wanting to apologize but knowing letting his guard down would mean his permanent end. He could escape, freedom was right there, right behind him. All he had to do was step through and he’d be out of the AU.

But then they lift their skull to stare at him. Voided sockets with ink-like fluid pouring out, stare into Color’s singular wide eye.

There’s not an ounce of hatred that he felt in the attacks prior. It’s empty and black. In those eyes there was no fear, only resignation. And yet they still crawl towards him, knife clasped in a shivering claw.

Color reaches out, mouth parted to say something, but before he can reach out something intangible shoves him and he falls through the door, the portal closing behind him and seals the exit locked.

The last he sees before he falls through it to the Omega Timeline are those empty eyes.

[gatitties]

Yandere!Bonten x black widow assassin!reader?

Just something that popped into my head, just imagine them in a club. One of them being a target of assassination but your target is the one who tryin to kill them. One second they are surrounded by gurls doing whatever. The next a ceiling from the floor above caves in and you have your target in a hopeless position. You leave with the target apologizing for the mishap!

─Yandere!Bonten x assassin!reader

─Summary: you were just doing your job, you don't need any more trouble chasing you in life

─Warnings: use of weapons, unwarranted obsession, toxic behaviors, yandere stuff

I apologize because I don't know how to describe fight scenes 😩🤚

Part Two / Part Three

You adjusted the belt around your waist, checking the chambers of your ebony and ivory pistols, full ammunition, checking that you had your concealed knives in place, along with the small spray cans and gas mask, you didn't used to have to use these last ones things, but you never know when you need a little help.

You take out your cell phone checking the message from the anonymous person who had hired you this time, one last look at the information you needed to know, you just had to make sure that another assassin did not kill your client's shareholders, although it did not expressly say that you should kill her, but if it was necessary to secure the lives of these men, was something you were going to do. Not for nothing were you quite well known in the underground world where contracts were agreed upon, you did your job quietly, leaving no clues and quite quickly, you offered good service and that's how you earned your living after your parents kicked you out of the house for being a nonsense in your studies, at least, you found a way to earn a living, more or less moral depending on who looks at it.

Usually you would take a more defensive position with a long-range sniper, but today you needed to blend in with the girls in a brothel, so you had to bring out another part of your arsenal, fancy clothes and accessories to your liking to look like someone rich.

It was not difficult to infiltrate as one of the workers, since they did not have a uniform as such, you located the round table of the men you had to protect, observing from afar how they interacted with the different girls who approached like bees to honey, wishing try something from them. You stood next to a guy at another table, following his dirty talk in a careless way while your attention was focused on another girl, you saw how her dress became baggier in certain areas of her body, areas that you recognized well to hide a weapon small caliber, luckily she excused herself to go to the bathroom, immediately forgetting your companion to follow her.

You waited in the restrooms, pretending to touch up your lipstick, you looked sideways when she came out of one of the bathrooms, noticing how the dress adjusted, revealing a knife attached to her thigh, you both exchanged glances, a small silence of tension and out of nowhere the two of you were fighting knife against knife.

"I knew that some whore was going to try to take my job today, those men are mine, I'll be the one to kill them."

She cut you on the cheek and you immediately kicked her, her defensive posture wavered for a few moments but she recovered, the fight reached the second floor where there was no one, since there only had furniture or old things from decor.

"You're wrong, they are not my targets."

You cut her forearm causing her to move back, anticipating her movements you hid behind a sofa, she now pointed her pistol towards your position without being able to hit you, you threw your knife as a distraction to be able to aim with your guns, but the girl reacted quickly at the stimulus, you groaned internally as a bullet grazed your arm but you began to move quickly between the different pieces of furniture.

It was like that for a while, playing tense cat and mouse, you managed to hurt her enough to make her movements much slower, but you needed to make your dominance clear, you took cover behind a pile of stacked boxes, your eyes caught a small crack in the floor, you looked up seeing some old wooden beams, that was it.

You forced the girl out of her hiding place, continuing the fight physically, again wielding bladed weapons, you lured her to the center of the room, managing to kick her to drop her weapons, before she could draw another one, you shot into the rafters and everything fell on top of both of you, the floor collapsed, consequently falling to the first floor, right in front of the table where Bonten observed how two female figures were on top of all that rubble.

The chaos had made the vast majority of people flee, they took their hands to their guns in case something unforeseen happened, however they watched in silence the interaction.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I give up, I'll quit the job, but don't kill me! I just needed the money to get my family up, please! Please…!"

Your finger brushed the trigger of your pistol that was pointed directly at her forehead, you looked at her in silence for a few seconds before slowly lowering the gun, her eyes began to water, and immediately she pushed you to run.

"My mission wasn't to kill you anyway… oh shit!" you brushed off the rubble and dust, looking around as a couple of waitresses looked at you horrified, your breathing calmed once you saw the Bonten executives safe and sound, you didn't think very well that destroying the ceiling could have crushed them, but luckily nothing fell on their table "Ok, job done… sorry for the mess."

As if you had known them all your life, you apologized for a little nonsense, and you were going to leave immediately because you needed a rest and your money, but apparently someone did not have the same thoughts.

"Who the hell are you?"

Sanzu gripped your wrist tightly, glancing at the pistols that were now visible because your clothing had been torn in places, a small smile tugging at his lips at seeing your unfazed gaze.

"It's none of your business."

You tugged at his grip to break free of it, but he tightened it causing a wince on your face, the others slowly approached to your side, Mikey watching silently as your wince turned into one of impatience and disgust.

"It is our business, you have destroyed our brothel."

"And you intend to leave like that as if nothing had happened? It's disrespectful lady."

The Haitani brothers stepped forward, Ran pointing out all the damage from the collapse while Rin crossed his arms, inspecting your face and every detail of it.

"I'm not a lady..." they all began to look at each other, giving you glances from time to time, observing your body and arguing in silence "or am I?"

You raised your leg hitting Sanzu's abdomen, he stepped back as did you, although Kakucho blocked your next attack he couldn't catch you again because he had to dodge one of your hidden blades.

"Catch her!"

"I'm sorry! I have places to be, I hope we don't meet again, maybe it means bad news."

You sprayed them with a shit-eating smile when you saw how they rubbed their eyes trying to hold back the tears from the burning, when they wanted to realize you were already a long way from there, looking for the place where they had hidden the money for the completed order.

"Have you seen her movements, damn, I think I've-"

"Cut it Sanzu, we don't want to know about your sexual fantasies."

"Always so boring Kokonoi."

"Who was her anyway?"

Mochizuki, finished wiping his eyes once they stopped watering, Takeomi answered even though his eyes kept looking at the exit through which you fled.

"She was a contract killer, apparently a good one."

"I want her."

"Huh?"

They all looked at his leader, his gaze of emptiness had a slight glimmer of desire, as if he were a child who had found a better toy than he already had, a new toy to play with and smash. You were good at your job, weren't you? He needed to get rid of a few useless ones, and he wanted you to be the one to do that job.

You unintentionally triggered an obsession in the leader of one of the worst mafias in Tokyo, no matter how slippery you are, no matter how many times you change your identity, nothing matters because now you are something he wants and Mikey always gets what he wants. His obsession with you at first was something that happened as a 'boss whim', however, the more difficult the search for you became, the others also began to become obsessed for no reason.

A long game of cat and mouse awaits you, because now these guys need to know more about you, they need to see you, they need to have you, even though they barely shared a measly moment with you, it was enough to obsess over an image of you that they held within their minds. Do you think you can escape? don't be silly.

[theyonagoda]

Hickey knife details + other similar knives! B/c a lot of people only know about his.

So, like, I think us The Terror enjoyers all know about the Hickey knife:

This isn't the only piece of cutlery marked by Cornelius Hickey, but it's the only one with his full name on it. His initials are at the back, as well!

His neatness is distinctive- I'm not sure if he was literate, but given how he previously worked as a carpenter on the HMS Belvidera (Which many FE members including John Irving, Alexander Macdonald, and the Erebus' Caulker's mate, Fracis Dunn, also previously served on,) he's certainly got experience with woodwork and it shows.

Here are pictures of the other ivory/bone handled knives which have initials carved onto them.

Magnus Manson, though this is a bit debatable.

Most likely Richard "Dick" Wall, a cook. Another knife, "WR" (William Reed or William Rhodes) didn't have a good photo of it unfortunately. Here it is at the bottom, slightly to the left- you can kind of make it out! It seems like Mr WR is also a neat carver.

Perhaps they traveled together and wanted to mark their own cutlery instead of using it communally? These knives were purchased from different groups of Inuit in different areas, but they might've traded hands many times.

[zorosdimples]

cw: brief descriptions of violence. siren ajax childe tartaglia !

it’s late afternoon as you wander around the beach of a secluded cove. the crystalline waters are calm, the foamy lap of the waves and the warbling birds the only sounds to disturb the balmy air. a seashell peeks out of the wet sand—coral spots dot the ivory helix.

as you bend down to pick up the shell, you hear it: soft laughter, bubbly and warm, though it rings directly in your ear. you look up—out toward the waves—and see a figure resting on a rock. perhaps naively, you draw closer to the stranger with the enticing voice.

you first notice the shimmering tail, a piercing lapis that rivals the splendor of the cloudless sky. its fin drags across the water in a teasing manner, as though playing a game with something beneath the surface.

the creature’s torso seems too fair for the blistering sun, but its skin is as smooth as the tide-flattened sand, smattered with freckles like broken shells. its hair is a shock of auburn that curls in every direction yet looks as beautiful as the seaweed that sways on the ocean floor.

although the creature is smiling, cheeks dimpled and azure eyes gleaming with mirth, its teeth are akin to knives. you recall the folktales you heard as a child—sirens that are as terrifying as they are gorgeous, sweet voices luring a sailor to his death. a siren’s teeth are meant to rend flesh from meat and meat from bone, to crush bone into dust.

the siren’s smile grows wider as the blood drains from your face.

[angelstills]

Scary Movie (2000)

[whencyclopedia]

Portuguese Angola

Portuguese Angola in southwest Africa was the first European colony on that continent. While settlement from 1571 proved problematic in the interior, the Portuguese did obtain a large number of slaves which they shipped to their Atlantic island colonies and to Portuguese Brazil right up to the end of the Atlantic slave trade in the 19th century.

With the capital at Luanda on the coast, the Portuguese struggled against the kingdoms of Kongo, Ndongo, and Matamba to gain control of the interior. The Angolan Wars saw shifting tribal allegiances thwart the relatively small number of Afro-Portuguese, but help from Brazil, eager to maintain the flow of slaves, proved crucial. The decolonization process in the mid-20th century was one of the most bloody and shambolic in Africa, and civil war continued long after independence was gained in 1975.

The Portuguese in West Africa

The Portuguese arrived in West Africa, and from the late 15th century they began to explore further south. Following the Portuguese colonization of São Tomé and Principe in 1486, the Europeans were looking for slaves to work on their sugar plantations. The Portuguese settlers on São Tomé and Principe had already been in trade contact with the mainland, searching for gold, pepper, and ivory. The main trading partner was the Kingdom of Kongo (c. 1400 - c. 1700), which controlled a booming regional slave trade. Through the 16th century, slaves from Kongo (and also the Kingdom of Benin) were transported to the Portuguese islands and to their colonies in the North Atlantic like Madeira.

The Portuguese had bought African slaves with cotton cloth, silk, mirrors, knives, and glass beads, but they got the idea to launch their own slave-capturing expeditions in Africa’s interior and cut out the Kongolese middlemen. The Kongo kings were not pleased with this development, and they were increasingly alarmed at the effects of European culture and the Christian religion on their subjects. As relations soured, the Portuguese began to look for another trade partner further down the coast of Africa.

Exploring further south in the mid-16th century, the Europeans came into contact with a new kingdom, or rather a loose confederation of Kimbundu tribes, then known as Ndongo, probably formed c. 1500. Its ruler was called the Ngolo, which derives from the local word for iron - ngola - and from which the name Angola derives. The Portuguese attempted to create a new slave industry partnership with Ndongo and even involved the kingdom in a war with their northern neighbours, the Kingdom of Kongo. Ndongo had already defeated Kongo in a battle in 1556 and so seemed a good candidate to satisfy Portugal's ambitions in the region.

Continue reading...

[mostly-mundane-atla]

I hope it's okay to ask about non-atla things

I'm doing research for a story that's basically an alternate history where Antarctica is populated similarly to the northern circumpolar regions. I'm having a bit of trouble with some of the logistics though, and I'm hoping you might have insights or suggestions?

In an environment without wood, and from what I can see no flint, how would one start a fire? And what fuel might be used to sustain it? (I know there's coal an oil, but I can't find anything that specifies if Antarctica has flint)

What sort of foods have the best protein/energy content for this kind of lifestyle? (physical and harsh) Am I right in assuming that animal fat/blubber would be a good source of this?

How would they craft tools? Like, how are knives and such traditionally crafted from bones and how would stones be incorporated? Also, in an environment without wood, how would they get the first hunting weapons? Would it be realistic for them to use something like slings?

How is meat traditionally prepared? Like, the drying and freezing and such. I've been trying to find more information on this, but can't really find anything that covers food preparation methods specifically.

If there's anything else you think is important to share please do! I'm trying to make this feel as realistic as possible, and since the Arctic and Antarctic are similar in environment I'm hoping to gain some insight of the general environment and certain cultural factors that are tied to a harsh/difficult environment

I hope I worded this all well

Another wonderfully formatted ask!

1. An environment without trees and bushes is not an environment without driftwood, and driftwood can be made into a bow drill. The spark could be sustained on rendered animal fats.

2. Fats are a great way to maintain energy required to survive in such a harsh environment, as are eggs from birds and fish Skin can also provide vitamin c to make up for the lack of fruit. This is why maktak is such a valued food in the far north.

3. Knapping and grinding an edge on to stones can make blades for knives, spears, and similar tools that can carve into ivory, bone, antler, driftwood, and other materials Bow drills can drill holes to allow tying and joins. Cordage and rope can be made of sinews or grasses, though i believe sinew is the more durable of the two materials. Slings make sense and so do bolas and harpoons. Also, for more domestic tools, needles can be made wing bones and shovels are can be made of large animals' shoulderblades.

4. Meat can be cut into thin strips and then dried on a rack, kept frozen, fermented in a pouch underground, or boiled in a pot carved from wood or skin pouch by heating rocks and placing them in the water.

I hope this covered everything. If you have anymore questions, please feel free to ask!

[milequaritchsslut]

Aged Up Yandere Neteyam x Reader x Lo’ak Part 5

Notes: Uhm sorry this is actual shit guys, uhm I kinda rushed it at the end sorry 😢 Anyways I hope you guys still enjoy it

Warnings: Blood, gore, murder, knives, stabbing, heavy mentions of death, despair, sadness, yandere, screaming, bloodbath, nightmares, fighting, slut shaming, hitting, physical abuse, Neteyam being a lunatic again, kinda forced bonding (?), kissing,

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

As you awoke, your body longed for touch, moving back, you found yourself alone. No body to hold you into them, where had he gone? Sitting up, your nose scrunched from a horrid smell close by. It was retched, and it stung your senses the more you inhaled. Your vision seemed blurry the more you opened them, groggy from the night before. Your ears began to twitch at a strange noise, turning your blurred gaze to the noise, your eyes instantly widened at the sight in front of you. It was Neteyam, sitting on his knees, his back glistening in sweat, and a red ink? “Neteyam?” You asked, rubbing your eyes. The more your eyes awakened, the faster you realized what was happening. He had a knife in his hand, a bloody knife. Dripping in ivory red, the liquid trailing down the length of his arm. He was hunched over a tall figure, mumbling nonsense to himself. There was blood pooling around him, staining the wooden floor. The smell was horrid, your nose kept getting a whiff of it the more you woke up. The scent soiling the room, sticking to the walls, overriding the smell of the mossy forest. There was ichor splattered all across the walls, turning the room into a bloodbath. Death immersed the space you had slept in, the place you woke up in every morning. It was unrecognizable, covered in the aura of demise, and ending.

The more you watched, the faster your heartbeat picked up, heightening the longer your stare lingered. You were scared, frightened at the sight in front of your innocent eyes. You didn’t want to move, you wanted to stay, watching, never leaving. But it seemed your body moved by itself, your feet landing on the moist flooring, blood swamping around your toes. It was warm, hot almost, as if it’d been sitting in the sun all day. But that’s not where it was supposed to be, it’s meant to be inside of that blue capsule, kept warm and safe. Flowing through us, pumping our heart, rushing through our veins, helping our bodies move throughout the day. But instead it was here laid, and sprawled around your room, tinting your walls with death. Your feet moved, one by one, step by step. Lingering by the unrecognizable man in front of you, every step made a splashing sound. Spattering blood onto the sides of your dark blue ankles. Hugging the flesh of your legs, dripping down little by little the more you walked. Your eyes stayed on him, scanning every part of his body over and over again.

Then it came to a stop, your movements halting at the realization of just who you were looking at. Lo’ak laid in front of his older brother, mouth open, foaming with a thick red coloring, trickling down the sides of his face. His eyes were wide awake, but so dull. All life pulled out of his once loving eyes, his bright golden tinted orbs, now a dark orange, the color of a dark sunset. Such a rare shade, reserved only for the passing, for the ones whose time had come to an end. His thick eyelashes hovering over his tangerine toned spheres, an interesting picture to say the least. His lips turned brittle, layered in dried blood and drool. His large hand laid over his once dark blue skin, now painted scarlett. His callused hands splayed over a hole, a gaping hole of flesh. You could see right through it, a window looking out of his own body. Deep cuts surrounding it, cut right through his skin, his baby soft skin, now darkened and rose colored. His body stayed still, his chest flat, no oxygen coming in and out. Lifeless, dead, a corpse splayed in the middle of your room. He was gone, no more fighting, his soul was with Ewya now.

You wanted to cry, let the river come down your sapphire skin. Let the salty liquid cloud your vision as you wept. But nothing came out, a desert was all that was felt. Empty of any emotion, lifeless almost. You just stared, not talking, only standing and watching. “Isn’t it wonderful?” He asked, standing to meet you face to face. Just inches from your frozen form, unable to move. Caressing your cheek, he noticed your strange aura. You were so scared but so calm, what a good girl you were. “It’s only us now my love”.

They shot open, like a door flying unlocked from a gust of wind. Your eyelashes hitting the top of your shadow, it was a dream. Nothing more, a figment of your tainted imagination. But it seemed so real, you could smell the blood on your body. The ivory pooling around your boyfriend, and the wounds he had made on his brother. But where had that smell gone now? It had dissolved into thin air, disappeared into nothing now. And where was Lo’ak? He was there laying next to you, holding you tight in his grasp. The inside of his palms flush to your stomach. Your body had become sweaty, dripping down your body, falling off your fingertips like honey. It stuck to your skin, seeping out the more you tried to wipe it off. Your forehead was glistening, the bioluminescent dots making your body sparkle. You were steaming hot, and Lo’ak’s body temperature wasn’t helping. Slowly you decided to pry him off of you, slipping out of your hammock as he laid sound asleep. Your window showed you the night sky, the moon shining down on Pandora. It was in a crescent tonight, as if someone had sliced off a piece and left it hanging in the sky. It was a beautiful sight to see, but it wasn’t abnormal for you, it was very common in fact. The nights seemed to repeat themselves, showing you the same scene every nightfall. Of course the moon was in a different shape every dusk, but the way it shined was no different, the moon cycle never ending. The stars seemed to be holes in the sky, like it was a background on a table and a child had plucked holes into it, showing it’s true colors. There were so many, too many to count. Was this how the humans sky looked like?

Did they have holes in their solar system just like you? Neteyam would probably know, since his father was apart of the sky people. You found yourself admiring the sky for awhile, but you wanted to be closer. Tip toeing out of your hut, your feet stood on the dirt, the roots slightly poking out from nearby trees. As you walked through the clan, your eyes never lost the midnight sky, observing every movement that flashed through the empyrean. Your bioluminescent dots lead you through the forest, your pace picking up the farther you ran. It seemed so quiet at night compared to the sounds of rushing Na’vi around you. You wanted it to stay like this, only being able to hear the sounds of the rushing rivers and animals, and your breath picking up the more you did. “Y/n?” He spoke, blocking your pathway before you could go any further. “Teyam?” He came closer. “What are you doing up?” His voice was so demeaning towards you and you hated it, you were not a child anymore and he wasn’t your father. “I could be asking you the same question” moving past him, your hair hitting him in the face.

“Don’t be like that y/n” following behind you, annoyance hinting in his tone. Ignoring him, you continued on with admiring the sky. It seemed the stars had moved ever since you took your eyes off of them. Noticing your glance, he asked “what are you looking at?” Interested in what could be more important then him right now. “The stars” he glanced up at them “what’s so special about them?”. “Their always there” your eyes still glued to them as you spoke. “I never hear you talk about them” “I don’t have to tell you everything” sassing back to your aggravating boyfriend. “I tell you everything don’t I?” You looked at him finally, eyes piercing through him “No you do not” “You think I’m lying?” “I know you are”. He smirked, as if he knew something you didn’t. “Alright then what have I not told you?”. There were so many answers to that question, but you just rolled your eyes, obviously wanting to be alone at the moment, but as always he never gave you what you wanted. “You didn’t tell you how much you hate Lo’ak, or about how jealous you are of him” you shot back, looking back up at the stars. “I’m not jealous of him, he’s jealous of us” “Keep lying to yourself”.

He stopped, pulling you back to meet him “Why are you being so fucking rude? Huh?” you instantly slapped his hand off you, causing him to hiss at the sudden sting. “Go away Neteyam, I do not want to be around you right now!” he looked down at you, eyelids half opened as his eyes turned to slits before you. He was obviously furious at the way you were treating him, you had never been so rude to him before. And he knew exactly why “This is Lo’ak’s fault. He’s putting things into your head isn’t he? Or maybe your giving it to him you little slut” his finger pushing into your chest as he moved into you, causing you to slightly stumble. Your eyes immediately widened at him, who the fuck did he think he was talking to? “Get a fucking grip Neteyam, I’m not doing shit with your brother” you pushed him away, making your way as far as you could. He just laughed at you, following right behind. “Then where’s he sleeping tonight huh? Cause he’s not home” he pushed back, quickly matching your pace. “Go and look for him if your so worried then” you shot back, getting anxious that he somehow knew where he was.

He stopped dead in his tracks, as he began putting the puzzle pieces together. A lightbulb flashed in his mind, a sly smirk forming on his face. He started smiling to himself, a dangerous smirk creeping on his face. You could hear a chuckle coming from him as he stared you down. “Oh you are so childish y/n” he teased in a sly tone. the hair on your back stood up from his words sending a shivered chill down your spine. “Thinking I wouldn’t find out?” He smiled slyly, what a foolish girl you were. He stepped closer behind you, his breathe catching on your neck. His hand coming to wrap around your chin, his hands were rough as was his tone. “W-what are you talking about?” You asked, trying to play it off. Your cheeks were becoming hot as you became anxious.

He hissed at your lies, before turning you around with one swift movement. He pushed you down to the ground as he smiled down at you, he was a different man than before. He looked just how he did in your dream, with murder on his mind. “Don’t play fucking dumb with me y/n” he scowled, before leering at you again. “You’ll see what I’m talking about when I have his head on a stick” he smiled at that, smiling at the mere thought of killing his own brother. Turning away from you, he made his way to your hut “Stop!” You screamed as you ran after him, you pulled him away, scratching and hitting him in fear he was being serious. “Let go y/n!” He yelled, as he turned to you, his face had changed. His eyes were dark and black, no color in them anymore. He was an animal, he was not Na’vi anymore he was a beast. A beast who was hungry for bloodlust, you didn’t even have to look at his face, his body languge was enough to show it.

He pushed you against a tree as he looked down at you in fury. “Maybe if you weren’t such a slut I wouldn’t have to do this” he pushed you hard into the tree, putting you back into your place. “Neteyam please!” Your voice was dripping from fear and desperation, you held onto his arm to try to reason with him. “Please don’t hurt him! I’ll do whatever you want Teyam” you cried out as your grip tightened on his bicep. His ears perked up at your words, a sick idea coming to mind. You were so pathetic to him, so easily manipulated. “Anything you say?” He chuckled, looking back to you as his agonizing eyes met yours. “Yes Teyam anything! Please don’t hurt him!” You begged, tears prickling at the sides of your eyes. He didn’t answer for a minute, thinking long and hard at your suggestion. “Mate with me” he came closer, caressing the sides of your face ever so smoothly. “Now” he was stern, he wasn’t asking, he was demanding you to obey. “R-right now?” You asked, fearful of what he meant. “What the fuck else would I mean?” He hissed back, his face twisting in annoyance at your idiotic question. You looked down in submission, trying to weigh out your options.

After awhile you looked back up at him, your hand coming to hold his as your eyes sparkled in the moonlight. “Ok” you mumbled, and that was all he needed. It was like a switch went off on him, his adrenaline was pumping, his veins popping out of his biceps in excitement. He practically lunged at you, his hands coming to hold your neck as his lips intertwined with yours. His kiss was deep, passion tingling through his skin. He’d been waiting to do this for so long, so many moons to do this to you. His grip on your waist was dangerously tight as his mouth traveled down your neck. “T-Teyam” you whimpered out as his lips molded onto your body. “What is it pretty girl?” He asked teasingly, his gaze meeting yours as lust filled his eyes. You wanted to answer so badly, but his grip was sickening on you. And his gaze scared you, it was something you had never seen before. You didn’t answer, and he didn’t bother to ask again. His hands traveled down the length of your body, his hand coming to untie your top quickly.

He reached behind your back as he brought your queue in front of you, he looked down at you through hooded eyes. He was more then excited, so so much more then excited. He was thirsty for you, his desire growing by the second. He gave you a look asking if you were ready, you nodded slowly as your breathe picked up right away. Your palms were sweating from anxiety, this was it, you were his forever after this. That was the last thing you wanted right now, but did you really have a choice? He grabbed his queue from his back, and brought it up to your face as he smirked at you in lust. Your eyes stayed on the queue, as they filled with anticipation and fear. Slowly he brought them together the tendrils enclosing around one another. Your head shot back in surprise as you connected, your pupils dilating right away. Your chest heaved as you held onto him for support. Your reaction was far from calm, you began to shake as you started to feel everything he did. His jealousy, the lust he felt for you, and the obsession. The obsession scared you, he was infatuated with you and it was frightening. You heard every thought that ran through him and you looked up at him with a frightened state.

What had you done?

Taglist: @h3l3na-pandora @iman-lu @neteyamsluvts @arminsgfloll @afro-hispwriter @silententhusiastdreamer er @liluvtojineteyam @ihatethridperiod @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @marybby @reinap06 @leaveitbythewave @xreadersstuff @vitalanidragonbane @jjkclub @jimfiqs @xoulalousing @myh3artttt