#and it might've just been his accent slipping

[captainkirkk]

it is truly criminal that more spider-man actors and voice actors don't put on the heaviest new york accent of all time

Okay but I do really appreciate when actors/ VAs purposefully thicken the accent when Peter is wearing the mask

Peter Parker, Regular Human Boy, is careful to be more soft-spoken and normal-sounding. But Spider-Man? He leans so heavily into the New York accent that Reddit has started to speculate that he's actually foreign and trying to disguise that

[miguel-owhora]

thinking about price taking you in as a stray and letting you join 141. at first, god, you're aggressive and defensive, baring your teeth at them and snapping if they get too close. unlike the other squads, they don't judge you, they don't get angry with bow much you react. they're patient and willing to work with you, because they were once like you.

you react with violence and aggression, with a type of reaction that only former fighting dogs have, because that's what you were taught. ghost doesn't speak much with you and instead fills the silence with his presence. he'll stand in front of doorways and block you from leaving, forcing you to get used to his presence, holding eye contact even as you glare at him and snap his way, because no, [name], this isn't how we do things here. i was once like you. you'll come around to see that we only bite at our enemies, not our family. he's forcing your instincts to calm down, forcing your mind to rewire itself and to recognize that he's not a threat. only does he leave when you don't react when he moves a little too fast.

soap follows you and chatters away with you, and every growl and snap and flash of your eyes is just met with him blabbering away. it's his way of bonding with you, of also forcing you to get used to him. it throws you off when he just laughs when you snarl his direction and speaks his scottish tongue, his accent thick and heavy and leaving you confused. he's friendly and bubbly, if a bastard, and goes quiet when you don't glare his way whenever he speaks a little too fast and a little too loud.

gaz is a mixture of both. sometimes he won't say anything, he'll force his way into your proximity and hold eye contact when you try to scare him away. or he'll let his voice be soothing and calm, and make conversation with you, even if you don't respond. sometimes he'll be repairing something or cleaning his weapons, and he'll make light conversation. he notices you're calmer when his voice is quiet and even, and how you focus on his hands. not fearfully, but more grounded. he makes note of this.

price is the only one who gets physical with you. he first notes how you react to certain things, how you flinch and snarl and lash out. then, he forced you to deal with them. he'll struggle with you and wrangle, unflinching even when you bite his forearms and kick at him. he's a captain for a reason. you might've been his most challenging one yet but nothing he can't break.

and break you does he. not maliciously, no, but rather, he breaks you out of your old mindset. a once fearful soldier burdened and haunted by his past, willingly seeks out his teammates.

you cling onto ghost and invade his personal space, forcing your way onto him and sleeping on his chest like an oversized cat whilst he scratches at your scalp. or blabbering with soap and having conversations and jokes that don't make sense to anyone, teasing ghost together until he throws you two a dirty look. or spending some quality time with gaz and sparring with him or even just having lunch together, mingling together on the couch like slime, content to be in each other's presence m, whether if you're talking or just quiet.

and price, oh price. you seek him out the most. he's your favorite. you're his favorite, especially when you pull his pants down and nurse his thick cock into your mouth. the captain isn't harsh with it, he's gentle and patient, gently scratching your scalp as a low groan slips out of his mouth, your mouth warm and wet. trained by the best, you're a pro at taking his cock, at licking at the vein trailing up his cock and making it jolt. oh how he smells so delicious.

[3nhas]

tipsy!jake x gf!reader

you were lying in bed, scrolling through your phone, the soft glow of the screen lighting up the otherwise dark room. it was late, but you didn't want to sleep until your boyfriend, jake, comes home after a big event with his members—their first as a prada ambassador.

despite being proud, you obviously missed jake terribly.

just as you were about to give up and hit the pillows, you heard the faint sound of the door clicking open. seconds later, after a few sounds of what might've been stumbling, footsteps unevenly padded into the room. you looked up, the light outside the room drawing in.

jake, still in his designer clothes, face flushed with a goofy lopsided smile curling at the tip of his lips.

"welcome home," you whispered with a smile, but before you could say anything more, jake stumbled toward the bed, eyes crinkling with mischief and something else—maybe a little too much champagne.. aswell as his ears, tipped with a shade of rosy red.

quickly, he was crawling into bed, throwing his arms around you like a koala, his body warm and a bit heavier than usual as he clung onto you, nuzzling his face into your shoulder.

"yah... why are you still awake?" he mumbled, accent thicker than normal with a slurred speech, an undeniable sweetness to it. he bit his bottom lip softly, raising his head to admire your features. pulling his lip out to an exaggerated pout.

"was waiting for you, silly," you replied, putting your phone aside and adjusting yourself to lay more comfortably beneath him. "how was the event, baby? you look like you had a.. good time."

jake giggled softly in response, his face flushing a deeper shade of pink as his fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt. lowering his head back down against the curve of your neck. "it was... super fun," he sighed happily, "but everyone kept talking to me, and i just wanted t'come back home with you.." he blinked slowly, a satisfyed hum leaving his throst. "I missed you, baby."

"now can you.. play with my hair?" jake murmured, hearing the quiet scoff leave from you before bringing your hand up to run throughout his hair. slurred 'thank you's slipping from his tipsy self as your nails gently grazed his scalp.

[musicismymoirail]

Since I've back on my Infamous kick, I decided to sit down and try to actually figure out Fel's look. I really wanted him to have full silver hair, but it wasn't working for me so black sides for a nice contrast? I like it a lot more, and it still fits his 'very much in love and inspired by moon thanks' vibes, lol.

I also feel a touch bad for him because boy is majorly dysphoric when people can see his freckles and natural hair color, but that's gonna be hard to hide while on a tour bus and in front of cameras constantly. I don't think anyone outside of the band has seen either, not even Orion.

And since I did this for X.O., have some silly headcanons.

• Band is Goodbye Blue Monday. It fit him better than X.O. and I'm glad~ They're more.... indie with folky and minor punky vibes? I always imagine it's a bit like The Decemberists or meWithoutYou's It's All Crazy! It's All False! It's All a Dream! It's Alright album?? Like, this song is super Fel! c:

• Fel claims he was a remarkably stupid child, and his main story to back this up is when he was super young, he was terrified of darkness. He thought the moon was too, since it disappeared a lot so he'd sing to it to try to make it feel less scared. Fel's origin story for his singing and song-writing is just his weird compassion and love of the moon.

• Kid went to college but dropped out pretty early into his sophomore due to his crumbling mental health and realizing how much of it was simply trying to please his folks. I imagine this Didn't Go Over Well with them (especially Mom) and it's partly Fel has no love left for them. He may be a bit of a Stepford Smiler, but even he has his limits, thanks! 💖😤💖

• He went to Harvard too, so Mom might've been doubly upset he dropped out. He had planned on eventually going to Law School, but the Band and Seven won out (and he is happier for that, despite ...everything.) That being said, I always feel like his undergrad was in comparative religious studies or something. It just feels very Fel??

• The band's big hit is based for the old fable, the Moon and Her Mother. It became a bit of anthem of shitty relationships (parents) and gaslighting. There's a healthy debate among fans if it's about Seven (and if so, if Seven's the moon or the mother), Fel himself, Fel's own parents, or if there's any true-to-life to it at all since it is based off a fable. Mainly, Fel just hated the fable and wanted to write something for the Moon …and more parental feelings slipped in then Fel realized at the time, lol. Moon's Momma is harsh and Fel didn't realize how harsh at the time. :')

• While he's good at putting on a face and playing up his flirtious and carefree personality, Fel himself is a painfully sweet and anxious soul. Growing up was a lonely experience. His family moved a lot, though always in the Boston and South Shore area, and Fel found himself more often than not bullied by his peers. Weird, stupid, freckles, shy, take your pick. Kids found a lot of flaws to constantly pick and make fun of.

• Fel does have an (obvious) crush on Orion. Orion is a very attractive and smart and dedicated and witty. And more importantly, Orion is safe. Orion tolerates him kindly, but it's nothing more than that. It helps his heart after Seven. I think when he realizes that attraction isn't as one-sided as he thinks, Fel will have an absolute freak out. "Why would you even like me?! Don't you have better taste?"

• Kid's self-image is pooooooooooor.

• Fel enjoys cooking too! There's only so many tv dinners and take-out you can eat, but Fel grew tired of them both about he was 13. He's an exceptionally good cook and baker, and loving cooking for his friends. He makes them all special meals or treats for their birthdays every year and I can't wait for him to cook for Orion for the first time. c:<!!

• Also, Fel definitely has a Thick Boston accent when he talks. He's not embarrassed by it though sometimes he hangs his head when he hits the Boston especially hard.

• Kid also digs Clefairy despite his gothy punk aesthetic, much like X.O. digs Gengar despite her opulent pink aesthetic, lol. ^^;;;

[allelitewrites]

Goes Two Ways

Word Count: 800

Relationship: Hangman x Reader

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

It was late at night and I was completely drained. Adam and I were tense with each other all day. Every comment turned into a slight bicker and every conversation ended with an eye roll. Tension between us was uncommon but after our argument this morning, it was expected to stick around throughout the day. Maybe we were both just tired. Tired of traveling. Tired of having our bodies beaten down one week after another. In my mind though, being tired gave us no right to take it out on one another. He knew as well as I did that it wasn't fair.

Adam went up to lay in bed. On any other night, we'd always wait for each other before going to bed. Last I saw him was probably 10 minutes ago. His shirt removed, showing off his large shoulders and soft physique. His blonde curls pulled back in a bun on the back of his head. I couldn't bare to even look him in the eye. I'll admit, I was ashamed. I started the argument in the first place as I made a bigger deal out of something so small than I needed to. I could hear him sigh, clearly wanting me to look up at him just once. But once I refused, he took his glass of water and his phone and went up to bed without saying even a word to me.

Eventually I was going to have to go to bed too. For a second I thought about letting him be. Crash on the couch for a night so he could cool of in his own space. But I knew he'd be pissed if he found me curled up under one of our small blankets on the sofa. In that case, no matter how mad he might've been, he would pick me up and place me in our bed. Insisting to take the couch for himself. So, I quietly walked towards our bedroom. Silently, I peek my head in the doorframe to see him sitting against the headboard as he waited up for me, scrolling on his phone with a fatigued look on his tan face. Only his legs were under the covers, leaving his torso and arms out in the openness of the dimly lit room.

I moved a step away from the door. I was going to try and figure out what I was going to say before I entered. But a raspy voice with a gentle accent quietly calling from the bedroom interrupted. "How much longer do you plan on hiding? I'd much rather talk to you."

I didn't have a response. No answer even slipped into my mind for even a second. I quietly entered the room. His sad eyes watched as I moved towards his side of the bed, still avoiding any eye contact with him. His slight nod gave me the go ahead to pull myself on top of him. I planted kisses across his stubbled chest, his strong shoulders, and then his neck. I allowed myself to straddle across his lap.

"What are you doing, my love?" He asks, gently putting his hand under the hood of the sweatshirt I was wearing and letting his thumb glide across the back of my neck.

I pull away and put my hand on his chest. Staring at my fingers as they drew small shapes into his skin, my hand feeling the slightly rushed beating of his heart. "I feel bad, Adam."

A small smirk pulled at his rosy lips. Taking the hand that was on the back of my neck, he takes it back to tilt my chin upwards. He was forcing me to look into his captivating crystal blue eyes for the first time since our argument that morning. "I don't want that. Us fighting doesn't require you to come in and try and make it up to me. An argument goes two ways, you know."

I take a deep breath as I feel his hands fall to my waist. "I'm sorry."

Adam pulls me in by wrapping his arms around my waist and allows me to wrap my arms around his neck in a hug that shared an entire conversation within it. The feeling of his breath and stubble against my neck send a shiver down my spine and he feels me slightly jolt, leading him to slightly chuckle. "Im sorry too."

We finally let go of each other before leaning in to kiss each other lips in unison. As if there was no time at all, the passion between us healed all scars from our battles throughout the day. His slight hum sounded so sweet before we pulled away. I curled up into his arms and our exhaustion allowed us to fall asleep without even a stir.

[abberant-butler]

It's hard to know Solomon has body modifications. Sure, you know about Pact marks, but usually the bearer has the choice of placement and on rare occasions, color and intensity. A powerful wizard like Solomon, contractor of 72 demons, including an Avatar? Surely he'd keep them small or invisible entirely. Asmo always tries to bribe you with 'the secrets of the shirt', but it's also Asmo. Sweet as he can be, he'd do plenty of things for attention.

It's not hard to know that Solomon has a lot of books. Books from his childhood. Books from his early learnings. Priceless books. Useless books. Books for trading favors, books for learning spells, books and books and books. Where he less insistent on pacts or even just a better cook, he and Satan might've been best friends.

Long sleeves and a high collar. That's what Solomon always wears. Even his RAD uniform is buttoned to the top. Jackets and capes and blazers and sweaters and vests and the oddest choices of accents and jewelry. But, really, when compared to angels, demons, and reapers, Solomon isn't that strange in his outfits.

Solomon keeps his distance. He's old enough to know better than to get close. Immortals have motives, and mortals never last. But you. It's been... different. Hard to say how, and harder still to decide what it means, yet still true.

You're different. So it's without a thought that after a disastrous spill of a potion that Solomon excused himself to go to his dresser to get a new shirt. Just barely in view, but clearly unintentionally, he's revealed. The secret of Solomon's shirt is that it's simply his cover. Like any of the tomes in his collection, he's written across in ink. Large, small, broken strings of text, full sigils. Barbatos once said that Solomon never made a pact without a purpose, and it's clear that he honors those by both size, placement, and legibility.

More, as his arms rise up to slip into overly long sleeves, you see the silver glints of metal. Symmetrical piercings at his collarbone, nipples, and hips. Catching him in profile, you can only imagine the matching ones on the other side.

As briefly as the book of Solomon has opened, it closes. The shirt covers its secrets again. The cloak layers over to be the focal point once again. If he caught you staring, he doesn't embarrass you to draw attention to it. Instead, it's a soft apology for taking away from your time together, and a refocusing on the work at hand.

Solomon's smile, of course, never quite fades. Who knows what a favorite person could get if only they simply asked for more.

[cringecompanionapologist]

Cradle of the Snake Part 3: Things Are Starting to Not Make Sense

The first half of The Cradle of the Snake is stronger than the second half. A lot of stuff regarding the Mara in the finale doesn't make sense and some odd things happen to the companions when their all together, their characterizations shifting from when they were separated. I still love this story, but this is the point where picking it apart might not be very good for it.

The first half of part 3 continues on from part 2 pretty well. Baala finds Turlough and lets him out, deciding that he has to be a good guy because he's scared.

Not like he'll admit it. Turlough doesn't want to be scared of the Doctor. The Doctor's presence has made him less scared before. This doesn't add up and he can't face it yet. Turlough is also probably scared for the Doctor along with being scared of the Mara. The Black Guardian possessed Turlough at least once. There's also the general idea of Evil Thing Living in Your Head Making You Do Bad Things That You Don't Want To Do. He nearly killed the Doctor because of that. The Mara seems to have more control over the Doctor than the Black Guardian had over Turlough, so this could be even worse.

So, Turlough escapes and finds Nyssa, Tegan, and the friends they've made along the way. He's panicking and just wants to gtfo NOW, but there are snakes making that a bit impossible.

Yoanna, a sort of social worker who has an American accent for some reason, kind of saw the Mara!Doctor in a sort of nightmare thing (it's complicated), so she knows to be very afraid.

Apparently Mara!Doctor has hypnotic eyes, which might've been why Turlough was almost possessed earlier, though I thought the snake tattoo is what had the hypnotic effect. The Mara is hypnotic but the Doctor just as very persuasive eyes, I guess. Especially for Turlough.

Mara!Doctor taunts the companions a bit, giving a description of each. He'll do something similar later. Both times, he addresses the three companions in the same order, which is probably a coincidence, but it's interesting.

So, I had to check a dictionary for some of this. The arrogance/large vocabulary actually resembles the Sixth Doctor a little. I wonder if it was intentional.

Anyway, big words. Tegan doesn't get a big word. Turlough is "truculent" meaning "confrontational" and Nyssa is "Interminably Reproachful" meaning "endlessly disapproving". I think some of what the Mara!Doctor says comes from the more negative traits the Doctor sees in his companions. The Mara tends to bring repressed meanness to the surface, as we saw in Part 1 with Tegan. The Doctor probably sometimes sees Tegan as always mad at him, always complaining, never happy. Meanwhile, Turlough won't listen to him. He disobeys his instructions and gets himself into trouble.

It's the Mara that has this weird obsession with Nyssa though. What about the Doctor Nyssa would morally disapprove of in a way that upset him, I have no idea. So, it's probably the Mara just bitter about being unable to get to Nyssa through Tegan.

The cops show up and arrest Mara!Doctor for causing a ruckus. They also arrest Turlough for being associated with said ruckus, even though he didn't actually do anything and disapproving of the ruckus the entire time. They also get put in the same cell, so these people apparently have no regard for Turlough's safety, despite being aware that the Doctor is the more dangerous of the two.

Kerrem, the scientist guy Mara!Doctor got possessed before, is called in as an expert on whatever's supposedly wrong here. Kerrem slips and reveals that he already knows who the Doctor is, meaning that Yoanna never answers his legitimately good question about why the Doctor and Turlough are in the same cell. From how scared he is, Kerrem can tell that Mara!Doctor hasn't possessed Turlough, so he has no idea what to do with him as a part of this jailbreak.

In the cell, Mara!Doctor waits for Kerrem to get him out while Turlough tries to find the real Doctor In There Somewhere

Turlough reveals how much the Doctor means to him, and once he gets that off his chest, he lists some continuity. Then he pauses. He has an idea. What about the TARDIS? Traveling in the TARDIS is the Doctor's main thing. Companions come and go, but the TARDIS remains. The personality of the Doctor would be more tied to that constant than his most recent companions or recent events.

The Mara decides to try some shit, pretending to be the Doctor, letting Turlough think he's won.

The Mara doesn't actually cause that much damage in this story. The story's body count is really low for a Fifth Doctor story. But, the Mara is cruel and this might be the cruelest thing it does. As much as it upset Turlough to see the Doctor possessed, seeing him so scared and weak like this is even worse. He tries to get him help, since he can't handle this on his own, but he'll try. He'll do anything he can to help, anything the Doctor asks without question if it'll be of any help.

Removing the Doctor's coat makes it easier to expose the snake mark. The Mara is tricking Turlough into getting himself possessed, not by preying on suppressed hatred or temptation, but on just how much Turlough cares about the Doctor.

The thing is, Turlough's care for the Doctor ties into a vice for the Mara to prey on. Turlough is still pretty early in his arc. He's still a coward, or he views himself as one. The Doctor is his protector, someone he can fall back on if he gets in trouble, so he's less afraid to take risks. The universe would be too terrifying to face without the Doctor.

Quiet despair...

The Mara reveals itself to still be in control only after Turlough begins to break down. If it had kept the act up, it might've been able to possess Turlough, but it can't resist the pleasure it takes from its own cruelty.

The Mara tries one last time to win Turlough over. "The Doctor" still wants his help. He can still help him. He can still be with him if they're both possessed. But, it doesn't work. Turlough panics.

Kerrem helps Mara!Doctor, who doesn't even want to be called the Doctor at this point, escape, leaving Turlough behind. Since it's not really the Doctor, Turlough doesn't seem to mind that last bit.

After everything that's happened with the Mara!Doctor, Turlough still seems shocked that the Doctor attacked him. He has to admit that he isn't safe with the Doctor anymore.

But, Turlough doesn't go into "the Doctor is dead" mode. He still wants to help him. The real Doctor has to still be in there somewhere and he won't help Yoanna if she won't help the Doctor.

Also, in the midst of whatever struggle occurred in the cell, Turlough stole the Doctor's TARDIS key to keep the Mara from having access to the TARDIS. He's not completely stunned by all this.

So, Turlough is reunited with Nyssa and Tegan and they lock the Mara!Doctor out of the TARDIS while they try to figure out what they're supposed to do to fix this mess. This causes a shift in Turlough's characterization, though it doesn't come up right away. Now that he's around companions you'd expect to be selfless and loyal, Tegan takes over the "The Doctor's still in there somewhere and we can't give up!" role. Nyssa tries to be rational, Turlough just wants to get out of this alive, Tegan is the emotional core of the team. When it's just Tegan and Turlough, the "coldly rational" role goes to Turlough. His role adapts to accommodate the other companions.

But, first, a more amusing thing: There's a certain pattern with Turlough that probably isn't a deliberate running gag, but it's consistent and funny. You can see it in The Five Doctors, where Turlough and Susan are stuck in the TARDIS and there's a bomb outside and Turlough weirdly comments that it's "Big, isn't it?".

When scared, Turlough will state the blatantly obvious or otherwise say weird, not particularly helpful things. He might have to remind himself (and/or Nyssa and Tegan) of how the alphabet works:

Meanwhile, the Mara!Doctor is confusing. It's not the Doctor anymore. It won't answer to that name. So, you'd assume that this is just the Mara speaking through the Doctor. But, the Mara!Doctor still acts like a separate entity from the Mara itself.

The Mara terrifies ??? and will be born tonight. So, Mara!Doctor isn't the Doctor and isn't the Mara. So what is he, then?

Nyssa is the biggest STEM genius out of the companions. Turlough's a STEM genius by 20th century human standards too, but it's much less pronounced. Nyssa being a scientist is a major character trait for her. It's why she stayed behind on Terminus. Because of this, the Mara wants Nyssa on its side. It's gotten bored of Tegan and it would've been fine with having Turlough around, but it seems to have given up on him. He was supposed to be the easy one to corrupt but he just wasn't. The Mara expected a troublemaker and found a young man with anxiety and a crush on the Doctor.

Mara!Doctor uses The Magic Thing That Makes Your Thoughts Real (it's complicated) to make a new TARDIS key. It goes through another round of taunting the companions.

Tegan is the one the Mara judges as still in shock. It's still mad at Turlough for stealing the key and also thinks he's stupid now. Nyssa is the good one, the brave one, the smart one, the one the Mara has chosen to possess. The Mara probably pulls from Five's suppressed mean side again. Tegan is never satisfied, too emotional, can never keep up. Turlough is always in trouble, doesn't listen to Doctor's orders, thinks he's clever because he knows more technobabble than Tegan does. But, Nyssa is level-headed. She's naturally heroic. She listens to the Doctor and generally does what she's told. The Doctor probably doesn't think he plays favorites, but he's capable of it.

Turlough is now in a more "traditional male companion" role, protecting Nyssa. Of course he cares about her, but he reacts to Nyssa being threatened before Tegan does.

He's even willing to physically attack the Mara!Doctor to protect her!

There are some promotional photos for season 20 with Nyssa and Turlough where they look like a couple, so maybe we're supposed to think that Turlough has a crush on Nyssa? I mean, Adric did, Tegan does, I guess everyone's just in love with Nyssa now. It isn't just the Doctor who plays favorites with this group...

Nothing against Nyssa btw. She's not bad, but it's easy to get annoyed with anything that's hyped up a lot. I get the same way about Ace. Great companion, I love her, but the fandom's enthusiasm can feel a bit overwhelming.

So, Nyssa's possessed and Mara!Doctor is Lord Mara now.

Also, if you didn't know that Nyssa is much older in these audios than she was on the show, that decades passed for her between Terminus and Cobwebs, you would think she was still young. I think Marc Platt completely forgot about the age up.

I like to imagine some of these Nyssa/Tegan/Turlough stories as being from an alternate timeline. Turlough could've met the Doctor without the Black Guardian's influence. Most of the stuff the Doctor was doing in Mawdryn Undead had nothing to do with the Black Guardian. It wasn't why he was there. Turlough would've jumped at the chance to leave Earth that the Doctor could provide without needed any other motive.

The Black Guardian invaded the Doctor's timeline, found a vulnerable companion right before he met the Doctor and made him an assassin. This didn't result in the Doctor being killed though. But, Turlough sabotaged the TARDIS on the Black Guardian's orders, landing them on Terminus, where Nyssa decided to stay. Nyssa wouldn't have left when she did without the Black Guardian.

So, when the Cobwebs audios don't match up with Cobwebs, that's just bits of the original timeline reasserting themselves. It's a bullshit explanation, but I had fun making it up.

So, let's wrap this up with two brief comments. Tegan believes that she could reach Mara!Nyssa easier than reaching Mara!Doctor, or otherwise automatically calls for her help before the Doctor's:

And Turlough once again states the obvious when terrified:

Yes it is, Turlough. Yes it is.

[somevillainfuckery]

OOGA BOOGA *kabongs you*

Only watched a little of Jellystone, already a big fan of Eleegle [Fleegle x Kabong]. Going with what little info I know, HEADCANON TIME FOR THE HORSE El Kabong in an immigrant. Legal or Illegal? The world may never know He learned the most cliché western cowboy accent possible, and had spoken with it for such a long time, he had to re-learn his Latino accent. This was after he moved to Jellystone. Sometimes, Kabong will accidentally speak in the cliché western accent- absolutely hates when he slips up like that Being a sheriff just- wasn't great- so he fully took on the role of El Kabong. His actual name is still Quickdraw, he just never tells anyone. Kabong will rant in Spanish if pissed off enough. One time, just for an easy win and just for a laugh, and also during a fight with The Banana Splits, he just grabbed Fleegle- twirled that man, dipped him- and kissed him. IN FRONT OF EVERYONE. MIGHT'VE BEEN A BAD IDEA BUT YKNOW IT IZ WHAT IT IZ. Has been caught looking at guitar porn before while still in the school building Hates guns. Refuses to pick one up, since he's shot himself in the face so many times. The only weapon he'll pick up is a guitar. When he isn't teaching or fighting crime, he sometimes goes to hang out with the Splits. He likes Fleegle, and is also friends with the splits sister, Hooty [YES IM FULLY MIXING JELLYSTONE AND THE BANANA SPLITS MOVIE, FIGHT ME]- Plus, lurking on the rooftops gets boring after a while. Kisses his guitar, Susan, on a daily basis. questioning objectophilia??? /hj This is all for now, shit might change later

[obscurushydrae]

Alphabet City, New York, Early 2005

“Hey! Mickey! Open up!” a voice called, banging upon the door of 4W. He used his flesh and bone hand-- otherwise the big stone hand might have taken the whole door and part of the walls given how shoddy the place was.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming!” a voice hollered on the other side. The jangling of locks unlocking was quickly followed by the door swinging open.

“Hellboy!” exclaimed the apartment's owner, Mick, in a thick Bronx accent, arms--paws-- wide in greeting. Mick was six foot rat with a keen eye for things. After a bit of misunderstanding a few years back where he stole Hellboy’s prized pistol, Mick became a some-time supplier, informant, and consultant to the BPRD.

“Come to see the new stock? I’ve got on my hands a copy of—”

“Not today.” the half demon rumbled. “Kiddo’s been missing for almost a week now, wondering if your guys might've seen her.”

Mick’s expression were limited due to his rat features, but he shifted to an equal concern. Mick’s apartment was only a few short blocks from the Aster residence. Hellboy would occasional pay for the occasional eye-- usually when he was off on a job, or when his younger sister hit puberty and suddenly decided to just slip out her window disappear on a whim-- much to everyone’s chagrin. Honestly Mick never met the kid face to face, but even he had grown to have certain fondness for her. A fuzzy guardian angel she new knew existed.

“Come in, come in.” Mick gestured to his apartment, floor to ceiling filled with things, some of it subjectively junk, some subjectively treasure. He remembered a story his sister once told him about a par of brothers who lived in Harlem. They hoarded so much, and died because of it. Or something like that.

“Ey! Denny! You seen Kiddo recently?” Denny was one of Mick’s “front facing people” humans who conducted Mick’s business in his stead. Somehow, a six foot tall talking rat didn’t exactly endear people. Denny was a bit more greyer, more clean since their first meeting.

“Sorry boss, but I think Hal spotted her not too long ago. Getting into a big black car?”

Mick turned is face to Hellboy, whiskers twitching.

“That was Father’s funeral.” Hellboy explained. “She went missing the afternoon after, according to Frankie.”

“Ah, My condolences, to the both of yous.” Mick replied, “Never met him but your old man was one of my best customers!”

There was unprompted moment of silence for the late Professor. Denny broke the silence.

“Benny should be back later…” He pointed out. “He’s out in Brooklyn. Lotta places to go underground there.”

Mick nodded thoughtfully, agreeing.

“Y’gotta cell phone, big guy?”

The flip phone was tiny even in his non-stone hand, but had been how he occasionally kept up with the Asters, and a few select others. After trading numbers, he thanked them and slipped Mick few bills for their troubles. While not the result he was hoping for, at least he had feelers out. He figured he’d walk back over to Frankie and Ava’s to check in. Nothing had changed, and he tried to not get upset at the agents delegated by Manning. Well, almost all of them.

Rook had been Kar’s liaison when she lived in headquarters full time. In reality, Rook was more or less a nanny to keep her out of the nasty stuff (not that it had stopped her from attempting it). If there was someone who could get her, it was Rook.

“Whaddya think?” Hellboy asked, taking a smoke break outside the apartment.

“Worst game of hide-and-seek we’ve played so far.” Rook teased, a nod to his days as her liaison. “It’s gonna be hard. You know how she is. If she doesn’t want to be found, she’s not gonna be found.”

Hellboy scowled at the thought. She wasn’t a kid; and this wasn’t a game. But he got it. Kar had a habit of going to ground in some part of headquarters, only appearing when she was well and ready to return to the world. A habit she seemed to keep. Normally he’d agree, and just wait it out, let her come around on her own terms, but something about it didn’t sit well in his gut. A few days, sure, but it was almost a full week.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“You don’t think—” Neither man wanted to finish the sentence.

“I try not to.” Hellboy answered, the unfinished line left unsaid. “The morgues haven’t anyone matching her-- I’m trying to stay hopeful.”

He couldn’t go back to Fairfield. Hellboy decided to join the vigil with Frankie and Ava. The comfortably sized three bedroom apartment was covered with reminders. Photographs of events, birthdays, gatherings. One in particular caught his eye. A little twelve year old Kar, tallit and yarmulke, surrounded on one side Frankie, Ava, and Ava’s parents, on the other was him, Abe, Liz, and their father, all grinning brightly. Another more recently-- they all went to dinner to celebrate her graduation from NYU.

“You mind if I look through her things one more time?” With their permission, he excused himself to Kar’s bedroom.

It was slightly smaller than her bedroom at Fairfield; but decorated similarly. The juxtaposition of Carl Sagan quotes and punk band posters, a few plastic stars and objet d’art hung from the ceiling, her aluminum bat sitting by the door. Action figures held up books on physics, engineering, history, a few comic books here and there. The bight red barrel of her robot puppet sitting above her desk. Nothing seemed out of array. A soldering iron, magnifying glass, and few tools, her brush kit wrapped in its canvas bag, a few fossil teeth. Her silver and opal magen david. The one she rarely took off.

No note. He phone was dead; left in her backpack purse decorated with the weird, green little dog guy she was fond of. The clothes she wore to the funeral hung from the chair, the bed was unmade, like she changed and went out for fresh air and decided not to come back.

He sat down onto her bed, groaning under her weight, the little plush Godzilla falling to the side of his thigh. It was dinky little toy she won a few years back. One of their last time going to Coney Island together.

He couldn’t do it. He just lost his lost his father-- he almost lost Liz in Russia. He couldn’t even bear the blow losing Kar. He numb, and furious-- Manning should have told him, he should have had one quick chance to find her before they left.

Mr. Zwicky, the rotund tuxedo cat who made his home in her bedroom window, oozed himself from his perch with a stretch, and meowed. Hellboy loved cats, and Mr. Zwicky was no exception. The cat meowed, and launched his bulk onto his lap without further ceremony.

“Hey there, Zwicky.” He caressed the cat’s head. His hand was large enough to cover even the cat’s large bulk. The low rumble of a purr gave him some comfort. He’d been around the family enough times that the cat saw him as just another lap, another source of attention (and sometimes food).

“If only you could talk, huh?” He mused, petting the cat further. The only witness they had so far, and he was just your average house cat. They fell in as much of a comfortable silence as someone could in his situation. Still a mess of emotions, but it was awfully hard to go through it with a twenty-odd pound cat in your lap.

At least, until the buzz from his cell phone broke him from his brooding. Apparently some of the rats in Brooklyn had some promising leads...

[imnotasuperhero]

Devil red lips - Wandanat

Type: Undefined

Summary: She should’ve known better. Never act on impulse.

Or, another songfic of mine staring our beloved couple.

A/N: Hi, long time no see! Here i am again with a random idea I’ve got while working a few days ago. Based on Livin’ la vida loca by Ricky Martin (it's a huge bop even if it came out two decades ago, so you can’t blame me). Hope you enjoy it! As always, likes, reblogs and comments are apreciated ❤️

Also, huge thanks to @wandaswigglywoes for beta-ing this, you're awesome, my dude 💕

Taglist: @wandabear @red1culous @summergeezburr @frostedfavesmain (let me know if you want to be added to future fics)

Sipping from her drink, Natasha scanned the bar finally meeting the pull she's been feeling for a while, now. Like a magnetic wave forcing her to move.

Studying the area, her eyes landed on a redhead staring intently at her; and as if she was casting a spell, the scarlet lips at the edge of her glass were like an invitation for Natasha to give away all resistance she possessed, just to try those lips.

'Fuck'

Natasha finished her drink in one big sip and licked her lips as she started walking to her target, never breaking eye contact.

'Game's on' she cheered on herself to block the uneasy feeling creeping at the back of her mind.

Natasha's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water at those big eyes. A deep forest green sparkling with something she couldn't poit her finger at.

"You okay there, Miss?" The redhead faked worriness, placing a hand on Natasha's arm. The skin-on-skin contact made the babyhairs at the back of her neck creepas a chilling wave ran up her spine.

"Yes," was all Natasha could muter as she tried to break the link between both pairs of green eyes.

"Are you alone?" The deep, thick accent in her voice was like a compelling spell.

"Why? You've got plans?" Natasha asked back, daring to show strength to the redhead.

Smirking wickedly as she grabbed her hand, the redhead guided Natasha out of the bar. And Natasha let her. No mater how much the alarm bells were going off in her head.

Unbenknowst to her, the redhead had her prey right where she wanted it.

With the beaming sunlight infiltrating through the cheap motel's curtains, Natasha grunted as she tossed in bed, wondering what she's done to wake up with a pounding head and an empty feeling consuming her insides.

All she could remember was auburn hair, captivating green eyes and inviting burgundy lips.

Lips that she remembers as clear as day all over her body.

Shivering, she decided to go in search of the closest café in order to fully wake up.

But her illuson of tasting the bitter berverage had to wait just a bit longer.

"That fucker," Natasha growled as she stared at her empty wallet. All the burglar left was her documents.

Humming at the steamy tea cup in her hands, Wanda inspected the tomatoes on the stand, picking the best ones for the dinner she planned for Pietro's return.

"Took me a while, but I found you," Wanda froze at the voice that plagued her mind since that night at the bar.

Turning around, the brunette clutched her hands, remaining confident.

"I'm sorry. You must've mistaken me for someone else," she faked a kind smile.

"Bullshit," Natasha retorted. "You might've changed your hair, but those eyes are not easy to forget." The redhead grabbed Wanda's arm and dragged her out of the farmer's market. "Don't make a sound," she warned.

"What you think you're doing?" Wanda knew causing a scene would draw attention to her and she didn't need to worry about that.

Letting go of Wanda's arm after confirming the brunette would follow, Natasha spoke. "I want my money back."

"I- I didn't take it."

"I woke up with an astronomical headache and an empty wallet. I don't care what the fuck you slipped in my drink, but I know for certain that you're the culprit."

"Look, I promise I didn't-"

"Quit the lies." Natasha threatened and Wanda felt herself shaking. "Why did you do it?"

"I- I'm sorry. I didn't have an option," Wanda shrugged, never meeting the redhead's gaze. "Easy money when your work has a shitty payment," she confessed.

Natasha could see the distraught in the brunette, and like an invisible force linking her soul to hers, she felt compelled to know more about her. And she would lie if she didn't admit it scared her.

"At least, tell me your name,"

Wide-eyed, the brunette acepted the outstretched hand. "Wanda,"

"Well, Wanda. I'll forgive your debt, if you go for a coffee with me," Natasha proposed.

And Wanda couldn't help the smirk taking over her lips for a few seconds before she composed herself.

"Guess you'll know how to find me," Wanda winked at her before starting to walk away, leaving a dumbfounded Natasha behind.

Little did the she know, Wanda's old habits die hard.

[incangencence]

no questions || @11thsshadow continued from here

Dark didn't think he had an audience, didn't expect anyone to follow him. It made for a bigger clean up than he wanted. Yet here he was a body at his feet, blood dripping from his hands, and someone else was there. The only thing stopping him from doing anything was what she said. He cocked his head to side, studying the stranger closely. "I ask the questions first and I want to know... who the fuck are you?" Dark gripped his fists tightly , not making a move just yet. "Did you follow me here?"

"Shit!" the word slipped out, half a gasp, and Gene stepped back so quickly, her back slammed against the back door of the alley. And of course, it had already locked behind her. Of course there was no way forward but down the long, blood-soaked alleyway, cutting between the buildings to the street beyond.

"Mast-" but even before she could stammer out the name, she knew it wasn't him. The figure rising up before her was too tall, and as he turned to face her, the dim lights of the alley caught his face. Different person. Different killer. Jesus fucking Christ, couldn't she ever keep her mouth shut?

"S-sorry!" She swallowed. Forced down the fear that made the American lilt start to press out her perfected false British, and squared her shoulders, lifting her chin. Her heart pounded mercilessly in her chest, but she tried to remember what The Master had told her time and time again; If you're scared? You're dead. Don't ever let them see your fear.

"Sorry," she repeated, more smoothly, her false accent back and as neatly in place as if it were natural. "Thought you might've been a friend of mine. He's supposed to pick me up. From work." She nodded to the darkened bar behind her. "Usually not before getting himself into a bit of trouble though." She raised an eyebrow at him. "But I've made the offer now, so I suppose it still stands. Or you can let me by, and I'll happily get my hands dirty somewhere else?"

[astarab1aze]

“You have beautiful eyes... Have anyone told you that?” – she asked out of blue watching Loux from above a half empty glass of champagne; they were on the party together. Again, although the meeting was accidental – “Oh, actually don’t reply me. I am sure many did compliment you in that way.”

“Seems I am very unoriginal…” – she laughed, but she did enjoy his company.

His lips parted into perhaps his most charming of smiles - boyish in nature, quivery, youthful - but he was in no way moved by flattery, not from anyone, however sincere. It wasn't so deep that he'd deny her, wasn't so personal that he'd turn and head back the way he came, no, no - much simpler than that. Flattery meant a lie had come or soon would, no more and certainly no less, though maybe that was unfair of him. He didn't rightly care one way or the other, operting wholly on learned and observed behaviors in order to best adapt and survive any possible interaction with anyone he came into contact with - including pretty girls who drank champagne, doing their best to be sweet and fluffy with him. Needless to say, flattery, especially which concerned his eyes, was no way to earn his favor.

A sharpness to an unhidden storm, blond parted and out of the way in some deceptively princely manner, red markings toned down - much of his appearance altered in some fashion by comparison to when last she'd laid eyes on him. Some air of unnatural perfection in his particular brand, but nevertheless only vaguely recognizeable if one looked hard enough. How close an eye she must've been keeping on him then - amusing, true or not.

Running into her again had been a smidge more jarring than he'd have liked, in the end, however; He hadn't expected to see her here, counted among the guests at so bawdy, gawdy, and lame a party as this when there were other, better places for her to wander with fewer social mores and unnecessary expectations. Maybe she really had grown used to the sort of life she'd lived, whatever that meant. Peculiar, odd, maybe a little vexing the more he thought about it, uncharacteristic of him to bother with it in the first place, especially when he'd be better off promptly leaving before he attracted any suspicion. He might've pilfered through a few too precious pockets and picked just the right series of locks, ravaged a safe, easily breaking through a few choice barriers - the works. He had impeccable timing, deft fingers, and an innate understanding of how most magic worked, deciphering even the most intricate of cursed barriers given the time; He often wondered about that, but no matter, first-

"Thank ya kindly, darlin'," he said, accent peeking through, dipping his head and putting his best foot forward in some sort of awkward statesman's greeting. He thought it was funny, a little charm to the tentative indifference. All cleaned up, he guessed he couldn't blame a girl for trying. Why she wanted to was beyond him, too ratty a brain to care too much. "But ya'd be surprised how few actually do when it's they get the chance."

He wondered how many more times he'd see her after this, and in what manner, but he knew just what he'd do when next they met. Little thought required, sure, but he was no slouch, observant of the finer details despite appearances; An idea already wriggling at the back of his mind. In the moment, he would settle for a careful grasp of her hand, bowing just right, kissing her knuckles ever so, gaze making note of more than a few concerned suits spilling in through double doors, oos and ahhs of interested nightfolk and devils of upper classes, and it would have to be here he made his leave-

A grin, playing at mysterious, no doubt overaggerated and dogged in some fashion, before flesh rippled and twisted into naught but a near invisible trick of the light; And he slipped free, weaving through pompous nobles and narrowly dodging security as if it were only too easy, practiced, expert, never needing too much magic at once to escape any would-be captors - he wasn't going to prison over money and trinkets. Yet as he made his way down winding manor steps, treading a path to the valet and beyond, when at last under cover of utter darkness, he wondered if she might think about him again. Remember the moment for the oddity it was, maybe or maybe not put two and two together, pick him apart, lecture him the next.

He reached into one of the pockets sewn into his elaborate formal robes, grabbing hold of his palm-sized mirror and vanishing in the blink of an eye.

[meridakrawczyk]

"Well, I guess if you survived all eight Friday the 13th movies without a hitch, you're clearly immune to fear — let me guess. You never wet the bed either when you were a kid?" It sounded like she was teasing, enjoying her time in his company. In reality, it was the same game, just with a little more...splash. The carnival added something to her otherwise dull day, and the need to tease cured boredom. To embarrass? Even better. "With extra toppings—hope you brought your appetite and your financial advisor! I'm sure your wallet is the true horror story here."

Was she insulting? Yes, unfortunately so. But as always, she painted it to look pretty, because to her humans were toys, mere playthings to feed her and pass her time. She'd once been one of them, had cared about what happened to them. But slowly, over time, that humanity had been stripped from her. Bit by bit, until this woman was left standing before Seth: an actress, a performer and a monster with fangs that could pierce skin as easily as a needle could pierce fabric. She chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to echo in the dark space. "Scared? Me?" the amusement that took over her features was a beautiful blend of humored, and a smidgen of adoration at the oblivion. It wasn't sweet, oh no, it was predatory — it was like looking at a slice of meat after days after starving for a human. It was the warmest blood that ran in his veins that invited her in. She had nothing to be scared of, but this man, on the other hand, with that puppy-like demeanour, had the corner of her lips curling. "Oh, darling, you have no idea."

Her eyes flicked to Seth, noting his boyish excitement that most of the men she'd come to know over years passed lacked. Something akin to childish wonder in those eyes that could've almost sparked something close to humanity in her briefly, but just as quickly as it sparked, it died. Her heart long since cold and dead. Decrepit. It would be almost charming, in a way, and once upon a time she might've found herself almost endeared by his clear innocence. Untouched, pure. For now. Her predatory instincts were never far behind, always there, always reminding her of the hunger gnawing at her. Always reminding her that he was weak, breakable. And self-preservation far outweighed his measly life.

His question had her pausing. She could lie, she could be truthful. She'd long since lost her European accent, but it still slipped through from time to time. "New York," she paused, momentarily pushing through the gate as the light indicated it was time for them to fit into the ghost train booth, "Although, originally Poland. I have great, great ancestors...they immigrated years ago." How easily the lies slipped off her tongue now, as years had gone by. Lowering herself into the cart, her brow arched upward.

The second the spiel was over, Merida was quick to realise that Seth liked to talk a lot about...Salem. She understood, somewhat, that the topical conversation was because of their location, but still..she began looking around, boredom seeping in, before her eyes snapped to his. "Sorry, were you saying something?"

She just hoped he didn't repeat it all over again. Could he read a room?

It took only moments for her to slip into the cart, finding comfort in knowing that it wouldn't be long before that hunger stopped clawing at her stomach, screaming and begging. Food, food, food. But her dinner wasn't as easy as picking up something at 7/11. No, she had to hunt, to find the person that would tick all the boxes and appetite needs. AB, baby.

The speech, the legs, just...Seth? Over the span of her life, she'd met some interesting people for sure. But Seth was...not an exception to the rule exactly, but enough for momentary intrigue. Enough that her brows tugged into a downward v, her eyes sliding to him. Different, innocent, unlike most. She'd take a little...unless it was delicious, then she might just take the lot.

Her humanity was fleeting.

"I'm a talent agent, y'know, models, actors...sending them off to go find their dreams in LA. It's all the rage now, they say by the mid 90s, it'll be the only place that's important to be in show business." In truth, she wanted to bleed them all dry....literally. "And you?"

And off they went.

"So, Seth, is it?" A grin spreading across her mouth, large and beaming. The ride moving, the atmosphere beginning with a fake fog, and haunting sounds that would've fooled most teenagers into girly screams, and a chance to hold their crush's hand. She wouldn't tell him her name. There were some things that were better left a mystery.

"Do you believe in monsters?" she whispered, tone wicked but masked. That grin to the normal person looked like she was having the time of her life. And don't get her wrong, she was, but for all the reasons they would never guess to think. "It's always nice to have an open mind." she let a slight pause. The silence of the ride said enough, a jump scare was close. "You never know what might go home with you."

Or leave it's mark.

The first thing up – a haunted graveyard, complete with fog machines and skeletal hands reaching out of the ground. Merida couldn't help it, slowly clapping as she turned to Seth. "Wonderful, truly, let me guess...the grim reapers going to jump out any second and tell me I'm going to hell?" she paused, inching a brow. "Maybe next time, I can take you to a real haunted spot. Salem's full of them."

After she found out if he had any family, anyone that would miss him. She'd take enough not to rouse suspicion, not here. The witches, the wolves... she had to keep her wits about her.

"You're speaking to the guy who sat through all eight Friday the 13th's and laughed, prepare to empty your wallet. I want the jumbo.. with extra toppings."

Look no had to know. Plus, he'd make it up this coming October, underneath his father's tallit. For a moment, he was back there, squished between his father's chest and his brother, both vying for space underneath the cloth. His father stood, davening in unison with the many other men who gathered outside the only synagogue in Salem. It was too crowded inside, and they didn't want to waste fuel driving all the way to Boston. But that moment passed swiftly as someone dressed in a Michael Myers costume jumped out with a fake butcher knife. Seth didn't scream.

"So," he shoved his hands into his pockets, as if just realizing he'd found himself standing between a pretty girl again. Not that it didn't happen regularly (okay, perhaps not regularly, but not irregularly either), and he'd forgotten the rules on how to be cool for a second. Don't talk to her about the spiders. Don't talk to her about— "Are you from Salem?" Good job. He was learning from past mistakes. Nothing killed the mood more than trying to explain to a girl that Jennifer wasn't his pet spaniel or tabby cat, but rather his pet tarantula. And no, seriously, she was friendly… cuddly even, but hey, don't forget to wear eye protection when feeding her because she sometimes spits hair at strangers and that can cause a hell of an infection. One bad enough you might even lose your eye. But, no, she's friendly. She's great. ["Cheque?"]

"Salem's great.. I mean it has its faults of course. One being the only club in town doesn't play enough Death Metal or that you can't go one Halloween here without the entire down looking like a dollar store threw up on it, but overall... it's nice, right? I mean at least it isn't Texas." He made a face. The idea of having to tune every single one of his preset stations in order to avoid country music seemed like a lot of work for him. "Uh, so what do you do.. you know for work?"

With a mechanical scream (clearly one of the final jump scares inside, because it always indicated the next cart was about to pull up), Seth gripped the red (sort of: the paint was chipped and faded) gate in front of him in anticipation. They were next.

The sound of the Ghost Train coming to a grinding halt grabbed his attention once more, just as the attendant, currently looking like he'd heard more than his fair share of ghostly puns tonight, glanced their way and said, "Next two." Seth pushed the gate open, holding it for a few extra seconds to let the young woman inside too; it was one of those automatic swing-back-into-place ones, and he didn't want to accidentally hit her in the leg or something. "Now, I need to remind you to keep your hands and feet inside the—" Seth did a big stretch with one of his legs outside the door of the cart before quickly shutting it back up. The attendant stopped and blinked in response. "Last stretch. I swear." Without acknowledging him, the attendant continued, stating that all injuries occurring inside the ride were not the ride's fault and therefore they couldn't be sued, before walking over to his station and hovering his finger over the go button.

With a quick glance to the woman sitting beside him, Seth smiled and shot out his hand in between them both. "Oh, I'm Seth by the way—" His body jerked forward as the ride kicked off, and the cart rolled through the fake castle doors and into the darkness of the room ahead.

The only thing that could be seen was Seth's white teeth as he smiled with glee at all the campy horrors that lurked ahead. "Scared, yet?"

[summercreolefanfictioner]

the crown and the throne (DiaLovers fanfic // Game of Thrones AU)

he who cut off the promise || ayato, yui, laito, kanato

Ayato was in deep pain.

Deep.

Searing.

Pain.

He grimaced, his back leaning on the cold wall of his prison cell as he struggled to stop the blood flowing from his right hand, which had been cut off earlier. He tries not to make a sound as he bandaged himself, forcing himself to bite his tongue until it bleeds. After all, he won't give these fuckers the satisfaction of knowing he's in pain.

It's a good thing they didn't cut my left, he thought because he knew he was one of those rare swordsmen who fought with their left hand.

Once done, he quietly sighed, wiping off the sweat from his forehead as he reminisced about the events that had transpired before this whole thing.

When the dragon led him out of the forest, he was brought into a town untouched by any other houses. In fact, it was a town that never knew anything about the war between kingdoms nor the upcoming battle between the living and the undead. All the people know is that there is no such thing as war, but long-lasting peace.

Ah... another bunch who believes in false positivity. They never know what's coming for them.

Ayato decided to rest in this town for a bit, and it surprised him that no one knew him. Like they didn't question why he had that crass yet sharp Westerosi accent or how he can speak like a prince (well, he is one). It's like he's just an ordinary man, not an exiled prince from the King's Landing.

If Ayato was being reckless, he might've probably hatched a plan to take Yui away and live with her peacefully in this town. Then, hopefully, after a few months, they will marry and have kids of their own, bundle of joys that they will spoil rotten as they grow old and wrinkly.

But Ayato knew it was a fleeting dream. After all, there will come a time his enemies would attack him and he'll just be putting Yui in danger again. Plus, Yui has changed. Word spread of her flight from the Tsukinamis as she rode on a giant dragon and conquered a vast land in the Dothraki sea.

She's a fine queen on her own, he mused with a sad smile. She can do fine without me.

After a few days, Ayato decided to set out to the next town when a group of bandits cornered a poor whore and tried to fuck her during daylight. Ayato didn't know why he defended her and decided these men should just take him as their prisoner.

He thinks maybe the woman reminded him of Yui and how she was raped by her so-called dead "husband."

So when one of the men recognized him as the exiled prince, they wasted no time mocking him. Instead, they put out both of his hands, the bandit leader watching him to see if he would yield.

He licked his lips in delight. "Tell me, oh great prince. Which hand will we cut off?"

Ayato remained indignant, staring at the pinky on his right hand as his mind remembered the last time he saw Yui and the promise they made. Their skin was covered in nothing but the sheets as the moon illuminated her beauty. She was a sad woman, but she willed herself to be strong as she smiled.

"Promise me, Ayato-kun," she whispered, holding out her pinky to him. Tears were slipping out of her eyes and he brushed his thumb to wipe them off from her cheek.

"There's no need to cry, Chichinashi," he assured, slightly guilty that his love has brought her nothing but pain. "I will always love you. I have your locket, remember?"

"But promise me!" she insisted. "Promise me, that one day, we will be together. I don't care where. I just... want to be with you."

Ayato sighed, holding out his right pinky and entangling it with hers. He leaned his face close, his forehead touching hers.

"I promise Lady Yui of the House Komori, that I, Prince Ayato of the House Sakamaki, will take her, wed her, and be with her until the end of our days."

Because Ayato had been staring for a good while at his right hand, the bandit leader decided to cut it off from him as quick as possible, boasting how he has finally taken the armor of the devil's spawn.

And that's where it led him to his prison cell—starving, cold, wounded, and smelling of piss and shit. They even took Hildbrand from him.

He gritted his teeth, narrow green eyes with a murderous glint.

These fuckers will not make it alive.

He thought of a plan, then he remembered the time when he and Laito first discovered Kanato's fire magic. Kanato stole a book from the private shelf of the castle's library, teaching them how to summon magic. Kanato wanted to learn how to control his fire better and he didn't want his brothers to be left out, so he thought they could try learning a spell or two.

"But you're the only one here with magic," Ayato argued, scrutinizing the Valyrian words on the page that teaches about familiar summoning.

"We're triplets, you know," Kanato pointed out as Laito set up the scarecrows the middle triplet made while their mother wasn't looking. "I'm sure you two can do magic."

"Are you sure about that, Kanato-kun?" Laito inquired, doubtful about his words.

Kanato nodded. "Just repeat after me. You two will be able to use this magic someday. Gūrogon skoros pōnta enkagon."

Ayato and Laito stared at each other, completely distrusting Kanato, but decided to just get on with it.

"Gūrogon skoros pōnta enkagon," they chanted in unison.

And the next thing, a cloud of bats came swarming in the garden, attacking the scarecrows until nothing was left. Ayato and Laito were both stunned, watching Kanato approach the bats and give them fruits as their reward.

"See!" Kanato told them with glee. "I knew you two can do magic."

But Ayato has never used that spell afterward, so he wasn't sure if this will work this time.

"Just repeat after me. You two will be able to use this magic someday."

He sighed.

"Gūrogon skoros pōnta enkagon." (1)

And the next thing there was a rumbling. Ayato heard the men outside his cell confused and scared, then a cloud of bats came swarming into the hideout, filling all the walls with their blood and screams. Some of the bats came to rescue him, licking his open wound so he wouldn't suffer so much from blood loss.

While they were doing so, the bandit leader entered his cell, threatening Ayato with his own sword.

"You did this, you exile bastard!" he yelled, witnessing how more bats were swarming Ayato than usual.

The only reply Ayato gave him was an evil smirk, similar to what he was donning when he cut off his right hand. Having none of his insults, the bandit leader charged at him, alerting the bats who were healing Ayato.

And the next thing, the bats attacked him, sucking the blood out of him and eating his flesh until he was nothing but bones. As the bats were feasting on the bandit leader, Ayato stood up from the floor, picked up his sword, and returned it to his scabbard.

He walked out of his cell, marveling at the view of the dead men while the bats feasted on their leftover food. There was a leftover beer from a mug, and he didn't mind if it was touched or not. So he drank it to his heart's content, slamming down the mug on the table once he was done.

He wiped off his mouth and hummed in satisfaction.

"Nothing beats being alive in this shithole, you fuckers," he said to the dead men in the room.

Well, as if they would know. They're fucking dead, these little pieces of cunt meat.

Afterward, Ayato cleaned himself and stole some of their clothes and their remaining gold bars. He'll head to the next town, get a new arm, and possibly a new army of his own.

After all, he has to take back what is owed to him.

TRANSLATION:

(1) Take what they owe (this is actually the words of the House Sakamaki)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

NEXT CHAPTER

STORY MASTERLIST

[kittyandco]

runaway

someBODy once told me i was gonna be writing completely serious and unironic self insert fanfic about a sh/rek character one day... be the change u wanna see... 

Living in a swamp really showed, once you went out to the civilized world. The grassy stench of nature wafted off you like you'd been in down the dirt all day. There were probably speckles of mud on your ankles. There might've been slugs following your footsteps.

Such a pretty girl didn't belong in a swamp. That's all it was, every time. Every "civilized" pest that crossed my path said so. But it was the only place that felt like home. No human had ever learned respect sufficient enough to keep me around. Blah, blah... 

Wait. Why are there Far Far Away knights galloping through the forest? Ruining a good time? Wait again, there's just one. He carried the energy of many.

"We just left... there's no way... are they really here for us again," was my first thought. The second hardly came to fruition. Not before...

"Kitty?"

"Oh," I nearly forgot to stifle the excitement in my voice at first. He was one of the few people I get happy to see. That Charming... "You."

"You're beautiful as ever."

With a sigh, I quipped, "What're you doing all the way out here?"

"I had to return to you?" He shot back, like some agreement was made. I abandoned him in that cesspool of privilege and frivolity. I want him relegated there only. 

“No... you didn’t. You should stay where you belong,” I huffed, feeling a tinge of harshness from the statement, but too proud to revoke it. This was some joke.

“It’s you I belong with, Kitty. Darling." Trademark confidence wavered, his features hardening. I had to be slipping through the cracks of his facade. But was it really because of me...?

"You already have a place of your own... for you," that stupid anger-induced accent broke through my practiced stoicism, particularly on the last word. 

"It is mine no more... ever since I fell for you..."

"No way... you get everything you want. Don't believe you."

"You think I would come here willingly? Here?"

"I don't ever know what you're thinking. Do you even think?"

He sighed. Glanced around. At the patches of grass in the firm mud and dirt, the moss on the trees, the murky puddles. "I'd be miserable here; I am now. But I'd be with the woman I love," he choked, veneer surely melting. Did he want sympathy? Sympathy was gone. "There is nothing for me."

Nothing? Nothing! The man who had everything now has nothing! He manipulated so poorly.

"Did... anyone find out... about us?" Not that I meant to admit close to anything, but it had to be the only way to coax an answer. "Whatever we had."

"Everyone knows! And I cannot return... why don't we run away together?" Oh. He was holding my hands now. 

“Go... where? I’m... staying here.” The thought of leaving the swamp placed a hard weight on my heart. 

“You wouldn’t think once of leaving this...” he searched for a fitting word, but I cut in. 

“This is my home! I can’t leave; I can’t leave with you; I can’t leave for any reason. I won’t! Now go before I make you.” 

I started to walk off prematurely; despite the threat, I was done. I heard a harsh gallop behind me. I couldn’t make it out. I ran. I heard something. I heard him calling after me, something to the effect of: You will be mine, Kitty. You will be mine. I love you. 

[cfgodsandmonsters]

‘ right, okay, we're running. ’

okay maybe he'd grab her hand again next time. he doubled down on that resolve as he noted she was just far enough behind him that the easy gaps he'd been slipping through weren't always open when her turn came. right. only one of them was a mutant. at least as far as he could tell, that was. he kept his pace human, determined not to get separated as long as their pursuers had been left in the dust. their heavily accented shouts were fading into the din of the crowd, so he was pretty confident they wouldn't need to part ways.

nox accepted the key with a quick grin, glad they'd made it back as a pair. As he swiped them through the external doors, he cast her a sidelong glance. “ plenty of water, ” he confirmed, feeling a bit guilty for not being similarly winded. he might've pushed the pace a bit too much in the effort to get to safety quickly. A brief elevator ride later, and he was letting them both in to his small suite-style room; he was planning on being in town a few weeks, so he'd somewhere with rooms that replicated temporary apartments. it wasn't luxurious by any means, but there was at least a bed, couch, and kitchenette -- which he headed straight to, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, then reconsidering and grabbing two more, offering the first to Kate, and setting the others on the counter, ready if she wanted them.

“ so... ” he started after a few moments of silence, not totally sure how to start whatever conversation they were about to have.

there was no time to geek out or ask questions. the tracksuit bros were back on their tale and now have seen him. that only meant that his place was the safest option now. eyes moving down to the button up of his that she was wearing, mimicking his hand placement and feeling the key in the pocket. cool. don't lose it, kate. and that's when he took off.

"right, okay, we're running." she spoke out loud before taking off after him. thankfully she's athletic enough to keep up. pushing through the crowd as she made sure to not accidentally hurt anybody along the way. apologizing occasionally if she did step on a toe or two. the tracksuit bros clearly trying to keep up. but considering they traveled in a pack? made it difficult for them to even come close to her. especially in such a crowded space. thank you time square and your tourist attractions.

they were practically long gone and the two made it to his hotel. kate clearly out of breath as she took out his hotel key and handed it to him. holding a finger up as she heaved. placing both hands on her knees. composing herself while he got the door open. "i'm fine. just.. just hope you got water in there."