#he’s just a little hungry and needs meat to survive

[kii0mi]

Zombie Au

Original post

TRIGGER WARNING! There’s some blood on the drawing, very little and no injuries, but thought I’d put a warning anyways

I’ve been playing around with a half zombie!Danny, didn’t think I’d love this idea so much but it’s really fun! This is the design I’ve thought of for Danny, and I plan on at least making a reference page for the designs of the human!ancients. Clockwork, pandora and frostbite and guaranteed to have a new design planned for them, I might also do others like ember, and kitty, Johnny and shadow :)

My plans for them so far are: clockwork as a cryptic man who used to work in a clock shop, pandora as a Greek woman who is a martial artist expert, frostbite and his tribe as a group of scientists who were around the earlier tests of the virus but maybe left for ethical concerns (might change), ember as a punk artist traveling around and sharing her music, and kitty and Johnny as a motorcyclist couple who adopted a docile zombie dog. I’d like to continue world building on this, hopefully my energy allows it :)

Original idea by @phanboyo

[twilightkitkat]

Can we talk about the dynamics of Logan "I eat anything and scarf it down immediately" Howlett and Wade "I only eat the same 10 foods in different fonts" Wilson?

Logan is used to living without. Even as a child, he had to get by when he was sick with the food his family could afford. Once he joined the military, he had to survive on the limited rations he was given. He didn't have room to be picky—he either ate what he was given or didn't eat at all. And in war, he had to eat eventually.

His preferences didn't matter. He was always treated as a soldier, a weapon, and his food reflected that. He'd get enough protein and carbohydrates to fuel his power but that was it. Food was for functional use, not to be enjoyed. It didn't matter if it tasted disgusting, he just inhaled it so the taste wouldn't linger.

He's also an extremely quick eater. He's feral and ravenous when hungry, tearing into meat with his claws and hands. He lived in the army, in the mountains, through the Great Depression, and in dangerous situations where he hunted for himself. To him, food is a scarce resource and if you don't eat it while you can, you might not have it tomorrow. So he takes gigantic bites and tears into food no matter how bland and unappealing it was because that's all he knows. His standards for food are just that it has to have nutrients and not be poisoned.

Wade, on the other hand, is more picky. If he had to choose between eating something he hates or not eating, he'd rather just starve. At first, in the army, he did eat what was given to him even if he disliked it, but it was purely for survival. He choked it down even when it made him vaguely nauseous and disgusted. But later, he'd hoard stashes of his own food that he managed to steal or barter for or bet on. It was better to be hungry most of the time than satiate his hunger temporarily only to fight to keep it down and feel sick the entire day.

The second he has the freedom to pick his own food, he sticks to things he knows he likes. That he feels comfortable with. He's picky about brands and specific types of food and how it has to be cooked or made, but he manages. He can normally find something on the menu he's OK with, even if he often has order a kid's meal. But most places have grilled cheese sandwiches and chicken tenders and macaroni, and people chalk it up to him being childish and silly, so nobody pays much attention.

Wade sees food as one of the only things he can control. He's been devoid of true choice for most of his life. He couldn't control getting cancer or being forced to turn into a horrific mutant. He couldn't save his relationship with Vanessa. When everything around him was collapsing, he hyperfixated on the little things he could control like food or clothing.

The two, together, learn to have a healthier relationship with food.

Logan was the first person to truly pay attention to Wade. To see which foods he liked and which he picked at and grimaced towards when nobody was looking. When Logan abruptly said he'd cook dinner one day, Wade was nervous, but nearly started bawling when Logan made homemade chicken tenders and macncheese. He noticed. He cared.

It was the first time Wade could be open and let someone see he was genuinely affected by food instead of him just playing it up as a lunatic. And Logan took him seriously and didn't make fun of him. He learned recipes to make the foods Wade liked but healthier and more balanced. He helped Wade finally get the nutrients he needed consistently without feeling sick to his stomach.

And Wade helped Logan too.

Logan was never allowed to have preferences. To have a sweet tooth or ask for more. To expect quality. But here Wade was, buying him some apple cinnamon-filled pastry just because he looked at it too long in the store.

Logan was never allowed to have dessert. To have sweet food just for the sake of it even after a meal. His eyes become wet as he clutches the pastry between his shaking hands and takes a bite. He's allowed this. To have the comforts in life. To eat just because it tasted good.

Someone cared about him enough to buy him what he wanted just because he'd enjoy them, not just to keep him functioning as a tool. Wade treated him as human. Like he was precious. Like he deserved the nice things in life.

And Wade reminds him of this. He stocks their kitchen with desserts that Logan likes, because he knows that Logan secretly enjoys sweet things. He sees the way he sniffs the air and wanders close to the fresh-baked goods of a bakery. He keeps snacks around the house, so Logan can eat whenever he want. Even if it isn't a "necessary meal."

And Wade learns to be more comfortable and try new variations of foods he likes that Logan makes. Because Logan knows the textures and flavors he hates and is somehow able to create a few new dishes entirely that he likes. He stops dreading mealtime or trying new foods. And Wade feels comfortable just trying the food without pressure, knowing that he can just not finish it if he doesn't want to and that someone else will.

And Logan learns to let himself enjoy eating again. To see it as less of a chore for the maintenance of his body and more as an enjoyable activity. Wade reminds him that he can eat just because he wants to and that it's OK to have preferences and ask for things. Logan feels well cared for. Pampered, almost. And he basks in the feeling of being wanted and loved and being allowed to express it through cooking and food.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Monster!Konig with a little cute kitty! She just wants to make him happy but she's to dumb to realize what he needs!!

Awwwww! Konig would definitely humiliate the shit out of his pretty little kitty mate. You're a monster, but you're even weaker than an average human! So adorable and pathetic, Konig just can't wait to claim you as his. Your body is a good enough temperature for his eggs, and your womb could carry so much of his litter...maybe even produce some weird octopus kittens that can be used as universal soldiers! You need to consume flesh as a monster, so Konig would only feed you the tiniest chunks of meat, making you plead and beg each time you're hungry and can barely move from how weak you are...he'd allow you to chew on his tentacles, your sharp teeth are so cute when you think you can really do damage with them...he loves to be covered in your bite marks, it's the testament of how much you adore him - even if you shake and cry every time he touches you a bit too roughly. You're always so dumb and disoriented he has to put you in a tight collar with little chumming bells because it's the only way for you to not get lost! Everyone can hear the little dingle and know that Konig mate is somewhere around here - it's especially useful when dumb ol' you got into a tight space or a really narrow closet because you went into heat and needed a confined space. He would put you in the finest fabrics for your nest, lots of toys and ways for you to play - as long as you're not really trying to escape the fate of being his dumb kitty incubator. You're too weak to survive without him anyway.

[jaythes1mp]

Cat reader idea: which one is your favorite. Like Damian would be nice but he’s always on you for improper diet (you ate fruit and not the horrid wet food he leaves out for you)

Dick has no sense of personal space and he wants to squeeze your adorable little toe beans despite your protests.

Jason would be okay but he practically steals you at night for cuddles and for your own safety. Nothing safer than sleeping with a knife under your pillow.

Tim is iffy, he just likes your company, but the moment you sneeze he’s sending you to the vet- even worse when you get out, using your chip to locate you.

Bruce and alfred just adore you, but only get to see you now and then due to their busy schedules, mainly petting you when they walk by or doing your training.

:3 hope this is accurate lmao

Okay, this is beautiful and a perfect way to incorporate some things into the fic.

More on cat shifter reader.

01

Damian is 100% on your ass, meticulously keeping track of your dietary habits, setting up charts to keep track of your meal times, ensuring that the family knows exactly what you've consumed and what not to give you. This way, he can ensure that you're sticking to the food plan he's designed, with zero room for deviation. He even resorts to constantly reminding Alfred and Dick not to give you anything, no matter how hard your adorable little eyes plead up at them. Determined to make sure you stick to his meal plan. It’s even worse when you’re in your human form, despite his repeated warnings. — and don’t get him started on Jason. The man is the most difficult of them all to control when it comes to your diet. He completely ignores Damian's instructions and will immediately scoop you up and secure you in the cat carrier attached to his motorcycle if you even hint at being hungry. Then, he'll spirit you away to his apartment without a second thought, offering you an array of forbidden human foods in exchange for your sweet meows.

Don’t think about attempting to escape through him however, that would only lead to being futile. He's engineered his bike with a series of safety precautions, meaning that if you even displayed the slightest indication of trying to jump out or escape, the restraints would immediately tighten, making it virtually impossible for you to break out. Let alone breathe comfortably.

Moving back to your diet; Damian has completely altered the Wayne Manor’s kitchen to cater exclusively to your feline dietary needs. He’s even managed to ensure that the rest of the family has adapted their own diets to match yours, to prevent any accidents regarding food you’re not supposed to eat. Despite your attempts to reason with him, Damian refuses to acknowledge that as a human, you can safely consume foods like chocolate without getting sick. You’re a kitten after all.

Though, if by some chance you do manage to infiltrate the kitchen, an assortment of only the finest fruits are packed at the ready for you. Small bits of cut up mango, fresh unpackaged pineapple, blueberries, melon, bananas, apricots, apples and watermelon at the ready. The fridge always stocked full of cooked meats, fluffy cooked rice, boiled eggs, and vegetables.

Damian might not be overjoyed when you venture from the specific meats and hundreds of lavish wet food brands that he's tasked Pennyworth to prepare, he still begrudgingly accepts it as a form of compromise. As long as you’re eating things that fall within his carefully controlled parameters, he can justify allowing it. He’s aware that you need some form of autonomy and independence to survive in the manor, unlike many of his brothers.

He treats you the most reasonably.

02

Dick is definitely one of the people who gets loads of little cat clothes to dress you up in and needs to have you in his little cat bag so he can take you around everywhere.

Who cares about the numerous concerned remarks regarding your drowsy appearance? Dick simply laughs off their concerns. His kitten is just tired, he promises! After all, it’d be quite a hassle to have to explain to every person who stops for a photo that it's nothing more than the effects of the medication he's given you to ensure you remain placidly content and docile during cuddle sessions and neighbourhood walks.

Once Dick starts on your adorable little toe beans, there's no stopping him. He gushes incessantly about the cute contrast of pink and black on your little paws and how they're just perfect for the miniature cat-themed socks that Alfred has patiently taught him to make. He gleefully coos over your small digits, marveling at how perfectly they fit into the little socks. Aren’t you happy your big brother made them for you? Can’t you just purr this once, please? He won’t even get mad if you kick them off or tear them to shreds again!

He’s definitely the type to have an entire wardrobe filled with little outfits for you. A nice red bow tie to get you to look nice and handsome or a warm purple sweater for you to look pretty.

Dick's affection for you remains steadfast, even when you shift to your human form. However, in his mind, you'll always be his precious little kitten, and no amount of whining, hitting, or swearing can convince him otherwise. He's stubbornly determined to shower you with love and care, undeterred by any resistance you may offer. The world’s just too big for you, and he needs to protect you from it. So come sit on his lap and stop whining, the movie’s starting.

03

In stark contrast to Dick, Jason has a clear preference for your feline form, showing little interest in you when you appear as a human. He often ignores you entirely, showering you with love and attention only in your feline body.

It's a double-edged sword, this dynamic with Jason. On the one hand, you've discovered a way to make him leave you alone – simply appear in your human form, and he'll instantly lose interest. He'll glare, shake his head in distaste, and then storm out of the room, grumbling incoherently under his breath as he goes. Unfortunately, when Jason realises your tactic to avoid him, he'll barge into Tim's room unannounced, no matter the time of day or night. Tim, due to his habit of staying up late, will inevitably be awake, and Jason will insist that he make you transform back. Following his forceful tactic of making you transform back, Jason will quickly switch gears and act as though nothing untoward has happened. He'll enfold you in a tight hug and bury his face in your soft fur, nuzzling against you affectionately, completely unbothered by his previous behavior.

Given your penchant for exploring the outdoors, Jason often takes advantage of the darkness of the night to whisk you away. He's aware that you need to experience life beyond the confines of the Wayne estate's gardens, and he prefers to do it when the rest of the family is less likely to notice your absence. Or rather, more occupied with their nightly duties so they’re unable to stop him from taking you.

You’re still under complete lock and key, but at least you get to experience the night air every once in a while.

04

If I had to pick my favourite out of the ones you’ve written I’d go with Tim’s. It’s the one I agree with the most.

Tim likes to keep you sedated. Having you laid out nice and docile on his lap, desk, or of the many cat trees that litter the place, while he works away on the batcomputer.

He’s the most precocious, being particularly meticulous when it comes to your well-being, even the slightest sneeze prompting him to arrange a visit to the vet. Monthly veterinary checkups are non-negotiable, and he ensures that your health is consistently monitored. Saying that, he’ll never take you to a hospital with doctors that specialise in anything other than animals.

A sleek, high-tech collar encircles your neck, constantly transmitting your vital signs in real-time to Tim's phone. Additionally, a microchip planted in your body and trackers strategically installed on various parts of your anatomy ensure that they can monitor your location at all times ensuring that under no circumstances are able to escape.

Tim is the one who suggested and ultimately confirmed your declawing, dismissing your protests and tears as mere tantrums. Despite your pleas and emotional outburst, stating that it would render you disabled — equivalent to cutting off your fingers down to the knuckle — he remains cold and uncompromising. Your objections are disregarded, treating your fears as if you were a pet throwing a tantrum, denying you any agency in the matter. If you didn’t want this to happen, you wouldn’t have scratched them in the first place. It’s easier this way, really. They get to look after you in human form and there’ll be no more scratching up their arms or the furniture.

Initially, Dick supported your side, recognising your profound distress and desperation. However, after a conversation about how you would be completely reliant on him while in your human form, he changed his stance. He stopped giving the issue a moment's consideration, fully accepting Tim’s conclusion.

When it came to the decision, Jason and Bruce were in favor from the beginning. For Jason, it meant his new couch would remain unscathed, and prevented you from clawing at Bruce during business meetings while he held you snugly in his lap.

The sole member of the family fiercely opposed to the idea of declawing you was Damian.

Nevertheless, to Damian's dismay and your own, you'll be made to undergo the declawing against your will anyway. Despite his disagreement, he'll still be there to gently bandage up the raw nubs where your former fingers once were, and he'll lovingly pet away your tears and sobs. You were still his kitten, he’d coo. Just a slightly less fierce one.

05

I’d have to disagree with you here.

Bruce will undoubtedly make time for you, despite any disagreements you may have. You're a top priority in his life, and he'll ensure that you receive the attention and care you deserve.

The eldest Wayne will go to great lengths to accommodate you in his busy schedule. He'll happily reschedule meetings and carve out special time just for you. If there's a vital meeting he can't avoid, he'll bring you along, insisting on having you by his side.

You’re theirs, through and through.

Thanks for the ideas! Any and all asks are encouraged and appreciated.

Previous cat asks: 1 2

Link to Masterlist.

Link to offical chapter

[monimccoythings]

Feral!Logan drabbles

Oooh finally did it. Couldn't resist to write some silly Feral!Logan drabbles. Wanted to use a pic of Hugh in the first movie but this one was too perfect for what I had in mind. I love this little feral hairy man.

Reader is female.

So Reader is a mutant with light based habilities. She can absorb electricity from devices and machines and turn them into blasts of light (kinda like Starlight from the Boys)

Reader's on the run from the American government, they want to harvest her powers and use them as a way of 'defending' themselves from mutantkind. For the last year she has been running. Right now she has crossed the border and is currently in the middle of a blizzard in the Canadian Rockies.

She's tired, hungry, cold and there's no electrical current in miles, so her powers are basically rendered useless. And they keep chasing. She doesn't know how much longer she's going to last.

Reader can barely see and trips on a branch, knocking herself out.

Feral!Logan has been living in the mountains since he escaped from Weapon X, probably in the 80s. Has no memories, no social knowledge, just survival instincts.

Feral!Logan hates when strangers enter his territory and refuse to leave. Those are his hunting grounds, not theirs. He swiftly disposes of the agents and approaches the unconscious Reader.

He feels a weird tingling on his chest when he sees the pretty human female laying on the snow. His fingers slowly caress her soft features. He decides that moment he must have her.

Believing her to be a mate for him, Feral!Logan carries her back to the cave where he lives, placing her carefully on the pile of furs he has collected from his hunts.

When Reader awakes, she finds herself laying in a makeshift bed of animal fur in some random cave instead of a government jail cell. She immediately panics, not knowing where she is.

She tries to leave, but is stopped by a wild looking man covered in dirt. Taller than her and built like a fridge. He's half naked, his only clothing are two dog tags hanging from his neck and some undergarments that leave little to the imagination.

Under all that dirt there was hairy body rippling with muscles more fitting of a bodybuilder than a man who lived by himself in the mountains. Jeez, you could grate cheese on those abs. Reader can't help staring.

Feral!Logan roughly pushes her back against the furs. One single hand is enough to keep her still, which speaks volumes of the kind of strength he possesses.

The rugged man starts sniffing her everywhere, her neck, her collarbone, he kepts getting lower, grunting approvingly. When he's about to reach that part of her anatomy. She grabs his dishelved hair, trying in vain to keep him away. He looks at her, annoyed at having been denied of his prize; but, surprinsingly, obeys.

From then on, Reader's entire life becomes that cave and her mysterious savior/keeper. He provides her with shelter, warmth, water from a nearby stream and food from his hunts. Feral!Logan wants to prove himself as a worthy partner for her, catering to her needs.

Reader didn't spend most of her childhood summers in camps to eat now raw meat, no matter how little Feral!Logan seems to care about it. So she teaches him how to light a fire the old fashioned way, lamenting she can't use her powers so it'd be easier.

And he freaks out.

After a while he gets used to it, he nearly gives you a heart attack when he touched it and his burnt hand healed almost instantly. He rumbled pleasingly when you held his large hands between yours, marvelled at his healing factor.

At night, they sleep together, in the makeshift bed of animal skins. His arm engulfs her waist, pressing her smaller body towards his powerful chest. It's nearly impossible for her to move away.

Like hell he's going to let her go.

[auspicioustidings]

Firewatch 11

Summary: You just want to sleep, but Price needs you to calm down first.

Words: 2.8k

CW: Kidnapping, light bdsm

When Johnny tried to touch you, you only buried yourself into Simon and glowered at him. He looked wounded, pulling his hand back from where it had been poised to stroke your hair. None of them understood why you were reacting like that. You seemed back to yourself, but then it would stand to reason that you would be most scared of Simon. And yet now you were only too happy to be held by him. Only him.

As far as you were concerned it was a survival tactic. If you were always by Simon, none of them could kill you without going through him. And you weren’t really sure anyone could go through him. He seemed happy enough to play protector, thumb rubbing firm circles into your waist and teeth nibbling at the tip of your ear every so often. You suspected he was probably looking at the others when he did it, gloating. Good. 

“You need to eat sweetheart” he purred into your ear.

“Mm, don’t tell me what to do Simon.”

“Bratty even when you’re half dead.”

“Bossy even when I’m being nice.”

He chuckled at that. If he were a better man perhaps he would feel bad that Price, Johnny and Gaz were at the kitchen island looking like grumpy little puppies. As he was not a better man he only shot them a lopsided grin. Why shouldn’t he be happy? You were safe, your temperature was back to normal, you were in his arms and letting his fingers sink into the fat of your waist, letting his teeth lazily graze the skin of your ear. The fear of losing you gave way to how you fit so fucking perfectly against him. He couldn’t help but imagine how else you might fit together, how perfectly warm and wet and tight you’d be around him. Fuck would you let him take you to his bed? He didn't even need to make love to you just yet if you were still stubborn about everything, just hold you, feel your heartbeat and the warmth of your skin proving you were alive. 

“Like you nice, should give it to me more often” he said with his hand testing the waters, squeezing the meat of your thigh dangerously close to your ass. 

“Don't get used to it, can't imagine it'll be a frequent occurrence.”

You felt the squeeze and your body gave a valiant attempt at arousal, but it was like molasses, sticky and slow moving in your exhaustion. You didn't mind it, if anything it was sort of nice. His chuckle betrayed his own exhaustion a little, the raspiness of it pointing to him having had a very stressful day. 

“Then let me enjoy it while it lasts hm? Eat something for me sweetheart.”

Stupid man being stupidly charming. You didn't really feel like eating, you had went past hungry at some point in the cold and now you just wanted to stay cuddled up to someone you were steadfastly believing was safe and go to sleep. He kept jostling you though, a nip to your ear, a squeeze of your thigh or a finger tracing your spine keeping you awake from how it caused little thrills through you. 

“You make it.”

“Hm?”

“I'm not eating whatever they made. You make it. Or give me something that's sealed.”

Well that was an alarming thing to hear you mumble softly against him. The smug happiness of having you favour him was rapidly turning into concern. What exactly did you think they were going to do to you? Did you think they would poison you or were you just refusing to eat anything from them out of pettiness?

“Why?”

“I'll make it myself then” you grumbled, pushing away from him even though every fibre of you hated it.

Oh he did not like that if the growl was anything to go by. Simon stood with little warning, an arm banding under your ass to keep you wrapped around him. You tensed, knowing he was going over to the others and not being sure you really wanted to be near them. Price maybe, he had been kind, he was asleep when Johnny and Kyle had been discussing your murder. Second murder you supposed. But you couldn't really be sure he wasn't in on it. Then again you couldn't be sure Simon wasn't, but you didn't have much choice but to believe him. 

You were placed lightly on the kitchen island and he took a small step back, forcing you out into the open. You had felt a lot less vulnerable wrapped up in him, face buried in his shoulder. Your skin prickled with the gazes you felt on you. 

“I was only gone a few days, what exactly happened in that time that's got you not willing to eat anything they've made?”

“What? That true little bird? You are not starving yourself, you're already in enough trouble for running off like that” Price said, trying to temper himself.

He was off balance with this whole situation. You had seemed on the edge of giving in before he went to sleep (which he now felt incredibly guilty about) and then he wakes up to you gone? And now after letting them rescue you, Simon shows up and you are suddenly only willing to speak to him. You hadn't been refusing to eat before. You had been a brat about it sure, but you hadn't refused. 

You looked at Price, not sure how to untangle your feelings towards him. He could not be in on it, surely not. If he had wanted to kill you he could have smothered you while you were in his bed. Johnny spoke and while you didn't mean to, you flinched. Everybody certainly noticed.

“We dinnae ken what's happening in that bonnie– I… baby what's wrong?”

“Back off Johnny.”

“I didnae dae anything!”

While you were glad Simon was telling him off you wished he'd just let you cling to him again. This wasn't a conversation you wanted to have right now, you just wanted to sleep for 16 hours in a warm bed. You'd probably take a warm body in it if it wasn't someone who had openly spoken about killing you. 

“Everything seemed fine the other night luv, you were getting along.”

You did glance at Kyle, seeing him look alarmed at how you froze up when he spoke the same way you had for Johnny. He was right, you were getting along. It had been almost peaceful, you had been almost calm. Maybe that had been what they had been waiting for. 

“Simon.”

You said his name as a soft plead, hoping you could get out of this conversation. You didn't want to say it out loud. You didn't want to make it real. Because goddamnit you kind of liked them. You liked teasing Johnny when Dosia was horrible to him, you liked watching Kyle cook. It was so stupid of you to fall for it, to find yourself liking them. Please let Price be outside of it, please let him want you alive. Heartbreak twice over was already enough. 

There was a stunned sort of silence at your little plea. It wasn't really like you at all, not the you they had been getting to know. These men knew one another well enough that they could each tell that nobody knew what was going on here. This wasn’t you being angry or scared that they were keeping you here. This was something else, and none of them knew why. Price moved into your eye line and you lowered your gaze stubbornly to the ground, but you didn’t seem the same level of upset as you were with Soap or Gaz. 

His brow furrowed and he crooked a finger under your chin, making you tilt your head up and look at him. He could feel how agitated Simon had gotten at you saying his name like that, but he also knew that he trusted him with you. He trusted he would make this right. So he stayed where he was, leaning against the kitchen counter and crossing his arms to ensure he wouldn’t reach out while Price tried to fix whatever had went so horribly wrong.

“What’s going on?”

“Failed escape attempt, obviously.”

“Try again little bird.”

Oh, he was using that voice again. That one that oozed authority and made you want to push and push and push until he snapped. Only now you didn’t know what that meant. Part of you hoped he would just backhand you, show you his true colours so you could get over whatever this ridiculous feeling was. Another part badly wanted him to take some sort of control, force your racing thoughts to calm. Fuck you were demented.

“You wanted me to stay put, you should have clipped my wings.”

“That what you want?”

Maybe. Maybe you just wanted them to stop fucking toying with you. You were exhausted, fear and misery had drained you and you just wanted to give in, but your already incredibly wounded pride would really rather he made you give in so you could pretend you had fought it.

“Does it matter what I want John?”

He considered you for a while, the world holding its breath in anticipation. You didn’t realise how tense you really were until he moved his hand to the nape of your neck, tugging you off of the counter, fingers and thumb gripping with enough pressure that it loosened you all at once. The others didn’t intervene as he marched you out of the kitchen and into his office, the click of the lock causing a full body shiver. He was behind you and you just let your eyes softly unfocus on the wall as he bent slightly to speak right into your ear.

“I didn’t want to do this right now. You need rest. But you’re too wound up for that aren’t you little bird? Won’t even eat if we can’t get you calmed down.”

His foot slid between yours, pushing gently to get your legs to widen as he pressed on your neck, bending you over the desk. You didn’t have resistance left to give as you settled on your elbows. His hand running down your spine made you sigh. 

“This… it doesn’t change anything” you said softly as tugged on your sweatpants, getting access to the bare swell of your ass.

“Course not. Bet’s still on, and I still intend to win.”

–

Gaz couldn’t sleep. He was half tempted to do what Soap had done and sneak into Ghost’s bed for some form of bloody comfort. He hadn’t seen you since Price had taken you into that office, although they all knew exactly what would have happened in there. He knew you were due punishment for running away like that, but it unsettled him that it had happened so soon. You weren’t right yet, you were still… well he didn’t know. That was the problem. Shock he could understand, but he thought they had warmed you up and got you lucid again. And then you had looked at him like you were scared of him. You had never looked at him like that before, not even when you had been spitting mad and screaming at Soap. 

He trusted Price, he knew that he’d figure out what was wrong, knew that he’d take care of you in whatever way you needed it. But it didn’t help him sleep. He wanted to take care of you. He wanted you to cosy into him like you had done with Ghost. It drove him wild watching how his fingers had sunk into you, how you had let them. Fuck it was so stupid, Kyle’s fingers had been inside you but he was getting jealous of the intimacy of another mans fingers even touching you.

He was driving himself a little crazy going over your last interaction with him, trying to figure out what he had done wrong. You had been fine, you had even laughed when he had made a cutesy little smiley face on your omelette with ketchup. He wasn’t about to pretend that you were happy being kept by them like this, but he was so sure you had been beginning to settle. Him and Soap were going to wait until Simon was back and then make their case to him and Price that they should talk to you about giving you some freedom. They couldn’t let you just run to the police, but what if they built you your own place? Just like your little cottage. They thought they could make you happy with that for the time being, work on it until maybe you’d like to move somewhere far away with them. Then they could take you out on dates without incriminating themselves. They just needed to convince you that you wanted to go on them. And somehow he had fucked it all up. 

The light knock on his door had him out of the bed in record time to answer. He knew how a knock sounded for people, and that was too light to be Ghost or Price (Soap never knocked, fucking git that he was). He should have tried to be more cool and collected but he wrenched open the door and just flustered for a moment at you standing there in pjs. Fuck you were pretty. You looked tired still, but calm, he suspected Price had probably given you what you needed. 

“I… um. Can I come in?”

He nodded rapidly and stood aside to let you wander into his room. You seemed maybe a little nervous, but at least not scared of him. He hated that you had been scared of him. He hated not being able to figure out why.

“Are you-”

“I wanted-”

You both paused and there was a moment of each of you trying to get the other to go first until Kyle sighed and very gently moved you to sit on his bed so he could crouch in front of you, taking both your hands in his.

“Are you ok luv?”

“Tired. John gave me the soup you made, it was nice.”

He had fed you after he had rewired your brain with the absolute leathering he had given your ass. You were pretty sure you had cried during, but it was all a little hazy. It was a stupid thing to do, but you found you trusted him. Hard not to when he had climbed into the bath with you, washed your hair and gently dried and moisturised you after without once trying to take advantage.

You had nearly choked spying on him when you were supposed to be undressing for the bath, watching through the crack in the bathroom door to his room as he leaned his forearm heavily against the wall and quickly jacked himself off. Fuck, you knew he had done it because he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t be getting hard with you naked in his arms and you had to throw cold water on your face to try and pretend you weren’t flushed with the thought that he wanted you that badly but wouldn’t do anything to you even in your vulnerable state. Made it hard not to trust him really. You had been suddenly glad for how utterly exhausted you were because while your body had made an attempt at getting you aroused it had been overpowered by bone tiredness.

Instead you had let him take care of you and pull you into his arms in bed. And you had finally talked. You told him what you had overheard and he told you that without a shadow of a doubt you had misunderstood. He’d even offered to knock their heads together for even accidentally frightening you like that. And you were so thoroughly out of emotions, so run through with the events of the day, that you couldn’t find it in you to not just believe him. He hadn't stopped you when you had mumbled that you wanted to see Kyle, he had just pressed his lips to your hair and let you go. 

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

“I thought you and Johnny were going to kill me. I overheard you in the kitchen,” you answered, no energy for anything but blunt honesty.

Kyle took a moment to figure out what the fuck you were talking about and then groaned and hid his head in your joined hands. 

“Fuck. Oh fuck. I should have thought about how that would sound with you right in the next room, I’m sorry, it wasn’t anything like what you’re thinking, it- well we-”

You squeezed his hands to get him to look at you again.

“S’ok. I’d just like to sleep if that’s ok.”

He wasn’t going to argue with you when you were sat in his bed, when you wanted to share it. So he just smiled and let you crawl under the covers so he could slot in right behind you. 

He fit there. 

[mynameisjag]

Because I gotta.

Give me the feral man, give me the beastie who has probably been avoiding human contact as much as possible except to get drunk off his ass. This man has no idea of his own universe's tech, you think he has a chance understanding the one he has been kidnapped into? No. Bastard stinky man, feral, sad looking fucker…I adore him.

He needs to be more animalistic.

One would think by now, Wade would have experienced and seen what the multiverse had to offer.

Working with people over seeing different timelines did that.

So did being aware of the ‘audience’ and their many eyes.

Still, watching an almost naked knockoff werewolf scuttled across the room on all fours with what appeared to be a bloody carcass of some kind of animal in his mouth while growling like a demented cat, it was surprising.

“Well, chat, can I ask, what is this r rated looney tunes bullshit? Hey, Tasmanian Devil’s estranged cousin, you better be cleaning this up soon! We just got these floors!”

And Logan was already in the bedroom with his catch, probably hunkered down in his hammock and going to town some poor innocent creature’s remains.

“Whatever, I do cocaine, I have no room to judge.”

Sure enough, stepping over the trail of blood and pushing the door open revealed what he already expected to find. The crunch of bones and squelching of raw meat being chewed on, blown out brown eyes were glaring at him and a gutteral snarl giving warning.

“Easy there, boy, just checking up on ya, seems you brought home dinner for yourself tonight, didn’t even get me anything?”

The snarling stopped and the bloody remains were held out to him, the little head tilt would be cute if not for the smear of gore across his concerned face.

Actually it was still cute.

“Awe, thank you! But I’m good…and he’s going back to eating that, well…I’m going to go throw up now and contemplate the merits of becoming a vegetarian…so…how about a time skip for everyone's sake?”

With a time skip activated, cleaned floors appearing and a still half naked Logan chilling on the couch scratching Mary Puppins behind the ears as she chewed on bone with drool going everywhere.

Some of that drool might be Wade’s but who could blame him, but he had to pull himself together and not be distracted by the feast for the eyes and focus on the feast of the flesh that happened in the bedroom and not the fun type.

“Hey, honey, can we take a minute away from the,” he glanced at the show, “huh, didn’t think that was still going…no, focus Wade…right, Logan, my little murder puppy…the fuck did I just witness?”

“Got hungry, went hunting, ate.”

“Right, and the, not that I’m complaining about the view because I should be taking pictures, but why were you half dressed on all fours, should I be concerned?”

“Easier to hunt…comfortable…”

“Alright…”

Okay, let’s give the big guy a moment…

Shrugging before plopping down nearly on top of the man, Wade just grinned at the sharp look sent his way as Dogpool jumped down and carried her prize off somewhere.

It took two episodes in before Logan huffed, voice barely audible over the TV as he finally spoke.

“…people hated me back home…when they hate you…you tend to be unwelcomed in most if not every place…hotels…bars…stores…”, bare hands were flexing, dark fingernails just slightly pointed and severely cracked, “you get used to the surviving…you get used to avoiding those places…”

Wade reached over to grab one of the hands, flipping it over to trace a pattern in the rough palm, “but they don’t hate you here? You can go in and if they try to stop you or have anything to say about it…then they won’t have a choice in the matter after I visit them.”

The smirk he sent to the ex X-man, wasn’t that a strange combination of words, was met with huff.

“…it’s the crowd of people, the smells, the sounds…it brings back the memories…but staying inside is like a slow torture…hunting and losing myself made it easier to cope.”

“Trust me, if anyone knows anything of trying to make yourself disappear using whatever is available for just a moment of not having to think of what kind of shit haunts you…its me…”

“Hmm…”

“So if being the feral little man you are makes you feel better, just little heads up next time, your hammock is still dripping blood on our new floors.”

[pooks]

Ichiji had never thought that he would ever be in a place without any food. He was raised as a prince; he always got whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.

But right now...he was so hungry that he could cry.

---

He stared up at the black skies. Glimmering stars, hundreds of them, twinkled above them. Ichiji was awake. It was strange that he was so tired that he wasn't tired anymore.

It felt like a cosmic punishment. As a crown prince, he never missed a single meal and if he didn't like the food, he sent it back to the kitchens and demanded something else. He was so spoiled and ungrateful...

"Royalty mustn't cook!"

That was what he shouted at Sanji, back at Germa.

And now, he regretted that bitterly.

Ichiji swallowed back his sobs, not willing to show weakness. He couldn't live with himself if that old geezer saw him crying. No, he needed to be strong, for Sanji's sake.

Sanji. His baby brother, so frail and small, was curled against his side. He had become so thin now.

"Brille, brille petite étoile..." He sang softly, barely louder than a whisper. His voice had become hoarse. "Dans la nuit qui se dévoile..."

And Ichiji prayed, as every night, for a ship to come and save them. It was too late for him, but they could save Sanji. As long as he got saved...he could die happily.

He didn't even get to finish the song before he succumbed to the darkness.

---

A lot of things went in a blur for him.

Ichiji knew that he woke on the morning. He collected morning dew, as he did every morning since they got onto this forsaken rock, and gave it to Sanji.

Sanji was weaker than him, from the start. Ichiji had more meat on his bones, more muscle mass and a different metabolism than his little brother. He was able to last longer than him. That was why he had resorted to eat as little as possible, saving more for Sanji to survive on.

It was the 79th day when Ichiji collapsed. His legs couldn't carry him anymore and his mind went blank. He was already out of consciousness before he hit the hard surface.

Ichiji never heard Sanji sobbing his eyes out.

---

"Niisan! Niisan! Wake up! It's not funny! NIISAN!" Sanji screamed, trying to shake him awake.

But there was no use; Ichiji lied still on the ground.

Sanji broke down into hysterical sobs.

"Stop wailing, little brat." The old geezer grumbled at him. "Don't waste more energy."

"WHY DON'T YOU CARE?! MY BIG BROTHER IS DEAD!" Sanji screamed at him.

"He isn't dead, you idiot! Pipe down!"

Sanji watched as the old geezer examined his not-dead brother.

"No, he isn't dead, Eggplant." The old geezer shook his head. "He's ill. Very ill."

Sick? Ichiji was never sick. Not at Germa or at The Orbit. But then again...

Sanki stared down at his older brother. Ichiji didn't look...like he did before they got here. His red hair was no longer vibrantly red, like a lollipop. It had instead gotten darker, but it was still red. But he looked so weak. Just skin and bones, like him, now. He didn't move. His eyes were closed.

Ichiji looked weak and Sanji hated it. Ichiji was supposed to be strong.

"Niisan..." He sniffled. "H-he lied to me. He said he had taken his share before I woke up every morning, but he didn't..." He hiccuped. "H-he collected morning dew everything morning...j-just for me."

Zeff said nothing.

Because the words he had would not comfort the little Eggplant.

'If a ship doesn't come soon...the boy will die. He's already wasting away. He isn't going to last another week like this.'

If a ship didn't came soon...the little Eggplant would be forced to say farewell to his brother.

---

Ichiji has been ill for three days now. His skin is white as snow and his hands are cold, but his forehead is boiling hot.

There is nothing to do than to wait and hope for the best. Even if their chances are smaller now and Ichiji's chance of survival has dropped to extremely slim chances.

Ichiji was slipping in and out of consciousness, barely awake for more than a few minutes and in the little time he was awake, he did two things. He looked at Sanji without saying anything and gave a weak smile...and one time, he said something to the old geezer that made Sanji nearly break down in hysteria.

"If I die before a ship comes...eat me."

It was such a horrible thing to say. Sanji screamed, cursed and protested at his brothers' chilling words.

But Zeff understood his character more as time passed on. Ichiji wanted his brother to survive, no matter what happened to him. He had slowly wasted away for him, collected dew and given it to the Eggplant every morning and now, he quietly accepted his death.

On the fourth day since Ichiji fell ill, 84 days on this damned rock, Sanji panicked when he woke up and there were no Ichiji lying by his side. He was on the verge of crying, thinking that maybe he had wasted away into nothingness or fallen down to the seas...until he found the old geezer holding his brother in his arms.

Wrapped in the old pirate's coat, Ichiji looked so small and weak.

It took Sanji a long while to come and sit next to the old geezer (as his stamina has dwindled into nearly nothing).

"...y'think...i'll see Mama once I'm gone?" Ichiji whispered.

"...don't be stupid, brat. You won't see her until you're old and grey." Zeff gruffly told him.

Ichiji blinked a little, it took him a long while to process his words. "...it's a nice thought. But no."

---

A god damned guardian angel must've looked after the two children, in Zeff's opinion, because a ship came on the 85th day. Five days into Ichiji's illness and he was barely holding onto a thread by now.

They were spared from death.

It took some time before they all miraculously recovered. After two long months of careful diet restoration and their progress being strictly monitored, Sanji recovered first while Zeff also recovered. But Ichiji took the longest to recover as he was in a critical condition, due to his illness.

The doctors in charge had told them that Ichiji had been so close to death that the grim reaper had probably collected him after one more day on that rock.

A damn angel must've watched those two brats, Zeff concluded.

It took Ichiji four months to fully recover and Sanji, bless that little eggplant's heart, couldn't stop wailing once he was reunited with his brother.

Zeff ended up adopting an eggplant and a tomato as his own sons.

[hayanwulf]

IronStrange: (angst/drama)

One of them falls unconscious in the other's arms. The one who catches them is panicking at first.

I don’t know how I ended up in this angle, but I enjoyed it.. hopefully you do, too.

“Stephen,” Tony called out, worry lining his tone, as he watched the Wizard sway on his feet. “You sure you’re alright?”

“I said I’m fine,” Stephen snapped, motioning a hand at his very blood-bathed robes. “Most of this isn’t mine.”

Tony glanced once at the pile of man-eating werewolves they had just taken down, all looking various degrees of dismembered. None of them breathed anymore, though.

Tony had made sure of that.

He regarded Stephen with skepticism. The Wizard decidedly had terrible survival instincts, perhaps even more than Tony himself. He had seen the few moments when the sorcerer had come damn close to becoming wolf snack, had genuinely feared for his life when some had tried to chomp off his limbs. The sorcerer must’ve been able to protect himself against the bites, somehow, since clearly, his limbs were all still attached where they belonged.

A werewolf’s bite-force was vicious. Deadly, for a normal human.

“Another waste of a trip,” Stephen growled, pacing around. “There isn’t any vampire base here.”

Tony frowned a little at the sorcerer’s restless movements, shaking his head in disagreement. “Not a complete waste. We still got these guys.” He waved a hand at the dead werewolves scattered around them.

Truth be told, their success rates of the undead hunts had vastly improved ever since the Avengers allied with Stephen and his super secret hunter group, even though there was still very little they knew about the said group. All Tony knew was that they were magic, were located in many places across the world, and were scarily efficient at their job. Surprising was the fact that they had never been heard of before.

Then again, Tony couldn’t fault them for staying in hiding. With the exponential growth of supernatural activity since the late 20th century, one could no longer tell friend from foe.

Once they had met, though, Tony had convinced (read: pestered) the sorcerer to agree to form a working alliance of sorts.

This one was meant to be a duo scouting mission for a suspected very major vampire base here in Germany, but had turned into an impromptu battle when they ran into the pack of hungry werewolves.

“Obviously,” Stephen drawled with a hiss in his voice, in response to Tony’s previous statement. “This is Central Europe, of course there are werewolves. What did you expect?”

Tony watched for a moment as Stephen flexed and unflexed his fingers while pacing. The Doc was being extra irritable today, for some reason that Tony couldn’t decipher.

Just as he was about to open his mouth, Stephen suddenly stopped his frantic movements, swaying dangerously close to collapsing. Tony immediately jumped forward to help, but Stephen abruptly turned away from him, balancing himself and putting distance between them again.

Tony’s heart tightened with a sudden sting.

They’d known each other for nine months, been working together in a close partnership for six, and yet the other man always kept Tony at arm’s length.

“Let’s go back,” Stephen said, his voice sounding a little.. off. Okay. So now they were going to forget all about the heap of dead wolf meat they needed to take care of first. Alright.

Still facing away from Tony, he began to draw a portal.

All that formed in the air was a few golden sparks that died in sync with the way Stephen swayed.

“Hey, Doc..” Tony took careful steps towards his companion, who tried to draw a portal again. “How about we sit down, take a breather—”

Stephen tilted sideways, and Tony didn’t hesitate to rush and catch him, careful enough to not hurt the man with his armor. Stephen was instantly limp in his hold, eyes closed. Tony’s heart stopped for a second and he mentally berated himself for not doing something sooner.

“Stephen?” He called, gently lowering the man to the ground, the Cloak assisting him. “Stephen?” A gentle tap to his face.

No response.

“FRIDAY?” He asked his AI over the loud thudding in his chest.

It took her a moment to respond. “No heartbeat detected, Boss.”

Tony’s heart plummeted like a rock. “No—what do you mean—” He retracted the nanites of one hand and reached for Stephen’s neck. Touched here and there and everywhere, but all that his fingers found was cold skin.

No, no, no, Stephen was standing just a second ago, dammit! How could this happen!?

“Give me more than that, FRI!” Tony practically yelled as he retracted nanites from his other hand too, frantically checking Stephen for something, anything.

“It seems he hid his injuries with magic, Boss. He has severe bite injuries that need medical attention.”

Tony cursed, trying to work himself out of his own mind-numbing panic to instead help Stephen. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it didn’t compute that blood-loss should stop the heart so abruptly.

In his panicked haze, he almost, almost missed the glaring detail in Stephen’s eyes while checking his pupils.

Red.

Gone was the otherworldly gleam of blue. Stephen’s eyes were red. Red like..

Stephen was a vampire.

Tony’s breath hitched as his heart flipped, and he physically recoiled away from Stephen, standing up.

Stephen was a vampire. He was.. he was just another lie.

Tony felt betrayed. Used.

He didn’t understand.. was this all just so he could crawl into Tony’s inner circle of trusted people?

And, god, Tony had fallen right into his trap. He had trusted Stephen. Had trusted him as a friend and a colleague; had trusted him to watch his back on every single mission they’d done together. Tony had allowed himself to be vulnerable around the man in so many occasions and— Tony shuddered at that thought. How many times had he been completely unguarded and exposed around Stephen? How many times could Stephen have had a chance to do whatever he wished to Tony, all the while the latter would have been none the wiser to the incoming assault?

“Boss,” FRIDAY’s concerned voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “He’s losing too much blood...”

Tony swallowed as he looked down at the man he considered a friend. His hands were shaky as he brought them up to wipe at his face.

“What happened here will not reach the Avengers,” Tony said with a finality in his tone, even though it came out more shaky rather than commanding.

“Yes, Boss,” FRIDAY replied without skipping a beat.

Tony knelt down, let the nanites form over his hands again, and looped his arms around Stephen’s body to carefully lift him up. The Cloak — bless them — helped him properly position Stephen without moving him too much. “Get us to the bunker, ASAP,” Tony spoke as his helmet formed around his head, and they took off into the star-lit sky.

The Avengers had secret facilities across many parts of the world, thankfully, since their undead hunts led them to foreign soils more often than not. One such facility was in Leipzig, Germany.

The flight didn’t even take five minutes due to how close they were to it.

Tony put Stephen down on a medical bed as gently as he could manage. He couldn’t involve anyone else for this. He couldn’t, because Stephen was a vampire, and vampires were the most narcissistic, heartless monsters that didn’t think twice before taking an innocent life—

Tony stopped that train of thought to focus on the matter at hand.

He was no doctor, but between his medical nanotech and FRIDAY, he was sure they would manage it.

He tore off Stephen’s robes with no finesse whatsoever, and sucked a sharp breath at the sight that was revealed.

Large, deep jaw marks bled furiously, painting a large part of his body a sickening red that made Tony’s stomach churn nauseatingly.

Trying his best to ignore the heavy pounding in his chest and the odd, dizzying feeling the entire sight caused him, he got to work with FRIDAY’s help.

He sealed all the wounds with nanites first, and then began cleaning. There was no beeping of a heart monitor as he worked.

The eerie silence might have killed him, if it weren’t for FRIDAY’s interruptions.

The more he worked through Stephen’s wounds, the more his chest tightened painfully, the more his hands shook. He wasn’t sure of the cause anymore. It was all just too much.

If FRIDAY noticed him looking more at the graph of Stephen’s brain activity rather than Stephen’s body, she said nothing.

It was his only way to know that Stephen wasn’t ‘dead’.

After what felt like forever, Tony was finally done patching up all of Stephen’s wounds to the best of his ability. Aimless and unsure after that, he just sat on a chair beside the passed out sorcerer, staring blankly at the brain activity graphs.

“What can we do about blood, FRI?” He asked.

“Obtaining us blood from Germany’s banks is difficult, Boss. And it will take a minimum of 6 hours to transport blood here from the states. I took the liberty to attempt to get in contact with Master Wong, but he hasn’t responded yet.”

Tony exhaled an airy sigh, settling his elbows on top of knees, and then propped his chin over his hands, eyes settling on the Wizard.

Stephen had lost blood. A lot of blood. It made Tony rewind his mind back to the fight, trying to figure out how he’d missed it so badly.

The attack had been unexpected. But that didn’t mean they hadn’t been prepared. In their line of work, one always needed to be prepared. Still, they couldn’t have possibly known that an entire pack of werewolves would come out of ass-nowhere just to ambush the two of them.

Planned ambush, a part of his mind said.

Stephen, as always, had been extremely staunch about keeping Tony away from the attacks, nevermind the fact that between the two of them, Tony was the one wearing any armor at all. There had been several instances when Stephen had stepped in to take a bite in Tony’s place. Tony had been alarmed, but had quickly brushed it off since Stephen had looked completely fine two seconds later, like he’d never been chomped.

Tony understood why now; it wasn’t because of the magic somehow protecting him. He simply had higher strength and endurance owing to his status as a vampire. But that wasn’t the only reason why Tony had so easily brushed off.

Stephen had never, even for a split second, allowed pain to show in his face.

That, more than anything, had led Tony to assume that Stephen was fine.

Tony cursed himself now, for being such an idiot.

Though, this brought up another train of thought. Since Stephen had bled so much, it was only natural that his bloodlust would go up exponentially, spurring his vampire instincts to light, making him go out seeking the scent of blood, to feed on blood.

Tony had seen several vampires before, in their crazy haze of extreme bloodlust. When they were injured was when they were the deadliest, because it was when their bloodlust reached its peak. They always looked like off-leash, rabid creatures, attacking anything and anyone closest to them that smelled of human blood, driven by nothing but pure, raw, unfiltered instincts.

Stephen had to have a bloodlust too. He had to have it dialed up to eleven when this badly injured. And Tony had been practically a walking blood-bag for him, ripe for the taking and completely oblivious.

Yet, all he did in the name of ‘attacking’ Tony was a growl and a near-hiss while he himself tried to escape, before promptly passing out in Tony’s arms.

Tony covered his face in his hands, letting out a shuddering breath. Guilt and shame pierced straight through his heart.

How could he even think that Stephen was deceiving him?

It was.. it was just as he had thought before, but had somehow failed to truly understand his own reasoning. How many times had he been vulnerable around Stephen? More than he could even think of keeping track of.

And Stephen had never, ever harmed him.

He had always respected Tony’s boundaries — nevermind that Tony had always been the one trying to push Stephen’s boundaries — had never made him feel unsafe, even though Tony couldn’t have possibly suspected Stephen of being a vampire.

He’d never broken Tony’s trust before, except for with this one thing.

Which, now that he really thought about it, what was Stephen even supposed to do? Tell a hunter that he was friends with a vampire?

Tony huffed, letting his arms slide off his knees as he looked at the floor for a second, before returning his gaze back to the unconscious man.

Stephen had.. he’d actively prioritized Tony’s safety. Always. The latest proof was right in front of his eyes, dangerously pale skin covered in bandages and medical nanites.

The guilt in his stomach swirled stronger than acid.

He shouldn’t have ever had such thoughts about Stephen.

It.. it didn’t matter that Stephen was a vampire. He was still Stephen. He was still the same snarky arrogant asshole who liked to argue with Tony about why Pink Floyd was better than AC/DC. He was still that cold, shut-off man who had allowed Tony the privilege of seeing his rare genuine smiles. He was still the man who effortlessly made Tony lower all his guards, made him relax into a comfortable state where everything and everyone from the outside world stopped mattering.

He was still the same man who made Tony’s heart flutter with this sweet, addicting feeling he didn’t want to name.

He was still his Stephen.

And the fact that he was a vampire couldn’t suddenly change all of that. It shouldn’t.

A little hesitantly, Tony reached out with a hand, scooping up one of Stephen’s scarred hands in his palm. The lean fingers were eerily still and unshaking, with its owner passed out like this. Tony slowly traced his fingers over the marks highlighting the soft skin, his caress light as a butterfly kiss, as though any harder touch would harm the man.

These delicate hands had cared for Tony’s wounds countless times. Never once had they held any intent other than to heal.

No, it wouldn’t, Tony decided. He wouldn’t let the fact that Stephen was a vampire change anything between them.

He swallowed, glancing once at the brain activity monitor to reassure himself that Stephen was fine.

He wasn’t really.

He’d lost a lot of blood, and it wasn’t like the blood banks provided you with vampire blood on the ready for undead-saving transfusions. The other alternatives all included somehow procuring human blood and hoping Stephen woke up long enough to consume it.

Damn it, Stephen.

[general-cyno]

I watched film gold the other day and it's been making me think about luffy's relationship with food wrt zoro and how it's been presented in different OP media.

Aside from the importance the riceball incident holds for the animanga and OPLA, luffy's specific reaction to zoro's injuries after the mihawk duel in the latter is so good. although the LA won't touch luffy's full backstory for a while, it's obvious he loves food in both the usual goofy manner and as something he associates with kindness or a lack thereof. it's why zoro eating the riceballs and sanji feeding gin is important in both iterations of the story. and not only that, OPLA also directly links luffy's appetite to his mood/feelings - when kid!luffy gets sad about shanks's upcoming no-return departure, makino goes out of her way to point out something's really wrong after luffy says he's not hungry. as it is, OPLA used this character trait of luffy's again to highlight how affected he is by seeing zoro (who, at that point, luffy hadn't considered could lose) truly hurt for the first time.

From I'm not really hungry right now, Nami amidst his rising panic, refusing sanji's food, admitting he'd eat his arms and legs to save zoro's life (in the context of what happened to zeff and sanji) and my gut hasn't been so great lately, the message is clear: luffy is not only worried about zoro's wellbeing, he's also very, very upset and willing to go crazy lengths if it means saving zoro. plus, if you watch the LA knowing about sabo and ace, imo it emphasizes further why seeing zoro in such a state makes luffy feel/act the way he does and how much he cares for zoro to react like that to begin with. I love it. I also love that though he rejects the food for himself, luffy admits while rambling that he wants zoro to eat and asks sanji to prepare food he believes zoro would like, even if he quickly concludes letting him rest is probably the best option instead.

That last part brings me to thriller bark, in the manga. It's not food per se and it's portrayed less seriously, but he still tries to have zoro - unconscious and wounded after You Know What - drink an entire barrel of booze because luffy knows how much he loves it (as much as luffy loves meat) and believes it will make zoro wake up/feel better. comedic as it may be intended to be, it's also kinda sweet. luffy's shown more than a few times to recuperate ridiculously fast and in an equally ridiculous manner from injuries by eating meat, so this is luffy's own way to show how much he cares and that he wants zoro to be well again imo.

This also brings me to the start of thriller bark itself! luffy's offered to share his food before (with nami, for example), yet ig what stood out to me during this part is how he just... offers to share his lunch with zoro simply because luffy wants him to come along. luffy rarely makes that sort of offer for specifically mundane reasons, so. squints.

(the fact that zoro fell right for it is so. lmao.)

And as for film gold - albeit not canon as most of the OP movies are, it's still interesting. for once, it's zoro who ends up in need of rescue. after the whole ordeal with tesoro capturing zoro and pushing the straw hats to try and buy his freedom before the public execution, luffy seeks out food.

And when usopp remarks zoro is more important than that? luffy immediately agrees, but insists that's precisely why he needs to eat.

This is a fun contrast to OPLA luffy though I'd say not necessarily a contradicting one. whereas there's little OPLA luffy can do wrt zoro's injuries, film gold luffy can't afford not to eat because here he needs to be at peak strength to rescue him. I like that the movie showed luffy's frustration too,

and how far he'd go to save him: jumping into a duct that's filled with "vicious golden bats" no one's survived from and launching himself straight against a moving, giant sea prism stone ventilation fan (all related to rescue plan) that franky has to bodily drag him away from before he gets more seriously wounded.

(Quite a reminder luffy's pretty crazy about zoro too!)

All in all, food is a very important aspect of luffy's character whether it's for a comedic or serious effect. though it's made more relevant in the WCI arc, I still love how it's something you can see portrayed in his relationship with zoro throughout OP too, be it in the animanga, the LA or in movies as well.

[brandyllyn]

Silk from their soul (21)

The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!reader [no use of y/n]

Rated: T Words: 2k Summary: Walking after midnight

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

The three men are Travis, Javier, and Bossman. You knew that wasn’t his actual name but so far no one had called him anything different. He was the one that the Cowboyhad seemed to know. The youngest, Travis, was guarding you and you made a point of being overly solicitous. Giving him wide smiles and thanking him when he helped you tend to business.

The Cowboy hated it.

Every time you batted your eyelashes at the boy, or touched him on the arm, you could see a vein start to throb on the Cowboy’s forehead. It gave you the tiniest bit of satisfaction to see it. 

They were letting him walk free, for the moment, but you caught the glances Javier and Bossman kept throwing him. It had been a split second decision, saving his life. Or maybe you had just been saving yours. Could you both have survived a shootout? Maybe. But you weren’t ready to risk that just yet.

You wait til Travis is next to you and purposefully trip, grabbing for his arm as you fall in slow motion. The boy is there immediately and you let your fingers rub across the inside of his wrist as you part your lips and gasp up at him.

“Oh my, thank you so much.”

The Cowboy snorts. You ignore it.

Travis is staring at you like he’s never seen a woman before. Good, you can work with that.

“I’m so sorry, my feet are really hurting. Is there any way we could stop for a bit? Let me rest?” You twist as you ask the question, turning his hand so the back of it brushes across your breast.

Was that a growl?

“Yeah, yeah we can do that,” Travis tells you with a blank gaze. You should probably feel bad about what you’re doing but it wasn’t your fault the kid had a weak mind. He yells at the other two that you’re taking a break and after some brief bickering between the men you lower yourself next to a rusted out car and primly fold your feet under you.

“If don’t suppose you gentleman brought any food?” you ask, purposefully hiding the slightly hopeful lilt to your voice. 

“Beans,” Javier grunts, pulling a dented can from his pack. “Ain’t nothing fancy.”

“Oh!” You brighten and sit up straighter, purposefully pushing your breasts towards him. “He has my pack with my spices in it - I’m sure I could make us all something lovely.”

“What kind of spices?” Bossman asks skeptically and you hide your grin.

There were two ways to a man’s heart…

They have to cut your wrists free so you can cook and you make a point of laying a thankful hand on Javier’s arm as he does so. He blinks at you a moment before turning away and you hum a tune as you start a small fire and hang a pot over it.

“Never cooked a damn thing for me,” the Cowboy grunts from nearby.

“Maybe I don’t like you as much,” you tell him brightly, winking at Bossman. He seems startled but grins at you in return.

Yeah, someone is definitely growling. You have a pretty good idea who.

You keep them all engaged in idle chatter as you add a variety of things to the beans, including some meat from the Cowboy’s pack. His lips twitch as you do so and you try not to think too hard about what it might be.

What they don’t know won’t hurt them.

When you finish you have a passable recreation of a comfort dish from long before the great war and you offer heaping spoonfuls to the men.

“Strong men like you need a good portion,” you tell Javier, adding an extra scoop.

“I’d hate to see you go hungry,” you tell Bossman, letting your lips part and trying to look concerned.

“Bullshit.”

The word is barely audible and you give the Cowboy a quick glare before turning your attention to Travis. “Is there anything else I can do?”

You were, in short, the perfect hostess. Part and parcel of being the perfect wife. The perfect partner. The perfect everything.

The pheromones you’re giving off in droves probably help too. 

It takes a little concentration to do it, to turn on the charm that makes people’s jaws go slack and eyes cross. You have to focus on being soft, giving, keep your emotions in check. 

The Cowboy is not helping.

“You gonna serve me up a bit of that slop?”

Your smile becomes strained and you blink at him for a moment before replying. “Sure! Got a bowl?”

He holds out a beaten up cup and you give him about half what you’d given everyone else. His forehead moves, raising a non-existent eyebrow, and your lips press together as you dare him to say something.

“Thank you kindly.”

You don’t hit him with the spoon. That would give the game away.

Instead you take your meal and settle down between Bossman and Javier, close enough your knees touch theirs. The Cowboy watches you thoughtfully and you do your best to ignore him.

“I didn’t realize how hard it would be to be out here on my own,” you say after a few minutes pass. “Everything is so dangerous.”

Travis nods at you, eyes wide, while Bossman scoffs. “Takes someone hard as nails to survive out here.”

The Cowboy snorts and you quickly cough to cover it up. “I just thought I’d see the world a little bit, you know? But I think… I mean, I’m really grateful you all found me.”

“We’re here to help,” Javier says with about half as much sarcasm as you might have expected.

“Ain’t we just,” the Cowboy chimes in and you meet his eyes. 

Shut the fuck up, you try to tell him with your mind.

What the fuck are you doing? He seems to beam back.

With an overly dramatic yawn you stretch your arms out, taking a deep inhale and purposefully not noticing how the assembled company stare at your chest. “I suppose we should continue on? I’m so tired…”

The men exchange a glance while the Cowboy continues to give you an incredulous look. Bossman is who speaks up.

“Reckon we can spend the night here as good as any, sun’s about to set soon anyway.”

“Oh really?” You reach over and put a hand on his knee, concentrating all your energy on him. “That would be lovely.”

He looks a bit starstruck and you pull your pack close to you, futzing with it a moment before laying down and using it as a pillow. You keep up your internal monologue - soft, gentle, caring - while you fake falling asleep.

After a few moments you hear the Cowboy cough, and then the sound of his inhaler.

“You got enough of that shit, ghoul?”

“I won’t be eating any of you fellas in the night if that’s what you’re asking.”

A silence and then, “Well, I’d feel safer if you were tied up.”

“I bet you would.”

There’s a slight scuffle of feet, not a fight, just two people trying to move quickly, and you peek out to see two of them tying the Cowboy to an old phone pole.

“Ain’t nothing personal,” Bossman tells him and the Cowboy shrugs.

“I’ll try not to take it that way.”

You pretend to sleep on, not a single restraint on you.

It takes four hours before you’re ready to implement phase two of your plan. It’s well past dark and the snores next to you are loud enough to wake the dead. If you’re right, Travis is on watch.

He doesn’t have a chance.

You stretch with your back to him, rubbing at your eyes and feigning sleepiness. When you spot him you give a ‘surprised’ smile and move his direction with your pack. Setting it nearby you use it as a rest as you sit down.

“Got the short straw, huh?”

Travis nods, eyes focused on the fire and not the mile of thigh you may or may not be showing him. He seems like a good kid - awful line of work but a good kid. From the corner of your eye you note the Cowboy is watching you both, although he’s mercifully silent.

“Your back must be killing you,” you tell him softly. When he doesn’t reply you reach over and gently massage the back of his neck. “Oh wow, you’re so tense.”

“Gotta stay awake,” he finally mumbles and you tsk softly, moving behind him.

“Let me help with this, I’ll feel safer knowing you’re not in any pain.”

It doesn’t take a moment to find the artery you’re looking for, and Travis is in such a daze he doesn’t notice you’ve cut off the blood flow to his brain until it’s too late to fight back. You lay him down with careful hands, being sure not to let anything make noise as you do. You finish him with a shot of tranq.

“Nice work.”

Your eyes fly to the Cowboy and he’s giving you an approving smile. A quick check shows that the other two are still sleeping and you stand with your bag, debating what you might want to take.

“Take the kid’s gun,” he says quietly, “you’ll need it.”

Dammit he’s right.

You take the rifle and what ammunition you can find and turn to go before you hesitate. You glance back at the Cowboy and he quickly shakes his head.

“Don’t waste time on me, darlin’. Get yourself out of Dodge.”

With a nod you leave Cooper there, setting off into the darkness. You hadn’t killed the kid, although you probably should have, and the tranq was barely a few drops. Just what was left after Cooper had tranqed you. But it should buy you a half hour, maybe more.

It buys you a mile, give or take.

Sounds carries in the desert so when the men start shouting you can hear it echoing. A glance back at the fire shows shadows occasionally blocking it and you quicken your pace. As long as Cooper doesn’t give up your direction you should be fine til morning.

Were you terrible for leaving him behind?

You pause, staring off at the dark shape of the mountains. You didn’t owe him a damn thing, absolutely not. But also… you weren’t the kind of person to just leave people like that either.

Aren’t you? a tiny voice in your head mocks.

Visions of faces just like yours, racks of people waiting to be sold to the highest bidder. They were still there, at the facility. If you made it away Galen would just sell the next girl on the list. And the next. You were pretty sure he’d been alive since the bombs fell - who knew how long he could keep this all going.

Did you owe it to the women just like you to stop it?

Could you live with yourself if you didn’t?

With a heavy sigh you find a nearby rock and pull your feet up, waiting for the search party. It takes them a while, probably another two hours while you grow even firmer in your resolve. It’s Javier who eventually ‘sneaks’ up on you. Whacking you across the back of your head so hard you slam face first into the rock below.

Twice in two days, probably not good for you.

You come up with a curse, spitting out blood and tonguing at a tooth that feels loose. Hands immediately pull you to your feet, tying your wrists together behind your back and shoving you back towards the fire.

“Bitch,” he grunts and you try to get your wits back around you. What would you do if you were still running? How would you act?

“Please let me go,” you plead softly. “I’ll do anything.”

You stumble next to Javier as he drags you back towards the fire, hitting the dirt more than once with nothing to break your fall. He jerks you to your feet each time, muttering things to himself until you’re moving again.

“You telling me you didn’t see a damn thing?”

“I was sleeping, same as you,” Cooper’s voice drawls as you re-enter the firelight. He glances up at you and his jaw hardens. You know you must look a mess, you can taste blood and you’ve fallen face first to the ground more than once.

“There you are,” Bossman grunts, coming to stand in front of you. “Bet you thought you had us.”

Travis is nursing a black eye which you feel a little bad about. But you don’t say anything as they untie Cooper - who rubs at his wrists and gives them an assessing look - and then use those same ropes to truss you up. As they move away he takes a step closer, barely speaking above a whisper.

“How far d’you get?”

“Too far… not far enough.”

He grunts. “Lost the element of surprise now.”

“It’s fine,” you sigh, “I don’t need it.”

He turns to you with a fully quizzical look before someone’s voice calls out and he goes to sit nearer to the fire. But he watches you the rest of the night, eyes burning with unasked questions.

☢ ☢ ☢

For updates follow and turn on notifications for @brandyllyn-writes

[writeforfandoms]

Island 3

Find the series masterlist

You do your level best to make sure these four can survive the Island, if anything were to happen to you. Things don't always work out as planned.

Warnings: Violence, dinos, most everything is trying to kill people, dinos are hungry and people look tasty I guess, swearing, injury.

Word count: 2.1k

The next days passed quietly. No drops in sight. No attacks. 

Just teaching. 

You took the group of them out to gather berries and plant fibers. You showed them how to weave baskets to the best of your ability - you were far from an expert, after all. 

You took them hunting again, a skill they already had mastered. But you made sure they all practiced getting cuts of meat. 

You made them all help you with cooking, too. Cooking was an essential skill, one they would need. 

Just in case. 

You weren't surprised when Price brought up taming again. 

“Taming.” He stood in front of you, arms crossed, head tipped to look down at you. 

You huffed in soft amusement. “It is week two,” you agreed. “Alright. I assume you want the hands on version.” 

That got you interested looks, Soap and Gaz lifting their heads and looking at you with blatant curiosity. 

“Right, okay.” You couldn't help but smile, amused. “Grab your weapons, I'll get Bessie.” 

It didn't take long before the group of you were headed down towards the beach. The hyaenadon had insisted on coming, and trotted happily between you and Gaz. 

“Think we could find another one like her?” Gaz motioned down at the hyaenadon. 

You shrugged. “They're around, though not so far down as the beach,” you mused. “But they're hard to start taming, you have to sneak up on them.” 

“Probably don't have ghillie laying about,” Gaz guessed with a little grin. 

“Funny you should mention that, actually.” Your lips twisted in a complicated mix of emotions. 

“What, really?” Gaz turned wide eyes on you. 

You shrugged, fingers twitching restlessly at your sides. “I have a set that more or less fits me, and two more sets. Plus some bits and pieces. It's one of the things that can be found in the drops.” 

Gaz nodded slowly. “I'd like to see that, and what else you have,” he said. “Later.” 

“Later,” you agreed, pausing at the tree line just at the edge of the shore. “Right. Who's volunteering to try this?” 

There was a moment of silence as the men all looked at you, clearly unwilling to volunteer to be the first. Until Price huffed and stepped forward. 

You nodded. “Right, good. Pick a dino. Anything you can see around here will be an easy tame.” 

Price turned a slow circle, taking in the beach, the various creatures walking around, and the sight of his men all huddled together like school children. He huffed. “What are the advantages to each?” 

You couldn't help your little smile at that. “Don't bother with dodos, they're not good for much but food. Trikes are good defenders and they can carry a lot of weight. Parasaurs can carry a fair bit too, and they're good watch towers.” You shaded your eyes to look around again, to see what else was around. “Let's see… that looks like an iguanodon, never had one before. If we can find one, gallimimus are pretty fast runners.” You shrugged, looking back to Price. 

His brow furrowed as he looked out at the iguanodon. This one was mostly green, with darker green stripes along its back and a lighter belly. Not a bad choice for a first tame. 

“That one, then.” Price looked back to you, shoulders straight and even. 

“Right.” You stood straight and looked at the other three. “I'm leaving you lot here with Bessie and the hyaenadon. Too much activity will spook the iguanodon. So I expect you lot to stay here and keep your eyes open. Yes?”

“Yes ma'am,” Gaz agreed easily, while Soap murmured an “Aye”. Ghost said nothing, but his chin dipped towards you, just enough acknowledgement that you took it as agreement. 

You grabbed the bag of berries from Bessie's saddle and handed it to Price, whistling for the two tames to stay put. The hyaenadon whined but sat next to Gaz. 

The walk towards the iguanodon was quiet, Price keeping pace with you. He stopped when you did, crouching next to you in the long grass. 

“Here, take these.” You handed him a bag of berries. “Start rolling berries towards it. You want to entice it closer until you can hand feed it.” 

Price gave you a bit of a side-eyed look but did as you instructed. The iguanodon slowly lumbered towards the two of you, eating berries along the way. You smiled, just a little.  So far, so good. 

The iguanodon stretched out its neck slowly, cautiously, until it could take a berry from Price’s hand. It was a little less shy the next time, until it didn't hesitate at all taking the berries from him. 

The look on his face was priceless, a bit shocked and a bit awed. 

The iguanodon lifted its head and lumbered away, not fast like it had been alarmed. Just like it was done eating. 

“Good,” you murmured, watching it go. “How do you feel?” 

He wiped his hand off on the grass, shrugging after a moment. “That was… interesting.” 

You laughed quietly. “Yeah, I remember. Okay. Think about it. How many more times do you think you need to feed the iguanodon?”

“Once.” He blinked after he spoke, like he hadn't quite meant to say that. 

You nodded knowingly. “See what I meant?”

He huffed, but his lips twitched in amusement. “I do see,” he agreed. “So, what now?” 

“Now we head back. Or, I suppose we could do a bit of hunting while we're out.” You stood up and stretched, working out some of the ache that had settled in your muscles while you waited. 

He stood with a little grunt, nodding for you to lead the way. 

“So? How'd it go?” Soap asked as soon as you two were close enough, clearly intensely curious. 

Leaving that one to Price, you simply rolled your eyes and tucked the bag of berries away again for now. Right. How best to divide the group of you…

“Gaz, you and I are going to gather berries. You three can hunt.” 

Gaz didn't even protest, just nodded once to you. 

By now, you trusted those three enough to not get themselves hurt while hunting, so you just whistled to the two tames and started looking for berry bushes. Gaz kept pace with you easily, glancing over at you every so often. 

“Think I could tame a hyaenadon?”

You snorted. “Sure,” you agreed with an easy shrug. “If you really want to, we'll figure it out.”

He grinned. “I'd like that.” 

You chuckled. “She is sweet,” you agreed, looking down at her. “We'll see if we can find you one to tame in a decent area.” 

“Thanks.” Gaz grabbed an empty bag and started picking berries. You stopped at the next bush down, focusing on not getting pricked. A soft curse from Gaz made you chuckle. 

“Thorns?” You asked, deceptively mild. 

“It was hiding,” he grouched, making you smile. 

Companionable silence fell between you as you focused on picking berries, moving around each other easily. 

“Think you'll make more of those biscuits?” Gaz couldn't quite keep the hopeful note from his voice. 

You laughed softly, shaking your head in amusement. “That fond of them, huh? Yeah, I'll make more. Although we'll need to find a supply drop soon, I'm getting low on some things.” 

“We'll find another one soon, I bet.” Gaz tied off his bag and went to get another, wandering off to find a different type of berry. You just watched him go, a little ache in your chest. 

They'd all learned fast, had taken to living here more easily than anyone else you'd seen. It was incredible, and heartening. 

Even if something happened to you, they'd be fine. 

The rest of berry gathering went quickly and quietly, and the two of you went back to see what progress the others had made with meat. 

Between you and Price, it didn't take long to get things packed up on Bessie. (Soap still eyed the dino with mistrust, but he was coming around.) Soap and Ghost took the lead, Soap chatting as they walked. Price walked next to Bessie, keeping an eye on the rear, leaving you and Gaz walking together in the middle of the group. 

Everything was fine. You didn't see any movement around you, didn't hear anything unusual. 

Soap shouted ahead of you, and a gun boomed through the relative quiet. You took off, swearing when you spotted the long body on the ground. 

“Fuck,” you hissed, skidding to a halt at Soap's side. “Did it bite you?”

“Aye,” Soap hissed, looking down at his leg. “Burns.” 

“Shit.” You dropped to your knees, leaning closer. Sure enough, blood seeped from the bite mark, punctures clear from the fangs. 

You didn't have anything for this at base. Not for a titanoboa bite. 

“Get on Bessie,” you ordered, pushing back to your feet. “Now.” 

“But–” Soap looked confused for a moment. Ghost, fortunately, didn't care, and bodily moved Soap to the trike. Price didn't ask, just helped shove the mohawked man up onto the dino. 

“We need to move.” You didn't look back at them, just started towards the base. Gaz kept pace with you, shooting worried looks towards you. But you didn't say another word the entire way back to base, too busy thinking of what needed to be done. 

This was not going to be easy. You felt like a fool for not having anything for a titanoboa bite. But you hadn't seen one for a long time, hadn't thought they came to this area… 

It was still your fault. You hadn't prepared them for all the dangers of this place. 

You hadn't been prepared for this. 

If Soap died… 

No. No, you weren't going to let that happen. 

You pulled the gate open and ushered the others in. “Get him inside,” you said, glancing at Soap, who had gone pale and sweaty already. 

“What can we do?” Price asked, even as he helped Ghost get Soap down from on top of Bessie. 

“Get everything else inside,” you answered, barely waiting for Soap to be out of the way before you started unloading bags. “Keep him cool. Do whatever you have to, but he will be running a fever.” 

“There must be something else,” Gaz pressed as he took some things from you. 

“No,” you snapped. “You all are staying here. I am getting the things I need for the antidote.” 

“One of us should go with you,” Price argued, even as he took things from you too. 

“No. I'm taking Ripper. Nothing else will keep up with him.” You pulled off one of the bags from Bessie's side, putting it aside and unloading the second bag. 

“Let us finish this,” Price ordered, coming back out with Gaz. “Do what you need to get ready.” 

You didn't bother arguing, just dropped everything and jogged over to Ripper's paddock. The raptor huffed at you, prancing in place a little. 

“I know,” you murmured. “Hold still.” It took a little longer than you liked to get his saddle on and fastened properly. It had been a while since you'd ridden Ripper. But you finished and led him out of his paddock. 

“How long will you be gone?” Gaz hovered nearby, shifting his weight as he watched you. 

“Don't know,” you admitted, glancing at him for only a moment before the guilt threatened to render you useless. “I'll be as fast as I can, I swear.” 

“Be safe.” Gaz stepped closer, taking your hand and squeezing it. “Okay? Come back safe.” 

“I'll bring back what we need,” you promised instead. It didn't matter if you were safe. Speed was more important than safety. It mattered that you saved Soap, nothing else. 

Gaz squeezed your hand again, but didn't press the issue. Instead he backed up, giving you and Ripper room. 

“Stay,” you told the hyaenadon finally, leading Ripper to the gate. “Keep him hydrated and cool,” you reiterated to Gaz. “Whatever it takes.” 

But you didn't give him time to respond. You pulled yourself up into the saddle and clicked your tongue at Ripper. Finally free to run, the raptor took off, long strides eating up distance much faster than any other tame you'd ever seen. Except maybe a horse. 

You knew where you needed to go. You knew what you needed to get. But you didn't know what you'd encounter along the way. 

Dammit. 

But you wouldn't let Soap die. Not on your watch.

[gremlingottoosilly]

What happened to weird octo human baby hybrid?

It's somewhere! Hybrid babies are still more independent than actual human babies and only need their mommies for half a year or so, before finally growing up enough to start eating meat as normal monsters do. Of course, it being weaker, you would have to ask Konig for help to get him the meat he needs, and your monster husband is so mean about it( you have to be on your best behavior if you want your baby to survive, Konig now just gained a perfect opportunity to manipulate and use you. You would do anything if it means helping weird octo baby hybrid(( Once it outgrows its cute stage and starts to actually gain strength, you can count on Konig isolating you from it as much as possible. You wouldn't dare to question this, but he is...scared, really. Monster babies are wild and hungry all of the time, you can get hurt while trying to play mommy with your son, so your husband has to step up and only allow you to hang out with octo baby when its sated and chill. You don't understand before your son started biting you with the hungry desire to devour your fingers, so you started to cling onto Konig( you're just so confused and sad, why would your baby behave like this after you've done so so so much to let him live happily... Konig had to give you another clutch of eggs after that, so your weird depressed state could be calmed down a little bit with the hormones and you'd start worrying about monster babies again, not some half-breed brat that Konig has to whip into shape(

[comfortless]

syl you can not casually mention blacksmith König and leave it at that!

sighing… ok, yes, i will talk about blacksmith! König more..! ^^

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. violence, physical/emotional abuse, descriptions of injury, death, angst, marriage on the gallows au.

Before König, there was his father, his father’s father and so on. Hardened men who were left to rot on the outskirts of the little village: sharpen blades, birth something from slabs of iron and silver. The work was tedious, but never dull. Scrape, burn, turn and roll- over and over until the smoke rose from the pit to sting at his eyes. Birth by fire wasn’t only in myths of dragons and phoenixes; he witnessed it each time he held pure malice in his hands as his hammer struck. Nothing became something, deadly and cruel. Day and night his life and lungs were filled to brimming with hellfire.

Accidents happen, naturally. No matter how careful he’s been, there’s nothing to keep the flame from entirely taking back after giving so much.

König’s father lost a finger while mentoring him.

His blue eyes were fixed on the man’s callused hand as the freshly smithed blade sliced through the digit like it was little more than a dollop of honey, no blood. There had been nothing but the crack of bone carved cleanly through, then the wet sizzle of meat cooking as it fell into the pit.

His father had screeched like a starved demon then, a barrage of insults tossed his son’s way like little more than passing pleasantries: oaf, useless cur, bitch.

König hadn’t been concerned, he sat on the stone bench looking up at his father and told him so, that he was fine: it had been cauterized, cleansed by the fire.

König lost the same finger that day.

His mother had fallen ill sometime last winter. The last memory he had of her was the look of frailty on her face, how her skin felt so cold and yet she lie dampened with sweat.

The dogs and buzzards had gotten to her grave, but it wasn’t them he felt any of the fire’s malice for.

Just his father.

The villagers didn’t know what became of the blacksmith, but König could recall it every night; how even with his dying breath he had only thought to curse his only son.

So, he wears the hood of the last executioner now, and the people shy away. They don’t like the look of death unless they can participate in it as a divined audience.

The dogs are never hungry, there’s illness all throughout the valley, and sometimes it only shines through in shimmering eyes while the villagers stare and giggle at the next withering soul led to the gallows.

König knows he should be there; like mother and father, his bones should be shared between panting mouths and blood-stained beaks. Sometimes the boars come sniffing too, and he’s always hated them, maybe even more than the birds. They’re ugly and sturdy, squealing and snarling like his father.

The villagers looked at the boars, though, because they were useful. Their eyes were hungry and happy each night the men set out on a hunt, unaware that their sons and daughters lurked in the bellies of the very beasts they starved for.

It’s cold even during the summer months in his shack.

There are blankets, a kitchen, a hearth, but it’s empty. The winter makes its wastelands each coming year, envious of how he can accomplish such with fire instead of ice. He doesn’t need to clean. The ash blackens the wood, cleanses all. One day, maybe, it would scrub him too.

The fire is a womb, but it’s never birthed anything truly alive. Not until her. A wildfire swept the field where travelers had gathered. With their supplies reduced to the very cinders König had come to adore, the surviving members sweep right into this cursed place like it’s a holy temple.

And the fire gave her to him.

König doesn’t know where this woman came to settle from; she isn’t like the other villagers, not even the travelers with their items and skills for selling. There’s still life in her eyes. He watches her as she wanders down the street with a smile on her face, one that speaks of a kindness that not a single one of these people deserves.

She introduces herself to them too, without a title to her name, and all at once any interest fades as the ghosts wander away from her.

His mother used to force him into the church when she was still alive.

She would take him by the hand as he lumbered after her, sticking out amongst the crowd of parishioners who would sing their hymns and stare at him with contempt behind their eyes. He hated going, but he did it for his mother; father was much too busy to spend his time with her and her fantasies. But König learned of angels there, fragile feathered things, all eyes and wings that wouldn’t stand a chance against a blade.

He didn’t think delicate things could be holy until her sweet, gentle smile is cast upon him.

This lady walks right up to him, doesn’t bat an eye at his hood when her lips curl up as she introduces herself. She doesn’t mind the sack of weapons thrown over his shoulder to take to the marketplace— the swords, the daggers, none of it. Her eyes don’t even glance their way; she looks only to him.

Women like this don’t want their homes and beds covered in ash, cinder in place of incense, fire instead of honey. But still she smiles while he says nothing.

König isn’t the only man who’s heart she steals, either.

The village is all gray, smoke and rot except where she walks. Flowers spring up for the coming spring, the deer and foxes are calling out for mates, and it’s all because of her— everyone must know it.

The farmer’s son brings her fresh fruit and whispers into her ear while they pass by his shack on a stroll. The man’s arm curls around her waist so naturally that König can only be reminded of the way that dagger sank between his fathers fingers, tore off a bit of him to feed back to hungry flame. If there were any god above he knew right then that it wouldn’t want him to allow that to happen to her. Not to an angel.

When the rest of the men, dogs and seraphim sleep, König tears the farmer’s boy in two— split down chest to abdomen and left as food for the pigs, right there in the middle of the field.

He doesn’t pray, he hasn’t since the last time he knelt by his mother’s sickbed, but he closes his eyes and breathes out a wish when he leaves that bloodied dagger at her doorstep.

He doesn’t pray, but he weeps when he rallies the villagers to apprehend her. She cries and fusses, face puffy from sleep and hair a mess. There isn’t a speck of blood on her, but the vultures take her anyway. König didn’t want to see her hurt; when her eyes find his, he turns away.

The day of her execution arrives like a festival ceremony. It’s been some time since the last, the scavengers are hungry, so famished he thinks he can almost hear them lick their teeth. There would be no death today, it’s already been decided. In distant places, a single act of devotion is all it takes to save a life, one that the beasts didn’t have the right to take.

The hunger wasn’t always just for death, but for something… a turn and change like steel in fire.

When the angel is taken to her death, rope dangling from her neck like a lead meant for cattle, he steps forward, parting the crowd with an ease. He’s practiced this a time or two in the smoke already, a lonesome and loathing god in the fog. The others scurry from him, looking up at him with pinched brows and bared teeth as if to goad he take her life instead.

Instead, he only catches her eye, smiles and lowers himself on one knee.

[epicthemusical]

Haunted Thunder Pt 2

WARNING THUNDER SAGA SPOILERS

part 1 here

After everything that he has seen so far, Polites' heart aches for his friend. He does not know what had happened but the rest of the fleet being missing promises a heartbreaking answer.

Whatever it was that happened changed Odysseus so much that he can hardly recognize his friend.The Odysseus he knows always has a spark of mischief in his warm eyes. He always tries his best to avoid unnecessary fighting and bloodshed. He always puts his all into keeping everyone alive and safe, never asking them to do anything he himself would not do.

The Odysseus he knew is nowhere to be seen anymore. The spark of life in his eyes has all but faded, becoming cold and calculated. This Odysseus shows no mercy, only cruelty. He is willing to sacrifice his men to a monster. This new Odysseus is a monster himself willing to do anything to survive.

If Polites had survived would things have been different? If he had not died to the cyclops would his friend have been able to laugh and smile still? Polites leans against the mast next to his friend and grieves for the broken person Odysseus had become.

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

Time seems to speed up unnaturally but Polites is too deep in his mind to notice.The crew lands on an island and the boat docking causes Odysseus to groan slowly, waking up still a bit dazed from blood loss.

This brings Polites back to the world around him and he jumps up and rushes to his friend's side even knowing there is nothing he could do for him. The search party is sent out seeing signs of cattle nearby. Eurylochus stands behind and watches Odysseus wake up. Odysseus looks around still a little dazed

“My head…where are we?” Eurylochus stares ahead as the crew comes back with one of the cows.

“We stopped at the first island we came across and it has all these cows to eat. There is a statue of the sun god but we are so hungry… all this meat.” Polites watches the realization dawn on his face

“Please don't tell me you are going to do what I think you'll do.” Polite's heart aches at the first sign of the Odysseus he had known even as his heart breaks at the pleading in his voice.

“Ody we won't make it back alive you know this.” Polites frowns at the hopelessness in Eurylochus voice.Odysseus shakes his head

“No you don't know that! This is the home of the sun god!”

“ I'm starving my friend.” Panic was rising and Odysseus continues to beg

“If we kill his cattle, who knows what he will send! This is the home of the sun god!” Eurylochus sighs, his shoulders slumped 

“I'm tired my friend.”

“ But we are so close to home this can't be where it ends!” Polites feels his eyes start to water watching as his two friends try desperately to make the other understand.

“How much longer am I going to have to push through doubt. How much longer must I suffer? People are dying.” Odysseus struggles against his bonds as Eurylochus walks towards the cow with his sword in hand

“Please reconsider! There must be another way!” Eurylochus raises his sword

”I'm just a man.”

“EURYLOCHUS NO!” He pulls harder at his bonds ignoring the blood from the ropes running his skin raw but can only watch as his friend kills the cow splattering gold tinted blood on the ground. Polites watches the fear spread across Odysseus' face causing him to fear for the consequences in the future.

“You doomed us…” he hears Odysseus whisper before his voice raises to a shout filled with fear and anger

“YOU'VE DOOMED US ALL EURYLOCHUS!” Eurylochus flinches at the sudden shouting

“...Captain?” Odysseus continues to struggle until at last he breaks free

“We need to get off this island now! Grab an oar and row with all your strength!” Despite the mutiny the fear filled orders cause the crew to jolt into action.

“Those cows are immortal, they are the sun gods friends. AND NOW THAT YOU PISSED HIM OFF WHO DO YOU THINK HE WILL SEND?!” Polites sees the moment Eurylochus figures at the full extent of his mistake. Polites wishes he could help them row to get away from the danger they all know is coming. Odysseus shouts for them to go faster but the skies turn dark with storm clouds. Thunder crackles and lightning lights up the sky ominously. Polites is terrified of what he would have to watch happen next as a figure appears in the clouds surrounded by crackling energy. He hears Odysseus whisper in horror

“We're too late..”

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

Everyone is looking up in fear at the King of the Gods. Polites knows this will not end well and he finds himself thinking of various regrets he has had. He would have been much better off not seeing these horrible situations. How much of this could have changed had he just managed to stay alive? What if he had not insisted on listening to the lotus eaters about going to the cave? He feels so much guilt and sadness that things had gotten to his point. He pulls himself out of his mind to hear Zeus ask Odysseus a question 

“choose. You or your crew.” Polites sees his friend fall in his knees begging the god to not make him do this and Polites hates how this is what it took to bring out Odysseus' emotions. He seems more human now than he had the entire time Polites has watched all this. He hears Eurylochus brokenly call out to Odysseus 

“...Captain?” Odysseus just stands there with his back to the crew who had started to murmur.

“I have to see her again…” Polites wants so desperately to comfort his friends at this moment. Both of them sound so very broken. Odysseus is obviously holding back tears.

“But we'll die..” Eurylochus, despite his attempt to protest, is resigned to his fate. He already knows and accepts that this would be where he and the rest of the crew die.

“I know…” at last Polites can't hold his tears back and he cries along with Odysseus as he points his finger at the crew. Eurylochus just stands there defeated and exhausted but the rest of the crew grab their weapons and try to attack Odysseus. Polites can only watch as lightning strikes killing the crew instantly and Odysseus starts to sink into the ocean depths.

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

Polites finds himself diving into the water reaching out desperately for his friend and for the first time Odysseus seems to see Polites. Odysseus reaches towards Polites, mouthing his name with eyes overflowing with grief and exhaustion. Odysseus cries his tears mixing with the already salty depths unseen. Polites manages to reach his friend and hug him for once, not passing through his friend.

“I'm sorry I'm so sorry…” Polites manages to choke out an apology as he feels himself start to fade.

“Please don't give up on yourself…” Odysseus’s eyes slip shut and Polites finds himself back in the underworld clutching at empty air. Polites curls in on himself and sobs for everything that he had seen and what had become of his friends.

[angelynmoon]

Eldritch Steve

Part 11

-

Eddie stared at Wayne, Wayne stared back, for several long moments neither one blinked but Eddie was human and so eventually he had to.

"Arg, remind me not to get into staring contests with Eldritch beings!" Eddie yelled as he rubbed his watery eyes.

"You never once won a staring contest with me boy, no reason to start now." Wayne said with a shrug, "You want coffee, Steve?"

"You're not mad at me for telling Eddie?" Steve asked, nervously.

"Surprised it took so long." Wayne handed Steve a mug, all of them had been replaced with the new two bedroom trailer.

Steve also knew that several soldiers had gone missing when they insulted Eddie in Wayne's presence, Steve had claimed he'd overheard them talking so he'd eaten them, which had the confronting soldiers cringing back and Owens blanching and making a quick escape.

"It wasn't my secret to tell, but he needs to know what being Mated to one of us means." Steve said, holding his mug in both hands.

"He is right here." Eddie reinserted himself into the conversation, "And I know what I'm getting into, Steve told me about spawning."

Wayne looked at Eddie and then at Steve, "How much did you tell him about spawning?"

Steve blushed, "As much as I know."

Wayne stared at him and then sighed, "Settle in, the both of you, we've got a long night ahead."

Because Wayne knew just how much about Spawning Steve knew or more exactly how little he knew. Spawning alone was different than Spawning with a Mate, and with the species difference, well, there were reasons that Wayne had yet to Spawn himself, and it wasn't just Eddie appearing on his doorstep.

As Eddie's adult he had a duty to prepare him, as the last Adult of his kind he had a duty to Steve too.

For all that Steve had killed their race he was, in fact, still considered a child of their race, not much older than those kids he'd claimed as his, if Wayne wasn't slightly afraid of Steve killing him like he'd killed all the others, he'd forbid them to even think of Spawning, but Steve was dangerous, though he did not appear so and Wayne doubted Eddie's affection for him would protect him for long if he stood in Steve's way.

So, Wayne would prepare them.

Because Spawn only appeared as eggs when one parent was involved, the embryo forming inside the parent and forming the protective shell on it's journey to the outside world.

Spawn that had two parent were born live and hungry, if Steve and Eddie Spawned they would need meat, raw and the fresher the better, ready for when their babies clawed their way into the world.

Eddie would have to distract them with the meat so Steve could heal, otherwise they might feast on his flesh, they ate their own for strength, afterall.

And Wayne would not be allowed near once Steve was expecting, Steve's instincts would see him as a threat to him and the eventual young, and Wayne couldn't say he wouldn't be tempted to eat the possibly runts, it wouldn't be the first time he'd eaten the newly born, he'd eaten several of his Spawnmates when he'd clawed his way out of his birth parent and his secondary parent hadn't been quick enough to fill his belly.

Wayne didn't remember Steve's Spawning parents, it was likely they'd abandoned him early on, expecting him to die quickly, some Spawning parents would eat their defective ones but others felt the need to let the other creatures have a taste of them. It was a testament to Steve's strength that he'd survived so long on his own.

Their race wasn't kind, not even to their young.

But maybe, Wayne thought as he looked at a waiting Steve and a trying to escape Eddie, he could change that, or at least Steve and Eddie could.

-

A/n: like I said Ao3 is down and well, I still have nothing better to do, so enjoy.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48500452?view_full_work=true

Ao3 is back, so here's the link, I didend up calling it From the Rot, for now at least, thank you for all you suggestions though. <3

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