#The preys' envisioned beasts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rippersz · 1 year

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𝑨 𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒍-𝑻𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕:

̟ ˙ ̟ ˙ ˖ ̟ ˙ ˖ ˙̟ ˙ ̟ ˙ ˖ ̟ ˙ ˖ ˙̟ ˙ ̟ ˙ ˖ ̟ ˙ ˖ ˙̟ ˙ ̟ ˙ ˖ ̟ ˙ ˖ ˙

(A Dom!Larissa Weems x Sub!Reader one-shot; NSFW) (BDSM; powerplay; blindfolds; mirror sex; explicit language; body image; petplay; bondage; etc.) - 16 pages of pure smut. Around 7K words.

̟ ˙ ̟ ˙ ˖ ̟ ˙ ˖ ˙̟ ˙ ̟ ˙ ˖ ̟ ˙ ˖ ˙̟ ˙ ̟ ˙ ˖ ̟ ˙ ˖ ˙̟ ˙ ̟ ˙ ˖ ̟ ˙ ˖ ˙

“I’m starved, darling.”

Her voice was a mere whisper in your ear, like the snake that tempted Eve. Soft and succulent and utterly delicious. You could feel the sweet of it run down the side of your lip and dribble down your chin; a result of your obedience. As if she was holding the unholy apple above your mouth, coring it and watching with delight as its juice raced over the plane of your lolling tongue. That delighted her as well, watching the way it twitched - utterly uncontrollable. Done by the body’s functions alone. You could envision her smile behind the dark cloth covering your eyes; that smirk, all red lipped and evil while soaking in her control. Knowing she had it was something intoxicating to her - like a drug you slipped into her palm by merely existing. She said sit and you sat. She said put your hands behind your back and you did. She said jump and you asked how high. She said stick out your tongue and out your tongue went. Like a gift.

“Do you know what I’m craving, sweetheart?” The warmth of her breath was something handmade by the gods. It left you shuddering and shaking your head - sparked purely by the innate need to please.

“No? No idea? Not even an inkling?” Her tone was condescending. Wicked. Lilting and full of fake kindness. It had your heart running wild, jumping off of the edge of your ribcage like a swimmer with a diving board. Her eyes, for you could feel their burn, were tracing over every inch of your body; admiring what was hers. What was all hers. The only thing you could do (if you didn’t wish to break her rules) was shake your head again, insisting silently that you didn’t know what she craved but that you wanted to- you really wanted to- please- please she just needed to say-

“Dumb little thing… I’m hungry for you, pet.”

And strong cold hands wrapped around your shoulders, laying long fingers down- one… two… three… four… five… allowing them to clench with strength that hinted at something stronger. Bigger. From an outsider’s perspective, you probably looked like dragon’s prey. With the beast standing over you, weighing judgment for your sins, trapping you within its hold so you couldn’t get away. You made a brief mental note to share that metaphor with Larissa once the scene was done. She would surely enjoy the thought of adding you to her shiny horde. ‘My most precious bit of treasure,’ she’d murmur with warm delight…

Oh it would be such a far cry from the chill that ran through your bones then, biting into your knees as you sat there on the floor. Poised for her. Larissa’s very own Galatea… carved perfectly from soft skin instead of hard stone. Glowing with a light not from Aphrodite but from pleasure; absolutely ravished in the attention of a salacious woman. Of your salacious woman. With her sapphire eyes and carmine lips and sweetened breath and porcelain skin and platinum hair and strong legs and hands and arms… like someone plucked the forbidden fruit from Eve’s garden and morphed the apple into a woman. A woman so unreachable… so untouchable that not even you could move to brush the slightest bit of your fingertips across the smooth surface of her kitten heels. The same kitten heels that framed your kneeling body… ever so close to the quivering hands that were bound and resting against the small of your back.

You were sweating, you realized. Only lightly - but you felt as though a flame were burning you from the inside out. Making your body hot to the touch and creating a cool contrast as soon as Larissa’s palms settled. You reveled in the feeling. You reveled in your helplessness.

You reveled in your submission.

“Are you willing to give yourself up to me, little one?” Your lover’s voice was soft and cloying. Deceptively innocent and light. As if she didn’t know your answer - but she did. She always did.

And after a moment of silence, one where you felt suspended in time, hesitant to talk due to earlier commands, Larissa’s deep chuckle met your ears.

“Good girl… you may speak now, darling. Answer me.”

And so you did. Your tongue felt strange when you finally pulled it back into your mouth, but after a quick swallow and clearing of your throat, you croaked out a small “Yes.” She was quick to rectify your mistake.

“Yes, who?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Both of you seemed to let out dual quiet sighs of relief as soon as the title passed over your lips. It was your safe haven. Your middle ground. The thing that tethered both of you to reality and kept you rooted within the moment; reminding you both of your trust. She was your Mistress. You were her puppy. Her darling. Her sweet girl. Her disgusting little whore. Her everything. She told you to jump and you did. She told you to speak and you did. She told you to hold out your hands for them to be bound behind your back and you did. ‘Stick out your tongue, pup. No speaking until I say so, understood?’ ‘Back straight, thighs together… there we go. Good girl~’ ‘So pretty for me… are you ready to begin?’ And sometimes the domination was far from sexual. Sometimes it was just her making sure you ate. Sometimes it was just her falling asleep with her arms around your body. Sometimes it was just her holding your hand in public and giving it two squeezes to discreetly ask if you were alright.

The push and pull, to put it simply, was marvelous.

And there were occasions, too, when Larissa wasn’t feeling it. When the world tipped one of her scales a bit too far and when the personalities of others became trying and finicky. During those times, during those sacred moments, you took over. And the beauty that stemmed from that was far more abstract - less concrete and more flowing. You were not Larissa’s Mistress, but she was your baby. Your Larissa. Your beautiful girl. And you cherished the moments in which she’d allow you to wind your arms around her thighs, tug her closer, and love on the heaven between her legs until she was shaking and gasping and pleading and pulling your hair and getting so close- so cl-close- so close close close closeclosecl- close!- only to let out a loud long whine when you reared back at the last second, taking her pleasure with you. Yes yes yes, such submission from your strong intelligent lover was an ego boost to the highest degree.

But with each indulgence came a price. And every time you felt yourself trip over your power, nearly righting yourself and grasping control, a cool strong hand pressed against the tender spot between your shoulder blades and pushed you over the metaphorical edge. Knocking you to your knees. Wrapping a fistful of your hair over her knuckles, letting it pool into her palm, just so she could pull your head back and remind you of your real place.

Beneath her. Always beneath her….

The most adorable little pet she’d ever had the pleasure of encountering.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Larissa’s voice interrupted your train of thought, emanating a strong sense of smug satisfaction.

You felt the need to squirm in place; to check your posture and reset your pose; to straighten your shoulders and flex your fingers; but your Mistress’s hands distracted you. They traced the bare skin of your arms, right down to each elbow, warming you even further with their soft touch. And as soon as you leaned back into the feeling, wishing to experience the softness of her legs pressed to your shoulder blades and spine, she was gone. Her warm touch disappeared - her heels click-clacked their way out of range - her fingertips skated along the side of your neck, down its slope, before falling away. Of course then it didn’t take long for you to frown, wishing she was still there, disliking the fact that she had walked off. But when Larissa next spoke, her voice came from directly in front of you.

“Now,” she whispered, low and calm, “tell me why you’re here, pup.”

You swallowed a whimper, feeling your core lurch with hot desire at the sound of that delicious little pet name slipping off of her velvet tongue. It was one of your favorites - one of the only ones that made you melt oh so quickly. And Larissa wielded it with an immense amount of wicked power. The call of it came like a siren’s tune, and you were slave to the warmth that washed into your abdomen when she used it to torture you. Just as she did then; knowing you’d have trouble focusing.

Yet still, you pushed on. After all, you were not there for fun and games. Oh no no no, it was a lesson - as your Mistress had said. And she rarely changed her mind.

“I did something bad,” you responded, meek and small.

“Mm,” your woman hummed shortly, most likely nodding as she contemplated her next words. Early on into your relationship you found that she typically enjoyed doing that - taking a moment to rifle through her vocabulary just so she could conjure the most heart-stoppingly sinful sentences known to man. And once you fell deeper into your play and into your role as her darling girl… well then you were never safe from her eloquence. And her next words proved it. “And tell me, my sweet pup, what did you do to upset me?” The evil innocent tone returned.

You hesitated. The words built up on your tongue. There was so much more behind your reason. Behind your action. You hadn’t meant to, really. Your mind just… tended to wander. And though your relationship was built on trust, finding it to be the most important pillar you stood on, you found yourself slipping into a rather negative mindset some hours ago. It started in the middle of the night while Larissa was sleeping. She’d turned over in bed, getting more comfortable to face the other way and relieve the ache in her shoulder. Sometimes sleeping was hard, so you’d admire her and think about your lover until Morpheus drew you away. Though on that night, last night, your eyes traced the outline of her body- from the curve of her calf to the gentle contoured muscles of her back to the tousled platinum hair that spilled across the pillow- and you found yourself growing sad. Weary. Hurt. Nothing had happened and yet you still laid there, wondering if maybe you would never be good enough for Larissa. She had been through so much in her life - overcome nearly every bit of diversity and every bit of bullying and every bit of stress - and came out on top in the end. A kindhearted, brilliant, intelligent, beautiful woman that ran her Academy with the grace and care of a true golden soul. You admired her so much that it was difficult to put into words. And you’d tried in the past, you had, but it was futile. No one compared to Larissa Weems. But you were sure- certain- many people compared to you. You, who didn’t graduate nearly top of her class. You, who didn’t have such a high-earning, well-known career. You, who didn’t have particularly enchanting features and whose voice sometimes squeaked at the most inopportune times. You, with curves a bit bigger than most. You, with a mind so busy and cluttered that you could barely wade through it without feeling as though you were drowning. Yes, there were many women who could compare to you. Who were better than you. Who would give up their livelihoods to share even a bit of romantic air with Larissa Weems. And those women were beautiful… and they didn’t need so much comfort… and they could go a day without feeling slight panic whenever spending more than 3 hours having not heard from their lover. And those women, some of them at least, had money. The funds to buy Larissa whatever she wanted; the coin needed to tend to their own cosmetic needs - to get their nails done and their hair styled and to purchase the best products available so that their skin was soft and smelled of roses whenever Larissa was around to worship it. You couldn’t do that. You didn’t have that type of money - not yet at least. And maybe you never would. But either way… either way…

“I- I was mean to myself,” you felt the need to explain, “but I didn’t mean to upset you, I just-”

“Hush… darling.” Larissa spoke quickly, cutting you off with kind intentions as her palms came up to frame your face. Her fingertips caressed the spaces beneath your ears, drawing slow circles that had you keening and shivering. “I understand, my love,” her words, chosen carefully again, worked to put your mind at ease, “and I know. I know you didn’t ‘mean to’ sweetheart - but I’m not upset. I’m not upset with you.” Her loving tone had you blinking back tears. “Here,” her fingers moved to the loose knot behind your head, “do you want me to remove this, love? So we can talk eye to eye?”

You knew she had the best intentions behind her offer, but you still found yourself worrying.

“I don’t want to stop the play Mistress please-”

“We won’t stop if you don’t want to, my sweetling. We’ll just pause. Does that sound okay?”

And it did. It sounded more than okay. So you nodded and just like that, the blindfold was taken off. Slowly and gently, peeled away from your face, revealing the breathtaking smile that glued itself to your lover’s painted lips. You blinked a few times, getting yourself familiar with the dim grey light that filtered into the room from the windows. The rain had been off and on for the past few days, painting the world in gloomy colors, but it was lovely that you and Larissa agreed that stormy weather was the best weather. And as soon as your vision became comfortable, you gave your lover a small reassuring smile - silently telling her that you were okay. The sight of it seemed to put her at ease nearly instantly as she slid the blindfold away and put her hands on your face again. Her expression was open, vulnerable in its compassion as she stared at you. There was no desire to hold herself back; she could admire if she wished to. And she did. Those sapphire eyes of hers were wicked in their warmth, reflecting her slight worry as her brows scrunched together and the lines in her face deepened with sincerity.

“Better?” She questioned, drawing your eyes to her lips.

“Mhm,” you hummed with a small nod.

“Mhm?” Came her high-toned teasing response, making you blush and shrink into yourself. She took that reaction as a ‘yes’ and let out a little chuckle at the sight of your bashfulness. “Okay darling… would you like to pick up where we left off? We can talk about it or continue.”

Her tone had changed, becoming more serious as the topic shifted. You appreciated it of course, but the lust that tugged at the back of your psyche hated the delay in your… activities and wanted something more. Something close. Wanted Larissa - which was not unusual. So you answered with a sweet middle ground.

“May I explain myself first?” Your eyes were shining with love when you next looked at her.

“You never have to ask me that, love. Yes, of course. I am listening,” and she really was. Her fingers continued their soothing circles beneath your ears as she knelt in front of you and paid close attention.

“Right, thank you,” you nodded and took a deep breath before staring into those blue eyes and pouring a bit more of your heart out onto the floor for her. “I just- um- overthinking, you know? It can become a bit overwhelming and… I’m just really sorry. For isolating and- and doubting your love for me.” Your lips turned down into a frown.

The self-isolation truly had been an accident; you didn’t even realize you were doing it until Larissa returned to your quarters and coaxed you out of bed. You were quiet and dim while she stopped in for a visit, keeping your eyes on the floor and your responses short. That alone was enough for the headmistress to cancel the rest of her plans for the day and stay with you. And after some much-needed cuddling and quiet time, a kiss led to two- then three- then things progressed… and you soon found yourself on the bedroom floor, kneeling in front of your full-body mirror, waiting for instruction. Larissa knew what your thought process was, she understood your struggle, and that’s why she triple-checked if you still wanted to go through with a scene before you started. It was a more taboo way of establishing comfort and reassurance, but you felt safe. Protected. And the lust kept the bad feelings at bay. Larissa knew to take all of that into account when she thought of her lesson - and she hoped above all else that it would stick. Just like her next words did as soon as her dulcet tones caressed your ears.

“Please Y/n, don’t apologize. I understand my darling. I know it’s hard. I know…” she cooed, gently bringing you closer until your foreheads were pressed together. Oh she smelled so good; of Gardenias and fresh laundry. If you could wrap yourself up in her forever, you would. “But it’s going to be okay. Tell me,” Larissa inhaled, moving back a little bit to look you in the eye. Her expression was serious but her eyes were lit from the inside - swirling with mirth and love and a million other beautiful things that made you feel like you were floating. “Do you trust me?”

You didn’t even think to hesitate.

“Of course.” You trusted her with everything. You trusted her with your life, with your heart, with every thought in your mind. You trusted her with your breath.

“Then trust me when I say that I have never loved anyone in the way I love you,” Larissa breathed, licking her dry lips, darting her gaze between your eyes. “And I don’t think- no, no I know- I’ll never want anyone else. Ever.” And the radiant smile that pulled at her beautiful mouth then - the fascinating way it sharpened at the edges and how endearing it was to see those perfectly imperfect pearly whites shining in the dim light of the afternoon… how it revealed every delightful thing she felt for you… well you simply couldn’t help yourself.

It probably would have been easier if your hands weren’t tied behind your back, but the beat of your heart enjoyed the thrill your body felt when falling forward, eager to catch Larissa in a kiss. And being the ever-observant, impossibly understanding woman she was, she met you halfway. Moving her hands from your face to your biceps, stabilizing you in your spot, letting out a long indulgent moan as soon as your lips connected - it all felt like divinity personified. And while you sat there languishing, moving your mouths in a slow aching tandem that had your lips tingling afterward, embracing the nearly sadistic way Larissa’s tongue caressed your own, the fire in your abdomen rose again. It clawed at you and begged for her. Sang for her.

“Thank you,” came your whiny breath, spoken against the soft skin of Larissa’s lips. “Thank you, thank you, I love you. So much.” And before she could respond, you kissed her again. And again. And again. And your lover’s hands were wicked as they danced along the expanse of your chest, down the delicate rolls of your tummy, right down to the velvet of your thighs. Those strong fingers of hers squeezed and pinched and tickled, driving you mad, making you shudder. And as soon as Larissa pulled away, quickly moving to press a warm palm against the center of your chest, a loud keening mewl escaped your throat. Once you opened your eyes, daring to fix her with a pout, admiring the way a string of spit kept your wanting lips tethered, you felt yourself falling back into the beautiful malleable headspace of being Larissa’s darling.

“Oh,” she breathed, looking at you with eyes that rivaled the blue-dark of dusk, “you’re feeling it again, aren’t you sweetheart?”

“Yes, Mistress,” you swallowed harshly, trying to relieve the sudden dryness of your throat.

Ever the most observant in the room, your lover caught your slight discomfort and tempered her smile - making it soft and small as she patted your thighs and stood up. You didn’t need to be a genius to figure what she was doing; the sound of her heels being kicked off and placed neatly by the bedroom door said enough. And a moment later, Larissa came padding back into the room with a glass of cool water in one hand and a damp cloth in the other. A quick mildly confused glance at the blue towel had her smirking.

“This won’t take long, pup,” were her words while she placed it on the floor and took a seat behind you, letting her legs frame your thighs. Leaning around, she placed the glass to your lips and watched intently as you took small sips. There was no prompting needed and there were no words said. Just the gentle tip and take, tip and take. You were thirsty and your Mistress provided. And the eye-contact you made, sharing your thanks and your appreciation and your knowledge of her love had her lighting up with the warmest little grin. “Is that enough?” She asked softly as she pulled the glass away one last time and ran the pad of her thumb along the corners of your lips.

“Yes, thank you,” your volume matched her whisper, quiet and reassuring.

A blonde eyebrow rose. You smiled shyly, amused by your own slip up.

“Yes, thank you Mistress.” And that seemed to be enough for her as she inclined her head and leaned back to sit up straight, correcting her posture and setting her shoulders and… oh…

When your eyes glanced up, locking onto the glass in front of you, you felt a river of desire burn hot within your body. Oh she was practically looming. So… so tall behind you… long legs spread… and you watched, utterly entranced, as she placed the glass down on the hardwood floor and then turned that pale graceful neck in one slow swoop, immediately fixing her gaze on yours through the reflection of the mirror. Oh your Mistress looked just as hungry as she said she was. Her expression practically screamed ‘Let me devour you’, but her actions were the thing that spoke to utter devastation.

“Adjust for me, pup,” her breath was sweet against your ear, making your hair move ever so slightly as she glided her hands down your sides and to your thighs, helping you maneuver yourself into a better position.

You winced at the ache behind your knees. There would most likely be bruises there tomorrow, but you never really minded that. It was just a trophy of sorts - a testament to your excellent skill of following directions. And once you were finally in the desired pose, stretching your legs out in front of you to quell the dull ache and relieve any pressure, Larissa took it upon herself to adjust you further. She let out a small huff of delight when you squeaked in surprise, taken aback by her speed once her legs moved and wound themselves around yours; using the strength of her calves and thighs to pull your legs apart, bend them so your feet were flat to the floor, and keep you spread open for her viewing pleasures. Instantly, you looked away; averting your eyes to the ceiling as embarrassment tugged at you. Air fled to the newly exposed skin and chilled the insides of your arousal-painted thighs, leaving you flushed and shivering in your Mistress’s grasp. The very same Mistress who had a mean streak for seeing you flustered and at a loss for words - making sure to maintain eye contact as long fingers wrapped around the front of your chin and jaw and tugged your head down.

“Look,” Larissa growled, her soft lips looking perfect despite the smudged lipstick. Her eyes were smoldering. Her body was poised to strike. “Look at yourself,” she repeated, softer, gentler, allowing you the time to obey.

And obey you did.

Sometimes it was hard to look in the mirror. You knew you were self-conscious and you were okay with telling people that, mainly because they usually felt the same. But ever since being with Larissa, that changed. The days in which you cringed at yourself became more and more rare - and only occasionally did you find yourself scrutinizing your body. You’d done it earlier that morning; staring into the same mirror; nearly falling apart at what you saw. But as you sat there then, in a completely different mood and light, you felt at least a little bit more empowered. And your eyes roamed helplessly, thinking only of pleasing Larissa.

From the slight line of your collarbone to the curve of your biceps, leading to the sides of your body as your forearms disappeared behind your back. From the chub of your tummy and the way it folded oh so naturally to the hills of your thighs, pressed outward and trembling with desire. From the crests of your knees to the blush of your chest to the dilated pupils in your eyes, going right down… down… down to the swollen wet heaven between your legs. Without even realizing it, your eyes darted away, spooked like an anxious bunny. But the wolf behind you noticed - and the wolf behind you was having none of it. The hand around your chin shook slightly. Your breath got caught in your throat.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, pup.”

And because her authority did unspeakable things to you, your gaze went sliding back to the main attraction. To the ambrosia Larissa desired. To the peak of your femininity. To the throbbing source of lust that sent warm lines of need through your veins.

“There we go…” Your Mistress’s hush had you shaking as her breath caressed the soft skin of your neck. “So pretty, aren’t you?” At your moment of silence, she pressed a kiss to the curve of your shoulder and kept her eyes burning into yours. “Aren’t you?” Her voice deepened.

Instantaneously, you nodded. It was hard to believe - it was - but if Larissa believed it… if Larissa believed it… then yes. Yes, absolutely. Yes yes yes. And your Mistress, thank heavens, let the lack of words slip for once and continued talking. Her fingers went lax around your chin and moved to caress your jaw, sending shivers down your spine.

“Yes, so pretty,” her cheek pressed lightly against yours, “so… so… beautiful… so brilliant, darling.”

You swallowed, taking in the sight of you all over again. Larissa’s legs keeping yours in place - Larissa’s hand on the side of your face - Larissa’s other hand inching along the softness of your inner thigh - Larissa’s gaze never wavering from where it’s poised over your shoulder - Larissa’s control wired through every tendon in her body - and Larissa’s lips pulled into the most sinful smirk as her fingers move faster than lightning and go to part the lips of your cunt. Leaving it bare and spread and cold. Leaving it wet and aching and open to her and only her. Your hips jumped, sparked by the touch, desperate for more. More more more.

“M-mistress-,” you whined, lips quivering.

“What?” Was her harsh reply as she used her middle and pointer finger to pull more - to stretch more - to leave the softness of your cunt on display. “What is it, puppy?”

You felt your brain fizzle into nothing. You felt your hands tighten into fists behind your back. Not a word was scrawled onto your tongue. Your lips parted helplessly. ‘Please,’ you wanted to say, ‘please please please. I need it. You. Anything. Everything you’re willing to give me. Please please please.’ But the only thing that came out was a small stuttering keen, flitting in and out of sound, making a raging storm of embarrassment boil within you. You didn’t often mean to make the sounds you made! Not always! It just… happened. Like your body had no control while your Mistress was present. Like it knew that she wanted a show and that it was the proper time to shine. To deliver. And with that, you bowed your head and averted your eyes.

That was strike one.

A quick wet ‘smack!’ rang out into the silence, breaking the erotic heaviness of your breath. At first, you were confused as to where the sound came from… but then the sting settled. And the impact snapped you back into yourself. And your hips jerked without control, startled by the suddenness of your Mistress’s cruelty. The columns of her fingers reprimanded you swiftly, landing firmly onto the lips of your cunt and the needy bud of your clit. Striking them only once but leaving your toes curling in a wicked mix of surprise, pleasure, and pain. You looked up into the mirror, eyes wide, taking in the way your skin began to turn red.

“Oh did I hurt you, pup? I’m sorry…” Larissa cooed, figuring that the only thing to make it better was to massage the pain away.

And in the very next moment, your body tensed. You watched, suspended in horror and anticipation, as one slim fingertip, dexterous and hellbent, dipped between the folds of your haven and began drawing slow… slow… slow circles around your clit.

“M- Miss- hah-” you tried mumbling her name, tried getting the title out to tell her yes yes yes feels so good, but all you could do was allow your lips to fall open and your head to fall back, resting against her shoulder as you gasped.

The pleasure she granted you was often indescribable - and it didn’t help that she could destroy you so easily. One long dark glance, one hand upon your arm, one word spoken against your ear - she wielded her seduction like a very carefully sharpened sword. And then she stabbed you with it until you were a mess on the bed. Or the couch. Or the floor. Or the countertop. And you reciprocated when you could- really, you often wanted to- but your Mistress quite enjoyed running through you so thoroughly. And her lesson in front of the mirror was no different.

“What’s wrong puppy?” Her tone spoke of fake sympathy. “Am I hurting you, darling?”

You picked your head up to plead with her- to tell her to go faster because your thighs were shaking and your cunt was aching and you felt so empty inside- but her touch was retreating as soon as you opened your mouth.

“No,” you whispered, gazing at her in the glass. “No no no,” your head was shaking back and forth; a testament to your desperation.

But your Mistress was not often shaken by things like that. Only the devil herself could withstand seeing her sinful little angel beg for pleasure; only the devil could step back and watch the poor thing drown in lust - and since that was the case, you figured Larissa was Satan in the flesh. She tore you apart and put you back together. She unraveled you and reclaimed your pieces. She pressed hot open kisses to your neck and let out little hums against your ear before running the flats of her palms over the skin of your thighs.

“I want you to tell me something,” she whispered, mindlessly splaying her fingers. Your eyes met in the mirror. Hers were dark and hooded. Yours were blown wide with suspenseful need. You nodded, lost for words. “I want you to tell me that I live lavishly.”

You frowned, momentarily confused. What did she mean? Yes- she did. She lived lavishly, sort of. No mansion and no riches, but definitely expensive clothing and trinkets and things of the sort. And she often treated you to pricey gifts and dinners and such. But why did she need-

“Just say it, pup.”

You licked your lips. “You- um- you live lav-lavishly Mistress.”

The pleased grin you got, shadowed by the column of your neck, had you smiling back nervously.

“Good.. good…,” Larissa hummed, pressing a small rewarding kiss to your shoulder. “And what does that mean, pup? What do I… surround myself with?”

And her hands went running along your thighs again, dipping closer and closer to your heaven each time before skittering away. She knew she was messing with your thoughts, but she didn’t particularly care. The cogs in your head were turning slowly, rusted with distracting lust. What did she surround herself with? You took a second to glance around the bedroom - at the mahogany furniture and four poster bed and sky-blue silk sheets and duvet and fluffy white pillows and the pretty patterned egg-shell carpet in the middle of the floor. You took in the high cathedral-style windows, the velvet curtains, Larissa’s ornate vanity, her perfume and makeups and hair-care products, her heels and walk-in closet. You thought about the salary she spent on garments and gloves and coats and how each of her outfits matched the seasons and the way her jewelry tended to sparkle in the light. Such luxuries were not things you could afford on your own. Such luxuries were glorious. Expensive. One could even say…

“Beautiful.”

It came out as an awed whisper. Larissa smiled sharply.

“What was that?”

Her fingers pitter-pattered along your skin. Closer… closer… closer…

“B-beautiful things,” you breathed.

“Mmm,” came her deep purr, spoken into your ear, caressing the inferno within you. “And what does that make you, puppy?”

You swallowed. That- well that made you… goodness, you couldn’t even think it. Your gaze returned to your body. Were you what she said? Were you truly? Were the discolored strikes of lightning across your stretched skin something to be admired? Were the veins of your feet enchanting? Was the hair that graced your upper-lip and sometimes your chin and the spots around your eyebrows all a thing of glory? Were your unkempt nail beds and regularly bowed posture and easily bruised skin all aspects of yourself to be adored?

Well… Larissa certainly thought so.

When you brought your attention away from the cellulite of your thighs and looked up, staring into those cool blue depths, you saw nothing but love. Nothing but desire. She knew you weren’t perfect and she loved you either way. She had you in her hands, leaning against her body, restrained and vulnerable and left open for her amusement. She had you keening and whining and wet beneath her touch. She wanted you. She needed you. She noticed you. And your Mistress lived up to that observation when she tutted lightly - ‘tut tut tut’ - three times with her tongue tapping against the roof of her mouth, spotting your hesitation.

“Say it for me,” her voice spoke devilishly, “say it. Just for me.”

“A-” you swallowed back a noise of anguished desire, “-a… b-beautiful thing…?”

“Is that a question?” She admonished immediately. You shook your head.

“No, Mistress. A beautiful-” you inhaled deeply and let the words out with your breath, “- a beautiful thing.”

Larissa smirked.

“Again.”

You let out a frustrated huff. You just wanted her to touch you. Her hands were so close - her fingertips were caressing the very edges of your heaven - she knew exactly what you wanted. But she wasn’t giving it to you. And your frustration was only another strike.

‘Smack!’ swift rectification was delivered to your cunt, forcing a husky gasp out of your open mouth while your upper body jerked forward- sparked by utter surprise. The sting settled again, red and tingly and sensitive, as you tried to regulate your breathing.

“Again,” your Mistress growled, teeth flashing behind red lips.

“A beautiful th-thing,” you sniffed, abdomen clenching when the pleasure from before slowly resumed - spurred on by Larissa’s gentle ministrations as one fingertip caressed circles around your clit.

“Mmmm there we go,” she drawled, “not so difficult, hm?” You shook your head instantly, not really knowing if it was a genuine question or not. It probably didn’t matter either way as your Mistress’s words continued - flowing like thick wine down the parched skin of your throat. “No, no… so precious…”

And the slow teasing circles became fast - switching to little back and forth swats right over the desperate nub of your clit, pressing light pressure and spreading the stickiness of your desperation over the needy bundle of nerves. You felt heat rise to the surface of your skin, making you sweat as your hips bucked into your Mistress’s hold. Little whines and moans, high-pitched and keening, slipped off of your tongue as wave after wave of lust flowed through your body. You felt your eyelids fall, draping you in darkness while your head went craning back to lean against your lover’s shoulder. Your hands, meanwhile, twitched like mad and clenched together - desperate to grasp at anything so you could ground yourself, but it was to no use. They were firmly tied, just set as a reminder for your obedience. For your submission.

“M-Mi-M-” her title teetered on the edge of your lips but never fell. You looked helpless - useless - pathetic. Whining beneath the dexterous touch of your Mistress; falling apart under the slightest bit of pressure. Drool pooled onto your tongue.

“What do I do with my beautiful things, pet?” She spoke quickly, cutting off your thoughts. You could barely understand what she was asking - but that wasn’t enough. It was a response or nothing. “What do I do with them?”

Your mind scrambled for something- anything- as you reveled in your pleasure. And finally, after what seemed like an eternity of searching for the correct response, you threw your head down and knocked your chin against your chest, eyes still scrunched and face twisted in pleasure.

“T-take care of- of them! Mistress!” You mewled brokenly, moving your hips to match the pace of her touch.

“Oh good girl!” She gasped, delighted by your good thinking, impressed by your cloudy intelligence. Yes yes- you were a good girl- such a good girl- so good for her so good so good so good- “Stick out your tongue.”

Your tongue, wet and quivering, lolled out of your mouth instantly and rested gently between your top row of teeth and your bottom lip, already slowly starting to drip with drool. You could feel her gaze burning into you through the mirror’s reflection. She was enjoying her little lesson oh so much.

“Good good.” You whimpered beneath her praise, feeling the muscles in your hips and legs start to burn with desperation. The very beginnings of your crescendo- your release- your wonderful little death- crested over the temple of your lust, hinting at oncoming pleasure. Larissa could feel the way your clit twitched from her touch, straining hopelessly with each pass of her finger. She loved it. She loved seeing you come undone. She loved seeing you admit to the truth.

“Repeat after me, slut. And don’t miss a beat,” she commanded. “I am beautiful.”

You began shaking your head, silently telling her no- it was too embarrassing- please don’t make me- but your Mistress didn’t care. It was just another strike in her book. Another wet aching ‘slap!’ that kissed against your cunt, making it raw and far more sensitive than it was before - forcing your defenses to crumble. Forcing you to submit wholeheartedly.

“I- I’m beautiful!” you cried, letting your tongue greet the heavy air once more.

“I am strong.”

“I’m- I’m- I am strong! Mis- Mistress, please!”

“I am capable.”

“‘M cap-capable- capable hnngg-”

“I am loved.”

“Y-yes! Loved- loved so much- yesyesyesyesplease-”

“Open your eyes.”

“Op- open-” you blinked as your mind caught up, letting the words fizzle into nothing within your mouth as you peered up at yourself through the mirror.

“There’s my needy girl,” your Mistress cooed, “look at you. Look at your pretty self. Look at your pretty cunt, puppy.”

And you did. You looked- no, admired- yourself. You admired your messy hair and the way little strands plastered themselves to the light sheen of sweat on your forehead. You admired your trembling body and the way the endearing cellulite and chub shook with each rock of your hips. You admired the flush across your skin and the heavy-lidded look of your eyes - and the way your eyebrows furrowed and your tongue trembled. You admired the closeness with your Mistress and how snug you were pressed against her body. Framed between her legs, held down and in place, controlled and loved. One hand working wonders between your legs, caressing your heaven, and one hand trailing along your body- from thigh to breast, feeling and wandering and loving all the same.

“This is just one thing I love about you, Y/n,” Larissa spoke, looking like an angel of desire sitting there behind you; hair askew and blue eyes darkened and red lips parted, silently affected by your longing.

You were shuddering in her hold, letting out a string of mindless sounds as the pleasure increased and increased and increased. The thread of rope in your abdomen was quickly unraveling, close to snapping, close to throwing you over the edge of a mind-blowing climax. And Larissa was relentless in her mission to push you into the depths.

“How good you are for me, how much control you give me,” she hissed, “how pretty you look panting like an eager little whore,” her accent embraced the words in a mind-dizzyingly beautiful hug. She sounded like the angels’ harps. “My needy darling- my pretty little pet- my baby- my Y/n. Mine mine mine. Say it.”

“Y-yours! Yoursyours yours-” you mumbled, eyes rolling back into your head as the wet sounds of your pleasure harmonized with your Mistress’s voice.

“Mineminemine, that’s it. That’s it, little puppy. Good- good.”

And that’s when you felt your mind go blank.

“M-M- ple-please- pleasepleaseplease gonna- gonna cu-cum- cum please- M-Miss-”

The heat was startling. You were shaking. You were crying. You were panting and whining and it felt so- so- sososososo-

“You want to cum, puppy? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? Hm? Beg, darling. Beg for me,” your Mistress demanded, voice as sharp as a knife’s edge.

“Yes, yes,” you gasped, nodding as you spoke and pleaded and begged begged begged- “Please please please I’m- I’m a good girl- good girl- yours- please lemme cum please Mistress- Mommy- Rissa- please- please Larissa PLEASE-!”

The rope snapped. The rocks beneath your feet slipped. The sun fell. The clouds disintegrated. The world clung onto the universe. The heat in your abdomen had you clenching- clenching- clenching-

And Larissa’s touch went away. Faded. Disappeared.

Your ears buzzed.

Your feet dangled off the edge.

The rope held itself together by the thinnest string.

“No.”

And your Mistress sealed your fate with one word alone.

̟ ˙ ̟ ˙ ˖ ̟ ˙ ˖ ˙̟ ˙ ̟ ˙ ˖ ̟ ˙ ˖ ˙̟ ˙ ̟ ˙ ˖ ̟ ˙ ˖ ˙̟ ˙ ̟ ˙ ˖ ̟ ˙ ˖ ˙

Did I do this instead of write more of my book, respond to some requests, and just generally pay attention to life outside of this? Yes. Yes, I did. I did also get a haircut though and I feel quite beautiful. So- anyway. Hope you enjoyed. - Ripley x

̟ ˙ ̟ ˙ ˖ ̟ ˙ ˖ ˙̟ ˙ ̟ ˙ ˖ ̟ ˙ ˖ ˙̟ ˙ ̟ ˙ ˖ ̟ ˙ ˖ ˙̟ ˙ ̟ ˙ ˖ ̟ ˙ ˖ ˙

#fanfic #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #fanfiction #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x you #fanfictionwriter #wlw fanfic #rippersz #wednesday netflix #smut fic #smutty fanfic #principal larissa weems #larissa x reader #principal weems #principal weems x reader #wlw smut #wlw fic

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sincerely-sofie · 3 days

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What are some ideas you've wanted to draw/write but haven't?

Oh man. I've got so many. A handful of ideas include:

A semi-animated series titled "My Pal the Paladin" about a kidnapped princess and the final boss who join forces to track down the legendary hero who's failed to slay even a single mook months after the plot kicking off and yell at him for taking so long. It's based on my oldest original characters and has a lot of sentimental worth to me as a result. Idris, Pal, and Katherine are my babies. I've considered making it similar in production to Dingo Doodle's Fool's Gold series, but I haven't actually made it because I'm really nervous about it turning out poorly ^^; I'd love to post a pitch bible for it someday!

A gothic picture book tentatively titled "Cover the Mirrors" about a woman killing a monster that has haunted her since girlhood, and inheriting the curse that turned the monster from a normal man into his current twisted looks. It would end with the monster's appearance going from being seen as a Boogeyman figure that stalks kids who play outside after sundown while the original monster was around, to a vengeful beast that hunts people who prey on children once the woman inherits the curse. It would play with the idea of trauma giving you unique abilities to help those who have gone through similar terrors, while also warping you into something you can't recognize and find inherently repulsive. I haven't made it because I don't know how to render the painterly style I envision for it.

A mixed media visual novel titled "Cradlehead" about a woman who finds herself serving as the unwilling vessel for an eldritch entity that will destroy her mind when it finishes germinating within and exits her body. She has to escape the pocket dimension it trapped her in to develop within the optimal conditions in order to save herself. The visuals would incorporate clay, digital art, traditional art, 3D models, pixel art, and photography. The game would center around the woman's desperation as she tries to escape while her ability to perceive the new world around her decays more and more over time. I haven't made it because I doubt my artistic abilities to make something like I have in my head come to life.

An untitled magical girl webcomic about an unwilling magical girl with a giant bee familiar named Queenie and issues controlling her powers because of her insecurities. She feels bad about being a not very girly individual while surrounded by hyper-feminine young women who have a handle on their powers she could never dream of. It revolves around her character arc where she eventually stops worrying about meeting the arbitrary standards she imposes on herself to be "girly enough" and decides to just be herself, whoever that is, unlocking her true powers and entering her ultimate form during a climactic battle— taking on a design less like a queen holding a scepter like she'd been dreading, and more like a princely knight holding a stinger-like spear. Her rejection of others' expectations as well as her own helps the world-ending threat, a shapeshifting eldritch being that absorbs people into itself so it can become someone other than itself but is never satisfied with the new faces it obtains, to accept itself and stop trying to steal people's souls in order to find one that would make it love itself. I haven't made it because I worry if it would come across weirdly to the average viewer, as it deals with gender dysphoria as a subject in a very atypical manner.

#my two sides: unspeakable eldritch horror and cutesy goofy cartoons :>#sofie answers asks #stuff by sofie #(kinda. I'm talking about things I want to make at least!)

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dandelionsandderivatives · 3 months

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I would love to hear about The Magician's Guinea Pig!

Oh, I'm SO glad someone asked about this one!

As you might have guessed from the title, it's a fic centered on the guinea pig that Uncle Andrew uses to test inter-dimensional travel in The Magician's Nephew.

The idea was to tell the book (quickly) from the guinea pig's point of view, and write a little bit at the end about where the guinea pig goes afterwards. Digory and Polly leave it in the Wood Between the Worlds since it seems happy (and, having had pet guinea pigs, I can confirm that a world of grass with no predators is probably a guinea pig's idea of heaven). But guinea pigs are also social creatures, and I had to wonder if Aslan took it somewhere else where it could have pig friends.

And THAT brought me to the idea of the weirdness of the incarnation as seen in Narnia. The idea of Christ as a Lion is quite biblical and proper, but I assume a small prey animal (such as a guinea pig) would feel differently about lions in general than a human would. Aslan is (we are repeatedly told) a Real Lion, and so He ought to smell like a predator animal, and the guinea pig ought to be instinctively fearful. We see bits of this with Bree in The Horse and His Boy, but Bree is also a Talking Animal with some grasp of Narnian theology. What does meeting your God in the form of a predator look like for a regular non-talking beast?

So the idea was to lean into the idea that the guinea pig has no real idea what's going on around it, other than the smells and the kind of instincts about magic that all the creatures in Narnia seem to have, and to lean into writing some of those "beautiful but also terrifying" scenes that Lewis loved so much (and, imo, wrote very well). It doesn't, however, have much plot, and I've had trouble getting the emotions I'm envisioning into the story. Also, I wasn't sure what people fed guinea pigs in the 1890s, which is how I found myself reading the phd thesis of a woman who did some behavioural studies on guinea pigs in that era.

I still really like the idea, but I don't know if I'll ever finish it. It's underused in fanfic, though; I could only find one thing on AO3 tagged for the guinea pig. The main difficulty for me, I think, is writing Aslan; as with much Christian literature, you're essentially writing rpf about God, and that's a daunting prospect.

#ask game #tag game #writing #fanfiction #narnia #christianity

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art-of-tek · 5 months

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Adiah fanart from the "Beasts of Prey" trilogy. I envisioned her as a hairless (except for the tail tip) lioness with pitch-black eyes.

[ID: A traditionally done lined drawing of a lioness-like creature without fur. She is in a walking pose in the direction of the audience and has pitch-black eyes and long claws. The text "ADIAH - The Shetani" can be seen below her. End ID.]

#fanart #beasts of prey #ayana gray #digital art #artists on tumblr #lion #lions #lioness #adiah #shetani #my art #art #sketchbook

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evolutionsvoid · 11 months

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It is funny sometimes how people are so obsessed with dragons. Don't get me wrong, dragons are indeed incredible creatures that have wonderful abilities and both an intimidating and awe inspiring visage. It is just that often people envision dragons as the be all end all of animals. If you look at legend and folklore, they would say that dragons are the most powerful creatures in existence, sitting above all other living things. But if you stop and look at the whole thing for just a second, then you realize dragons are just another species in this world. They still need to eat, drink and breath just like everything else, doing all the normal things you wouldn't expect for a "god beast." I don't expect this to dampen anyone's view or admiration of dragons, and that certainly isn't my intention! I just want folks to remember that these are flesh and blood creatures, and not living embodiments of disaster or fury. Sure, they can be rather terrifying in their power and size, but remember what I said. Dragons are animals, just like us (and by "us" I mean my more fleshy readers. Dryads aren't animals, we're plants, but you get what I mean), so they must follow the same rules. They live in a natural world where there are things to eat and things that do the eating. Now if you think dragons are the most terrifying beasts around, then just wait til you learn about the things that devour them.

In the jungles out east, the thundering footsteps of a great beast causes all creatures to run or hide. The trees shiver and shake as its huge bulk shoves its way through the thick vegetation, making it sound like a landslide is breaking its way through the forest. If any outsider were in the area and heard this horrible din and felt the quaking earth, they would immediately assume it to be a dragon. If you yelled that out, all the locals would look at you with a knowing smile and laugh. "Oh you fool," they would joke, "that is no dragon. That is the sound of the Dragon Eater." It is a species that goes by a variety of names, Dragon Eater being one, Ogre Toad another and I have even heard them referred to as Daityas, but the most widely known and spoken name for this beast is "Bhekala." The Bhekala is a massive beast, with full grown adults sitting at over 20 feet tall. While there may be some taller lankier creatures out there, the Bhekala fills this large hide with an incredible bulk. Their bodies are bulging with muscle, gut and wart, giving them a staggering weight that causes the ground to shudder whenever they walk or sit down for a rest. While dragons are often called "monstrous lizards," the Bhekala is more of a "demonic toad." This species is an amphibian, being the largest toad found in the world. Their bodies have a tough leathery skin to them, but it still requires moisture. Thankfully, the jungle's humid atmosphere keeps them plenty damp, but that doesn't stop them from enjoying the occasional dip and soak in a nearby watering hole. Their skin is coated in thick hardened warts, which can ooze a noxious fluid if squeezed hard enough (good luck doing that without getting flattened). Upon their head, bony spikes erupt in a blazing crown-like arrangement, which draws your gaze to their terrifying visage. A wide tooth filled maw splits their face, able to swing open into a horrifying gape to devour its prey. It should be noted that these teeth are more for holding prey than cutting them up, as Bhekala like to swallow their victims whole. The other feature is the fact they have three eyes. The third eye in the middle of their head is often compared to the parietal eye of other amphibians and reptiles, and folks have wondered if this species had developed this eye or if everything else simply lost it. With three eyes, they have an incredible range of vision, especially since the third one sits in a way that it is partially pointed upward. Two eyes scan the land before it, while the third has an eye on the sky. For most creatures, this upward gaze would be for spotting aerial predators, but for the Bhekala, it is about spying food on the wing.

With such a size and bulk, they do need some hefty meals to get by. To help conserve energy, they move pretty slow when not on the hunt and do a great deal of resting and sleeping. But when it is time to down a feast, they can use their energy and bodies to do some incredible stuff. A lot of their power resides in their back legs, which are not only capable of carrying this great bulk around, but they can actually launch it. Despite their size, Bhekala can indeed jump, and to pretty impressive heights! If you were upon a mountain looking over the jungle and very lucky, you could see one of these great toads rocket up from the canopy, blasting through the vines and branches. Not long after, you would hear the earth shuddering "thud" of it landing back on the ground, the mighty tremble being felt for miles. So why does this huge toad do this? Why, to go after prey in the sky! Flying beasts like the dragons and Garuda fly just over the canopy of these jungles, often looking for food or nesting materials. The Bhekala's third eye scans the skies above for one of these fliers, and then they time their jump so that they collide with them in midair. "Challenging a dragon while in flight?!" You may ask bewildered, "but dragons are the kings of the sky! Are these toads mad?!" The answer is: no. In fact, their method of assault is pretty genius. You see, dragons, Garudas and other fliers have their bodies thoroughly designed for flight, with great care in take off, sustained flying and landing. For a jumper like the Bhekala, they are tuned to launching their bodies into the air, then dealing with the shock of crashing back down. For fliers though? They are designed for flying, not falling. When a Bhekala slams into the soaring dragon, it is like getting nailed by a boulder from a catapult. The initial impact can easily shatter bone and knock the wind right out of them. Some may lose consciousness, others may die on impact. But even if the hit isn't fatal, or the toad misses and instead snares them with a clawed hand, the violent ride back down can easily finish the job. I wonder what the dragons think during this violent attack, as they plummet to the earth with broken wings. King of the skies, scourge of kingdoms, and they are about to perish by simple gravity.

All it takes is for the target to be grabbed or even clipped, as disrupted flight means a hard landing. The dragon will plummet to the earth and crash through the branches, probably breaking a lot more things on the way down. Once they land in a busted heap, the great toad will lumber over and feed. If the flying dragon was grabbed by the leaping Bhekala, then they will find themselves being held between the falling toad and the ground, about to be pancaked by a life-ending body slam. If by some miracle, the flier falls to the earth and survives, the Bhekala will not hesitate to finish the job. Their massive bulk makes them unstoppable physical fighters, unleashing crushing blows and absorbing a whole lot of punishment without worry. Their typical tactic is to grab prey with their clawed hands and hang on tight, then follow it up by rolling atop prey and crushing them under their weight. Claw and tooth will fail to pierce their thick hide, and biting isn't a good idea unless you want a mouth full of vile wart fluid. Some dragons will call upon their most trusted weapon: their breath attack, and unleash a torrent of flame. Some may think this is enough to ward off this hungry toad, but sadly it won't do a thing. Gushing from their maw will be a bubbling foam, one that snuffs out flame on contact. They spew this all over their body to protect themselves from dragon fire, and even belch it at their foe to disrupt the flame streams. In some cases, a Bhekala may grab the head of a fire dragon and vomit this foam right down their throat, extinguishing their weapon and choking them to death at the same time. In most cases, when a Bhekala grounds its prey, the victor will be the mighty demon toad. Prey will be swallowed whole, or it will use its strength to break off limbs and chunks to make it easier to eat.

While they are infamous for eating dragons, Bhekala have more to their diet. Garudas are one, but they don't just eat fliers. Creatures of the earth must be wary of these toads as well, as they are up to eating anything they can get their hands on. With their huge size and slow speed, they are not pursuit predators. Rather, they prefer to rest near important places, like fruit trees and water bodies and simply wait for prey to pass by. If something large enough gets close, then that mouth of theirs unhinges and a meaty tongue comes flopping out. This tongue is a powerful muscle with hardened exterior. While other toads and frogs use sticky mucus to snare prey and drag them back into their maw, the Bhekala uses raw power. The tongue strikes like a hammer, slamming down to break bone and stun prey. Its prehensile pronged tip can then wrap around the broken victim and pull them back into its mouth. With this, the Bhekala can eat prey without having to lift a finger, simply letting its tongue do all the work. Lots of beasts can fall to this hunting method, with the Bhekala even eating Nagas. It should be clear by now that these toads are simply not to be trifled with, and that almost any large beast can wind up on its menu. The one saving grace we have is that human-sized prey is often seen to be not worth it, so they don't actively pursue people or raid villages. However, if one is sitting and waiting for food to come by, a passing human may be enough for them to give it a go, especially if they are really hungry. This is why it is important to be wary of your surroundings, and not blunder though the jungle blindly. You may ask "how does one not see a twenty foot toad?" But believe me, distracted travelers have ignored far bigger things.

When not on the hunt, Bhekala are rather slow and lazy beasts, preferring to simply sit and let time pass. They do enjoy a good bath in a nearby body of water, and have also been seen scratching themselves against large, rough barked trees. The only other time they get active is when the breeding season comes, as males fight for their right to mate. Their method of dueling is much like sumo, using more pushing and throwing of weight to determine who is the winner. Creatures of the jungle hate this season, because their mating battles tend to cause a lot of collateral damage. While they do pick special clearings to hold their battles, some combatants don't wait to get to the arena to start throwing punches, and a brawling pair of Bhekala can easily knock over trees and flatten smaller creatures. If this fighting wasn't bad enough, the territorial bellowing of the males can keep one up all night, as their loud calls can be heard for miles. When a male fends off the other bachelors long enough to claim a female, they will wind up laying hundreds of eggs in a nearby water body. Of all that are laid, very few even make it to the larval stage. The first dozens of tadpoles that hatch will eat the unborn and use their nutrients to grow. Over the course of months, they will grow bigger in size and fewer in number, til only a handful of large tadpoles remain from the original clutch. At this size, they are hungry predators of the pond, feeding on the fish and other inhabitants. Some of the larger ones may even attack animals that come to drink, using a sharp beak to grab on and drag them into the water. While these larvae may seem like tempting targets compared to their huge adult forms, they do have some powerful defenses. One is that they produce a potent toxin in their bodies, one they hold in their bumps and warts. It is similar to the fluid leaked from the adults, but when they grow up it loses its edge and becomes more a bitter, vile inconvenience. It is strongest when they are young, as it wards off predators. They are also capable of whipping up a cloud of bubbling foam, much like what the adults spit out. This noxious foam protects them from attackers, dampens their hide during dry times and can ward off the flame of dragons. So even if a dragon wishes to unleash their anger of these toads towards their young, the tadpoles can pretty much erase their precious flame. Also, while the adults are not the most caring or protective parents, they do tend to stick around the pond. Show up here and cause trouble, and you might get their attention and find a bone-crushing tongue headed right for your skull.

With such a size and infamous diet, it should be no surprise that the locals have a thing to say about the Bhekala. Funny enough, it swings between the good and the bad when it comes to these toads. Since they don't actively target human settlements, they aren't exactly feared. Sure, there is terror when one is lurching through the jungle and your caravan is in its path, but these are seen more as natural events or just pure bad luck. However, their diet can either be appreciated by some parties while offending others. To those who like dragons or Garuda, the Bhekala is a demon that devours guardians and represents the brutal nature of the jungle. There are plenty of statues and murals that show this amphibian as a great demon or beast of the underworld. To those who despise these species (mostly the dragons), the Bhekala is a guardian in itself, devouring the terrors of the sky. Their title as Dragon Eater has become so well known, that there was once an effort to spread the species to other places to deal with the "dragon threat." If the Bhekala could be established elsewhere, it would gobble up all those meany fiery dragons and everyone would be happy! How stupid! But people did try and the local dragons went "I don't think so!" The dragon communities gathered all the lightning drakes and bolt spitting dragons they could contact and went after these Bhekala nurseries. They fried every tadpole they could find and then burned these places to the ground. A tad extreme, but I understand their concern and am happy that such an idiotic effort to introduce giant toads to a foreign ecosystem was squashed. Like, can you imagine the damage?! Could you even fathom the amount of environmental destruction and species loss that would occur if such potent toads were unleashed upon an unwitting habitat?! I shudder to think of it! And for what?! Pest control?! You know what, I change my mind, burning everything down was totally a rational course of action.

It should be noted that due to their reputation, it was only inevitable that people try to hunt them or slay them for respect and trophies. After all, Bhekala hide is an incredible leather, their wart secretions valuable for potions and their meat is said to be fit for kings (after proper preparation and cleaning of course). So some folk get the idea that they are going to hunt a Dragon Eater and be known as the incredible slayer that killed the killer of dragons. Pretty much none of these idiots survived these attempts. Blades and arrows barely penetrate their thick hide and muscle, and their foam coating seems to dampen a lot of magic too. Shields and armor mean absolutely nothing compared to their bulk, and tales speak of locals coming across dead knights embedded in the ground, hit so hard that it pretty much buried them into a shallow grave. From the sounds of it, these attempts have stopped a long time ago, but you do hear stories from time to time of some rich idiot giving it a go. Ends pretty much the same way every time, so if you are married to a wealthy lord and can't stand him but like the money, try sweet talking them into Bhekala hunting. And make sure you are in that will!

Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

------------------------------------------------

"Bhekala"

If it is the spooky season then we need toads! And when you look at the equipment and ability toads and frogs have, then it seems natural to make one that eats dragons!

#toad #frog #amphibian #monster #creature #art #drawing #dragon eater #behold the monstrous toad!

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gargantua-toys · 5 months

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As if weren't enough with the suffocating heat and the toxic fumes, the Ssizur desert also counts with some of the most deadly creatures around... Like the Karakran.

For this species, we wanted to create an arachnid that would fill the niche of a big feline. Sort of a mix between a troglobite --or a scorpion-- and a panther. We envisioned it as an agile and cunning predator, as well as well adapted to the acid desert biome.

Because it's an arachnid too, we respected the number of appendages, but we did them longer and with sharper claws and pseudopalps, perfect to grab and rip its prey.

For the sculpture, we had a basic blocking in which we played with the proportions of every part of the Karakran until we felt it was right. It took a while, but we didn't stop until we got that silhouette and imposing nature of a feline right!

Because we thought it was more than enough, we rejected the idea of making them venomous (also, we already had the Du-Meesh as a toxic critter).

Also, the colors had to be simple but had to resemble the likes of a desert scorpion or a tarantula. And a little bit of saturated color --the oranges-- here and there to underline some details. We had to achieve a mix between something realistic and something exciting to paint.

To also portray the "character" of this beast in the most amusing way possible, we sculpted two different poses: running and "dancing". The latter is both useful for attacking and for mating!

And if you want a Karakran to terrorize your party in your next campaign, or you simply want to print one and paint it because you want it to display on your monster shelf, go ahead and visit our sites to get one: Ko-fi / Cults 3D

As we are just getting started, any support would be appreciated!

#project realms #bestiary #creature design #miniature painting #3d printing #ttrpg #fantasy #arachnids #desert #minis design

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cosmica-galaxy · 11 months

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I LOVE your camera mimics so much since I'm a big fan of creepy eldritch stuff and skib. I was feeling spooky and thought of a little horror scenario with them!

For context, I was thinking about how they might occasionally hunt in packs to prey upon larger toilets than just regular sized toilets that their mouth is big enough to bite. And like predators hunting, they wait until the perfect moment for the kill. Now, excuse my bad writing skills:

[TW: Graphic Description of Murder]

A large mutant toilet (like the one from episode 59) stays still in the middle of a ruined city. It's night, and all the cameramen have mysteriously disappeared. Although, it could've sworn it seen a few watching it from afar. It decides to rest and prepare for tomorrow. Just as it begins to retract its head down to sleep, it hears a footstep nearby. It's head shoots back up, prepared for the kill. It looks around and begins to notice glints of moonlight shining on objects in the streets nearby. Sure enough, they're cameras. But something feels... off. One by one, their heads peek out from the darkness, until there's hordes of them, just watching. Panicked, the toilet sends a missile at one of the many hordes, which sets all of them off. They bound out of the darkness and through the explosion smoke, unscathed, roaring. Their limbs are long and stretched, like mutant experiments. Below their heads, huge, gaping, bloody mouths open, with sets of teeth sharp as knives lining the edges. It sends barrages of missiles in desperation, but nothing pierces through the thick skin of these beasts. They reach the toilet, beginning to climb it until they reach its head. They gnaw away like flies to a corpse, flesh being torn off the toilets face as it bellows in pain. The horde works away, dining upon its head, using its tears to help swallow quicker. Eventually, all that's left is an empty toilet covered in blood, with bones mismatched around it. The real cameramen that advanced there the next day had no idea what happened.

Apologies if that was a bit too... detailed. Absolutely love these guys though.

Lastly, Quick Question: What if a parasite infected a mimic? Are they even able to be infected?

Apologies for the rant/super long ask!!!

OH MY STARS, I ABSOLUTELY ADORE THIS!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH! It's very close to what I have envisioned for the mimics! I imagine that they behave similarly to the velociraptors from jurassic park. Cunning, sneaky, and intelligent. With mouths filled with sharp teeth and hungry bellies wanting to be filled.

Also, I imagined this sound playing when there are mimics in an area. Especially in a dark city on a full moon night...

For the parasite question, it would be a BALLSY parasite to try and latch onto a known predator. If one is lucky enough to get close enough to try and latch on, the mimic will treat it as a major irritant. The other pack members will be quick to take notice, so they'll reach over and bite the parasite off. Getting a free snack out of the encounter as they do so. : )

#haxorus imp #hax speaks #cosmica galaxy #cosmica-galaxy #anonymous #anon asks #anon ask #skibidi toilet mimic #skibidi toilet #cw: gore #gore cw #body horror cw #horror cw

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sea-salted-wolverine · 2 years

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I'm having that kind of insomnia where your brain just vibrates all night long. So I'm thinking about centaurs and how they are a creature composed of the travesty that is the human spine attached to the evolutionary nightmare that is a horse.

Even putting aside for a moment the personality that would result of a human being attached to an aggressive domesticated prey animal, (personally I'm envisioning the most toxic mix of drama queen and horse girl completely anxiety riddled and a huge bitch about it) there are so many physiological issues with a centaur.

What the fuck does this thing eat? What the hell happened to its teeth? Is it wearing down it's human teeth trying to figure out how to eat horse feed? Horses graze. Humans only say we graze we don't actually graze like an ungulate.

How does it breathe? it's got horse lungs and human lungs and those do not work the same way even a little bit. Is it using all 4 of its lungs? This poor beast has gotta have the most fucked up blood pressure of any animal alive. The having 2 hearts part is only the start of it.

Thank your puny little bipedal human spine hurts now? Imagine if your sacrum was fused with the shoulder girdle of a fucking horse. Human knees are a mess but that's OK cause we've replaced them with the worst option which is balancing indefinitely on a single toenail.

The one thing centaurs have going for them, is that if you have the birth canal of a horse you don't need to pump out your babies when they're only half finished. A newborn baby centaur probably looks more like a toddler than a infant. That's still a problem because within 6 hours it's set up and run away from you. Toddlers can't run for a reason. They toddle.

Is the centaur gonna freak out on a plastic bag floating in the wind? How about a shadow across a dirt road? The color purple? Did he eat too much corn, get the sweats, and now his feet are falling off?

The cat boys are not this complicated. They have some hyper carnivorous traits at best. Can't eat onions. Likes to push shit off shelves to see if it'll fall. May have multiple aural canals, but that's about as complicated as it gets.

But centaurs man

#centaurs #speculative biology #catboy

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throughtrialbyfire · 1 year

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TESFest, Day 1 - Beast

a portrait of a werewolf in a cage word count - 772 content warnings - descriptions of gore, violence.

The guards all glowered at him with disdain down here. Their prisoner. Their captive. A beast they believed that they could tangle in shackles and bars of iron and that these, alone, would be enough.

Sinding could still feel the warm flesh beneath his nails. The blood that matted into his teeth, his hair. Thick with red. Slinking down his throat, the fresh kill, the carnivorous urge bitterly satisfied. He bit back bile as the taste returned to his tongue and he tried not to lurch over the cement floors. He'd grown sick of memories. He'd grown sick of himself. Sick of Falkreath and this damn place and the damned Lord of the Hunt.

The ring clutched his finger. A reminder of what he was.

Sometimes, when the moons burned holes of piercing light into the small cell, he prayed he would transform and show them that he was telling the truth, he'd had no control, he didn't know what he'd done until he'd done it and he didn't know what to do to undo it all and every thought pounded its claws into his back, his skin, too fleshy, too soft, too full of meat.

But when he changed, he changed to lean muscle, to fur, hunger. To urges beyond fathom. To sharpness and nail. Fingers that could hook the tender kill out of the crevices, the teeth to gnaw, the monstrous. He was a monster. He shuddered in here at the knowing that brewed in his stomach.

He hadn't meant to hurt anyone. He'd stolen the ring to prevent this very thing from happening. All he'd wanted was a chance to have a life free of this bestial nature. Silver glinted mockingly from his hand. He'd stolen the ring for the sole purpose of ensuring none would know, and no harm would reach the unfortunate souls that crossed his meandering path. He had been a drifter so long, he'd forgotten how to be among them, the ones who did not change with the moons. He'd forgotten the smell of them, clean, prey-like. Sanctified by Aedra and living in the lights of their invisible gods, the ones who did not speak, did not move, did not breathe the way the Hunt could move, breathe, break him. His bones would crack under the weight of the Daedric Prince who mocked him from above.

Some nights, he swore he heard Hircine calling to him. "None will believe you," the whisper came in, clear as the call of an elk, "for you are trapped, and they are your hunters, and you are the prey."

He would curse the prince of the Hunt. He would deride him and mock and scream into the bleak dark that corralled him into this circular cage. He'd pace it and growl at the guards. First, he'd been pleading. He begged them to believe him. He begged for release, first from imprisonment, then for the release of Aetherius, the blessing of Arkay. Sometimes, the priest came by to speak with him, but Sinding would never look him in the eye. Runil would ask his questions and his voice would catch at the edges of his throat, and Sinding would envision ripping it out. He could practically hear the carving of sinew and snap of bone, feel the warmth against his short teeth, his human teeth, his teeth for chewing cud and spitting his words.

But he would never do this, for Hircine had decided that the ring would work only when he pleased, not when Sinding needed it. If he transformed now, he could escape. He could run far, far from here, into the wilds, track down the strange beast and hunt and break the curse. He had tracked it all the way here, so what point would there be in waiting?

The water sloshed around his human ankles - too short, too fragile - as he paced his circular cage. He could hear the guards muttering amongst themselves. They never spoke to him. He'd long stopped trying to speak to them.

This day, something breathed a new life into the air. The door to the prison opened, and a stranger in strange armor smelling of something… Unplaceable. Something that he could not name, a stench that wafted of smoke and acrid burning flesh, a stench of ancient bones and a scent of high and heavy winds, it seemed to cloud the stranger as they approached his cell. Unafraid of him. Unafraid of what lay before.

Sinding folded his arms over his chest, leaning his too-short-too-straight spine to the stone wall.

"Come to gawk at the monster?"

#tesfest23 #sinding #tesblr #skyrim #skyrim fic #skyrim fanfic #tes v #my writing #bishop.txt #putting this under a readmore bc of the content warnings but i hope you enjoy!! <3

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rico189sspamtonhell · 1 month

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A New Prize (Skulker x Oc)

My first time writing for Skulker! I'm pretty excited! I'm hoping to actually finish this story. Hope y'all enjoy!

When he had stumbled on her that night, he knew instantly that something was wrong. He’d come expecting to encounter the same human who had become such a thorn in his side. However, in her place wasn’t the same human he had fought time and time again. Instead, something beastly stood there with her visage.

Large, beautiful cow horns sprouted from her head. Her lower half had become covered in the softest cowhide he had ever seen. The fur was a pristine snow white, rare amongst ghostly creatures who often sported green or black colors. Were those…Yes. They were hooves. He’d been hunting for decades, he knew hooves when he saw them. A long, thin tail flicked back and forth, giving away her agitation. Despite the changes to her lower half, her upper half remained the same albeit now with tattered clothes. The image of her snapping her head toward him when she had become aware of his presence was seared into his mind. The action had been purely animalistic, just like the deer he had tracked in life. Unlike those deer, however, she wasn’t skittish prey. No, he knew Finny and he knew the raw strength she possessed. She was a predator just as he was, only she used her strength to protect and nurture the young half-ghost along with the rest of her town.

It was at that moment he knew he had a new rarity to add to his collection.

However, that damned woman had taken off before he could even speak. He had immediately trailed after her, but he had been too late. He tracked her to the best of his ability, but the elements had not been on his side that night as the biting rain washed away her prints. The scent of fear and confusion wafted through his nose, yet he couldn’t even track that. Just as quickly as he had found her, he had lost her.

He skulked through the city, searching far and wide for his quarry to no avail. He had laid in wait as the other ghosts stirred up trouble, waiting for her to rush in to save Danny just as she always did only for her to not arrive. He surveyed her usual haunts such as the feed store, yet she didn’t stop in as she always did every other week.

It was as if the human-turned-beast simply vanished from the face of the Earth. Where in the ancients' name was she?

It was nearly a week before he caught her trail once more in the form of the halfa whelp himself. In his human guise, he had come to the feed store she frequented, leaving with a large bag of chicken feed. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together that the halfa was procuring it for her. How fitting that the child she desired to protect was the one who led him right to her. He trailed the halfa from a distance, being sure not to get too close. The last thing he wanted was for his blasted ghost sense to go off, alerting him of his presence. He couldn’t afford to lose the one chance of finding Finny, not now after so long of tracking. He could go after Danny another day, the whelp was a small game compared to the bovine beauty he had laid his eyes on. She was a prize on his physical and mental level compared to the adolescent he’d sworn to obtain the pelt of. Her strange new form was a rarity he sought to add to his collection.

The thought of having her pinned to his examination table sent a shiver down his spine. In his mind’s eye, he could see himself examining her new form, seeing just what made the fiery woman tick. He could already envision how soft her lustrous fur would feel to the touch as his hand trailed down her legs. Would she snap at him? Would she fight against him even as he had her pinned beneath him? Would she try to gore him with her horns, or would she stick to throwing punch after punch just as she had when she was still just a mere human? He supposed it didn’t matter hope she fought him, he was looking forward to the fight either way. Finally having your prize in your hands was only half of what made a good hunt. What truly made it worth it was working for what he wanted.

The human turned heifer could run. She could fight. She could kick, scream, bite, anything, but in the end, he would add her to his collection. Skulker was a patient ghost after all. He’d track her to the ends of the Earth if it meant claiming his prize.

Thankfully he needn’t go that far to find her. No, he found her out in the backroads on a quaint farm. It was fairly expansive with a few of the usual farm animals peppered throughout in their respective pens. He’d always heard her chattering on about her farm, but he’d never seen it himself. He simply hadn’t had a reason to seek out her abode before, choosing to focus on the city as it was a hotspot for ghost activity while also being the ghost child’s turf.

Skulker landed at the farthest edge of the property where the rustic land met the nearby forest and got low on the ground behind the thick foliage.

“Where are you heifer…I know you’re hiding away in your lair.” He mumbled to himself as he stared at the farm house. Her floral scent was smothered by the scent of manure and ripe crops that permeated the land, but he could just faintly make it out.

His toxic green eyes glowed brighter as he saw the ghost boy land in front of the home with the bag of feed in hand. After a moment the door slowly creaked open to reveal his prize.

She was still in her new beastly form, although instead of being in a tattered shirt and torn-up shorts, she was in her usual green flannel. Instead of the jeans she normally sported she wore a pair of shorts. Perhaps her new legs made wearing pants uncomfortable due to her cowhide. Or perhaps, their new shape made it impossible? His mind ran rampant with observation after observation, theory after theory before he shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the hunt. He would have all the time in the world to observe her once she was in his grasp.

From his vantage point he couldn’t quite make out what she was saying to Danny, but he suspected it was just pleasantries as she took the bag from him. The two talked for a moment before she bid him goodbye, ruffling his hair before stepping back into her home.

A smirk slowly spread across his lips as he watched the ghost boy fly off. He waited one more moment to ensure he was truly alone with his prey before he rose from his spot on the ground.

The hunt was on.

#danny phantom #skulker #skulker x oc #dp #dp skulker #this was fun!#I can't wait to get into the action next chapter #oc x canon #self insert

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itslaneybop · 2 years

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I’m sure someone has come to the conclusion that Barbatos was originally a feral demon upon creation, right? Diavolo very casually mentions that he lured Barbatos to the castle with tea leaves and Barbatos even notes in a different conversation that he was never a child. That one kid event aside, (which I could very easily find an explanation for if I took the time to do so) it seems too perfect that he would be a quadruped beast-like abomination, respectfully, and I’m going to run with that headcanon.

This is turning into a list I want to reference later 💀

• Barbatos has ALWAYS been articulate and insufferably formal. Maybe he’s made that way.

• Diavolo is the reason he takes a human-esque form, whether to match his own likeness or because he was influenced by some other factor prior to “The Fall”

• Barbatos’s current demon form only alludes to what he used to look like and is definitely the reason why it doesn’t seem to resemble a cohesive design

• He would have looked like a Frankenstein mix between a bat, salamander, owl, snake, and vulture

• ✨ Black sclera ✨ because yes absolutely he would *pants*

• Maybe he doesn’t revert to his previous form because Diavolo has never explicitly said that he was allowed to? (his abject servility lends me to believe he would never use his power without instruction or prompt so this might not be too big of a stretch)

• I already believe that most of the notable figures of native Devildom citizens are beasts or monsters and I think the older they are the less “human” they look. Barbatos is VERY old so that would fit in here nicely.

• Solomon nearly did himself in when summoning Barbatos, if I remember that right, and I desperately want to know what that was all about.

• Whether he started out as quadrupedal or bipedal I couldn’t say, but I think he was flexible enough to stride both ways. Don’t ask me for realism because this is clearly fiction lol but I will say that there is a distinction between his back haunches and the front “arms/hands”

• Someone once mentioned that Barbatos’s VA has a slight lisp (I’m unsure if this observation is true, but I can admit that I hear it and it’s undeniably cute to me) and for that reason alone, I’m envisioning either a snake tongue or sharp fangies to make an audible lisp—or he just has one; no reason at all ♥️

• As far as design goes, I kind of go back and forth between anthropomorphic (I’m using the term loosely and with neutral tone) and just full-on beast.

• For whatever scaly parts he has, I think they’re like a shift of green and blue, possibly yellow, like a June bug shell. Otherwise his body is a mixture of feathers and very fine fur, like a shitzu dog’s coat.

• Big ears! Huge ears that flex and move independently like digits on a hand. This would also explain the black claws on his head because I’m not buying that those are “horns.”

• I’m a big fan of Barbatos being able to speak every language imaginable and that definitely includes every variation of Devildom language. He’s old enough to have invented portions of some!

• Barbatos has said he doesn’t need to sleep (or I am at least fervidly trying to find evidence of it) so I want to believe he catnaps. Catnaps have been described as a light dozing while being alert to surroundings, either to escape danger or pursue prey.

• If he had fangs that worked to inject, he was a venomous monster. If not, I am adamant that he could secrete a toxin of some sort.

• Playing off that last idea, this would make a neat foundation as to why he’s so fascinated and keen on tea. I wonder what kinds of poisonous concoctions he’s made?

There’s a lot to add, but I need to reread the story to get some details right or to pick up anything I hadn’t had a mind to look for first time around. I know for a fact I skipped through most of the story involving the grimoire thing(?) and that’s pretty important regarding Barbatos lol so I’m coming back to this eventually!

#ah geez here I go #more headcanons no one wants lol #I’m gonna end up in tears if I try to sketch his design out because I’ve never drawn fantasy creatures!#uh I’m not sure what to tag this #I don’t think there’s anything concerning to my text yet but I’ll tag it in post if it ever changes #however! I am tagging this for my own purposes #obey me headcanons #well #barbatos headcanons #in the very least #I don’t know block me if you don’t care about this content lmao #hahaha noo I just realized I have to reread the entire story now!#long text #oh you know what #monster Barbatos #block that tag if you don’t want to see this!

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species-euphoria-culture-is · 1 year

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unidentified deep sea beast sec is envisioning massive jaws opening to snap up prey whenever you eat anything

btw i used to be the eastern dragon from this post!! https://www.tumblr.com/species-euphoria-culture-is/712254820536532992/eastern-dragonkin-sec-is-eating-fish-and-wearing?source=share

i don't feel any sort of labelling of dragon is quite right anymore, though my body does look like one

i feel most comfortable being seen as a beast or a thing now

ㅤ

#i'm proud of you! figuring out your identity is a good thing and there's nothing wrong with realizing you weren't quite right in the past #beast kin #sea beast kin #species euphoria culture #species euphoria

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dross-the-fish · 1 year

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So untreated werewolves are aggressive beasts with high prey drives that will kill those they love. I'm curious tho, can two or more werewolves get along at night and form a sort of pack like true wolves?

I'm going to go say no. I envisioned werewolves as lone animals, not really connected to each other. In their human forms sufferers of the disease might bond over shared trauma but as they have little to no control over their werewolf forms they can't really help each other at night. If werewolves do form a pack it's to keep each other in check, make sure restraints and precautions are in place and then see that any damage done at night is covered up or taken care of. The key to making my version of Lycanthropy terrifying for Larry is the loss of control over himself and above all the isolation that comes with an illness that makes him act out violently against his will. There's a special kind of horror for him in knowing that he's a danger to himself self and others and that there's no one who can understand what he's going through and no permanent cure. All anyone can do is lock him up or maybe medicate him to manage his symptoms. It also adds to the despair the Larry's loved ones feel even after a treatment is found because all they can do is give him drugs to keep him lucid, monitor his side effects and adjust the dosage if it looks like he's building up a resistance. Constant tests, frequent adjusting to new medications, and everyone looking at him differently even if they don't realize they're doing it.

Lycanthropy, for my purposes, is exhausting, dangerous and, to be effective as tool for horror, it needs to breed a sense of helplessness and isolation in the victim.

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cowsonabus · 6 months

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PATROCHILLES FANFIC CALLED Don't they know its the end of the world? BY cowsonabus

hey! so i decided to post my other fanfic on here- i havent updated in over a month due to work load and planning but a new chapter should be out around friday? I usually aim for a new chapter every two weeks, every week if i have time.

also-if its hard to read in this its because its b en copies from ao3! its formatted a lot clearer there i think. i recommend reading it on there, this is more of a taster for the actual fic.

Enjoy!!

PATROCLUS POV

Patroclus had always believed that death would be peaceful. He had never envisioned some grand afterlife for himself- maybe, he thought, the heros of the world would be promised the sweetness and security of eternal paradise for themselves. But for himself? No. He didn't believe he would be rewarded with such. He had believed he would be allowed what in its own way was the greatest gift- rest. He had hoped that when he died his mind would be soothed as his body finally put to sleep, he had envisioned his life after death as quiet and slow, where he mindlessly progressed through time.

That was until the end of the fucking world happened.

Now when you died, if not by being bitten, there was no one left to preserve or handle your corpse. Your dead body would have to be let to slowly rot away in whatever hiding place you had managed to secure, and if you weren't lucky enough to die where your body was hidden there was no doubt any zombies within a mile would sniff you out and tear into your flesh without remorse. And hey- on the rare occasion your corpse was found by another human being it would most likely be ignored or treated with the utmost disrespect. After the outbreak, morality seemed to become a thing of the past.

Funny thing actually, Patroclus found himself staring at the corpse of a young girl being torn to shreds by the undead from his makeshift apartment. He watched their teeth sink into her soft flesh shredding it in seconds, watched the blood drain out and pool around her lifeless form. Flecks of flesh splattered around.

At first, this had turned his stomach. He had seen many gruesome things at his time in med school yet cannibalism was a whole new factor. However, after seeing it so much he had grown used to it- almost apathetic. Even so, watching a young girl of about 11 be destroyed like that was unsettling. Children had little to no chance of survival, he wondered how she had survived so long.

He often found himself in times like these revising his old medical notes. After the fall of pretty much any type of government or monarchy, he had hoped to find a solution by himself. Because if he couldn't rely on himself, there really was no one else to rely on. He hadn't made much progress yet. He had done a multitude of experiments to try find out how to solve the epidemic of undead. He had hated every single one. Watching people and animals go through the process of turning was gruesome and disgusting. They were fine the first few days until they're bodies started to mutate, first, their minds would alter. Their loss of speech and social skills was the first thing to happen, second, was the increased hostility and animalistic behavior. After that their bodies would start to grow, teeth and nails would sharpen and harden acting as new weapons for the beasts, then their bones would grow and extend awkwardly in places. Legs would be slightly too long, torsos would become unnaturally lanky, and faces would become sunken. And shit- they got fast. They weren't particularly strong but they were impossibly fast, alarmingly fast.

So far he had concluded that the turning process would take about seven days, and humans and other animals with simillar genetic makeup were the only things that seemed to get infected. He had noticed the often the desire for food often outweighed the desire to reproduce and multiply. Seven times out of ten a zombie would rather feast on its prey then turn them.

He had also noticed something when he visited a hospital for supplies. It seemed the zombies couldn't infect anything below 10 properly, small children would often lie in hospital beds half infected, either a mixture of physical deformities and mental abnormalities yet not undead or a mixture of undead behavioral traits yet no abnormalities or deformities. He had been horrified when he found the baby ward. The small creatures seemed unable to move in their weak vessels yet seemed unable to die by themselves. Any normal baby would have died in that cold, desolate hospital within a few hours without someone to look after it yet these babies still lay there crying in their deformed state. He had felt pity for them and fled. He couldn't see those things again. They were disgusting.

He turned away from the window with a slight gag, the girl's head had just been ripped off by an excessively violent zombie.

He looked around the apartment he had managed to secure for himself for the next week. He was attempting to cross over a couple of states to find a camp he had caught wind of on his radio. The message they were broadcasting was as follows: "We have found an immune. We need medical professionals to experiment properly. If you are hearing this, our coordinates are -----. May the gods smile upon you and bring you safely to us"

At first, he had believed himself insane when he heard the message, he couldn't believe there were other living beings so close to him. He wondered about the immune they had caught. He had theorized about them often and had been looking for any other survivors ten times harder now. He was scared a third-year medical student wasn't classed as a medical professional, but if he could just find them immune or anyone else to experiment on- maybe they would accept him into their sanctuary. It was an awful thing to do- to capture someone like that and trick them into following him. But some things were for the better. some things needed to be done for the greater good. He was tired of fighting constantly for a chance to live, and if he could get humanity one step closer to healing he would do it in an instant. The war against the undead had turned him calloused and cruel. Once he just wanted to help people but now? After seeing people act like savages,? He couldn't find it in himself to care.

He sighed as he settled himself onto the bed. It was surprisingly soft and fresh, the thick duvet and mattress brought his tired body immense comfort. His stomach rumbled.

He was running low on food. He needed to go scavenge outside. Gods- he hated it but it wasn't like he was provided with many choices.

Later, he thought. Later he would grab food.

He trudged through the abandoned streets of the city. He had no idea where he was if he was honest. Sure, he could probably find out if he wanted to but what was the point now? who cares where he was. all he needed now was food.

The city was a mix of towering skyscrapers full of offices or apartments, hotels popping up here and there- but the main parts of the city consisted of shops. Every street had some sort of shop or two lining it. This was one of the perks. Plenty of stores to keep him entertained when he scavenged. It was convenient for keeping him clean too- there were always clothing stores where he could grab fresh clothes. He had done so a few days ago, grabbing himself thick cargo pants, a tank top and plaid overshirt, and an aviator coat. He wouldn't typically dress like this but clean clothes were better than none. Besides, the coat was nice. A dark thick leather with comfortable sheepskin inside. It was expensive and high quality- before the outbreak, he probably wouldn't have been able to afford it. Financial freedom was one of the few perks to a zombie apocalypse.

The sun was beginning to ease itself from the sky which worried him slightly- never mind zombies, soon the wildlife would begin to feel braver. while the wildlife wasn't bad- turned animals were. He found it difficult to kill them, it hurt his heart to do so, especially dogs. Speaking of dogs he had acquired one of his own lately. He hadn't tamed the stray on purpose yet every time he left the apartment he was staying at the dog would find him and silently follow. He was grateful for its silence, he knew he would be upset if he had to kill it due to zombies. It was a dusky grey great Dane. It was gentle in nature and a rather sweet thing. It seemed to miss company as much as Patroclus did. He had named it Iris after one of his favorite flowers. How long ago it seemed when he was receiving and giving bouquets of flowers. He stared at the ground hard as he walked.

He had dated only a few boys growing up for the majority of his childhood he was far too afraid of his father to think of doing such a thing but when he was kicked out at 16 he stopped caring. A kind-hearted professor from the local university named Chiron had taken him in. He taught him about medicine and fighting and various other skills in life, listened to him talk about school, and was essentially the father he never had. He felt his stomach ache at that thought. After he had left for university in another state he had no idea what happened to Chiron. He had last seen him when he was turning twenty a few months before the initial outbreak.

Maybe it was stupid but some part of him would like to believe Chiron was alive and well somewhere.

He shook his head to clear it when he felt a wet nose nudging at his palm. The dog beside him wagged its tail and licked at his fingers. He scratched the top of its head lightly and continued to walk down the pavement.

He had entered a busted open corner store in hopes of finding food. Iris had wandered off elsewhere outside, keen to not enter the building.

He peered between ransacked shelves for left overs, stuffing any useful items into his satchel quietly. There admittedly wasn't much available for him to choose from, either canned beans and lentils or soup nowadays. Foolishly many people for some reason had taken fresh foods in the beginning.. During the outbreak, people didn't think rationally simply just joined in whatever raid they could and stole whatever they could reach. This didn't mean there hadn't been smart people who grabbed longer-lasting foods it just meant many were too panicked to prepare properly. He shoved cans of different food into his bag and grabbed seasonings. Any bottled liquid that hadn't expired since the initial outbreak last year was also shoved in. He was just looking over the pharmacy aisle when he heard a sharp cry of pain.

His head snapped to the right, his heart thumping and his stomach dropping. It was a high-pitched sort of groan- hard to tell if it was animal or human. His first thoughts went to Iris and he felt sick bubbling up his throat. That's when he heard a second groan, deeper alongside a few pained whimpers. Human.

He stumbled away to the stock room in a panic, just because it was human didn't make it any less dangerous. By those sounds, it was injured meaning its scent was stronger to the zombies. And even if they weren't injured they could be bait. He had seen the atrocities created by unsupervised men and women- he would not fall into their traps. That's why his heart almost stopped when he heard a man dragging himself through the store on a faulty leg, begging with Patroclus.

"ple- please! fuck-, this hurts. Please- dont go. i need- please!"

He recognized that voice from somewhere, his hair prickled on the back of his neck.

Danger danger danger danger-

Fast footsteps, a zombie-

danger danger danger danger.

That man would be dead in a few seconds. He should hide. however.. if that man turned out to be an immune or possible test subject it could be his ticket out of this fight for survival, he could be a ticket into the sanctuary.

Danger danger danger dangerdangerdangerdangerdangerdanger-

He stepped out, yanking the man by the waist and shoving them into the storage room with him, locking the door.

It was dark and without a lot a room, it was more of a closet really. He couldn't exactly make out their face- his eyes hadn't adjusted to the darkness yet. He could however feel their leg slotted between his, could feel hot sticky blood dribbling down his leg. Were they bitten? did he just fucking lock himself in a closet with a stage idontknow zombie? He couldn't breathe. His palms sweated and his breaths shallowed. He could hear their quiet prayers of thanks. Where they stupid-? they needed to be quiet if undead were around. The scent was bad enough but adding noise?

He clamped his palm against their mouth forcing them to shut up. His eyes had started to adjust.

He could see a very startled blonde man behind his hand.

Golden hair with a few stray honeyed locks falling over his face, gentle waves that fell around his shoulders, a few clips in it. Pools of sea greens and gold stared back at him, his eyes were catlike and curious. His straight, narrow nose had no bumps or defects in it, and that bronzed skin had no marks of imperfection or signs of the sun on it- It was abnormally radiant and smooth, something straight out of a magazine. Perfectly even eyebrows and rosy cheeks. Lean, athletic build- not unlike that of runners. Muscled and toned, tall. Every feature was strong and deliberate and looked as though it had to be cut by the sharpest knife- yet the overall look was not sharp. Gods- how unfucking fair, why does he get to be so pretty in the middle of an apocalypse?

For a moment he felt embarrassed by his own messy wild looks. He knew his own body was broader than the others, he was built like that of a boxer. He knew his hair was messy and dark, his curls going wild due to the atmosphere and occasional rain. He knew his skin was currently a little bumpy and coated in a thin sheen of sweat and god knows what else.

Then he felt incredibly stupid. I guess that's what a year of isolation does to a guy.

He pressed a finger to his own lips and the blonde nodded. He removed his hand and stared at them bemused. He had to be imagining this. It couldn't be. Achilles Pelides? Really?, The first and last time he was meeting an international star was in a zombie apocalypse. When he hadn't bathed in like a week and looked disgusting, really?

Whatever it didn't matter. It seemed the man before him was stupid as he was gorgeous which was rather convenient for Patroclus. He bet the sanctuary would want someone like Achilles to toy with. The nation's sweetheart, teenage heartthrob, pretty and talented- who wouldn't want to take him in? It seemed he had struck gold. A rather popular, stupid blonde had fallen into his grasp.

He knew it was wrong to trick the other man or try to trick him into being a test subject for the sanctuary. It didn't matter. He couldn't go soft or start to get attached to a man he barely knew. If Achilles wanted his help he would have to help Patroclus get into that sanctuary in return.

The blonde eyed him cautiously. Maybe he thought Patroclus wanted to hurt him. Despite himself, he felt nervous now.

They stood like that for at least half an hour until Patroclus decided it was safe to speak. He moved his leg, starting to bombard the other with questions when Achilles let out a loud yelp of pain. Right, his leg injury. perfect.

Just, perfect.

Chapter 2: honey

Notes:

Hi! any advice or feedback is welcome- I find it helpful when people give me constructive feedback or their thoughts on a chapter so if you have any make sure to lmk :) If I get something wrong please feel free to correct me!

Achilles POV

Achilles was forced into a dingy, musty-smelling closet. It was dark, too dark to make anything out. He could feel his heart pounding as he resisted the urge to try pull away from his capture. He had no idea what to make of the situation. Was the man helping him, was he listening to his desperate cries for help? He hoped so. After the outbreak, it didn't take long for his security system to crumble. He lost any sense of safety after that. Dealing with zombies was one thing but in all honestly the hardest part was the filth. He couldn't stand the smell of rotting corpses and flesh EVERYWHERE. Gods- he had no problem killing zombies or getting dirty but the taste and smell of human flesh was not one for him. He had lived off the most disgusting animals and water- even gotten himself sick a few times from a few careless choices on what he would make a meal. He hated his new life. Not to mention he was so lonely.

It wasn't like he was particularly fond of anyone before the outbreak but he did miss the way everyone seemed to clamor around him and perform for scraps of his attention. The constant attention from his fans and the public was rewarding, it seemed like anything he did was revered and he wouldn't lie and pretend like he didn't like being fawned over by everyone. All he had to do was participate in some sports event, release a new song, appear on tv or something and he would be awarded praises and admiration. He had to admit he had always desired someone he actually liked but everyone was just so boring. it was always the same, he didn't like the pathetic weak-willed men who traipsed after him begging for his favor. He wanted someone who could entertain and surprise him yet he never found one. The whole idea of romance interested him yet he never quite satisfied that curiosity. The chances of finding someone like that now were even slimmer. Never mind, it's not like he could complain much anymore- there was no one to listen.

His eyes started to adjust to the darkness and he began to speak his thanks to his capture yet a warm hand was forcefully clamped to his mouth. Oh yes, silly him, zombies might be listening. He felt that it would be safe to speak but considering he had no idea what kind of nut job the other man could be he decided to simply comply and stand still. He couldn't stop himself from looking a little startled at the gesture, however. He slowly began to take in the man's features.

Oh.

fuck.

He was pretty to look at he supposed. However, he was almost 100% sure the man before him would turn out to be just as dull as the next. What a shame. A face like that is wasted on a personality so bland.

The man before him had dark honeyed skin, it was sable toned and held a few blemishes. He could see a mole on the side of the man's neck and some sort of acne scarring just above his jaw. It wasn't a ton and was really very subtle yet it added character Achilles thought. The man's hair was unkempt and slightly frizzy, falling in chocolatey curls. Some part of him wondered what it would be like to touch them. He then focused on the man's eyes. The man's eyes were slightly narrowed yet it didn't hide their beauty. A deep brown- almost black color with thick dark lashes, honey highlights, they stared at him with such intent for the first time ever he felt nervous. There was something so disarming about their gaze that he felt the need to look away. Gods- he should be grateful, even if this man turned out to be some sort of freak at least they were easy on his eyes. And hey- always a bonus, especially in times like these, they seemed to smell decent at least. He could smell traces of an earthy sort of cologne on them, yet there was something else too- something sweet yet that wasn't the right word that seemed to be the man's own. Almost like dates.

The man before him raised a finger to his lips and Achilles frantically nodded. The man before him removed his hand and leaned back against the wall of the closet. It was only then the man's lips parted in shock and his eyes widened. He knows who Achilles is. Of course he does, who wouldn't. He couldn't help but feel a little smug the man before him recognized him. He doubted it would be long before the man too would fall into line and start fawning over him, maybe even fall in love with him, maybe this meant Achilles would never even have to scavenge or fight again if he didn't want to.

He allowed himself a pleased little smile at that thought and the man before him frowned. That's odd. He didn't quite understand why they seemed to be unhappy, shouldn't they be happy? Whatever. He didn't care.

It was only then he noticed how close they were, not that he really cared. The man's eyes flitted to their legs which were pressed between each other and he snickered. Maybe the other man really was an idiot. Of course, they fancy and adore Achilles. Just more fun for Achilles- or...

There was no one to uphold the laws anymore and while Achilles was a competent fighter if not an extraordinary one he still felt a twinge of anxiety in his stomach. He hadn't thought that the man might try to use him for other possibilities. He looked at them suspiciously trying to gauge some sort of reaction. He could fight them, even on his leg if he needed to. But gods he hoped he wouldn't. despite surviving this long his leg could still get infected. He needed help as much as he hated to admit it.

After a while in a slightly tense silence, the brunette began to bombard him with questions.

He felt the other's leg drag against his cut and he let out a yelp of pain. His leg had gotten ripped in a fight by a piece of rubble. It burnt and had weird scabby patches that kept tearing open every time he moved.

The man in front looked apologetic and began mumbling that he was a med student and could help. Thank fuck. He was sick of his stupid leg.

"so- you can help my leg?" Achilles questioned.

"if you let me then yes. some stitches in a few places, bandages in case it tears open again and some painkillers will do you good." Came the stranger's voice.

Their voice was soft yet slightly raspy, warm, and gentle. He wondered for a moment how they sounded saying his name, he bet it was nice.

"Do you know who I am?" He asked tentatively

"...Achilles Pelides. son of Thetis and Peleus. Musician, singer, actor, athlete, the nation's teenage heartthrob." The man in front added a little sarcastically.

"Actually I turned 20 like a month ago, I'm just a heartthrob now," Achilles replied dryly which earned a sweet, tired-sounding laugh from the stranger.

"21"

"Sorry?"

"I'm 21."

"...okay. your name?"

"Patroclus"

Achilles nodded. It was a nice name.

"Patroclus?" he repeated softly, tasting the name, pat-ro-clus. The man in front stiffened when Achilles repeated the name.

The man just nodded.

"we should go. its- dark. dark outside" The other man had moved his leg again causing a sharp intake of breath to pause his speech. Patroclus nodded and quietly checked it was safe outside the closet, he then began a quick stride causing Achilles to scowl. On his leg, he could not keep up with the man, how irritating that they must hurry away. Nevertheless, he limped behind the man obediently.

When they stepped outside cold air hit him in the face, an unwelcome reminder that now summer was ending winter would be coming. He wasn't ready for winter. He hated the cold. He shook his head irritably and looked up. The sky was dark, a few stars littering it here and there, illuminating the ground below.

"I have a dog. Iris. she's fairly tame but don't do anything stupid. or try anything stupid anyway."

Achilles looked at the other spotting a dog. A giant dark thing that stood ominously next to the beautiful stranger. He had always liked dogs- He thought everyone who could afford one should have one. He wasn't scared by the loud bark of the dog either. He had tamed much fouler, scarier beasts of animals before, a mere dog was nothing to him. Besides, it wasn't just humans who seemed to like Achilles, animals did too.

After a few moments of silence.

"....do you need help walking,? we need to be quick"

"I think that would be best. please, if you wouldn't mind."

Wordlessly the other man wrapped an arm around Achilles and set off. As they walked crude thoughts kept popping into Achilles mind. He liked the way those hands felt, he wondered what else they could do. Gods, it's been a while.

Patroclus POV

As they walked through deserted pavements beneath the night sky his mind was racing. He had his arm wrapped around their waist as he tried to think what to do. Bringing them back to his makeshift hideout as a danger in case they really were some sort of bait. He didn't think they were as he had checked thoroughly for other traces of human life near the store and couldn't find any- but still, there was always the off chance he was wrong about it. However, there was still the chance the man himself was just not right in the head, letting them stay with him might mean they may try and harm him. But in their injured state? Shit. this wasn't exactly the most straightforward call to make yet he knew he needed to decide fast. He still needed to bring someone or something to the sanctuary as a possible offer to get himself in. Achilles would be useful for that. If he was careful he should be able to earn the man's trust and eventually use him for his plan. He guessed he had no choice but to take him to the apartment he had taken for himself.

Achilles POV

The entire walk to Patroclus' apartment his mind was certainly in the gutter. Could you blame him? he had been devoid of any attention for almost a year now- and god it was awful. Call him an attention whore he didn't care. It seemed even slight touches and words were exciting now. pathetic. Even so, that still didn't explain his interest in the man. The man had been so awkward and quiet to Achilles- even a little frustrated at times. Now that, that was interesting. No one before the outbreak dared treat him like that, all pining for his praise, but this strange man was almost indifferent to Achilles' celebrity. I mean his celebrity wasn't as impressive as before bt still- He was sure any normal person would be delighted to find the Achilles Pelides in a zombie apocalypse. Maybe it was his indifference that made him so intriguing. maybe Achilles was just touch-starved. Maybe it was both. Either way, he was certainly very pleased about meeting this man.

They neared a tall, run-down building and Patroclus slowed looking the other dead in the eye.

"I won't hesitate to kill you if i have to. but i'd prefer not to dirty the place im staying at, especially if i waste supplies on your leg,

“so please, don't do anything stupid."

Rude. Seriously what was his problem.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

Chapter 3: eager much?

Notes:

Achilles thinks Patroclus is flirting, Patroclus thinks Achilles is a moron infected. WARNINGS: ATTEMPTED MURDER, INJURY, BLOOD, MEDICAL PROCEDURE(?) Also! I have literally never written anything about gore or body horror- I really have no idea how to describe wounds properly, this fic is mainly me trying to figure that stuff out. If you have any pointers or tips for when it comes to writing gore or describing injuries please let me know!

Patroclus POV

Helping the blonde up the many stairs was a struggle. The whole time he kept complaining or letting out sharp hisses of pain. Patroclus understood they were in pain but this was a massive inconvenience for him. God- why did they have to whine about this so much? They even asked stupid questions like if the elevator worked. Of course, it didn't work. NOTHING worked anymore, For Christ's sake.

After much encouragement, he finally managed to help the blonde up to the apartment. He wondered how such an incompetent man had managed to survive this long on his own. They really seemed stupid and spoilt if he was truthful.

He helped the man into the apartment and onto the sofa before turning away to close the front door. Iris had seemed hesitant to come in, staring at the blonde reproachfully but after a few minutes of lingering by the door, she scampered in and lay by the sofa. Patroclus turned back to the blonde and looked at them wearily. He didn’t particularly want to waste his valuable supplies on them but he didn't have much choice if he wanted to keep them healthy. He sighed and locked up.

He grabbed his supplies from the bedroom and hovered awkwardly for a second. He needs to check they aren't bitten. But.. if they were they might resist. He’d wait for them to fall asleep. For now, however, he would try to heal them as much as possible,

"Do you have any other injuries?" He asked as he sat in front of the sofa setting up.

"Just my leg really-"

"Okay. I can get you new trousers after this. Your ones are ruined anyway."

He stated as he began cutting away at the tattered fabric obscuring their thigh. The blonde seemed to snicker at this and he shot them an unimpressed glare. God, they were an idiot.

Once he had managed to cut away at the blood-soaked, tattered trouser leg he saw the full severity of the injury.

The skin around the injury was extremely bruised, it was swollen and dark, a collection of deep blue and green hues intermingling and overlapping each other- looking even black in some parts. For a moment he was worried about the bruising and swelling being a sign of possible tissue damage. If the muscles of his thigh were damaged that would lead to an even longer recovery time and in situations such as a zombie apocalypse that was extremely bad.

He took a shaky breath as he began examining the main part of the injury. The golden skin was traded for a raw pink colour, the outermost layer torn and ravaged, barely connected in some areas by a few thin strings of skin, the edges frayed like the threads of an old rag. A few thick scabs formed in some places while others were still coated by thick, clotted blood. The flesh around the stab wounds was raised and swollen, an angry red colour and any blood that had been leaking from it had now crusted uncomfortably around the edges.

Patroclus winced as he took in the poor condition of the skin, this was definitely gonna hurt the blonde if he wanted Patroclus to heal it efficiently. He steeled himself and began poking around the two stab wounds assessing the damage.

They were deep and jagged, and when he looked he could see a few pieces of rock where (He assumed) some sort of rock had stabbed the blonde. As he looked in he let out a huff. The muscle beneath the fascia didn't appear to be torn (luckily) but the epidermis, dermis, subcutaneous fat, and fascia had been ripped apart. He cringed as he noticed small chunks of bright yellow fat stuck to the flesh, as the rock had been removed it seemed it had pulled out small fragments of flesh and fat with it.

"..how did you get this injury" He inquired tentatively. He was trying to be polite and didn't want to somehow trigger the blonde. However, at the question Achilles just shrugged, his head lolling lazily to the side to look at him properly.

".. I fell into a piece of rubble this afternoon and it stabbed me. I couldn't really get it out properly. I think I injured myself even worse when I kept pulling at it" The man admitted quietly.

Patroclus sighed and nodded. At least it had happened today, that meant a lower chance of infection.

"To heal this I'm gonna have to sterilize your injury then start by stitching up the stab wounds."

"is that alright with you?" He asked, looking up at them from where he knelt.

The blond turned away hastily and nodded.

Iris had long since fled to Patroclus' bedroom. and for good reason too. The blonde was extremely vocal when it came to letting Patroclus know his leg hurt. So far he had managed to sterilize the wound and stitch up the stab wounds. The blonde had sobbed rather pitifully the entire time. Excruciating groans and yelps as Patroclus forced the thread through their flesh, breathy pleads for Patroclus to stop and leave him be, choked sobs as he never relented.

Patroclus could only imagine how much this hurt the other man, with no anesthesia or numbing this had to hurt like a bitch. He would have given them any sort of alcohol or drugs if he had any, yet to the misfortune of Achilles Patroclus didn't make a point of keeping any. That dumb arrogant man had been reduced to a mess of tears and ragged breaths. He now lay on the sofa, wrists tied behind him, eyes bloodshot and face tearstained. Patroclus had to tie their hands behind their back as they kept trying to claw at Patroclus involuntarily which was rather dangerous. He looked at the man who looked exhausted and felt a pang of guilt. He wasn't a cruel man and he really did wish it didn't have to be like this. But it was. ...For their own good.

Thankfully for Achilles Patroclus had stolen some needle drivers and pickups as well as some sutures. This meant at least the stitches were proper and should work.

Unfortunately for him, Patroclus had to now deal with all the torn skin.

He had pulled out a pair of medical scissors and made for Achilles leg when the man started begging for him to not do it.

"..stop- please- I don't want you to" The man pleaded, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

"please don't I cant-" Their lip was quivering as Patroclus started anyway.

"I'm sorry, I have to, I can't wrap your leg with all this skin hanging off."

The blonde started sobbing again.

"please- please ,-cant-"

"come on yes you can. ten minutes. That's all I need. You're doing so well. Please?"

The blonde didn't say anything to that just looked away sobbing.

Patroclus winced as he began.

The shredded skin was difficult to work with, especially when he tried to align the salvageable skin together. He painstakingly took his time to cut away at the nearly detached skin, aiming to get the skin as seamless as possible. He had to debride anything that was now useless much to the blonde's displeasure. After he dealt with the skin that was salvageale. He had to reposition it carefully and glue it into place, praying it wouldn't get infected.

When he finished he let the tearful blonde rest, moving to clean up the equipment and rubbish from the process.

When he came back the blonde turned his head from him and he felt that familiar sense of guilt. They looked terrible. He sat by the sofa gently applying a cold moisturizer to the skin around the wound,

"you'll have to keep this moisturized, and I'll have to check it daily." The blonde just shot him a glare and he sighed.

"look- I'm sorry okay? I don't have anything that would have numbed that for you. if i didn't though you could have died from that"

"i know that! I'm not stupid!"

Patroclus disagreed

"just- you could have been gentler" he sniffled.

Patroclus bit down the urge to argue back. He had just done a great deal for this man and they had an attitude?? They would have died without Patroclus! He shook his head and sighed. "I know im sorry. you did really well. I know it hurt. I should've been more considerate" Achilles nodded at that, still teary-eyed yet he seemed more relaxed now.

"can I wrap your leg up?"

The blond just mumbled a yes and he started.

He wrapped the other thigh in gauze and then bandaged it before getting up. He returned with a pair of joggers he found in the previous apartment owner's closet and helped the man into them. After that, he untied their hands and helped them get comfortable on the other sofa opposite the old, bloodied one. They still seemed pissed off so for now he tried to be nice. Even if he felt they didn't deserve it. It was almost like looking after a child, he rolled his eyes and approached the man. He sat beside them and handed them a bowl of food. It wasn't particularly nice, canned pasta in a bowl, cold. The man seemed grateful for it anyway. After eating it he asked where the bedroom was. Patroclus helped him into bed before heading to the door.

"wait- don't- can you stay? i don't want to be alone."

Patroclus raised an eyebrow as that but climbed into the other side of the bed. The blonde still looked disheveled and exhausted. It didn't take long for the blonde to fall asleep, at some point he had laid his head in the brunette's lap and Patroclus had let him. He felt bad for hurting them, even if he did think they were kind of an asshole. He stroked through their hair subconsciously.

He should check they weren't infected. Now was really the only time. He looked down at them. Their face was still flushed and those long lashes were still clumped together. They seemed so tired, exhausted. They trusted him so easily. He pitied them. He pushed them off his lap as gently as possible grabbing a knife. He had to know.

Patroclus checked their legs the best he could without waking him. All clear, no bite marks.

Next- their torso. Here he had less luck. Just above their hip was a dark angry red bite mark. His stomach dropped.

They were in the early stages of infection. It would be easier to shoot them, kinder maybe yet he tried to save his bullets for emergencies. He climbed onto their lap, straddling them as he raised the knife in his hand, the other hand tracing its fingers over the mark.

It looked fresh. he probably got bit when he was stabbed by the rubble. He sighed and looked at them with a frown. If they were infected he really wouldn't be able to get into the sanctuary that easy. without giving them something to test on he might not be able to join them. Maybe they'd kill him. Maybe he'd become the test subject.

Fuck. Maybe if he could get there sooner he'd just hand them Achilles and tell them he wasn't infected but they'd probably check, then they'd both probably be executed.

He wasted all those supplies for nothing.

Achilles POV

When he awoke it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. All he could feel was a heavyweight in his lap, which rather hurt his thigh truth be told. He was about to yell at whatever was on him- maybe it was the dog until his eyes adjusted and locked on a pair of deep brown ones, suddenly the pain in his leg seemed stupid. Who cares about his leg?

Did he think Patroclus was kind of a prick? yes. He had hurt Achilles a lot but he found himself caring about that a lot less now the man was sitting on his lap. Gods, what had he done to deserve such an angel? So pretty. Besides, he had never really been a masochist but don't knock it till you try it right? He reached up with a teasing smirk to trace along their jaw with idle fingers. He knew the other man couldn't resist him, obviously. He was a little confused why they had waited until he was asleep- or why it took them so long but better late than never I guess. His skin was so soft, and those pretty lips had parted in surprise.

A laugh bubbled up from his throat as he beamed at the man. They looked so confused, and so, so pretty. So handsome. He wondered why they were confused. Obviously, they thought Achilles was out of their league- that definitely was the only reason. Well lucky for them Achilles had developed a newfound appreciation for gorgeous brunettes with soft eyes. Not to mention a newfound obsession with their body. He wondered if they were in some sort of combat sport before, maybe boxing.

He looked down at his stomach when he felt nails grazing his skin. Eager much? he thought to himself a little smugly. It was only then he noticed they were grazing along the bite mark.

Great, so he wasn't flirting with Achilles he was trying to kill him. He looked up, eyes wide when he saw the man slamming his hand down, sharp knife in his grasp,

He caught their wrist with a stream of startled curses. He managed to knock them away, rolling from them, stumbling through the darkness on his faulty leg.

Patroclus POV

He watched them stumble away and out the room before chasing them. He caught them in the living room, shoving them onto the ground, kneeling above them raising his knife in a second attempt. The man writhed beneath him and shouted a mix of insults at him.

"I'm immune! For fucks sake- I'm immune you fucking psycho!"

Patroclus paused at that, knife faltering.

"how do you know?"

"i was bitten at the start. can you get off, ? I'll show you"

Hesitantly he got up and waited for them to show him the old bite mark. The scowling blonde lifted his shirt to reveal his back, an old, faint purple bite mark on his shoulder. He stepped away still not entirely sure whether or not to trust the man.

If it turned out the man was lying- in a few days he would notice behavioral changes, and when he did notice said changes he wouldn't hesitate to kill him. He let it go for now, If they were an immune he would get into the sanctuary. He let out a soft huff and dropped his knife.

"...sorry"

Slightly ruffled, the man muttered sarcastically "didn't realize you were such a sadist."

He felt his cheeks grow a little hot at the accusation. What the fuck? he was not a sadist, and he was not into the blond. god. He just turned away huffily and stormed back to the room.

The blonde looked over at that and rolled his eyes.

Chapter 4: murder kink?

Notes:

Sorry for disappearing for a week-! I took a small break so I could focus on working on my other fic about these two. I'm a sucker for Highschool AU's and im in the middle of one of the main character arcs right now! Achilles still down bad for a man he thinks has a murder kink. Patroclus is trying to be nice (finding it extremely hard) Anyway small chapter because im tired and trying to finish a chapter for my other fic tonight

PATROCLUS POV

When morning came the air was very tense. Attempted murder tends to have that effect on people and it certainly had that effect on Achilles.

Patroclus was sick of it, part of him was tempted to actually murder them a few times. The sweet promise of the sanctuary helped him refrain from doing so. So far he had untied the man, made him breakfast, given them new clothes and even a small knife- they should be grateful. Instead, they spent their time huffing and puffing, pouting and complaining about literally everything.

He knew would be so much easier to complete his plan if he befriended them but gods above it all they were irritating. They were so... immature. They would barely respond unless it was some form of complaint, they turned their nose up to everything he did and they seemed so genuinely hurt when Patroclus told them he didn't like them. Well- that sounds mean out of context. It really wasn't mean. Achilles had said something about how he didn't like the colour of the top Patroclus gave him against his skin tone and then looked to Patroclus expectantly as if this was some obscure test. When Patroclus didn't pander to them or reassure them and instead responded with an offhand 'I don't like you' Achilles had bittered by a considerable amount. It seems he had failed their little test.

Something about this boy was hard to figure out.

They seemed so sensitive and pouty about pretty much everything yet before the apocalypse when they frequented the media they always seemed so nonchalant. He never would have guessed they would be so bratty about everything. Although isn't a nepo baby bound to be bratty? I mean- not like this surely, they didn't demand things from him just seemed rather keen for his attention and so bitter when Patroclus showed any form of disinterest. He decided they must be some kind of deprived attention whore at best.

Even so he had so many questions about their behaviour. It's like they were more offended he didn't like them than the fact he tried to kill them? They had only really gotten snappy and irritable after he said he didn't like them, before that, he was just in a strop.

He took a deep breath as he sorted through supplies.

"Achilles?"

The blonde narrowed his eyes at him from where he was lounging on the sofa.

"theres-"

He grimaced trying to figure out what they wanted to hear.

"Theres some shirts here you might like. They're not really you're size since I got them for myself but they're all new. You can see if you prefer the colours of them if you want"

They raised a skeptical eyebrow

"but the colour you're wearing is nice."

They gave him a strange sort of smile as they got up and hobbled over. It seems he's made partial amends. Are compliments all he needs to earn their approval?

He grabbed them by their waist as they nearly tripped while attempting to sit beside him. They gave him a strange look as they managed to sit. He squeezed their waist out of habit before tapping their thigh

"you should try not to put too much pressure on this, i'm gonna find you some sort of crutch if i can but..-"

"hospital..?"

"well that would be ideal but-" Thoughts of those half-turned children and babies residing in abandoned hospitals made him nauseous.

"there's too much uhm.."

"its just not great there." He mumbled offhandedly and Achilles eyes seemed to soften slightly. He hated that.

As if he could tell the other was uncomfortable Achilles changed the topic for them.

" do you want to check my leg now? you said you needed to daily"

"yeah, okay then, do you mind resting your thigh in my lap so i can look properly? And not daily, only for the first week so i can make sure it's not getting infected. also you need to pull your trousers down so i can see"

Achilles raised his eyebrow with a faint smirk

"not like that" he scowled.

Achilles discarded his trousers gingerly seeming slightly smug. He understood why they were smug- they had amazing legs. So unfair. He wish he could say the same. nonetheless, that was not what he should be thinking about. He peeled back their bandages and assessed the damage.

"Your stitches look good... we should re-moisturize and re-wrap your leg but that's all, can I?"

Achilles nodded when Patroclus gestured towards the thick paste he used to moisturize their leg.

God.

He almost forgot how annoying they were. When he tried to spread the paste across the rough skin they let out pathetic little groans and whimpers. He was trying to be gentle- he really was, and he understood their skin was still very raw and tender, but until the skin adjusted and thickened there wasn't much he could do.

"stop! your- stop prodding at it"

Achilles would snap, his eyes watering.

Patroclus resisted the urge to actually jab their leg and continued in his gentle smearing of the paste.

"Im trying to be careful and gentle."

"Were you trying to be gentle when you took a knife to me?"

Patroclus grimaced at that.

"fair. but at the same time i thought you were an infected. and you were really weirding me out."

"weirding you out?"

"you were getting all giggly and kept touching my jaw for some reason."

"I thought you fancied me"

"..excuse me?"

"is this me finding out you dont?"

"stop talking."

"that's not a no..?"

Patroclus just rolled his eyes. This was not appropriate talk between a doctor/patient or capture/bait.

"are you bisexual or something" Achilles pressed.

Patroclus was trying not to snap, he really was. But Achilles must be extremely stupid if he thought Patroclus was going to come out. First of all, it would only feed into their weird narrative of Patroclus having a crush on Achilles, second of all Achilles was probably straight. I mean- having a crush on Achilles wouldn't be bad if they met under different circumstances, they were definitely his type- he just didn't have time for romance or one night stands anymore.

"Are you?" He muttered offhandedly, not really caring about the answer- instead just focusing on re-wrapping their leg.

"yes, interested?"

He looked up at them confused. He never knew that,

"no. why would i care?" He asked as if challenging them.

The blonde just laughed as they pulled their trousers back up.

"well for someone so 'disinterested' you definitely got me out of my pants very fast. You even chased me with a knife- which might be some weird kink?"

Patroclus raised an unimpressed eyebrow

"hey- im not bashing it! im down for knives and ropes and whatever. I'll let you practice your murder kink, its endearing if i try hard enough-"

"you think my supposed murder kink is endearing?"

"no but your eagerness is! im very flattered you took the first opportunity to-"

That was enough. he was far too tired for this shit.

He got up, his hand knocking against their head as they passed.

"get ready, i need to go scavenging for stuff."

Chapter 5: soulmates! (or lack there of)

Notes:

If you see typos or bad grammar no you didn't and i dont wanna hear about it either!! my flight tomorrow is at like three am so im posting it now! enjoy!! anyway spent a few hours extra since my chapters on all of my fics have been really short. Im trying to update both of them at least once a week I swear. kind of want to start a third one or do a series of just like one shots, so i might be throwing a third into the mix lmao.

ACHILLES POV

They had set off to go scavenging around midday. The cold autumn sun was still out bathing everything in bright white light and the winds weren't too bad.

Achilles was currently limping after Patroclus

He had never expected himself to be the one desperately following someone else like this- zombie apocalypse or not- And really he shouldn't be following them all things considered. The man was sarcastic, rude and an attempted murderer. Maybe the murder thing should put him off but he found it strangely enticing. No one had ever surprised them so much and he found himself oddly grateful for it. This man was unpredictable and funny and gods so beautiful. No one had captured his eye like this before, platonic or not and he was almost 100% sure no one would ever capture his eye like this again. You might even go as far to say Achilles considered Patroclus to be his weird, fucked up soulmate who he was not giving up on any time soon. Obviously, he had no idea if they were soulmates, if he was even their type, and if they even liked men but he also coudn't prove that he wasn't their soulmate, wasn't their exact type and that they weren't into men. With all of that considered, he had decided to be an optimist and declare them his soulmate OR his latest little project at the bare minimum.

And maybe desperately following behind the brunette wasn't so bad when you take the fact he was BEHIND him into account and had a rather nice view.

An extremely nice view. Gods he was even a little jealous. That just wasn't fair.

He knew that if he wanted to somehow romance this brash slightly unfriendly man he would have to get to know them, understand them. He wanted to understand them. So bad, so unbelievably bad. He wanted to know everything about them there was to know. Maybe it was a little early to be thinking things like that but he couldn't find it in himself to pretend to care.

He wanted to know their birthday, their favourite foods, what makes a person attractive to them, what books do they read where are they from, what are their hobbies, what is their heart rate, what their skin feels like, what spots make them weak.

He had to take a breath, he would find that out soon. He just had to be patient, he knew he could crack them eventually. He just needed time.

They looked so lost in thought and torn most the time he was so confused why. He couldn't think what they might be thinking so hard about. surely nothing was so perplexing they had to think about constantly. Were they thinking about him? Stupidly he felt his heart speed up a little at that thought and his cheeks heat up. Oh gods if they were thinking about him! He shook his head, he needed to focus.

Patroclus wanted to take him to a mall, there would be plenty of chances to befriend them.

For now, he trudged along behind them simply enjoying his view, trying not to get to excited by this all.

So far he had been unsuccessful.

They had arrived at the mall and passed through a few shops the brunette liked and nothing. He felt strangely nervous trying to talk to them. He felt so stupid. He was too good to be true.

Just a few questions and surely some sort of conversation will take..

"How come you ended up in this city?"

He watched as they moved between racks and displays of clothes with bated breath. The shop was spacious and silent, it would be eeiry if he wasn't alone. He couldn't say he particularly liked the clothes either. They were sensible and made strictly for purpose and durability, not fashion. How boring. They ranged from beiges and greens to deep blues. No bright unnatural colours. Even more boring. In times like these he severely missed his closet, what he wouldn't give for his expensive silks and custom outfits.

"...hm?" The brunette seemed distracted by the display of trousers in front of him. what a hard choice, beige or slightly darker beiges. Great they weren't even paying attention to him, he sighed feeling a little agitated now.

"how come you ended up in this city?, are you from here, were you visiting?" He tried again, trying to sound off handed and bored.

"no. At the start of the apocalypse i was in Connecticut."

"why?" He had been to Connecticut. He had done a concert there when he was 17.

"I went to school there, Yale school of medicine."

He remembered them saying something about being in med school. They must be smart, he liked that. A satisfied smile found its way upon his face. They seemed to be more attentive to his words now.

"oh, so you're one of those smart guys huh?" He teased with an easy smile.

He smiled a little bashfully "Well i'd certainly like to think so"

Their smile was beautiful, shy and modest. He would like to make them smile more. He wondered for a second what sort of things they liked. Could he please them through writing with carefully crafted poems and letters? Maybe they enjoyed being sung to or played for, if they had a guitar he was sure he could ease a smile out of them. Maybe they enjoyed being challenged. He was sure he could do that too- though he wasn't sure they would win if he did. How did their past lovers convince them? He knew none of them were as good as he was. He would just have to keep trying- he knew he had to have them at some point.

"Wouldn't we all?"

"would you?" They asked as if testing them.

"I'm smarter then you think i am. then the media thought i was."

"i bet"

He couldn't tell if that was sarcastic, he gave them an unimpressed look but they just turned back to examining the store's stock. They were filing through a collection of shirts now, occasionally shoving one in his satchel.

"..why medicine?"

He wanted to hear more about them.

The man looked at him hesitantly as if contemplating whether or not to answer

"..my da- mentor, Chiron, got me into it." they shrugged.

He did'nt think they were telling the truth though he knew better than to press. Being around powerful men who were quick to lose their temper when he was younger taught him when and where to press for more information.

"Hm. Well it's an impressive field to go into. You must've worked hard" He was attempting to be flattering though it seemed to of fallen on deaf ears as the man ignored that.

That annoyed him. there was no need for them to be rude.

He watched them exit the store before trailing after them. On his leg it was hard to keep up. He saw Patroclus turn and look for him, halting when they realized they were going too fast. Once he caught up he tried to strike up a conversation again.

"So what happened to your family-"

"did you go to school?" They cut him off.

He hated being interrupted but at least they were making some form of effort now.

"No. I would have liked to go though."

"what for?" They had started walking down through the deserted hallway of the mall.

"music maybe? i would have liked to get to study it."

"didn't you make music,?"

"yes but i always preferred the nomós, or any other traditional music. I always thought it was elegant. it would have been a privilege to study."

"why didn't you study it?"

"my mother didn't want me to. She wanted to focus on building my music career and athletics-"

"yeah well, you definitely built yourself a reputation" they smirked

"what?"

He really hoped they weren't referencing what he thought they were. While celebrity meltdowns were common and often entertaining for the viewers his own meltdowns made him sick to his stomach. A lot of the things that happened to famous people- especially young ones set them up for failure the older they got, Meltdowns, Exposure, Scandals- It was humiliating and derogatory for someone to bring that up.

His hurt must have shown on their face.

"sorry- i shouldn't of said that. That wasn't your fault"

He didn't respond just looked away. How humiliating, even in this new life of blood and death his breakdowns and scandals were still well remembered. The media was always a cruel thing, they worked to present him as some untouchable object of desire, ever since he was young and took pleasure in shaming him as publicly as possible whenever he messed up that image. Found drunk or high? They would plaster pictures everywhere and talk about how he was falling off- or maybe paint him as some type of desperate slut- whatever they felt like. That only fed into the abnormal amount of adults who seemed to want him. That sort of content of him being vulnerable and stupid brought lots of unwanted attention to all the wrong things from all the wrong 'fans'. This sort of stuff would not have bothered him anymore if it happened now but at sixteen that sort of publicity scared him and it still upset him remembering those old articles.

The tiles of the mall floor were white with flecks of brown. They clacked against their shoes and rang out into the open air. The air was oddly warm in here. He could hear the man next to hims breaths and could feel their pitiful eyes on him.

"Were you dating anyone?"

He didn't really want to talk anymore.

"No. I had a publicity girlfriend, Deidamia, she was just to build my reputation up." He muttered a little bitterly.

"did you?"

"No. I hadn't dated anyone for a few months. The last boy I dated was a Greek exchange student. I didn't like him though"

"ah."

"didn't you have a kid-?"

"I'd rather not discuss that"

"okay. sorry"

"So you are into men?

"yes, well done Sherlock"

"whats your type then huh?"

They stared at him in silence for a few minutes as they walked. "don't.. don't worry about that"

He raised an eyebrow. "what, don't tell me you're into blondes or something?"

"why, would that scare you off?" they asked with An eyeroll.

"well considering i thought the fact you had a murder kink and i still wasn't scared off, i doubt the idea that i might be a little like your type would scare me off."

This earned a dry-sounding laugh from the man, he liked the sound of their laughter, it was unapologetic and unsuspectingly soft for someone so unfriendly.

"i didn't expect you to be so forward. even if you're just bored and lonely"

"you just kind of seem interesting i guess."

"is that your type then, interesting?"

"well for the first time, you're not falling to my feet and fawning over me like pretty much everyone else I've met. You even tried to stab me! you're very interesting"

The man groaned at that. "I doubt you should decide who is and isn't attractive based on how much they dislike you."

"well it's not a problem- i think i'm growing on you"

The brunette glanced at him and that and hurriedly looked away.

"this store has good knives. aand you're not growing on me. i just find you a lot more tolerable when your not crying and bitching at me"

"I like you a lot better when your not trying to kill me" He scowled.

"to-may-to, -to-mah-to"

He couldn't say he really enjoyed this trip out but he did enjoy the casual conversations they had the majority of the day.

They had ended up spending about four hours at the mall discussing all sorts of things.

Patroclus talked about his father and so on while Achilles explained all his music and companies and so on. Maybe it was a little self centered but Patroclus was asking and who was he to deny what might possibly be the most stunning man in the world?

Patroclus had apologized for not finding him some sort of crutch/walking stick and he had insisted it was fine. He tried to contain his bubbling excitement when he had spotted one outside by some corpse. Would Patroclus be happy he found one? probably!

He nodded along mindlessly to what they were saying as he walked from the mall exit to the curb to grab the crutch.

"Patroclus! look-" He yelled out with a grin. The brunette paused in his rambling looking at him from where Achilles had ran over to the curb, giving him a small smile that quickly morphed into a grimace. Was there something wrong with his hair? Why on earth was he staring at him like that-

That was answered rather quick.

The brunette had dashed forward promptly knocking him sideways as something rather large and noisy tackled them,

His head smacked against the curb as he rolled from the pavement. Was it bleeding? He had no idea but shit it hurt- he could feel it throbbing with a dull ache and he gingerly prodded at his scalp feeling for any sticky wetness. He didn't find any, he then felt the pain in his leg and gritted his teeth- Maybe he wasn't his soulmate, fucking asshole. He looked up to see the brunette on top of something vaguely human, repeatedly stabbing it in the forehead multiple times.

oh.

As gross as it sounds there was something extremely appealing about murder right now. Was it even murder if it was an infected? Possibly but who cares, nothing had made him feel so excited and slightly turned on in years. The way they were positioned, their ragged breaths, the brute force of their stabs- gods it was enough to make him swoon. Seriously being that hot while stabbing the everloving shit out of something shouldn't be allowed.

They looked over at the blonde after taking a few tired breaths.

He tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear and laughed slightly breathly, they were definitely the only person in the world he would ever need this bad. Jesus christ this man was so gorgeous.

PATROCLUS POV

Just when he had begun to admittedly like this strange blonde man a little more they proved him wrong.

Not only had they almost gotten themselves eaten by a particularly vile, feral zombie they had the nerve to laugh afterwards.

Here he was risking his life for them and protecting them and they were sat by the curb looking at him with starry eyes and an airy laugh.

The way they panted in between laughs (probably from pain) was almost girlish and a little too breathy.

Part of him suspected this had nothing to do with pain and more the fact the man was just horrendously stupid and a little pleased with the fact Patroclus just risked his life for them.

Gods they were ignorant. When he had decided to use them as bait for his plan to get to the sanctuary he had not realized he would have to fight for this seemingly incompetent man.

He helped them up fussing over their head in an agitated manner before deciding they would live.

"Stupid, stupid man." He scowled as he scolded them as he snatched the crutch from the floor and shoved it into their chest but the blonde only laughed.

At least it wouldn't be hard to deceive them when he did tell them about the sanctuary.

He almost hated them. Stupid, forward, ignorant men were not the type he usually liked and he couldn't see himself liking them any time soon.

ACHILLES POV

He had decided, this man was 100% his soulmate, whether they liked it or not was irrelevant, he didn't want anyone but them and would not stop until he got what he wanted.

SO THATS ALL I HAVE RIGHT NOW- I DONT PLAN ON POSTING CHAPTERS HERE UNLESS REQUESTED SO U CAN FIND THIS ON MY AO3!! (cowsonabus)

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