#The Easy-Bleeder Killings

[draconicsparkle]

So @snivyartjpeg shared their warmup doodles in the discord server of a kokolight vampire au. And I swear, as soon as I saw it, my brain instantly desired to make something based off of it. How could I not?

Not much to say on this honestly. I just wanted to write something fun based on the cute doodles! So enjoy!

Vampires existed. They lived and breathed in the same world as humans. That was an undeniable fact. Yakou knew this and accepted this.

But what he had not expected was for one of his own employees to be one.

His first clue had been a few bloody tissues left in the trash can. As far as he knew, no one had been having intense nosebleeds aside from possibly Desuhiko. But no clients had come to the agency and no… magazines were here. So the possibility of the disguise detective being the bleeder was minimal.

So at that point, he tried to subtly observe his employees a little more.

He instantly ruled Fubuki out as the one hiding their true status, as she couldn’t lie to save her life. Desuhiko was ruled out too, as he was not very good at convincing. So he surely wouldn’t have been able to talk someone into providing blood. And Yuma? Obviously not, as the small rookie detective couldn’t hurt a fly.

Which left two contenders. Halara and Vivia.

This was where the search got a little more difficult. Those two were incredibly guarded individuals, not letting much slip past their walls. They could keep secrets no problem, and their poker faces were solid.

But after some watching, Yakou thought he nailed it down.

Vivia Twilight.

It seemed obvious once he connected the dots. The man always appeared to be sleeping during the day, as vampires were typically nocturnal creatures. His skin was pale, like he didn’t have great blood circulation as vampires tended to suffer from. His ability to be incredibly stealthy when he needed to. And the constant insistence that he wanted to die someday. Perhaps a mindset he got from needing to drain people’s lifeblood to survive.

And in addition to figuring this out, he also discovered who Vivia must have been feeding off of. Yuma Kokohead.

The two of them had gotten close since they started working together. It was fairly common to see them next to each other, whether it be naps, talks, or eating regular food. So he was certainly easy to access as a food source. Yuma also was fairly agreeable and could be convinced easily. He always wore that navy blue scarf, concealing his neck and potentially hiding the bite marks.

It all fit in Yakou’s mind. Surely he had figured it out.

But he couldn’t put the thought to bed until he had concrete proof. So he devised a little scheme.

It had started with sending Halara, Fubuki and Desuhiko out to do some jobs. He also claimed that he had errands to run, so he gave instructions to the last two. “Stay here in the agency and keep watch over the place. If clients come in, entertain them until I return. Understood?”

Yuma nodded with a beaming smile. “We won’t let you down, Chief!” Vivia hummed his agreement from the fireplace.

“Okay then. I’ll be back in an hour,” he told them. Then he left the submarine.

To his credit, he did go do some errands to kill time. But he returned to the sub after half an hour. He knew that by giving them a time frame, they might try something while they believed themselves to be alone with no interruptions. So it was the best time to try and get his proof.

He carefully unlocked the hatch, descending into the hull and turning around. The lights had been turned off, but the sound of clothes rustling was audible. Vampires preferred darkness over light, so this was a good sign. But he needed more information. So he took some sneaky steps towards the room’s opening, until he was just barely hidden. Then he suddenly rounded the corner.

And what he found there had not been what he expected.

Oh, there was a vampire in his submarine alright, but the glowing red eyes and bloody fangs didn’t belong to who he had thought. Yuma’s eyes shone in the dark as they turned towards him while perched on Vivia’s lap. His tongue darted out to lap up a tiny trickle of blood that was dripping down his chin.

Meanwhile, Vivia had been sitting upright on the sofa, head tilted to the side and his neck exposed with several bite marks now on display with his coat off. The lazy detective opened his eyes upon feeling the vampire stop, then caught sight of the flabbergasted Yakou. “Oh, hey Chief,” he called out, acting as though nothing was wrong.

“Wha-? But… I thought… Yuma’s the vampire?!” he managed to exclaim, running a hand through his frazzled hair.

“Uh… sorry? I wasn’t really sure… how to tell you,” the rookie said with an embarrassed tone. “But it’s okay! Vivia helps me with my blood urges, so there’s nothing to fear!”

Yakou rubbed his temples, trying to not get overly upset that his theory had been the complete opposite. “It’s fine, it’s fine. If you got it under control, then I see no reason to worry.” He sighed, then reached for the light switch. “Turning on the lights now. Close your eyes.”

He waited until the red glow vanished from the room, then flipped the switch. He grabbed the grocery bag that he had left near the hatch and entered the room again, ready to discuss things with his employees.

But when he returned, Yuma had somehow vanished from sight. Only Vivia was in the room, busy with tying a dark bandage around his collection of bite marks. “Uh… where’s Yuma?” he asked, very confused on where the rookie had disappeared to.

Vivia smiled. “He gets sleepy after a meal. And… he insists on resting with me.”

Yakou was about to insist on a better explanation when he noticed a new shade of lilac on the taller detective’s hair. Walking closer revealed something quite endearing.

A small purple vampire bat with Yuma’s signature hair antenna was nestled into the green hair. He let out a yawn, then snapped his jaws closed and snuggled deeper into the locks. That, Yakou would admit, was adorable.

“I see. Well, I’ll leave you two to rest, I guess. I’ll try to be quiet,” he told them, then finishing the journey to the kitchen to put the groceries away. He did try to keep his promise, and worked as silently as possible.

Once everything was put away, he peeked into the lobby again. Vivia had retreated to the fireplace, the tiny bat still in his hair. Both looked dead to the world.

That was good, he supposed. Better to let them get some relaxation time while they could before the next big job. And the sight was enough to heal his wounded pride as a detective.

He turned his eyes away from the pair, settling down in his chair and opening the newspaper. Time to get back to business.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Mayhem: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: Quickly following the events after the car explosion, you and Hotch are affected in more ways than one.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

Hotch peels onto the road and follows the directions all the way to the ER. You look behind you at the man, and he tries his best to keep Kate alive. There is something about him that strikes you as odd, and it comes to you the second he locks eyes with you.

“He’s the second bomber,” you whisper, but no one hears you.

Hotch makes it to the ER, but he gets stopped by some men that are posted outside of it.

“What's this?”

“Secret Service. We're directing all emergencies over to Lenox Hill.”

“I'm SSA Hotchner. I have SSA Joyner on board. She was injured in the bomb blast at Federal Plaza.”

“Credentials?”

“They're in my jacket at Federal Plaza,” Hotch sighs.

“Here, Hotch,” you say and hand over your badge.

After the Secret Service looks at it, he hands it back to you.

“I appreciate that, Agent, but this hospital is on a strict bypass.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means the hospital is closed. We're redirecting all emergencies to Lenox Hill.”

“She's not gonna make it to Lenox Hill!”

“I'm losing her! She's crashing!” the man in the back yells.

The Secret Service man can see Kate isn’t going to make it, so he allows you to pass through. He talks to the other servicemen inside the hospital so they know you need immediate ER help. The stranger is on top of Kate giving her CPR as you and Hotch wheel both of them into the ER entrance.

“What do you have?” the doctor on call says as he and a bunch of nurses come over.

“BP is 50 over 30, and she's bradycardic with severe spinal injury.”

He, Kate, and the other doctors disappear further into the hospital as they work on saving her, and you and Hotch stand in the middle of the ER wondering what to do next. Your vision is more blurry than before, and Hotch seems to have a hard time focusing on his surroundings as well.

The adrenaline that you two had is drained, and now you’re feeling the effect of the blast. Hotch collapses onto the ground, and four nurses help you and Hotch to separate beds to get you checked out.

After seeing the gashing wound on the back of your head, the neurosurgeon on call comes down to get you a head CT that generates immediate results.

“CT came back clean. You have no visible bleeders. Can you follow my finger, please?”

She moves her finger from left to right, and you follow it easily despite it being a bit blurry. She takes out her flashlight and looks into your eyes to make sure there are no effects on your eyes.

“Besides the wound, you look okay. One of our surgical interns is going to clean that wound and give you some stitches. Take it easy and get lots of rest. You’re very lucky.”

“Thank you,” you mutter.

An intern replaces her, and he gets you cleaned up so he can see the wound clearly. He pins your hair back and begins the process of closing your wound. Just then, Derek comes barreling into the hospital after arguing with the Secret Service men outside.

“Doc, how’s Aaron Hotchner and Y/N?” Derek asks, showing his badge to him.

“He’s got acute acoustic trauma in his right ear, and I pulled shrapnel from his leg. Y/N has a head laceration, but her CT came back clean.”

“Derek?” You move the curtain to the side and see your beloved coworker as the intern continues with your stitches. “Where is Spencer? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. Everyone else is fine.”

Hotch is right next to you, and he shoves the curtain aside when he hears Derek’s voice.

“Morgan, where’s Kate?”

“She’s in surgery.”

“Where are my clothes?”

“Both of your go bags are on their way.”

“What happened to Sam?” you ask him.

“He's dead.”

“Morgan, the profile is all wrong. Everything they’ve done so far has appeared to be something it’s not.”

“They want us to think it’s over with the seemingly random acts of murder, the attempt to hack into our security surveillance systems, and the suicide by cop,” you say. “Don't forget the death card telling us they know we're watching. All of these were distractions. They are tests to record police response times. They’re all setups to make us fear there is a bomber. It’s like they were a sideshow, and the main act will just seem like another bombing when really, it’s been their target all along.”

Just then, the entire team comes rushing in with your and Hotch’s go bags. Spencer pushes to the front and immediately heads to you, and you smile at him. The intern finishes and cleans up his station before leaving.

“I was so worried about you,” he says and brings you into a hug.

“I’m okay, baby. We’re okay.”

Hotch closes the curtain to give himself privacy to change, and Spencer does the same thing for you. You open your go bag and grab the first outfit you see, but pause when you feel yourself swaying.

“Spencer? I need help,” you say in a small voice. Spencer opens the curtain enough for him to pass through it. “I’m too dizzy.”

Spencer helps you out of your hospital gown and into the clothes you chose from your go bag. You steady yourself on his shoulders as he slides your pants on, and you sit down on the hospital bed so he can put your socks and shoes on.

“I was so worried about you,” he sighs.

“I needed to be with Hotch. I couldn't explain it. I’m okay, though. My head CT came back clear. Just a couple of stitches.”

“Still. When I heard…”

“I’m okay. I promise.” He buttons your pants and smoothes out your shirt. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he smiles and kisses you.

Once you and Hotch are dressed, it’s time to get down to business.

“Are you okay?” Emily asks you and Hotch.

“Yeah. I just want to understand why we’re still alive.”

“I think the idea was to maim, not to kill.”

“Did you identify Sam?” you ask Spencer.

“Garcia put Sam and the other dead unsub into every known database. Nothing.”

“We know how terror cells evolve. They learn from one campaign to the next, and how to stay off the radar like the London bombers,” Rossi states.

“Yeah, but they hit at 8:50 in the morning with a series of coordinated blasts aimed at London's transportation system. This cell targeted a lone SUV where the only people on the street are three federal agents.”

“Garcia said the device was placed under Kate’s SUV.”

“Yeah, I saw it right before the bomb went off.” 

“It was likely made using oxidizing agents, including chromates, peroxides, perchlorates, chlorates, and red mercury, all jammed into a device no larger than a cell phone,” Spencer speculates.

“Imagine what a bomb the size of an oil drum could do.”

“Yeah, but to make something that big, you'd need a chemical engineer.”

“Like the recently deceased Dr. Azahari Husin, Asia's most-wanted bomb-maker? Authorities dubbed him the demolition man. He treated each bomb like a work of art. One wrong move, and he becomes a victim of his own creation. He'll be more revered than all of the people who died as a result of his devices.”

The team brought a laptop with them so that they can go over the bombing footage from Kate’s SUV. Emily plays the footage, and you see Sam place the bomb on the underside of the car before you, Hotch, and Kate walked over it. In the video, you yell at Hotch and tackle him to the ground, but the blast has already blown back everyone.

“Did you ever find Sam's cell phone? Did he call 911?” Hotch asks.

“No. He dialed one number six times every few minutes. It was a disposable cell. Garcia tracked the number, but it went dead minutes after Sam died. Whoever had it destroyed it.”

Something clicks in your head about this whole mess.

“All of the other bombings were sideshows. This hospital is the main show. They wanted to test police response times, and they wanted to shut this whole city down because whoever they were targeting is in a hospital that’s supposed to be closed. The Secret Service has someone in this hospital they are targeting, and an ambulance with its sirens on will go through every barricade. The bomb is here somewhere, but how will they get one in?”

“Through the ambulance,” Spencer says.

“Sam was calling the ambulance driver.”

“Who are the Secret Service protecting?” Derek asks.

“I don’t know, but let’s go.”

“God, I knew something was wrong,” you groan and hold your head. “I should have known.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Spencer says to you.

He says it, but you feel like it is. If you had known, then maybe Kate wouldn’t be so injured that she’d need surgery. Regardless, you’re here, and you have to find the bomb before it goes off.

“Who do you have in here?” Derek asks the man in charge.

“Why is that information important to you?”

“Where is the ambulance I drove?” Hotch asks.

“In the basement. Why?”

“There's a bomb in it and it's rigged. It's rigged to assassinate whoever it is you're protecting. You need to get them and everyone else out of here right now.”

“We can't do that. He's undergoing surgery as we speak.”

“Do you have eyes on the paramedic I came in with?” Hotch asks the head of security. The man searches the cameras for the man and sees him heading down to the basement. “Is that a cell phone in his hands?”

“Garcia, can you remotely access the cell phone grid I’m in and jam all the frequencies?” Rossi asks her once he got her on the line. “There's a bomb in the basement of this building.”

Derek can’t sit here and wait for this guy to blow up the building, so he jumps straight into action. He runs away from the team and to the staircase so he can find the bomb and get it out of here. Along with the driver, you can see Derek rushing down the stairs to find him.

“Where the hell is he going?” Emily asks.

“He went to find the bomb.”

“Alone? Let’s head down.

While your team searches the basement, the secret service men are going to canvas the hospital for the ambulance driver. To prevent the driver from knowing where you are, you’re going to take the stairs instead of the elevators.

Once in the basement, you walk alongside your team with your gun out in front of you. This man isn’t going to get away with this. You pass by the elevators and gasp when you see that all of the Secret Service men are dead inside. They took the elevators, and the driver saw this. He waited for them to reach this floor and killed them all.

You push down your feelings and continue on since there is nothing you can do for these men. Derek had gotten here before you, and he got inside the ambulance and raced out of there since there is nothing preventing the driver from setting it off. Penelope can jam the signals but only for so long.

You hope and pray that he will make it to whenever he is going in time because you will not lose someone on your team. The ambulance driver sits on the ground in defeat, checking his phone to see when he can make that call.

As soon as the signal is back online, he makes the call, and you close your eyes hoping that Derek is okay. He drops the phone and looks up at your team with an evil smirk. He has a knife to his throat, and no matter how much you try to convince him to drop it, he is a dead man either way.

“Put it down. It’s over,” Hotch demands.

The man grins and slices his neck. He’d rather be dead than face whatever charges he will get because of it. The cell didn’t get to kill whoever it is they were trying to, so the man was airlifted as soon as he was out of surgery. It sucks but the cell will follow wherever he’s going.

According to Penelope, Derek managed to get the ambulance to Central Park where it exploded. There were no casualties, Sam and the driver died for their cause, the cell will probably stay hidden for a while, and Kate succumbed to her injuries. You tried so hard to keep her alive, but she died soon after you got her medical help.

This entire case was nothing you’ve ever faced before, but now you’ll be better prepared if something like this ever happens again. The doctors refuse to let you and Hotch fly, so you’ll have to drive back down to Quantico. Derek decided to stay behind to drive Hotch, and Spencer stayed behind to drive you. You could take one car, but it’d be nice to have some alone time with him.

“How is your head?” Spencer asks as you two reach the car.

“Fine,” you sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“There was a reason why I needed to be with Hotch and Kate. I felt like I needed to protect them, and I couldn't even do that.”

“You also got hurt in the process,” he says.

“Hotch and Kate may have died in the explosion if I wasn’t there. It doesn’t matter anyway, Kate’s dead. I should have seen it coming. I did see it coming. I saw Sam put the bomb there, but I was too late.”

“That is not your fault.” He cups your jaw and lifts your head to look into your eyes. “You can’t predict everything.”

“I know,” you whisper.

“Let me take care of you now. Just take it easy until you’re better.”

He leans down and kisses you before helping you into the car. It will be a short physical recovery, but not a short one mentally.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[daitranscripts]

Iron Bull: Warm Approval

Tell Me About Your Troops

Iron Bull Masterpost

Available after meeting the Chargers and if they are not sacrificed.

PC: I’d like to hear more about the Chargers.

After Demands of the Qun Iron Bull: They’re good. Riding high after we hit those Venatori. Glad they made it out alive, too.

Iron Bull: Always happy to talk about my guys. What do you want to know?

1 - Dialogue options:

Investigate: How did you start? [2]

Investigate: You must have crazy stories. [3]

Investigate: Your group is diverse. [4]

Investigate: Tell me about Krem. [5]

General: Goodbye. [6]

2 - Investigate: How did you start? PC: How did you start the group? Iron Bull: It’s easy to make a name for yourself as a merc when you’re a head taller than most folks. I spent a year or two working for Fisher’s Bleeders, but their captain was crap. Figured I could do better. The best folks in the Bleeders agreed with me, so we split off.

Dialogue options:

Special: What about Fisher? [Back to 1]

7 - Special: What about Fisher? PC: I imagine Fisher disagreed. Iron Bull: (Grunts.) He came at me. I snapped his sword in half, and we talked things out over drinks.

3 - Investigate: You must have crazy stories. PC: What are the craziest jobs you’ve ever taken? Iron Bull: Besides this one? There’s a lot of violence between the nobles here, but that’s standard work. The fun stuff is when they party. They always want to impress each other, and that means getting something shiny. We’ve hunted wyverns, fought through caves to find some old magical crap, even went giant-baiting once.

Dialogue options:

Special: Giant-baiting? [8]

[Back to 1]

8 - Special: Giant-baiting? PC: What’s giant-baiting? Iron Bull: So this old guy, Comte Vanchess, has some kind of pageant planned, but he needs a giant, which is off in some damn cave. He’s got some kind of rare charm to control the giant, but no way he’s going into that cave himself. So we go in, kill some spiders, find the giant, and wake it up. It attacks us, because of course it does, and we let the big bastard chase us outside, where Vanchess is waiting.

Dialogue options:

Special: You let it chase you? [9]

[Back to 1]

9 - Special: You let it chase you? PC: That was actually your plan? To let a giant chase you? Iron Bull: Yeah. We had to stay out of reach but close enough that it wouldn’t give up. It was tricky. Good news is that giants are slow. Long as my guys ahead could clear out the spiders, we were fine. Bad news is that giant spiderwebs slow you down a bit more than you’d think. PC: But at least Comte Vanchess got his giant for the pageant. Iron Bull: Ah, turned out that charm was a phony. Giant ate the poor guy alive. It’s okay, though. We still got paid. [back to 1]

4 - Investigate: Your group is diverse. PC: You have people from plenty of different backgrounds in your group. Iron Bull: Yeah. Well, when you’re in Orlais and you look like me, you can’t be picky about who you take in. A lot of ’em got turned away from other companies that didn’t want a knife-ear or a crazy dwarf. Their loss. You get my back in a fight and carry your own weight, you’re good with me.

Qunari PC Iron Bull: How about you? You had a company of your own. How did you put yours together?

Dialogue options:

General: I took all kinds. [10]

General: I mostly stuck with humans. [11]

General: I used Tal-Vashoth. [12]

10 - General: I took all kinds. PC: Like you, more or less. I took anyone who could take care of themselves and follow orders. Iron Bull: Great minds… [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 11 - General: I mostly stuck with humans. PC: I only had humans, for the most part. I thought I’d get more work with the nobles that way. Iron Bull: Yeah, that makes sense. Some of them only want the right people bleeding for ’em. [back to 1] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 12 - General: I used Tal-Vashoth. PC: My company was mostly Tal-Vashoth, like me. Iron Bull: (Grunts.) Well, it’s better than becoming bandits, I guess. [back to 1]

5 - Investigate: Tell me about Krem. PC: I’d like to know more about Krem. Iron Bull: He’s a good soldier, and a better second-in-command. The troops need someone to complain to when I’m being a hard-ass. He’s good for that.

13 - Dialogue options:

Special: But you hate Tevinter. [14]

Special: Him being her isn’t an issue? [15]

[Back to 1]

14 - Special: But you hate Tevinter. PC: You don’t have a problem with him being from Tevinter? Iron Bull: Nah. PC: But you hate “the Vints.” Iron Bull: Sure. But he’s not a Vint. He’s just Krem. I can get worked up about a group or a nation just fine, but people… It’s too much work to hate them one by one. [back to 13]

15 - Special: Him being her isn’t an issue? PC: You don’t have any problems with him being a woman? Iron Bull: He’s not a woman.

Iron Bull (Qunari PC): Look, you and I have to walk carefully so we don’t accidentally break the furniture or the elves. Iron Bull (Dalish PC): Look, I’ve got horns. You’ve got pointy ears and those freaky, big elf eyes. Iron Bull (dwarf PC): Look, I’ve got horns. You only come up to my knee, and you can’t dream. Iron Bull (mage PC): Look, I’ve got horns. You can shoot fire out of your ass. Iron Bull (human PC): Look, I’ve got horns. You’ve got a magic mark on your hand that makes demons pop out of the sky.

Iron Bull: We’re probably not the best people to go around deciding what’s normal. Krem’s a good man. I don’t give a nug’s ass that it’s a little harder for him to piss standing up. [back to 13]

6 - General: Goodbye. PC: See you later, Bull. Iron Bull: Nice talking with you, boss.

[kosmokomic]

You should fear my bite, situation's dire

Paper armor, easy to ignite, set up the pyre

Stick swords, useless on this recondite skin

You squire!

I for example, lay down

Ryhmes for which you sit down

Bow, not to your king! What crown?

Kingdoms are nothing when the sire is clown

To be it's puppet, cheerleader

You should bow down to your new leader

Before you kick the bucket, you pleader

Go back to town, be my speaker

Your crowned leader's a bleeder cowrard,

Cos they sent a guard to slay the lizard

The bastard wants a peice of my skin shard?

Does the lard want my hoard as a reward?

Come forward toward the lair and fight me

Or Lower the flag, halyard, end your empire

and let mine take flight!

Of course they would send a poor soul like you, all bone dry

Your ruler doesn't care of you live or die,

You try to best me but you're just some guy

Who wants to fly away or else they'll fry

I'm an ally, trying to pacify.

But your power driven mad man sends

All their meat sacrifices to their ends

All in the name of some defence

Of a kingdom that struggles to get some dividends

Baby king with your money overspends

On plots of land they hope extends

Promised you loads to exterminate me

Anything but a dime is all you will receive.

The population is conflating the hunger with anger.

The easy solution, an opinion to tamper

Scalie scapegoats to kill, sheeps to pander

But the dander cannot be tamed with one qwick slain

The one to blame, should be obvious who

The one who's causing the blain for their own gain

The one who enjoys hurricanes for their brain to entertain

Do you have pain, in your veins, blood stains on your blade?

If not drawn ask your king one thing

What is a dragon and why do you need to stop it.

If the wording you have not misheard

What the king will tell you shall be the last thing they sing

Before you swing the sword.

Your choice to bring

An end to either me or the king.

“Foolish dragon!” Proclaimed the knight. “My armor renders me immune to your flames!” “Foolish knight!” Sneered the dragon. “Not all dragons spit fire!”

[sdyuteiaok]

Ok, not too much of a slog, some relatively quick and easy wins in the Explorer Gold mines, but still gonna take a few more days at this rate since I only go to four wins per day for the most part. But I did change my deck and got rid of the more signature cards (Liliana Dreadhorde General, which was painful since it's such a neat card, but realistically, it rarely comes down, and when it can, it's usually not the best idea, so it had to go; the 2/1 that ETBs to wipe a graveyard, draw 1 lose 1, or create a Pest--this one was mainly as a get outta jail free card main deck against graveyard decks, but those haven't really been around lately, and we've got excellent options in the sideboard anyway, and the dream of cloning this for more options with Kiki-Jiki only ever comes up extremely rarely since you'd rather be cloning your Ravenous Rats to soft-lock the opponent out; and then I also cut my Nighthawk Lhurgoyf since it so rarely connected, particularly when it was at its beefiest, and like all these other cards, I notice, has such high potential but realistically never really lived up to it, and the allure of comboing off with Kiki-Jiki rarely ever pans out (I did bleed out when I kept drawing off of the dead clone when Liliana was out against an opposing Sheoldred, oddly enough). Anyway, the card I brought in to replace these are three Werewolf bleeder guys, since it kind of achieves the other functions all in one card: it snipes the grave, it changes the card supply--the ward discard is crucial to eat away at opposing resources rather than my prior focus on putting me up on cards, it might be more valuable just to deplete the opponent while my stuff continues to work and build the constriction (still kept Angrath, which is a great source of constant discard and can randomly swipe and kill a lowdrop, of course). And then of course, the Werewolf itself is a scary threat that can get even scarier, which the other cards are just too hoop-jumpy to be of a similar threat. Liliana is devastating when she comes down, but by that time, the game can be completely out of hand otherwise, so getting the threat down early and crushing down from that early phase makes a huge cumulative difference. And then of course, it combos well with Kiki-Jiki if you need to hit the gas or eat more of the graveyard. I guess the main thing that was keeping me off of this card that is otherwise up my alley (love bleeder effects, love Werewolves, love black creatures) was that this card is such a known factor. But I still have some good flavor in Angrath and my Ravenous Rats selection--I have a 2-2 split between the Snail one and the Detective one, and I routinely soft-lock people out with it, it is in no way a rarity. And one of the deciding factors in cutting the 2/1 Strixhaven guy was that more than once, when given the choice between cloning that or one of my Ravenous Rats, it was always the Rats which was the correct choice, to keep the opponent at bay from rallying back. So while it's hypothetically or conceptually strong to clone that Warlock every turn, and I've done it a couple times, it's usually not the best move. So it's a really cool card, but just isn't what we need here at this time. With that, I'm happy with how hard these Werewolves hit, and how much the progress the gameplan, and I hate to say, I don't miss the others much at all, though Liliana is certainly a shame to lose. But again, how many times have I ever even cast her? More often she rots in my hand. And when she comes down she either wins the game or was a lot of mana for not a whole lot before she's killed then the board's wiped. She really needed to cost a mana less at least in order to be in the ballpark, but at present it's just too much to swing. Quietly looking forward to playing out the deck some more, as this configuration seems to be doing pretty well. And then I thought MH3 was coming next week, but I guess it's actually in three weeks?! So still some time to go, might be able to squeeze in one more Thunder Junction draft, but I dunno.

[simmingwithralk]

Hi everyone!

Pay attention to their colors 

This is an introduction post for my new Sims Story! Meet Adalyn “Ada” Winters, the badass and delinquent. Don't call her by her full name, she has a fiery temper to match her red hair. She is dating Kya Parks, after meeting her in Chemistry. Ada never skipped any classes she had with Kya after that, eventually, they fell in love and started dating. Ada doesn't want to be at the party, but she came for Kya.

Meet Kya Parks, the laid-back girl. She is the blue oni to Ada’s obvious red; however, she doesn’t mind that. Kya loves to have fun with friends, family, or loved ones, so she asked Ada to join her at the party, and she accepted, only for Kya, though. They met in Chemistry, one rainy day, by pure coincidence that Ada’s other skipping friends couldn't be there that day.

Meet Calvin Montgomery, the asshole and prep. Calvin comes from a wealthy family and was pampered, even to this day. He met Callie in World History, fell in love with her; however, there are some rumors floating around about him and another girl…

Meet Callie Berry, the “goodie-two-shoes”. Everyone considered her a boring, practical girl ever since Middle school, so it came as a surprise when Calvin of all people to fall in love with her, she was over the moon to be with him, and still loves him to this day. Even with all of those rumors floating around…

Meet Diana Young, the bitch and flirt. Everyone voted Diana for anything to do with beauty, talent, or popularity, either fearing her or loving her, she tends to leave an impression on people. Her flirtatious behavior hides something about her that she has rarely shown. 

Meet Gage Wilson, the bully. No one likes him, they either fear him or hate how he treats those “Weaker” than him. No one invited him to the party, either; however, his mother ended up marrying Sydnee’s father, which neither him or Sydnee are happy for. They constantly bicker at each other, Gage accuses her father of treating him less because he isn't a full son.

Meet Nikolas Harper, the mask. Nikolas came from a somewhat wealthy family, and everyone would claim he has a way with words, especially with women. Nikolas has a hard time growing into adulthood, so he gets angered by any attempts to belittle him about his shortness or late bloomer status.

Meet Sydnee Boyd, the hostess. She is hosting the party at the Boyd manor, and invited all of her close friends, Kya, Callie, Kyle, Richard, and Keith. She wouldn’t think in a million years that the most popular girl would’ve accepted her invite to the party, but Gage insisted on Diana coming. Sydnee has always been a shoulder to cry on, and a nice person to all.

Meet Kyle Steele, the leader. Kyle is happy to come to the party alongside his boyfriend, Richard. They met at a Party one night and decided to exchange numbers, eventually they fell in love and ended up dating. He has a direct, calm quality about him in certain situations, and it made Richard only fall in love with him more.

Meet Richard White, the warmth. Sometimes, people only need a warm smile and a comforting hug to make them feel better. Richard loves his boyfriend and friends and is willing to take a hit for them if it meant he is fucked over. He was invited to the party and agreed to go, and went with Kyle. Richard thanks his friends for dragging him to that party that night so he ended up meeting Kyle, and he holds Kyle close every day.

[brokehorrorfan]

Blu-ray Review: Alone in the Dark

Not to be confused with the 2005 video game adaptation of the same name, 1982’s Alone in the Dark has all the makings of a horror classic. It’s written and directed by Jack Sholder (A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy’s Revenge, The Hidden), stars screen greats Jack Palance (City Slickers), Donald Pleasence (Halloween), and Martin Landau (Ed Wood), features a special effect by Tom Savini (Dawn of the Dead, Friday the 13th), and was the first production shepherded by New Line Cinema (A Nightmare on Elm Street, The Lord of the Rings). It would be notable for all the talent involved even if it was bad - but it's a genuinely great genre outing. Scream Factory aims to change the tide on the under-seen picture with a Collector's Edition Blu-ray.

The film follows psychiatrist Dan Potter (Dwight Schultz, The A-Team) to his new position at a new-age psychiatric hospital known as The Haven. Its righteous founder, Dr. Leo Bain (Pleasence), uses unorthodox methods to get through to patients - or voyagers, as he refers to them - that other doctors have written off. Potter is stationed on the third floor, where the potentially dangerous individuals are housed: paranoid schizophrenic veteran Frank Hawkes (Palance), pyromaniac ex-minister Byron Sutcliff (Landau), child molester Ronald Elster (Erland van Lidth, The Running Man), and serial killer John "The Bleeder" Skaggs (Phillip Clark).

Under the delirious belief that Potter killed their old doctor and that they are next, the patients plot to kill him first. A power blackout allows them to make an easy escape, followed by riots through the city where they blend in. The last act feels a bit like Night of the Living Dead, as Potter and his family - wife Nell (Deborah Hedwall, Mare of Easttown), liberal sister Toni (Lee Taylor-Allan, Stargate), and young daughter Lyla (Elizabeth Ward) - are trapped in their house with the armed killers lurking outside, then it slowly becomes a home invasion as the madmen make their way inside one by one.

Slasher is the easiest way to classify Alone in the Dark, but that's not entirely accurate. Produced during the subgenre's golden age, the movie certainly contains key slasher elements but also eschews several of its tropes. Notably, it centers on adults rather than teenagers, college kids, or young adults. Coincidentally, it’s set in a town called Springwood (pre-dating A Nightmare on Elm Street by two years) and features a killer donning a goalie mask (arriving the same year Jason Voorhees picked one up in Friday the 13th Part III).

Sholder shows remarkable control in his direction for a feature debut, delivering a tight 93 minutes with a couple of chilling stalk-and-slash scenes. Working with cinematographer Joseph Mangine (Alligator, Q: The Winged Serpent), the film features some beautiful, blue-tinted nighttime sequences. The score, composed by Renato Serio (The Pumaman), is begging to be pressed on vinyl. Its main theme is reminiscent of The Exorcist's "Tubular Bells" with hints of Italian prog rock and John Carpenter influence.

Schultz is considerably more restrained than his over-the-top Murdock from The A-Team, but he’s understandably overshadowed by - and billed below - the bigger names. Palance, per usual, commands attention every time he's on screen. Pleasence’s Dr. Bain is the inverse of his Dr. Loomis from Halloween; one is convinced his patient is pure evil, the other believes they are harmless. Landau adds further gravitas. Brent Jennings (Lodge 49) plays the ill-fated third floor security guard, while a young Lin Shaye (Insidious) pops up as the first inmate Potter meets. Punk band The Sic Fucks appear as themselves, performing the infectiously macabre "Chop Up Your Mother" and more at a nightclub.

Alone in the Dark has been newly scanned in 2K from the interpositive with DTS-HD Master Audio stereo sound for Scream Factory's Collector's Edition Blu-ray. It features reversible artwork with a new design by Hugh Fleming that leans into the slasher elements and the ominous original poster art. A new interview with Sholder is one of the best director featurettes in recent memory. The sharp, 40-minute piece offers detailed anecdotes about the Friday the 13th's inspiration, the original script being set in New York City, how editing The Burning taught him how to make a horror movie, and more.

Sholder's archival audio commentary from the 2005 DVD is also included. A lot of information from the interview is repeated, but the longer form allows him to go into greater detail. Film historians Justin Kerswell (author of The Slasher Movie Book) and Amanda Reyes (author of Are You In The House Alone?: A TV Movie Compendium) provide a new audio commentary in which they analyze the subtext of the film. A new featurette finds former Fangoria editor-in-chief Michael Gingold visiting the New Jersey filming locations (including one later used in Orange is the New Black) as they appear today.

Both new and archival interviews with The Sic Fucks vocalist Russell Wolinsky and back-up singers Snooky Bellomo and Tish Bellomo show the band members taking pride in their small part in horror history. An archival chat with actress Carol Levy is also included; she recounts playing the libidinous babysitter in addition to her work in other productions, then shows off her ability to put her legs behind her head. The theatrical trailer, TV spot, two radio spots, and a gallery of stills round out the extras.

Alone in the Dark is available now on Collector’s Edition Blu-ray via Scream Factory.

[manslaught]

is it fair to take pride in it when she's supposed to be better than the rest of them—she had the advantage of spending years before this training, all of her free time taken up in the arena or shooting range. she wants to believe the answer is yes, because none of her siblings seem to have the same skillset. unlike the rest of them, every weapon feels like it belongs in her hand, like it was meant to be there, rather than a contour brush. she'd been seen as an outsider for it, like she belonged in the wrong cabin, but she'd never looked down on herself for it. especially not now, when it turns out she was right for spending so much time training. it wasn't a waste of time.

mikayla almost laughs, because it feels too easy—she's used to moving targets, ones actively trying to kill her, so this, shooting down bleeders that aren't even aware of their presence is like child's play. but it's an effortless chance to prove herself, so she won't pass that up, not when she's lives on acting like she's better than everyone else, unfair advantages or not.

guns aren't her preferred weapon choice, despite having a spot in the armory back at camp, but the rifle feels natural in her hands anyway, like an extension of herself. she crouches down, eyes narrowing as she aims, holding her breath, because the more still she is, the better. others might feel pressured, being watched like this, with such a high standard hanging over her head, but it's all true—she doesn't miss. the first shot is taken at a bleeder's head, taking them down instantly. the next five are all the same—headshots, spot on, even when they start to move, to look for the source of the shots. she hesitates, then takes one final shot, bullet lodging itself between the deer's eyes, just in case it was still alive, somehow, to put it out of its misery.

the rifle is lowered once she's done, her expression smug and satisfied, like she's expecting praise for what she's done. “told you. i'm more than just a pretty face.”

i don't miss. - @warpainte.

that's the general consensus of the guards who patrol with her: mikayla doesn't miss. her skill is a thing spoken in hushed tones, with uneven awe and envy - though, typically balanced towards the latter. adrian has heard the chatter, sitting alongside off-duty patrols in the area designated as a bar - but he's never carved out the time to see if their assessments ring true.

there's a range on-campus, catering to firearms and archery, but it doesn't seem accurate to test her on still targets; and anyway, he's been home too long, restlessness digging at his skin like the teeth of an animal. he needed out - she needed a partner for her shift. now, here's a chance: a clutch of bleeders huddled around some fresh kill - a deer, adrian thinks. a smaller swarm than he expects in this part of the city, but the lesser numbers perhaps work in their favor - easier to control for this experiment.

“that's what i hear,” he replies, barely an octave above a whisper despite the distance between them and the pack. adrian flicks his eyes from mikayla towards the window, its damaged frame creaking as he pushes it upward. it's not the best vantage point, admittedly - a window on the third floor landing of a staircase - but most doors in this building are barricaded from the inside, and adrian's yet to discover a way into them to clear them. moving to another building only risks exposure, and with it, more swarmers - so they'll stay here.

he doesn't often carry a rifle, but he'd grabbed one from the armory today - its weight unfamiliar, but all the mechanisms are the same, aren't they? adrian unshoulders it, offers the weapon to mikayla, tapping a finger against the clip in a gesture intended to convey, it's all full and ready - and then he's glancing towards their targets, shifting to allow her room to position herself, pressing against the wall. “so prove it.”

[heresathreebee]

Bloody Mess

[Ralph Lamont X Female Reader]

AN: ok 1st of all this got Nasty and also I wanted to try a different format

Warning(s): +17 | Hemophilia, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), mentions of abuse, dead body (he deserved it), little rough, sub!Ralph Lamont, cum eating, hair pulling. Masterlist

Alright so I was dragging my feet to watch the episode of Blue Bloods with Alex Brightman in it and I'm glad I did because I got some cool ideas. I don't watch cop centric shows anymore but I thought Ralph would be a cool Italian mob type: turns out he's some dickhead twitch gamer who murdered a girl for stupid reasons I can't remember. 

So fuck cannon, he's a 90's mobman now. 

**YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED**

Imagine Ralph Lamont is a one man clean up crew. He's the go-to guy for any jobs gone wrong, gone messy. Body needs disappearing without a trace? Ralphie's your guy. 

Kinda like The Wolf from Pulp Fiction (Tarentino, 1994) 

Hydrochloric acid, latex, bleach, bone saw: all he needs is a few hours and it's like there was never a brutal murder here. (Sometimes this is accomplished with a distraction, a staged robbery or shoot out a few counties over if there were too many witnesses)

So Mr. Clean I mean Mr. Lamont gets a job at your home. 

It's a cute little 3rd floor apartment with a Mr. and Mrs. Andersen living in it. 

Mr. Andersen is– pardon, was– a bookkeeper for Dr. Coolidge (friend of Ralphie's; they both like sterile environments), so it's a favor. Dr. Coolidge mentioned over the phone he expected something "like this" to happen sooner or later. He asked Ralphie to be delicate with you– the late Mrs. Andersen. 

You buzz him in without a word. 

He finds you leaning against the kitchen island, putting out the cherry of your cigarette. You put it out right on Mr. Andersen's ugly yellow tie (or he thinks it used to be yellow)

It's a fucking blood bath in here. Mr. Andersen was a bleeder. Red splashes and streaks cover the counters, the toaster, the oven door, the fridge. There are bloody footprints on the floor and an honest-to-go pool of it dripping off the counter right next to Andersen's final resting place. You left the steak knife in his throat and he must have sat down in that island chair never to get back up again. His eyes are listless and grey. 

Ralphie walks around you, careful to keep you in his peripheral just in case you weren't done "expressing yourself." The linen of your frock is stained, your feet are bare, and your eye is black and swollen. Some of your bruises are old. 

In his sweep, he finds three bloodied knives in the sink: a bread knife, a fillet knife, and a cleaver. 

"Mrs. Andersen," he says as he turns back to you, "if you wouldn't mind moving to the bedroom for me? You've made quite a mess and I'd hate for you to have to see anymore violence." 

"You gonna fight him for my honor? He's already dead." 

Ralphie chuckles. "No ma'am. I'm gonna cut him up into pieces so the gallons of acid I brought with me dissolve his corpse efficiently. I'll need to borrow your bathtub for that, and you don't want to try getting cleaned up after the fact. It's no good for the skin." 

He's circled around the white marble kitchen island to stand before you. He's calm. The smile on his face is easy and it soothes you. You drop your eyes and catch an unexpected sight. 

"Are you…" you wipe at your mouth a accidentally leave a crusted red streak. "Do you get off on this?" 

Mr. Lamont shifts his stance; no doubt you've seen the light tent in his pants. "What can I say except I admire your handiwork, Mrs. Andersen. I imagine you may have wanted him to die slowly and painfully. Was it all that you hoped for?" 

You turn sheepish (incredible, really, surrounded by such admirable evidence of your own rage) and nod. "It was…" 

"Glad to hear," he says softly. "Now, if you wouldn't mind..." 

He places a gentle hand on your shoulder but you step away from the island and change his distant, guiding gesture into an intimate embrace. He looks at you in surprise when he feels you wrap your hands around his back beneath his blazer. 

"I seem to suffer a similar affliction," you tell him and press yourself into his erection. "You wouldn't mind giving a girl a hand, would you?" 

Well it certainly wasn't part of the job, but he was eager to please. 

“As you like it,” he whispered, pulling you into a soft kiss. 

Your blood sings in your veins. You’ve just killed your no good louse of a husband and now you’ve got your tongue down a stranger’s throat. And a handsome one too, so polite (you were still wary of him but if Dr. Coolidge sent him perhaps he couldn’t be all bad)

You tug at his tie as if it would make him any closer to being inside of you. The smell of copper is a never ending assault on your senses, but you also smell wood smoke beneath it on his collar. 

Mr. Lamont’s cheeky hands find your hips and a second later he’s helping you sit up on the kitchen counter. You can see your husband from the corner of your eye, his mouth hanging open in eternal anguish. It just serves to intensify your lust for life. 

You give Mr. Lamont's belt a meaningful tug and slip back down to the floor to turn around

You mean to ask him to help you with your zipper, but instead you feel his lips at your neck just before his hand grips the back of your head and pushes you down, face first into the counter inches away from the pool of blood. 

Your hand slides through the sticky essence and you feel Lamont draw your skirts up and your underthings down. 

You gasp with a shriek as you feel something hot slide up your slit and over your other hole. Did he just lick you??? 

The living man growls in what sounds like pleasure, pulling at his sleek tie just enough to loosen the constriction at his throat and then he’s shucking his pants down. 

You’re not sure if you want him to work you up slowly or take what he wants but you hold your breath and let him lead. You’re far from disappointed when he massages the meat of your rear and leans over your back. 

“You can still change your mind, doll,” he whispers, “not too late to go shower and forget today.” 

You consider it but you don’t want to forget. You want the feeling of Georgie’s life slipping through your fingers to soothe you to sleep every night. You want to carry the pleasure of giving your former husband a reason for his rampant jealous streak and know that for once there was nothing he could do about it. You want this living man to make this strange and terrifying day to end in bliss and solidify everything like lightning striking sand.  

You lift your head and run your dripping red hand through his pristine locks. He locks eyes with you and a shiver runs through him as a droplet lands on his nose. “I don’t want to stop, Mr. Lamont. Now be a good guest and fuck me.” 

“Call me Ralphie please,” he breathes, and he’s all too happy to comply. You feel his cock slip between your folds and as he enters you as he promised, you lick your lips and taste cherry and rust. 

“Ralphie… Ralphie…” He loves the sound of his name on your lips, the squishing sound of your lovely womanhood taking everything he gives it. He puts a single hand on your hip leans back to take it all in: the bloody kitchen, the stiff, the lecherous moans, the sweat making his shirt stick to his back, the misleading cleanliness of the back of your dress…

Mr. Lamont runs his hand through the slime in his hair but that blood is already drying. He splashes it into the pool next to you and leaves a bloody print on your back, holding you down to the counter by your shoulder and driving his hips into you harder. 

He can hear you’re close by the crescendo of your voice. He’s close too, and ever the gentleman, he slips out of you and flips you onto your back, pulling up a dainty leg in your daze so he can re enter your heat like he belonged there. He’s resumed fucking you in mere seconds and he likes this position because now he can see your eyes roll back into your head. 

“Where do you want it,” he grunts out. He’s trying not to come but he doesn’t have the willpower to slow down. He needs your answer, and fast...

For a moment your eyes go hard. Mr. Lamont gulps and worries for a second you’re going to pull the steak knife out of your husband’s throat to slit his, but instead you take a hold of his hair and pull his head back into an awkward but commanding angle. 

He feels your breath ghost over his neck. “My house, my rules. Make me see stars and I’ll tell you when to stop.” 

You sink your teeth into his neck and reach down to circle your pearl. Mr. Lamont does as he’s told, hissing and grunting but he holds off his release to give you exactly what you want. 

He has to stop thrusting when you start those delicious rhythmic tremors. He has to hold you up as you throw your head back and lose your balance, dependent on him to keep you upright. He takes over rubbing your pearl with a similar pressure as the one he watched you give yourself, and eased you back down from heaven into the bloody abyss on earth. 

For a second Ralph fears you’ve got too much control. What will he do if you tell him not to come at all? He’ll do as you command, of course, but how cruel were you going to treat him now that you’ve gotten what you wanted? He’s seen your handiwork all around, remember that. 

But your eyes turn soft and he’s worried you’re about to cry, that is until he watches you slip down to your bruised knees and ease your dress down your shoulders. Now you look positively debauched, breast bared and eyes turned up with a pleading look. 

“Finish on me, Ralphie.” You bit your lip and hope to god he’s still listening. “Right over my heart.” 

Ralph Lamont has never whimpered before. He’s doing it right now. How the fuck did he end up like this? 

He strokes his cooling cock, taking everything in from his position above you and feeling his drumming heartbeat in the throbbing of his member. The only word going through his head is yes

Ralphie gives one of you tits a squeeze, then gets an idea

It's a little awkward trying to get you to understand, but you catch on and there's this eager glow in your eyes

You help him slot his cock between your breasts and continue to jerk him off, using your hands as necessary to assist

He's not far now seeing you-- feeling you like that

Ralphie comes with a groan, a white rope painting your chin and splattering cockeyed down over your neck and onto the tops of your breasts. He has to catch himself on the counter as the next rope dribbles lower, half slipping into your cleavage and the rest staining the neckline of your ruined dress. His hips jerk once, twice. You let him slip from your embrace and twist your hand over the head just to milk whatever he has left into your mouth, and then he collapses into a heap beside you. 

You let him catch his breath for a minute, then grasp his jaw and turn his head towards you. You’re looking down your nose at him again and his vulnerable eyes beg for more. 

“Now look what you’ve done,” you gesture to the milky essence covering your skin in mock annoyance. “Clean it up like a good boy.” 

Eyes half lidded, Ralphie leans towards you in a trance, tongue swiping over every pearlescent trail and stray droplet until you’re ‘clean’ again

Completely spent, the man rests his head against your shoulder. Your hands come up to cradle him, stroking his matted hair as if you've not a care in the world

When he's ready he helps you stand up and straightens his clothes

Instead of helping you back into yours he strips you of them

"These will have to be burned, I'm afraid," he tells you. "Go on now, take a nice long bath and I'll call Kevin to see if he can take you somewhere for the night

You have to clear the tub and run it again to get truly clean. All of that grime builds up thick on your skin while you were having your acts of catharsis. 

You slip into a satin frock in your favorite color and let Kevin whisk you away to a movie for the night

As you fix your earring in the rearview mirror, you catch sight of Ralph Lamont on your balcony. He waves down at you leaning against the ledge and unbothered by the state of his clothes. From this far down, it doesn't look like blood

But you know better, don't you?

@hoodoo12 @escape-your-grape

[vigilante-duck-hawk]

Since exactly one person asked (thx @communalbong 💖)here is one of my favorite playlists (genres range from alt, pop punk, punk rock, etc)(also I have posted a very similar playlist before but this has been updated)

Dyke Rock

She’s a Gun by The Greeting Committee

I Didn’t Just Kiss Her by Jen Foster

So-called Straight Girl by Gina Young

I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone by Sleater-Kinney

Supergirl by Gina Young

Crimson and Clover by Joan Jett & The Blackhearts

One Last Time by Veruca Salt

Brainwashed by Between Thorns

Athena by Nova Twins

Kiss Me Girl by Hands Off Gretel

One More Hour by Sleater-Kinney

She’s My Religion by Pale Waves

What’s Expected of You by Lipstick Homicide

Rockerchick by Lipsticks Homicide

Rebel Girl by Bikini Kill

My Best Friend’s Hot by The Dollyrots

Goth Girls Are Easy by Lesbian Bed Death

Blood Sisters by Huntress

Girls Want to Be With the Girls by Bleeders

Since When Are You Gay? by Childbirth

How Do Girls Even Do It? by Childbirth

I F****d Your Mom by Sorry Mom

Prom by Lipstick Homicide

(More suggestions always welcome)

[bride-of-jason-voorhees]

Screamtober Day 10: Prompt: Knife

Everyday I get asked the same lame ass questions by the psychiatrists. I answer each of them the exact same, hoping one day they’ll give up and finally move on. But then one day they asked me why I prefer a knife to do all my hands on dirty work, to be honest it really only shocked me because I was surprised they had never asked me sooner. I sat up in my chair, the best I could in the straight jacket and chains at least, and gave the doctor a grin.

“You really wanna know?” I asked, prompting a nod in response. “I use a knife because of how easy it is, I mean think about it you don’t have to have special instructions or a license to use a freaking kitchen tool! Plus, guns are too quick, with a knife you can really control how fast someone dies. Can’t do that with a gun, one wrong move and you just hit a major artery and they’re bleedin’ right on out!”

The doctor took fast notes at these comments and I gave her a smirk in response, “Oh lookie lookie you got a breakthrough finally! Think you finally got something to go back and tell your friends, hm? Good for you, no really I’m so proud. You can tell them I gave you an answer the Joker from the Dark Knight would have given.” I spat sarcastically towards her.

“Damnit, why can’t you just work with me?!” She snapped.

“Woah there! I see I struck a nerve!...Oh wait no…”

Suddenly a cloud of pink smoke took place of my body in the chair, causing the doctor to stand up, only for my hands to force her back down into her own chair, “Now, I’ve struck a nerve…” I hissed before digging my knife directly into the back of her neck, slicing down her spine hard. The doctor's body went slack over the table as blood gushed out of her, staining her uniform and starting to get all over the chair and floor. “Uh oh! She’s a bleeder!” I laughed.

Banging on the door caught my attention, “Damnit! Chance killed another one!” a male voice cried out, as they tried and failed to open up the locked door. I cackled and poofed away in a cloud of pink smoke once more, which really comes in handy by the way, and gave the male doctor a taste of similar medicine. My blade slit his throat open nicely, causing him to grasp at his bleeding wound and collapse pathetically to the ground.

“Now, it’s my turn to play! Let’s get this party started!” I screamed down the hall, getting a loud reaction of cheers from the other inmates, it was finally time to bust out of ShadyBrook Asylum.

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

Sure, Kohga can handle his pain (and we love his drama queen ass) But what if Kohga was in SERIOUS pain after an injury and in need of legit comfort and care from dear Sooga? Even Master Kohga's got to be sad and vulnerable once in a while, and it's not easy to ask for real help and comfort when you don't usually need it for real. And consider: Sooga realizes Kohga is in serious pain because he's NOT being a huge drama queen for once.

Ooooh, a REAL neat take to show his more serious side! Let’s go!

“Get him inside, NOW.”

Kohga lifted the poor guy off the sandy ground, into the arms of a blade master. He was trying his best to hide the wound on his side, but it was bleeding like a motherfucker. The Blade master didn’t seem to notice, taking the foot soldier to the med bay of the base. Making sure no one saw, Kohga looked down at his hand. Yep, completely doused in blood. He WAS hit pretty hard back there. He made his way back to his room, albeit a bit slowly. He was pretty sure his ankle was fucked too, now that he was putting weight on it.

“Thank FUCK I sent Sooga off. Guy would flip his lid if he saw me like this.”

Kohga opened the door to his room, and was about to strip himself down, when he stopped. Sooga was in his room. Right, there was SUPPOSED to be super sexy time’s in here, so he told him to bring his ass in here when he was done. Sooga was organizing his crap, and he turned his gaze to Kohga.

“Master Kohga, there you are. I was just about to check on you, where did you run off to?”

“I..had some business to attend to, last minute.”

Kohga stood up straight, put his hurt ankle behind his good leg, and acted as if he was scratching, rather than holding a pretty big gaping wound.

“Good to see you’re back. You bring my thunderwing butterfly?”

“Yes, Master Kohga. I put it in the butterfly room, as you requested.”

“Good, good! Say, I’m super hungry, get me something from the kitchen, will ya?”

“Anything in particular?”

“Banana bread sounds good, but I’ll take anything. In fact, bring an assortment, really take your time.”

“Course Master.”

Sooga went off to do as he was told, before he suddenly stopped, fingers brushing against the doorknob.

“I smell blood.”

“Uh, yeah, killed a bokoblin before I got here. Getting on my nerves. Now come on, hurry up, I’m starving h-”

Sooga grabbed Kohga’s arm, yanking it away from the wound. Sooga saw the hand soaked in blood, and as he expected, he flipped shit.

“Master Kohga! You’re hurt! What happened? Who hurt you?”

“I...kinda got knocked off a cliff by some Lizalfos-look I’m fine! It’s just a little scratch.”

“It’s a lot of blood.”

“I’m just a bleeder! Let go of me, I’m fine!”

He was about to go to bed, fix this come morning, when Sooga’s foot lightly pushed against his sore foot, and Kohga had to bite his tongue to keep him from showing he was in pain.

“You broke your ankle too. You were HIDING it from me!”

“I don’t HIDE things from you! Hiding implies I gotta be ashamed of something. I’m NOT ashamed of ANYTHING.”

Kohga yanked his hand away from Sooga, making his way to his bed. He knew he looked pathetic, limping and bleeding like he was. He sat down, ankle feeling relieved to no longer have weight applied onto it. He dug into the cloth, and tore at it, assessing the damage. It was worse than he thought. It was a big damn dash, right at his side, under his arm. Nothing was poking out at least.

“Oof. Okay, messier than I thought. Not bad, not bad. Look, Sooga, it’s fine.”

Sooga was clearly confused. He sat there, watching Kohga dab the blood away from this wound, while acting so...aloof. He hurt his ankle once, and he was floundering around like an infant. Why was an actual, serious wound, so different? Sooga knelt down to him, only to receive quite the glare from Kohga.

“Don’t touch me. I SAID I’m fine.”

“You are not. You’re angry, and you’re hurt. I don’t know what’s wrong. Please, talk to me.”

Kohga groaned, tossing the bloody rag in his direction.

“Because you FUSS. Because if I told you WHY it happened, you’d go outside and raise hell on the poor guy. And I can handle myself just fine. I’m THE Master Kohga! I can patch myself up!”

Sooga stared at him, at a loss for words. He was acting so defensive, as if he was being scolded for being hurt. Kohga took a look at his wounded eyes, and he sighed, grabbing another clean rag.

“Okay. I mentioned briefly that It’d be cool, to have a great flame blade as a weapon. One foot soldier took it seriously, and his dumbass decided it’d be smart to go to get one. By leviathan bones, which was inhabited by monsters. He didn’t tell anyone, didn’t ask for help. It was him against moblins, lizalfos, and bokoblins. JUST because he wanted me to get that weapon. I caught his dumbass in the nick of time. Lizalfo hit me, and I tumbled down a cliff. Not FULLY, but the rocks still weren’t nice. I climbed back up and got his dumbass home. There, full story, happy?”

Kohga was prideful. But as prideful as he was, he was just as kind. If his men messed up, he never scolded them, never ridiculed them. He just protected them, fought for them. Sooga was merely another he was protecting. Sooga softly sighed, and grabbed the rag from Kohga’s hand. Kohga looked ready to bark at him some more, before Sooga interrupted him.

“I’m sorry. I see why you’re upset. I see why you tried to hide it from me. You don’t like others fretting over you when you’re actually in pain and suffering. You...like being strong. I see that. But you’re so full of pride. It’s going to be the end of you, and then of me.”

Sooga dug into the things he had on hand, and managed to have some needle and thread. It wasn’t by any means something you could use to set it and forget it, but it was enough to cease the bleeding, and to finally close the damn thing. Kohga grumbled, as if annoyed, before lifting his arm up, giving permission for Sooga to go on. Sooga started to close it, and was surprised when he saw Kohga sit there, taking it quietly. The only way he could tell that Kohga was feeling pain, was from the fact that his fingers would occasionally twitch. Kohga grumbled, more grumpy than in pain.

“I just. I don’t want you thinking I NEED your protection. I can handle things, especially my own men. You understand?”

Sooga nodded. He fully understood. His master was truly so incredibly strong. Sooga fixed patching up the wound, and took his ankle in his hand.

“It’s swollen up rather badly. It’s worse than the last time you injured yourself. You’ll have to stay off of it for a while.”

“No, I was gonna pick up jogging after this- yes I gotta stay off of it.”

“You’re upset because you’re vulnerable in front of me.”

“God, stop talking.”

Kohga groaned, laying back and covering his face in his palm. Sooga wrapped up his injury, and carefully propped his foot up on a pillow.

“...Master Kohga?”

“If it’s one more arm chair psychology bullshit, I’m going to kick your a-”

“I love you.”

Kohga cocked his head a bit, clearly not expecting that. Sooga chuckled, pushing a pillow towards him so he could get comfy.

“You’re a ridiculous, strong man. When you can make a fuss out of nothing, you will. But when you’re actually in need of real, solid help, you refuse it. You genuinely don’t want to burden others. I don’t...think I’ve ever realized that about you. And I’m terribly in love with you because of it.”

Kohga huffed, folding his arms and looking away.

“I mean...I AM super strong, I won’t kid myself there.”

Sooga chuckled, standing up.

“I’m going to get you something to eat. Anything else hurt?”

“...yeah. I think I cut my cheek up kinda bad.”

Sooga pushed his mask to the side, just a bit, and chuckled. The smallest, tiniest scratch graced his big, rosey cheek.

“It looks painful.”

“Oh I’m in AGONY Sooga, it’s the most painful thing I got here.”

Sooga leaned down, and kissed the itty bitty scratch twice (because it ‘hurt so bad, you gotta do it twice’). 

Master Kohga was the strongest man he knew, and he was honored to be at his side.

[kaedwenistout]

// @simplly-lilly sent “You’re covered in blood! Is it yours?” to Ia //

“Oh, for-” The alchemist, exhausted and tense, looks down at her hands. She was completely drenched, head to toe, in Witch Hunter blood. In her hurry to leave the barracks, she’d hardly noticed the extent of it. Thick and partially congealed, it clung to her chemise, staining the fine fabric wine-red.

“No, no, it’s not mine.” Ia wiped her face with her sleeve, succeeding only in smearing the blood further. She cast a glance to Lily, a hesitant smile betraying the fear and anxiety she felt. “Most of it, anyway. No need to worry.”

It was easy enough for Ia to get into the Witch Hunters’ barracks, especially so with Lily aiding in her efforts. They’d both been wronged by the Order, and she saw no reason not to kill two birds with one stone - making life easier for herself, and helping a dear friend. It was significantly more difficult to sneak around unnoticed. She had managed though, with some effort, to make her way to the chambers of the Grand Inquisitor.

Once inside, the games began. He caught on too soon, came far too close for comfort. Ia was barely able to draw her blades fast enough before he sliced the side of her neck open with his sword. She paid him back in kind, however, for both herself and for Lily. She took his hands as a trophy, which now hung on a string of twine at her waist, and leapt from the window - unseen, as far as she could tell.

“The Inquisitor, he’s - he was - a bleeder. I let him get too close, and the bastard tried to take my head as a trophy.”

[twins-parted]

Vampire Verse Headcanon: Jonah + Feeding

While this headcanon is under a cut for length - triggering content is included they are in the categories of: Body horror, self - mutilation, gore & blood in general --- Read at your own risk !!!

Talents at Play: Predominately his mind-reading ability & speed. Typically, he uses the now strengthened in born gift of telepathy and manipulation of reality to play ‘mind games’ with his prey. Jonah uses this to herd them into a secluded area ... usually the woods. He also, obviously uses his 5 heightened natural senses & his new-found strength. ( Jonah has the highest pain tolerance between the twins, though he and Seth both have stone durable flesh. )

Jonah’s Hunting Method: Jonah uses his soft-spoken nature to his advantage --- though he doesn’t really like to hunt often anyway. He doesn’t usually bother with a pretense, and technically warns off the target if they are too drawn in by him. ‘You don’t want to know me.‘, ‘Steer clear of me.‘ etc. Because of the nature of what he is, people end up drawn to him anyway --- though he usually only engages actively with people who are a threat to the community of Deadwood, Louisiana. ** This is not to say innocent people don’t die too --- he just doesn’t actively wish to seek innocent blood out while hunting & he doesn’t make them suffer excessively. **

Appearance Before Attacking His Prey: Jonah, when his mental sights are locked on a threat, goes into a forced relaxed & approachable state. It’s usually enough for the problematic person to come forward --- if they don’t, he’ll feign a situation to put them in close proximity to one another. Usually conversation and engagement follows after this. His soft-spoken & sensitive personality are on full display in a mock show of congeniality & naiveté. His speech shifts from cold & annoyed to being composed of stutters while he fumbles with his words like he’s nervous. He’s all boyish grins and nervous glances. This results in the threatening individual erroneously marking Jonah as the target. He’s usually successful at convincing the target to come for a walk with him. He will then lead them into his own private section of the woods.

Appearance During The Attack: Jonah’s calm is almost scary on it’s own --- the quick nervous glances & the stuttering stops completely once they are far enough from other people. Instead his voice goes back to being cold & hard while he recounts whatever not-so-nice thoughts his prey has been thinking with such precise diction and accuracy they can’t help but be afraid. Jonah likes listening to the way their heartbeat quickens while he’s talking. At this point, they usually try to turn back the way they’ve come, but --- Jonah used the time he’d be distracting them to get them away from any identifying trail or markers to help them out. ( Sometimes he’ll let them wander aimlessly and only intervene again if he’s afraid they’ll get too close to the trails. ) In this time, Jonah is using his reality warping power to assault the target mentally with whatever they fear the most or visions of their past crimes. 

If they beg for a little mercy, Jonah will relent and phase 2 begins.

When he finally releases his prey from their mental anguish they already notice his primary fangs & secondary bleeders ( the 1st set of premolars). Sometimes, they try to get away from him sometimes they try a head on attack. 

At this point, Jonah allows himself to be more ‘ feral ‘ his fangs have elongated, his nails are more claw-like, and he springs into action ripping and tearing at his target until he gets a good hold on them. He likes to mangle them, but not to the point they immediately die. He’d rather them feel each ounce of pain he can inflict on them. 

Things the victim definitely missed because it all happened while they were being mentally terrorized: The elongation of his ‘ secondary ‘ fangs. These help vampires bite more deeply into their prey. His already freezing body temperature hits ‘ sub-zero ‘ levels and his tight grip becomes so cold it sears his victim’s flesh. -> Extended periods of contact with his skin at this temperature can and will result in frostbite. Jonah’s grip is also much more forceful and dangerous in comparison to his brother’s hunting style grasp. He will actively break his prey’s bones. His eyes appear to roll up - leaving only the whites exposed. This is almost the same thing as Seth’s 3rd membrane eyelid --- only Jonah’s membrane is thicker &  will protect his eyeballs from the blood spatter and possible viscera that may hit him in the face while he’s feeding. ( He doesn’t shed his. ) 

Over-Eating vs Comfortably Full: If Jonah over eats, he’ll end up vomiting up the blood his system doesn’t require & will appear very intoxicated before vomiting. He will be a variant of ‘ hung - over ‘ after the fact. If he’s sufficiently after feeding he takes on a more human appearance in skin tone, his cheeks getting rosy and a spark of life igniting somewhere behind his eyes. His mood will worsen as he gets hungry again. The fact he doesn’t drain enough people when he does bother to properly feed could be why he’s constantly in a foul & brooding mood at home. 

How Often Does Jonah Need To Feed: Jonah should feed every other week or so, though he usually pushes it to around the 3 - 5 weeks mark. His diet usually consists of animals or Jasmine’s left overs from when she hunts ... though he doesn’t like her means of doing so. He doesn’t usually allow himself to drain more than 1 - 2 people per hunting session. ( He doesn’t want to give his pre-historic gators Kitty & Festus a tummy ache with his left overs !!! )  He should be draining nearly as many as Seth to be satiated. 

Extra Notes: Jonah’s vampire lineage ( inherited from his creator ), is that of a ‘ Syphoner ‘. Essentially, he’s gifted & excels at torturing his prey and absorbing their raw emotions as a source of energy to fuel his own talents. His fangs are sharp & his sense of protecting the places and people that are his is sharper. 

Jonah doesn’t have ‘ tertiary fangs ‘ -> canines that elongate.

There’s no real way for an average human to kill or maim Jonah in a detrimental way. However, he likes to toy with his more volatile & dangerous prey. He plays mind games, sometimes intruding on their thoughts, sometimes with quick bursts of attack before he’s gone away again to quick to see. ( His amused laugh always lingers a second more after he’s departed the arena he’s set for himself. )

Usually reserved and mild, his more savage & sadistic feral vampire nature surfaces while feeding on people who deserve to suffer. 

Jonah can dislocate & unhinge his jaw if necessary to get a good enough angle to bite his prey. He is also known to dislocate, break, tear/cut off and maim parts of himself in an attempt to reach his prey more easily if they are trying to hide from him in tight places. His power of regeneration and healing is more pronounced than his siblings, thus making it easy for him to be this drastic.

He visits his gators every couple days with food scraps and to play with them by wrestling & playing fetch with cow bones. He also checks them over to be sure they’re both healthy every so often. 

Jonah & Seth have a strong connection + as such speak telepathically if they’re within a 10 mile radius of one another. ( Jasmine can ‘ hack ‘ their brains as well considering her own mind reading talent and typically can locate the boys no matter what. ) Though Seth prefers to dine alone, he’ll occasionally cajole his twin to join him while hunting  --- It’s very rare though. Jonah on the other hand has not ever had Seth along to hunt with him when he’s completely feral. He does often ask for his brother to stop and pick him up in the car after he’s fed his prey to the gators in the swamps. 

[thewhumperinwhite]

Cafe: Clinic 4

Previous:  Teaser 1 / Teaser 2 / Hospital/Squad Car / No More Squad Car / Empty Bar / Used Car Lot 1 / Used Car Lot 2 / Gas Station / Roadside 1 / Roadside 2 / Forest / Treetops / Cottage (1) / Cottage (2) / Interlude: Police Station / Cottage (3) / Cottage/Car Ride / Clinic / Clinic 2 / Clinic 3

aka Dr. Russ O’Brien’s Awful No Good Very Bad Day.

TW for: implied/reference homophobia, referenced gun violence, referenced eye horror and gore, guilt, alcohol mention.

@whumpitywhumpwhump, @gottalovethemwriters @stephsspilledthoughts

----

Russ O’Brian has run this country clinic for fifteen years, since he left the hospital and his husband in the same year for about the same reason, and he’s seen some horrors—some reckless drivers and kids with unsecured guns in their homes who made it to his clinic but didn’t make it into the hospital airlift. It isn’t common—he spends a lot more time passing out safer sex pamphlets to kids who think he’s the only queer adult in town, and a lot of grueling but less firework-spectacular hours referring people to substance abuse programs in the next town over— but he’s seen some terrible things in that time.

He’s never had a day like today.

By rights the first bleeder—that’s what they’re calling them, apparently, in the city Greg ran off to when Russ made it clear he was no longer welcome in Russ’s home, “bleeders,” and Russ guesses that is the showiest thing they do, bleed—should have killed him. He was leaning right in the woman’s face to take her temperature when she suddenly coughed a mouthful of horrible bloody phlegm right down the front of his shirt and then stared at him with what he would discover was a characteristic look of blank confusion before Sara, the tech who’s worked for him part time for five years now made a loud sound with equipment in the corner of the room and the woman lunged for her instead of Russ. And then when Russ, having about a hundred pounds on her, hauled the woman off, she thrashed in his grip like a captured wildcat, kicked him in the crotch, and ran out of the exam room.

And the bite didn’t even look that bad.

Russ has worked on enough desperate people to know that human bites are among the most prone to infection of any, but thankfully he does have the equipment to thoroughly disinfect a bite like that, and when Sara—who was only twenty three, and lived on her own—asked if she could stay on for a while, loiter in the clinic kitchen and breakroom until she’d calmed down a little, Russ had seen no reason not to let her stay.

Sara’s a sweet kid, and a good assistant; the only time she’s missed a planned shift in all the five years she’s been working at the clinic is when she was in a real low place two years ago after the collapse of a long relationship that had been wearing her down for years after that time anyway— and she had come to Russ about that, because she didn’t have any more family in the area than he did.

All of which is to say, well. Russ doesn’t own a gun or anything anyway, but he is a hell of a lot bigger than Sara. Probably he could have stopped her, after she raised her face from her hands where the tears she’d been covering had suddenly started running red. He sure could have at least tried. But she bowled him over easy, launching herself at him and burying her pointed skinny-girl shoulder in his stomach, and he hit the floor of the clinic kitchen hard, and then she panted into his face like a mad dog, blood dribbling from her mouth, and then someone in the waiting room screamed and she went rocketing out there to make whatever chaos had already erupted worse.

Which is—all of that should have been enough, was enough to cement this as the worst day in a career and life full of terrible days, but it isn’t the worst part.

The worst part is that Russ is a goddamn doctor, whether he works at a fancy hospital or not, and he knows he’s supposed to run out there, keep Sara and whoever else is falling apart in his waiting room from tearing each other up, he can picture himself doing it, picture them turning on him instead, and that should be fine, he’s a fucking sad old man, he should be happy to give up a life he doesn’t even like that much in the service of doing the right thing, of keeping the oath he made a thousand years ago when he had a family and a home and a job he loved, and.

And what he does instead is run to the shitty little backroom office he’s always hated and slam the door shut and lean against it. What he does is sit on the floor with his back to the door and put his hands over his eyes. The office is in the back, with the kitchen and the exam room between it and the waiting room, and with the door closed, he can’t even really hear his patients ripping each other to shreds.

That all happens at 3 PM. It’s almost 3 AM, now, the clinic quiet while three strangers and the daughter of a high school bully sleep off a days worth of trauma presumably miles worse than his.

If only they’d had an office to cower in and a dozen people to sacrifice.

Russ sweated the last whiskey out of his system fairly early on in the process of keeping a stranger from bleeding to death on his table, and now that he’s finished that particular piece of penance, he figures he’s earned a little more. 

He stops in the kitchen doorway. Dan Rochester’s daughter is in the middle of rifling through the staff-kitchen fridge, inspecting and rejecting lots of food that isn’t hers. He watches her grab a two-litre bottle of coke and close the fridge, and then she turns back to the table, sees him in the doorway, and goes fully deer-in-headlights still, visibly picking between fight and flight.

They stare at each other for a second. Then Russ sighs and crosses to the cabinet above the microwave; the girl’s shoulders relax as soon as he stops blocking her exit.

“Here,” he says, grabbing an old tupperware cup and tossing it underhand to the Rochester girl, who catches it easily, looking startled. He plops down in one of the mismatched chairs around the rickety kitchen tables, sets down his own cup, and holds out a hand for the coke bottle, raising his eyebrows.

The Rochester girl flushes and hands over the bottle. After a minute she slowly sits down at the table, too, eyes darting at Russ and then away.

Russ fills his own glass, and then he fills her glass too, setting the mostly-empty, mostly-flat bottle aside. “Not planning anymore sleep tonight, huh?”

She frowns down at her glass and then knocks back a big swig, half the cup in one go. As she sets it back down she shakes her head, not looking at Russ.

“Had bad dreams,” she admits after a second, in a quiet scratchy voice.

Russ doesn’t ask what about. It’s hard to tell cause it’s so dark, but he thinks some of the tacky filth in her hair is probably blood.

“You’re Dan’s oldest, huh?” he asks instead, and her face creases immediately and she takes another too-big glug of coke.

“Uh-huh,” she says after she’s choked it down. Russ looks at her. She’s probably— what, twelve? Dan was an asshole; he’s not sure he’s actually spoken to any of his kids before.

“I’ll be honest,” he says, “I got no fuckin’ clue what your name is, kid.”

She blinks at him with wide eyes, maybe startled by the swear. “It’s, uh.” She clears her throat, and then she sticks her hand out stiffly across the corner of the table at him. “I’m Sam.”

Russ looks down at her hand, which is dirt-caked and small, and feels the corner of his mouth twitch up. “Russ,” he says, engulfing her tiny hand in his grown one and giving it a very professional shake. Then he hooks his thumb over his shoulder in the vague direction of the exam room. “You wanna tell me what you’re doin’ with these...” He’s not sure how to ask “how did the daughter of Dan Rochester end up bringing me the three most visibly queer kids I’ve ever seen in this godforsaken town,” so he finishes with a half-hearted “...people?” instead.

Sam flushes again. “Oh, I, uh. Well. I shot the, um, the red-haired one.” Russ— knew that, at least vaguely, but still feels his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Only it was a, an accident, so I felt... bad.”

Russ blinks at her, and then finds himself laughing; it’s just a short little huff but it does feel good, eases a little of the tension in his jaw and back. “You even know their names, Sam Rochester?”

Sam turns very red at that, and Russ is laughing for real, now, leaning back in his chair with the strength of it, and when he turns his head he sees the short guy, the one who pointed a shotgun at him, hovering awkwardly in the doorway, clearly debating whether to interrupt or slink away.

Russ is feeling generous, at the moment, a mix of spite and warmth at the idea of Dan Rochester’s daughter having such an uncomplicated, dumbass desire to do right by people; and the kid with the shotgun is currently included in that warmth by virtue of being in sight at the right time. Russ waves him over, gesturing broadly with his half-empty cup.

“Come join us, eh?” he says, grinning. “Cups above the micro. We’re committin’ to eight more hours without sleep.”

The kid blinks his big dark eyes, clearly startled. “Uh,” he says, and moves mechanically to the cabinet and sits down with his own cup, looking dazed.

“You got a name, by the way?” Russ says while he fills the kid’s cup.

“Oh, it’s, uh— Solemn, I’m Solemn, it’s—” He clears his throat, hiding behind his cup a little. “Sol’s my name.”

Russ laughs again, and raises his plastic cup toward the kid, who mirrors him automatically; Russ taps their cups together with a dull click.

“Russ O’Brien. Cheers.”

Solemn—Sol—takes a big swig, not like he’s decided to do it but like it’s a reflex, and then makes a face, looking down at his half-empty cup.

“Jesus, this is flat as fuck,” he says, and Sam audibly gasps; Sol blinks up at her and then clears his throat again, even more awkwardly. “Sorry, kid.”

Russ leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, grinning. “Rochester here was just telling me how she has no idea who you people are. You wanna share what brings y’all to our,” and he gestures vaguely around, indicating the clinic and the trees and farms and confederate flags outside of it, “thrivin’ metropolis?”

“We’re just passing through,” Sol says, a little defensive. “We’re on our way upstate.”

“Upstate where?”

Sol stares at Russ for a second, and then he looks down at the table, fiddling with his mostly-empty cup, and says, “I actually don’t... a hundred percent... know.”

Russ listens to the boy explain with— well, he oscillates between thinking the story is funny and thinking its horrible. When Sol is no longer talking, Russ massages his temples, feeling the headache he’s had all day creep back up on him.

“Now, all right,” he says finally. “You’ve known this kid for a total of— what, three days?”

Sol blinks, and then looks down at his hands like maybe he’s counting hours on his fingers. “I guess so?” the boy hazards.

“And now you’re just dyin’ to wander off to an undisclosed location with him through who-knows-what, huh?”

Sol flushes deeply, sneaking a look up at Russ and then back down at the table.

“Well,” he says softly, wrapping his hand around his cup like it’s a security blanket. “I just, uh. I just didn’t wanna leave him on his own, is all. And it wasn’t like I had a lot of other plans, either.”

Russ looks at the kid, who’s now playing with his cup, like it’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the room.

“Sure, kid,” Russ says, and pours him another glass.

[dimensionwriter]

Fight for the Heart

Male! Robotic Naga x Female! Reader

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Trigger warning: mention of death, blood, depression (starts off sad, but gets better quickly, I guess)

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

The screams were deafening behind you as the sound of crunching and pounding of metal vibrated through the thick cemented walls. But you ignored it as you focused on wielding this robot ripped face back together.

"So, is there any permant damages to it?" it's owner spoke from the corner with a fat cigar in his mouth. You made a frown as he blew a wave of smoke your way.

"He will have to go to a professional to get the claw marks out of his eye socket," you said in a monotone voice as you spun back around to look at the robot infront of you. You ran a gloved hand over the claw marks over it's right eye. They couldn't find his actual eye, so it's just an empty socket right now.

"Dang thing didn't even win the fight and it's costing me more money," he yelled standing up. He lifted his hand to smack the machine, but you turned the blow torch on blast.

"Sir, I would recommended you step out while I finish him up," you retorted not even looking at him. You slide down your visor as you tried to figure out how to put the metal back in place on his shoulder.

"Whatever. Hurry up. My wife is waiting on me at home with dinner. Can't keep woman waiting. You know how they get," he said before barking out laughter. You rolled your eyes at the clearly sexist jokes. He probably didn't realize that you were even female with all the protective layers you had on.

You waved your free hand at him telling him to leave. If he continued talking, it would be a shame if this torch slipped out of your hand and burnt him.

He stopped laughing and walked to the door. As he open it, all the screams intensified. He stepped out and muffled the screams by closing the door.

"Waste of breath," you grumbled under your breath. The robot infront of you let out a small laugh before going stock again. You turned off the blow torch and put it back on to the rack beside you.

"Do you like doing all this fighting?" You asked leaning back in the chair and looking into it's one red eye.

He looked away from you and shrugged his shoulders. You didn't response, waiting for the truth to come out.

His eye drifted back to you before looking down. He shook his head as red liquid started building up in his eyes

Seeing a robot cry is beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time. Their tears isn't clear like humans, instead it's different colours base off what fluids they have. It expresses a lot more pain than a human could.

You placed a hand on his thigh and gave it a small squeeze. He looked back at you as a single tear trailed down his face.

"It never use to be like this," he spoke with his voice glitching from the emotion. "I use to help with the garden or look after their daughter."

Your eyes narrowed as you tried to remember that man ever speaking about having a child. Everytime he's in here, he mention his wife, but never had a daughter.

"But then there was an accident where I went to get repair because I cut myself pretty bad with the hedge shears. And the daughter wanted to finish my job," his fist balled up as his eyes narrowed at nothing as he relived the memory. "And she- she didn't know that the ladder was broke and she felled. She-she died. And they blamed me."

Tears were pouring out of his eyes by now. You lifted your visor up to show him that you were listening. It seem like he needs to get this off his chest.

"I didn't know. How could I have known? And-and then they fell into depression and didn't work, so they needed money. They told me I was finally going to be useful and took me to this hell hole," he ended with harsh growl as he glared at the cement walls.

His face was trying to protray anger, but the red tears pouring down his face and his fist shaking in fear screamed something else. He felt sad, lonely, and betrayed.

You stood up and wrapped your arms around him. He didn't hug you back, but opted for laying his face into your shoulder. You gave him a tight squeeze before stepping back.

"Hey, I know this person that could help you escape if you want," you said turning around to pick up your blow torch. "I'll give you the information if you want."

His eye showed his hesitation, but he nodded slowly. "My love for this family died when she died," he mumbled angrily. You gave him a sad smile as you flicked on the blow torch. Hopefully you'll be able to fixed his shoulder.

You finally relaxed back in your chair 10 mintues later after the robot left. You gave him the information and told him to store it. He thanked you before his owner came in to take him away. You hope he will leave soon.

"Yo, what's up babe?" a loud vocie screamed before slamming the door open. You jumped out of you seat in panic at the sudden loud noise.

You turn towards the enterance to see Willow entering the room. You glanced down to check him out.

He had a tan colour to his body along with a silver colour at the bottom of his hips. He was pretty short for a robot, but was still taller than you. But for what he lacked in height, he made with his long metallic snake tail behind him.

Yes, Willlow was a robotic naga. Why did someone create this, you have no clue.

You looked upward to see that his short black hair was pretty messy from the fight he just had. His eyes were a light gold colour that seem to light up seeing you look at them.

Of course, you didn't miss his lack of right arm. And the left arm that was holding a detached arm. Or the huge chuck of his toro missing. And how could you ignore the golden liquid pooling on the concrete floor.

"Let me guess, you lost," you said sitting down. His metallic laughter filled the room as he slide over to your working table. He plopped down on it as his tail lazily slide around your chair.

"Nope, actually. I only lost one of my limbs, but she started with 8 and ended with 0," he said with a giant smirk. You rolled you eyes as you hoped they wouldn't send her to you. Reattaching a limb takes hours to do and doing 8 would take an entire day.

"Couldn't you go easier on her?" you ask taking the limb from his arm. You inspected it and noticed that there seem to be some very close deep scratches.

"Go easy on her. The thing had 6 buff arms and two legs that turned into spikes. I don't even have legs, hun," he said pointing to his tail that was wrapping more around your chair.

You let out a laugh as you placed the arm beside him. Whoever owned that android obviously got her just to fight.

You leaned forward to get a look at his sides. Your eyes squinted as you noticed that he had the same deep scratches as his arm.

"You look so cute when you squint your eyes," he said placing his hand under your chin and lifting your head up to look at him.

His signature smirk was on his face as he gave you a swift wink. You rolled your eyes and swatted his hand away. You return back to looking at his side.

"What are these weird cuts? Did she use a weapon?" You ran your fingers on the cuts. They were pretty smooth and ripped into the metal pretty well. She must had a lot of strength to do this with a weapon.

"Oh, yeah she used a weapon. If you consider piranha like teeth to be a weapon. The dang thing ripped through my metal like it was paper," he grumbled holding up his detached arm.

Okay, no wonder he didn't go easy on her. She was probably made to have no feeling in her except animalistic desires. Some humans are sick enough to strip away emotions of androids to make them 'better' fighters.

"Well, did you see what they did with her body?" you asked going to where his right arm would be. You touched the area, instantly covering your hand in a gold liquid. Why was he such a messy bleeder?

"Willow, can you please stop your fluids from spilling everywhere?" You asked wiping away the liquid pouring out of his arms. You couldn't even see what colour the wires dangling out of his arms were.

"Give me a kiss and I'll think about it," he purred running his tail across your ankle. Who decided to give this robotic naga a flirting code? This would be something you wouldn't mind getting pulled out.

"I'm not giving you a kiss. I'm here to fix you up, not to entertain your weird flirting habits," you barked at him. You stood up to go outside to see if they found the chuck of his missing torso. It would be too much to rebuild a new one.

"Wait, don't leave," he yelled. In an instant, he had his metallic tail wrapped around your torso. The metal felt cool against your skin, but it felt quite wet from all of the golden fluids pouring out. "I was joking. I didn't mean to make you angry."

He yanked you back causing you to stumble back and hit the bed. "I'm not leaving. I'm trying to do my job and fix you. Now if you will let me go, I need to go find the other fourth of your torso."

"Why are you so cold to me? When it comes down to other robots, you are so nice and friendly to them. But I just get the cold shoulder," he mumbled leaning his head on your shoulder.

A chill went down your back at his words. You noticed you were a little colder towards him, but you hoped he didn't noticed. It's all because of that stupid crush you had on him when you first started working here. You fell for all his flirting antics and thought you were special. And then you noticed that he flirted with all creatures, humans or robots. You were simply just a toy to him.

And you created this wall between the two of you in order to stop from getting hurt. You tried to kill those feeling, knowing that he probably doesn't even have those feeling, especially for you.

"I apolgize," you mumbled staring at the concrete wall across from you. You didn't want to look at Willow. This was probably just another trick.

"Do you not like me?" He mumbled lowly into your working suit. Without even thinking about it, you turned your head to look at him.

His gold eyes were already staring at you sadly. His peach lips were poked out and pressing into your shoudler. He look so adorable, even when trying to look sad.

"I do not discrimate against robots," you said jokingly trying to lighten back the mood. Those dumb feelings are trying to resurface. He's just being his dramatic self again.

"That's not what I meant!" He yelled tighting his tail around you. He yanked you up onto the bed. His arm snakes around your waist as he buried his head into your neck.

"What are you talking about?" you asked trying to stay calm. He's never done this before. He would usually just brush it off or if he does continue on, you could move around. But his arm was wrapped around you as if he was scared of letting you go.

"The way you smile at other robots. The way you hug others as you comfort them. You see them out of you office with a comforting hand on their back. And you don't see the way their eyes light up when you do this. You don't hear what other robots talk about doing to you when they come in for repair. You don't know," he rambled angrily gripping on to your suit.

How did he noticed these things when you didn't? You just tried to comfort the robots. You didn't mean to lead them on or give them the wrong idea.

"I hate it. I really do. I don't want then looking at you. Most of these robots don't even have a romantic code in there body. And they have the audacity to say such lewd things about you," he growled out. Your body stiffen at hearing this new tone. He's never been like this. It almost seem like he was-

"Jealous. You're jealous," you mumbled as realization dawned on you. You looked over to see a widen golden eye peaking from under your suit. "You are, aren't you?"

His tail snapped off of you as if you were made of fire. His arm released you and he jumped off the bed. His slide behind your working chair with his eyes widening.

His cheeks started turning a gold colour as he stared at you. "I'm not jealous! I'm-i'm just simply worried about you. Stop jumping to conclusion." He pointed his finger your way accusingly. You bit your lips to stop yourself from laughing.

The gold tint to his cheeks were the equilvance of blushing. And you could hear all his cooling system whirring away under his skin. He was flustered.

"If your not jealous then why did it bother you so much if robots look my way. It's not like any humans are," you joked proping your knee up and leaning on it.

"Well, it's because… you're too good for them. And I'm worried... as a friend. Stop giving me that look," he yelled his blushing increasing. You covered your mouth trying to hide your smirk. "It's not what you think. I just simply am worried about you.".

He slide over to the door and slammed it open. He quickly slide out, almost closing the door on the end of his tail.

You smirk dropped as you just thought about his last words. Crap, you did it again. You over anlayze everything again. He probably was just simply looking out for you. And here you are, probably projecting your feelings onto him.

You let out a small sigh as you dropped from the bed. The floor was covered in his golden liquid. That was going to be hard to clean up.

You glanced in corner of the room to see his arm had rolled of the bed. He's gonna want to come back for this. Maybe he'll wait until your shift ends to come get it fix. You did make it pretty weird.

"So, boss told me I need to be fixed up because I'm making a mess," someone grumbled from the door. You turned around with the arm in your hand to see Willow peaking his head through the door. His face was still glowing gold as he looked anywhere but you.

"Figured. Get on the bed," you said back in your cold voice. You aren't gonna let your feeling affect your work. Feelings and work should not go together.

"Yeah, okay," he mumbled sliding up the bed again. His tail stayed curled up around the end of the bed. You slide your visor back over your face as you picked up some tools needed to rewire the arm back with his shoulder.

For 20 long mintues, you worked in silence. It was rare to work on Willow and have him be quiet. Usually, he would talk your head off, unless his voice processor got ripped out. But you know for a fact that it's still intact.

You let out a small sigh as your reached over for your plyers to pull out a rogue shard of metal. You glanced at Willow to see that he was staring at you.

He couldn't see your eyes because of the reflectivness of your visor. And your head is down so it looks like you are still working.

How long has he been starring at you? He had this small smile on his face. His golden eyes seem to have changed. His usual slit pupils were blown into a wide circle.

You turned your head towards him to look at his eyes. They've never done that before. Maybe that robot had mess up his optical lenses.

Willow turned his head quickly away from you as the smile disappeared. The gold blush returned to his cheeks that was casting a glow on his short black hair.

You reached your gloved hand up and gripped his jaw. You turned his face back towards you as you got another look at his eyes.

"What are doing?" He squeaked shrinking down, but you held your grip firm. You use your other hand to flip up your visor.

"Your pupils are blown wide open. Seems to be something wrong," you grumbled squinting your eyes as you leaned forward.

There was no scratches or any viewable damages around his eyes. It seems to be fine, but his pupils shouldn't be like that. Maybe you rewired something wrong in his arm that is causing his eyes to glitch out.

"What," he yelled as he jumped back out of your grip. His left hand slammed over his eyes blocking your view. You let out an irritated sigh.

"Come on, Willow. Let me see. I have to make sure there is no other damage done to you, especially for your vision," you stated trying to remain calm. You wrapped your hand around his wrist trying to pull it off. But the dang thing didn't move a single rotary wheel.

"No! It's-it's fine. It sometimes does this. Don't worry about it," he rambled. Something cold and hard wrapped around your waist causing you to jump. You loooked down to see his tail around your waist. He lifted you off the ground and you didn't fight him. He gently place you in your chair, but didn't remove his tail.

"Okay, but by the end of this. I want to check to make sure. Okay," you said in a stern voice. He nodded his head, but kept his hand over it.

You grabbed your blow torch and got ready to wield together his arm back to his body. You still got to see if anyone has found his side yet. At least he's stopping the bleeding.

"Um, you know. My eyes have done this before," he yelled over your blowtorching. You turned your head towards him to let you know you were listening.

"It was your- your first day. And I had gotten a scratch on my shoulder after an easy fight. I heard that we got a new mechanic nurse and I was wondering how they would be. And I walked in on you laughing with boss," he started to run his nail acorss his silver tail," I haven't heard laughter that pure in this place in a long time. And you turned around with that-that stupid smile," he said starting to smile himself. You brought down the blow torch and turned it down.

You remeber that day. Boss was in the middle of telling you about how he accidently sneeze while blowtorching and the metal finger fell out of his hand onto the robot thigh. It was funny especially with the weird faces he made. But you don't remeber really meeting Willow.

"And I froze up at the door. I panicked and just slammed the door. In the reflection of the metal door, I noticed that my eyes were dilated. It never happen before, but it seem like every time I got around you, it would happen."

"What? But I never saw this happen," you said kicking up your visor. His hand slowly dropped to show that his eyes were still dilated.

"I learn to keep it under control. Well, I thought I did. I just threw it in as a glitch, but then you pointed out me being jealous. And I realized that," he kind shrunk down as his cheeks started to glow extremely bright," I am jealous. I'm jealous of all the robots that get to wrap their arms around you. And I'm jealous that they get your affection. It may be selfish, but I want it all for myself."

You slammed the visor back over your face as blush quickly flooded your face. Don't assume anything. He's most likely just saying some random crap. Don't get your hopes up.

"I apologize if your uncomfortable with it. I know I'm not the most attractive robot, well I would assume I'm close in the lead," he joked with a smile. He started to giggle as blush spreaded up his cheeks.

You head tilted over in confusion. You've heard him laugh before, but this is the first time he has giggle before. And he looks absolutely adorable.

His black hair is bouncing from his body shaking. His left arm was trying to cover his mouth as the high pitch sounds escaped his dark pink lips. His eyes were squinting close as he continued to giggle.

"I have the codes for love, but I've never exprience it. It feels great," he said turning his head towards you. His eyes seem to be sparkling in delight as his mouth spreaded into the biggest grin. "There's this warm feeling in my chest that seems to be spreading though my body the more I look at you."

You didn't know what you felt at the moment. So many emotions seem to flood your body that they seem to block eachother out.

"Ahh, wait," he screamed jumping off the bed and standing infront of you. You had to look up to see his face, which was contorted with fear. "You-you don't feel the same. How could I forget about that? I'm so stupid. And I just confessed out loud. Oh gosh. I-I"

In one swift move, you slide your visor up with one hand and with the other grabbed Willow's jaw. His eyes snapped down at you in fear and confusion. That expression gave you the rush you needed to do it.

You yanked him down closer to you. You brought your face forward until your noses were touching. His eyes widen as he realized how little space was between the two of you.

"You stupid snake. Don't you dare think I don't return those feeling," you growled with so much feeling. For years, you assumed that he didn't have any romatic feeling for you. You're not going to let him assume the same.

"Wait. You do," he yelled out jumping forward pressing his face closer. His eyes trailed down as he realized just how the two of you were. "So, you wouldn't be weirded out if I said that an action program just popped up to kiss you."

A dorky smile slowly spreaded upon his face as he stared deeply into your eyes. His pupils were so dilated that his eyes were black with a golden rim. His midnight black hair were tickling you cheeks from the closeness.

"Well," you said lifting your finger to bop his nose. His eyes crossed to look at your finger before returning to your eyes. "I would say you should activate it."

He let out a deep chuckle that cause your smile to increase. His right arm lifted up to gently cup your cheeks. His usually cold metal held some warmth to it. His thumb slowly rubbed against your cheek as he leaned it.

"I found the fighter's side," a person yelled slamming the door open. You jumped back from the sudden loud noise filling the room. From the force of your body going backwards, the chair flipped backwards with you in it.

You would have crashed onto the ground if Willow's metallic tail didn't wrap around your waist and hold you above the ground.

Your head snapped at the door to see it was one of the new human workers. He stood at the door with a chunk of metal in his hand. It ws a tan tint that matched with Willow's skin tint.

"I'm sorry. Did I interrupt something," he squeaked out as his face turned red. Willow slided quickly to the door with his fist balled up.

He used some of his tail to stand above the poor human. He snatched the chunk of metal out of his hand and snarred his fangs at the boy. "Yes you are and if you interrupt again, I will be holding a chunk of your side."

Willow grabbed the side of the door and slammed it shut in the boy's face. You sat up on his tail as you covered your mouth trying not to laugh.

"That wasn't nice of you, Willow," you joked patting his tail. He turned around with that signature smirk on his face.

"Maybe I was. But everyone else has had plenty of time with you. I want my turn," he purred sending you an exaggerated wink. His eyes went down to the metal in his hand before his smirk widen. He threw his side behind it causing it to slam onto the floor. "I can go a little while longer without this. Now, where were we?"

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Now before you guys start yelling at me for doing another naga story, I just want to ask what you think of the moodboard above it. I never really done one before, but I really wanted to try it out. Also, put in the comments or ask me about what monster you guys would like to see me write about. As you can see, I'm stuck in the naga zone, but I want to try to venture out. Pleaseeeee, leave a comment. I love reading what you guys write. It makes my day. Thanks and enjoy.