#im in the middle of drawing OTHER ocs but . pausing that.

[sanchoyo]

all of this new wonderful danny phantom content makes me wanna draw my oc madame chérie again very badly 😔 i miss her....

[chaoticgirl-writing]

Shut up, Dumbass

Alrighty so here is another lil peek of a book im writing. Idk where im gonna post the finished product but that isnt gonna be for a long while. Anyway I hope you all enjoy this lil bit!!

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Oc

Word count: 1905

Warnings: maybe some mild language, mentions of depression, mentions of su!cide attempt

“Alright, you two. Get some sleep. You both did great today.” The short haired woman smiled softly, lightly kissing her son’s head.

“Get off me, you hag.” The blonde groaned, lightly shoving his mother off.

“Goodnight, Mrs. Bakugo.” The two toned girl said almost inaudibly, laughing when the male lightly shoved her in order to draw her attention from the screen. 

“Katsuki, be nice.” Mitsuki teased. “Kick his ass, Aki.” 

The small girl grinned, shifting to her knees as her fingers moved quickly on the controller. The character she controlled, Sheik, landed a hit on Link, sending him off the platform. “Dammit!” Katsuki cursed, making the girl next to him laugh, earning another shove in response. Link respawned at the top of the screen and hopped back into battle against the female. She easily kicked the male, sending him over the edge once again.

“Quit it!” The blonde growled, attacking the female character once more. Akari simply giggled, easily evading his attack and sending him off the platform once more.

Game Over

“Damnit!”

“Ha! 8th time!”

“You’re not supposed to be talking!”

“Give me my prize, bitch!”

“Stop talking, dumbass!” 

“Make me-” The blonde covered her mouth, silencing her.

“You’ll get ice cream if you shut up-Ew! Did you just lick me?” Snatching his hand back with a look of disgust, Katsuki wiped his hand on the multicolored girl’s sleeve. “You’re gross.”

“And you’re a sore loser. Pay up.” Akari signed, making the blonde grumble with a small smile.

“Tomorrow. We’ll go wherever you want and get ice cream.” He yawned, arms stretching above his head before laying on the girl’s lap.

“You’re a dork.” She whispered, playing with Katsuki’s hair as he put on a movie.

“Shut up.” She rolled her eyes, placing a hand behind her back and leaning back on it, continuing to play with the blonde stands.

The male relaxed on her lap, closing his eyes as soft music played in the background. The small girl silently studied the male’s face, losing herself in her thoughts.

Just months ago he had hardly even taken note of her existence, not even acknowledging the fact that she sat next to him in class. Simply staring blankly when his friends and classmates made nasty comments about her, or shoved her around. Even despite that fact, she decided to confess to him, not caring what happened. 

Maybe he would say he liked her too. Maybe something would come out of nothing, ending the torment that plagued her everyday life.

Instead, he rejected her, saying he could never be with her and walking away. No one seemed to have found out though, and she was grateful that he seemed to have enough, if not respect, then something close to it, for her to keep him from telling the entire school about it.

Then, a mere week or so later, he found her on that rooftop and saved her life. When the school year started and Bakugo realized they were in the same class, he became more protective of her suddenly. He was always taking care of her and doing all he could to keep her safe.

Meanwhile, Katsuki was stuck in his own thoughts.

When Akari confessed to him, he was startled. He had never talked to the once dark haired girl before that, and hearing that she admired him despite that fact made him feel something that he didn't quite like. Guilt? Doubt? He didn’t quite know, and he wasn’t used to it. Sure, he was quite used to girls walking up to him and trying to flirt with him, or ask him on a date, but he always declined, they never piqued his interest. This girl however, did all that and more. 

When she confessed to him, she began by stating the little things she had grown to find charming about him. Things he didn’t even seem to notice, let alone the other girls that had tried catching his attention. 

“The way you furrow your eyebrows when you get lost in thought, or the way you gently chew on your lip before raising your hand to answer a question. The little nervous tic you have where you tap your middle finger and thumb together and bounce your knee, or the way you twirl your pencil while reading through a question on a test. Your eyes soften, you get this warm smile and the tension in your shoulders relax when you talk about becoming a hero. You act all tough, but it’s obvious that there’s a part of you that’s scared. Everything about you is quite.. poetic in a way, Bakugo, and I’m sorry for laying all of this on you, but I couldn’t just let it go without saying. I couldn’t let something like this just disappear into the void without even giving you a chance to hear it.”

His chest tightened as her words replayed in his head.

She had already made her choice when she told me.

Red eyes flickered to the bright green ones above him, clouded with emotion as she stared at the television.

Could I have changed her mind?

A lump formed in the blonde’s throat.

If I had realized my feelings towards her sooner-

He struggled to swallow the lump as he sat up slowly, eyes the color of peacock feathers on a sunny day flickered to him.

If I had actually waited before walking away, if I had actually put thought into it there and not after I had caught her from falling off of that building would things be different-

“Katsuki?” The soft sound of her raspy voice pulled him from the thoughts plaguing his head.

Ruby eyes remained unreadable as they searched her face for some sort of answer, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Katsuki?” She tried once more, a soft hand gently resting on his cheek making his eyes soften. “Is everything alright?” He stayed silent, continuing to search her face as his larger calloused hand rested on top of hers. They stayed there for a moment, silently studying the other’s features, oblivious to the fact the gap between them was slowly decreasing by the second.

It was only when their faces were millimetres from meeting that the blonde’s ruby orbs glanced down at the girl’s slightly parted lips in a silent ask for permission. She didn’t respond, senses on overdrive as she allowed her eyes to close and the space between them to shrink even more. His lips gently brushed against hers, and-

Snapping her eyes open, Akari practically leaped from the mattress, the pillow on her lap toppling to the floor as she stood.

“I need to..” Her feet moved before she could think of a proper end to her sentence, leading her out the door to his bedroom and down the stairs.

“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” Their voices rang into the empty air around them in unison.

“Damnit, Katsuki, why did you try to kiss her?”

“Akari, why didn’t you kiss him?” 

Their hands trembled as they each muttered curses to themselves. Him for doing something to, what he assumed was making her uncomfortable, and her for chickening out last second.

“He was right there you could’ve-” A growl escaped her lips as she held her hands out and attempted to strangle the air in frustration.

“Why the hell would she kiss you? She already told you how she felt and you being the dumbass you are told her no.” Bakugo groaned in irritation as he ran his fingers through his hair and glanced at the clock.

7:54pm

“I probably stink from the sports festival.” He stood, pushing his irritation to the back of his mind as he turned off the movie and gathered his things for a shower before making  his way to the bathroom.

The multicolored girl sluggishly made her way back upstairs, hating the thought of being alone in such a big house without a voice if she were to need to use her quirk or call out for help. 

You’re such an idiot. You’ve liked him for how long? And yet you still chickened out when given the chance to kiss him? You’re such a coward.

She paused for a moment at the door, mustering up the courage to go back in and face him, to apologize for freaking out over nothing, and maybe asking for a redo.

Opening the door, what was left of her voice caught in her throat and her hands stilled as she came face to face with an empty room. The remote Katsuki had been using was placed on the shelf with the gaming console below the television, the one she had been using on the bed where she had left it. The sound of the shower turning on across the hall answered the silent question of where the blonde had gone.

Moving over to her bag, Aki pulled out a worn hardcover black notebook and a pen, before settling down on the mattress and beginning to write.

It was moments like these where she would write down one of those “letters” that she usually had no intention of giving to the person it was directed to. Oftentimes, those “letters” turned into songs, ones that she would hope to be able to perform for someone, anyone, even the person she wrote it for.

This would be a lot easier if I had my guitar or something. 

She sighed, writing down the rhythm in a mix of Morse code like symbols and music notes.

Katsuki’s shower finished sooner than he would’ve normally liked, often standing under the hot water until it turned cold, thus being the reason why he showered after his parents went to sleep. He was nervous to go back to his room in fear of what Aki might say, but he knew he had to at some point.

Steam filled the hallway as he opened the door, taking note of the slightly cracked door of his bedroom.

Why are you acting like this? It’s just Aki.

Opening the door, his heart fluttered at the sight before him. The small girl sat with a leg laid out straight, the other bent as she wrote in a notebook placed on her knee. The soft sound of her humming filled the bedroom as he stood in the doorway. 

Gently twirling the pen in her hand, she tilted her head back, resting it on the wall as she thought of what to write next.

“My luck couldn’t get any worse.” She chuckled lightly, twirling the pen once more before sitting back up and writing something down, not seeming to notice the blonde standing at the door.

“Hey.” He called softly making the two toned haired girl jump and clutch the notebook to her chest as her face heated up in embarrassment. She opened her mouth to speak before opting for a simple wave. “Listen I-” Fists clenched at his sides as he sighed, looking towards the ceiling, searching for the right words to say.

Quietly setting her notebook down on the bed, Akari stood and moved towards him, her heart fluttering at the thought of what she was about to do.

“I’m sorry-” A small hand tilted his chin down, the small girl placing her free hand on the back of his neck and gently pulling him towards her as she stood on her toes to help close the distance between them.

“Shut up, Dumbass.” 

[ladyideal]

This Is Us Chapter 6

Pairing: Legolas x OC!Reader

Word Count: 3392

Warnings: Canon violence, character death

Summary: When the One Ring was found, it becomes a journey across Middle Earth to destroy it. Watch as the Fellowship is formed, and crossed the continent, where loyalty will be tested, and love will blossom at the most unexpected places.

A/n: Sorry for taking ages to write this up, but here it is! Thanks everyone for patiently waiting. But y'all know what happens here.

Chapter 5 ~ Masterlist ~ Chapter 7

An elegant ship, carved in the likeness of a swan, flows through a river. Galadriel stood in it. On shore, cloaks were fastened around each of the Fellowship with green, silver-veined leaf-brooches.

"Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people. May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes," The Lord of Lothlorien spoke as he watched.

As elves prepared for the departure of the Fellowship, Legolas stood among them, shifting parcels into a set of boats provided by the Galadhrim. He held up a thin wafer for Merry and Pippin to see, as they sat within one of the boats.

"Lembas! Elvish Way-bread. One small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man." The elf prince announced.

You rolled your eyes at him in turn, stepping back onto the shore for last minute provisioning.

"Every league you travel south, the danger will increase. Mordor Orcs now hold the eastern shore of the Anduin." Celeborn continued. ""Nor will you find safety on the western bank. Strange creatures bearing the mark of the White Hand have been seen on our borders. Seldom do Orcs journey in the open, under the sun, yet these have done so!"

You sighed. It had to be Saruman doing, that you were sure of. You paused in your steps, and looked down. Celeborn held an ornate dagger before you. 

"Le aphadar aen." (You are being tracked.)

You gently grasped it, and unsheathed it, watching as the blade glinted. "We can still finish this."

He nodded slowly. "By river you have the chance of outrunning the enemy to the Falls of Rauros."

You took one last glance at your reflection on the blade before safely sheathing it away. "It is time, Celeborn. Le hannon." (I thank you.)

"Alena," Haldir whispered, pulling the half elf into a tight hug. "Stay safe. Im mel cin." (I love you.)

They shared a quick kiss, before the marchwarden released his fiancee, and watched as she carefully climbed into the same boat with Aragorn.

"Ai! laurië lantar lassi súrien,

Yéni úntimë ve rámar aldaron!

yéni ve lintë yuldar avánier

mi oromardi lisse-miruvóreva

Andúnë pella Vardo tellumar

nu luini yassen tintilar i eleni…"

(Alas! Like gold fall the leaves in the wind,

long years numberless as the wings of the trees! The long years have passed like swift draughts of the sweet mead in lofty halls beyond the West,beneath the vaults of Varda wherein the stars tremble in the song of her voice…)

"My gift for you, Legolas, is a bow of the Galadhrim, worthy of the skill of our woodland kin," Galadriel spoke when you sat safely within the boat with Legolas steadying you. 

Ever since that fateful night, you had cautiously grown fond of him. Your smiles were less forced when around him, and your laughs were infectious. Love came hard for the elven, and when it did happen, it was an immortal kind. You patted his hand as the elven prince stared in awe of the beautifully gifted carved bow. 

Galadriel smiled at his thanks, and turned to Merry and Pippin next. "These are the daggers of the Noldorin. They have already seen service in war."

Pippin seemed unsure of the weapon in his hand, almost trembling. 

"Do not fear, young Peregrin Took. You will find your courage." The Lady of Light spoke with a gentle smile before turning to Sam. "And for you, Samwise Gamgee: Elven rope, made of hithlain."

"Thank you, my lady," He glanced sidelong at the blades held by Merry and Pippin, then looked up hopefully. "Have you run out of those nice, shiny daggers?"

Galadriel smiled at him, but turned to Gimli, who diverted his eyes downwards. 

"And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves?" Galadriel spoke, her golden hair shining beneath the poignant blues and whites and greens of the forest.

Nothing." He frowned as though he was changing his mind. "Except to look upon the Lady of the Galadhrim one last time, for she is more fair than all the jewels beneath the earth."

You grinned at his words, while the elf lady giggled. He turned away to face the front of the boat before looking back at her again.

"Actually, there was one thing , ah, agh, that's quite impossible. Stupid to ask."

Once his request was fulfilled, she next turned to Aragorn. There was silence for a moment. Branches shook, a spider web's glimmering strands swayed in the wind.

"I have nothing greater to give, than the gift you will bear. Take care of her well. She only has me left." She paused, looking out at the river. "But You have your own choice to make, Aragorn, to rise above the height of all your fathers since the days of Elendil, or to fall into darkness with all that is left of your kin."

He nodded. 

"Namárië. Nadath nâ i moe cerich. Dan ú-'eveditham, Elessar." (Farewell. There is much you have yet to do. We shall not meet again, Elessar.)

Aragorn nodded once more, turning away. Galadriel turned to the last of the hobbits, and handed him a crystalline vessel shaped like a teardrop, filling with a clear water and a shining light.

"Farewell, Frodo Baggins. I give you the light of Eärendil, our most beloved star." and kissed him briefly on the forehead. "May it be a light for you, in dark places, when all other lights go out."

Next, she turned to Alena, who grinned up at her grandmother. "I too have nothing to give to you, as you have the greatest gift of all. Cherish it well, my granddaughter. I have taught you well, and I hope you may come out victorious."

You watched as Alena dipped her head, and spoke quietly in return. A tender smile appeared on Galadriel before she turned to the last member of the Fellowship.

You.

"And what will the daughter of the High Valars want?" She spoke within your mind.

"You know what I wish for," You spoke instead, watching her. 

There was a moment before the elf lady acquiesced with a nod of her own. "You have my word, Y/N."

And drew out a compact compass. "For when you lose sight of yourself and of the Fellowship. I hope that this will guide you in the right direction."

"Thank you," You replied, reaching out to grasp it, half in awe.

"Rinn- safelui bar." (Return safely home.)

A paddle splashed loudly into the water. As the Fellowship rows through the river, past the Elves onshore, out onto the river, leaving Lórien behind. White mountains rise starkly beneath blue skies and green trees. In the boats, Gimli talks to Legolas.

"I have taken my worst wound at this parting, having looked my last upon that which is fairest. Haugh, henceforth I will call nothing fair unless it be her gift to me."

"What was it?" The elf smirked from behind you.

"I asked her for one hair from her golden head. She gave me three."

You smiled at the interaction, paddling along. Soon it didn't take long for Legolas to take over the owing. Before long, the Fellowship's boats passed through a canyon. Alena glanced worriedly at Frodo's boat across the water, as she gently rowed hers and Aragorn's boat.

"Frodo, look! The Argonath! Long have I desired to look upon the kings of old. My kin," Aragorn spoke, lifting his head, half-smiled and tapped Frodo on the shoulder.

Two, marble white, majestic statues proudly stood on each side of the Anduin. Their left arms held aloft, their palms facing outwards in a simple gesture of warning. Voices sang out softly in the light.

"Et Eärello Endorenna utúlien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta!'" 

(Out of the Great Sea to Middle-Earth I am come. In this place I will abide, and my heirs, unto the ending of the world!)

"Beautiful statues," You commented, laying back comfortably as Legolas rowed. Alena from your left in agreement.

"They certainly are," The half elf replied.

It didn't take long for the group to disembark on a gravel beach, a spectacular roaring waterfall behind. Boromir looks troubled, as though he was fighting a conflict within him. Frodo skirted around the Captain of the White Tower, looking afraid.

"We cross the lake at nightfall. Hide the boats and continue on foot. We approach Mordor from the north," Aragorn spoke as he carried the items from each boat onto the shore.

Alena and Legolas left the makeshift camp to hunt for any nearby game. You and the hobbits started making camp, a little more cozier than just the dirt and sand for comfort.

"Oh, yes?! It's just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil? An impassable labyrinth of razor sharp rocks! And after that, it gets even better!" Gimli sarcastically replied, dragging the heavier weapons towards where Sam was forming rocks in a circle.

"Frodo, Merry, let us gather wood for the fire," Boromir beckoned the two hobbits away. Frodo's eyes locked onto yours briefly, and all you could recognize was the helplessness, the weight of the evil ring around his neck, and the fear, before he followed after the others.

You shook your head.

"Festering, stinking marshlands, far as the eye can see!" The dwarf continued, although half of the company was gone.

"That is our road. I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf." Aragorn drawled.

"Recover my-?! Nooo."

"We could leave now," You suggested, interjecting into the conversation with a shrug.

"No. Orcs patrol the eastern shore. We must wait for cover of darkness." Aragorn argued with a matter of fact tone.

"It is not the eastern shore that worries me. A shadow and a threat has been growing in my mind. Something draws near. I can feel it," Your gaze turned towards the dark pine woods, with a dark, brooding statue nestled amongst their needles. "We are not alone."

"Where's Frodo?" Merry piped up, returning with some wood in his arms. 

“Didn't he go with you and Boromir?" You stood up, dusting the dirt off your knees.

"We got split up."

Aragorn turned his gaze toward Boromir's shield laying amongst the rest of his belongings. Then turned to you with that knowing look within his eyes.

Something bad was about to happen. Evil lurked around every crevice and corner.

You cursed loudly, sprinting after Alena and Legolas. Aragorn was hot on your heels, all the while calling for the two.

"Frodo?"

"Frodo?"

"Frodo!" Aragorn called from your right, rushing towards the hobbit. Before him was a high structure on the cliff edge, surrounded by the pines. A stairway ran up through its center, to a seat dwarfed by stone eagles on top.

You hurried to the other side of the hobbit, equally concerned. "Frodo, what happened? Where's Boromir?"

"Huh?! It has taken Boromir." The hobbit looked startled. 

"Where is the Ring, Frodo?" You asked.

"Stay away!" The hobbit scrambled up and retreated from Aragorn, who went after him.

"Frodo, please," The Ranger pleaded. "I swore to protect you!"

"Can you protect me from yourself?!" The hobbit turned back to you and Aragorn, holding the ring upon his palm. "Would you destroy it?"

There was silence as the breeze blew. Slowly, the Ranger approached the hobbit, seemingly entranced by the power of it. You on the other hand, grounded your feet into the ground, refusing to let the evil sway your beliefs.

The power was small, compared to yours, but the promises within still affected you. A trial, you realized a little too late, to test your very being.

Aragorn reached out towards the Ring. With both hands slightly shaking, he closed Frodo's hand over the Ring and pushed it back towards the Hobbit's chest. "I would have gone with you to the end, into the very fires of Mordor."

"I know. Look after the others, especially Sam. He will not understand." He turned to you afterwards, and you nodded in turn.

Suddenly Aragorn straightened up, drawing his sword. "Orcs."

"Go, Frodo. Run." You grabbed your bow and an arrow. "Run!"

Quickly, you and the Ranger ran out from beneath the ruin and found a troop of Uruk-hai advancing.

Briefly, he tapped his sword once to his forehead before charging towards the nearest Uruk-hai.

You drew an arrow, and letting it go to see an Orc fell to it.

"Find the Halflings! Yaggh! Find the Halflings!" One of them chanted. 

"Elendil!" Aragorn yelled, slicing two more out of his away. 

In response, Legolas, Alena, and Gimli ran forward from behind the the ruin. As Legolas shot down several Uruk-hai, Gimli landed blows with his axe. While Alena sliced through multiple with her dual swords, you eagerly shot those that came too close to anyone. 

Across the way, Merry and Pippin hid in a space under some fallen tree trunks, before spying Frodo close to them.

"Frodo!" Merry hissed, gaining the attention of the other hobbit.

"Hide here! Quick! Come on!" Pippin indicated a spot beside him.

Frodo glanced at them, then sadly shook his head.

"What's he doin', Merry?"

"He's leavin'."

"What?! No!" Pippin lept out of his spot and toward where Frodo hid.

"Pippin!"

Soon, both hobbits found themselves out in an open. Several Uruk-hai sprinted down the hill, towards them and brandishing their weapons, teeth bared.

"Run, Frodo! Go!" Merry quietly spoke, before cupping his hands, and shouts louder at the oncoming orcs. "Hey! Hey you! Over here!"

"Hey!"

"Over here!"

"This way!" Pippin jumped up and down, arms flailing around.

As both Hobbits ran away from Frodo, the Uruk-hai troops followed with a loud roar of anger. Taking the chance, Frodo made a break for it, running in the opposite direction.

Back at the hilltop, you, Alena, Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli continued to fight the Uruk-hai. In one smooth move, Legolas stabbed one Uruk with an arrow then shot it out at another. Gimli wielded his axe. As Aragorn stabbed one behind his back, Alena sliced cleanly through another.

In a hurry,, Merry and Pippin ran across an old stone bridge. At its far end, they stopped in horror as the Uruk-hai closed in, both in front and from behind. As an Uruk runs up to them, raising his battleaxe, Boromir came  charging into the mix, roughly knocking the Uruk back, and killing him with his own axe.

Yet more closed in.

"There's too many!" You called, slicing the head off an orc cleanly off its shoulder. Before anyone could respond, three loud horn blasts were heard from down the slope. 

"The horn of Gondor!"

"Boromir!"

Aragorn was the first to run down the slope towards the sound, but numerous Uruks stood between him and Boromir. The Captain sounded the Horn of Gondor again. This time, the Uruks rose their weapons, and charged at Boromir.

"Run, hobbits! Run!" He cried out, slicing through the first of many enemies that came at him. Soon you and the rest of the Fellowship followed in kind, shooting arrows and stabbing through the troops of Uruk-hai in a futile attempt to reach the Captain.

The captain of the Uruk-hai stepped forward from within the safety of his troops, and aimed a black-fletched bow and arrow before letting go.

You briefly closed your eyes, grimacing as you heard the gasp from Boromir, and the thud as he fell to his knees.

Merry stopped in mid-throw of a rock as Boromir, in shock. As the Uruks came closer again once more, Boromir let out a battle cry, rose, and swung his sword at one, who fell.

The Uruk chieftain growled, walking down the slope. He lifted his bow, and shot again, just as Boromir turned to look at him.

A black arrow flew into Boromir's stomach. He dropped to his knees again, gasping. Merry and Pippin still stood in shock, rocks in hand. You heard a scream from beside. Was it Alena?

He dropped his heavy head again, both gasping and panting at the exertion for air. Boromir stared at them for a moment before getting back up, and swung his sword at another Uruk.

 The captain shot at him one last time, in the chest. Boromir fell to his knees, and this time stayed there, swaying a little and blinking, as though he was surprised that this was it. His horn cloven into two. Merry and Pippin watched him, aghast. 

In turn, they took up their swords and attacked the Uruk-hai. "Ahgh!" "For Boromir!

However the Uruk-hai simply lifted them up and carried them off. Merry and Pippin waved their arms frantically. "Help! Help!!!"

The Uruk-hai troop walked away from Boromir, wholooksed on helplessly. The captain stopped before his foe, who defiantly swallowed and glared back.With an ugly snarl,the chieftain pulled his bow back, ready to deliver the final blow.

Instead, you and Legolas both let go of your arrows, one hitting the neck, and the other at the hand. Now angry that his arrow went awry, the Uruk-hai turned to you, not noticing Aragorn until it was too late.

As Aragorn closed in on the Orc and in a flurry of swordplay, sliced his arm off and then stabbed him through the chest. The captain pulled himself up on the sword, closer to Aragorn, snarling in both pain and anger.

You let go of your arrow, watching with narrowed eyes as it hit the forehead. Before the orc could respond, the Ranger pulled his sword out of the Orc, and hacked off the Uruk-hai's head. 

Panting, you and the rest of the Fellowship lowered your weapons. After a brief pause, Aragorn beelined straight for Boromir. "No!"

"Go! Go after them. Aragorn and I will catch up," You turned to the rest, whom swiftly left. Save for Alena, who hesitated, before agreeing with a nod.

Boromir, pale and bloodied, laid on his back. Aragorn kneeled beside Boromir, who grabbed the other's shoulder. "They took the little ones."

"Be still."

"Frodo! Where is Frodo?"

"I let Frodo go."

"Then you did what I could not. I tried to take the Ring from him."

"The Ring is beyond our reach now."

"Forgive me. I did not see it. I have failed you all."

"No, Boromir, you fought bravely! You have kept your honor," You spoke instead, kneeling on the other side of him. Aragorn placed a hand on an arrow protruding from the captain.

"Leave it! It is over. The world of men will fall, and all will come to darkness; and my city to ruin."

"I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you I will not let the White City fall, nor our people fail!"

"Our people? Our people." He reached for his sword. Instead, you placed the hilt in his hand, and helped Boromir clasp it to his chest. "I would have followed you my Brother, my Captain, my King!"

You placed a hand on his chest, and smiled slightly at Aragorn. "Go on. I'll follow soon."

With a kiss on the captain's forehead, the Ranger straightened up, and followed in the direction after the others.

"Boromir, son of Denethor, Captain of the White Tower," You spoke quietly, grasping his hand in your other. "Listen to me very closely."

"Y/N?" He croaked in confusion.

You leaned into his ear. "You have fought bravely, honorably. For your friends, for your people, for your country, and for Middle Earth. You have done much to keep the peace, and I need someone like you in the future."

You paused.

"Sina na- vamme i tyelde, captain. Ni indóme cen- tye en-. Tenna i lú, phata hendulya ar n- at senda. Ni am i -iel -o i valaina manwë ar vesse varda. Let sina n-.       

(This is not the end, captain. I will see you again. Until the time, close your eyes and be at peace. I am the daughter of the Valar Manwë and his wife Varda. Let this be.)

Boromir's eyes brightened up at the recognition, and looked more at peace atthe words, as though he was guilty for earlier. He squeezed your hand one more time with the last of his waning strength in agreement, before closing his eyes. 

And took his last breath.

N- a captain an men. Yare dagor dagornath, tye are -esse maure, yondo -o denethor.       

(Be a captain for men. When Dagor Dagornath, you are in need, son of Denethor.)

Eats Everything: @asraime @mournthewicked @aspiring-ginger

[samthewrestlingfan]

Bad At Love: Kenny Omega

Hi there, Lovebugs!

Here is a new lil Kenny fic! This is my first time writing Kenny, so please be gentle <3

Let me know if you like it! I enjoyed writing this one :)

Next this to come out will be the next chapter of BELIEVER. (No I haven’t forgotten about it!)

btw this is hella long and im sorry.

Characters: Kenny Omega/OC

Warnings: Alcohol, angst, MILD smut, fluff.

(gif credit: @toosweetme)

I took a swig of my beer, before I practically slammed it down on the table.

You’ve got this, Ella. If he shows up, just ignore him.

I felt a nudge on my side, snapping me out of my daze. “You doin’ okay?” Marty asked.

I nodded at him quickly, returning my attention to my alcohol. I heard an audible sigh come from him, “If you keep acting like this, you’re only going to draw attention to yourself, and how uncomfortable you are.”

“I’m not uncomfortable, Marty. I’m just…” I droned off, not bothering to continue my sentence. Marty excused himself leaving me with my drink and the Bucks on opposite ends of the table.

Truth be told I wasn’t anything; mostly because I wasn’t allowing myself to feel anything. My plan was to enjoy my night out with my friends, and not let Kenny Omega and his inability to think with anything but his dick ruin that for me.

“Els! Come grab a shot with me?” Matt offered.

I perked up at his behest, “Definitely.”

Matt ordered quite literally a whole tray of sake shots, and as we waited for them, I began to loosen up.

Matt cleared his throat suddenly, “Look, I know this probably isn’t my place, but you’re my friend, hell one of my best friends, and Kenny is too. I just don’t want to have the two of you lose a great friendship over this…”

I nodded as he spoke. He was right, I knew what I was getting when I fell for Kenny. I just never expected things to turn so sour so quickly.

Kenny and I had never see each other as more than friends. Ever. At least I didn��t, then one night it just clicked.

…and by clicked, I mean we fucked.

***

“Please let me help you…” Kenny chuckled.

I hiccuped, “Listen you, go back to the party, I’m f-fine!” I laughed, practically falling face first into the side of the elevator.

I was drunk as a skunk and everyone knew it.

“Ella, I swear to God you are the most stubborn person I’ve ever known.” Kenny said grabbing my arm to stabilize me.

I leaned into him and laid my head on his strong shoulder, “Yeah but you love me for it.” I inhaled his scent, he smelled like man and sex and ecstasy. Again, I’m pretty sure this is the alcohol talking.

He kissed my forehead, as the elevator reached my floor. “Let’s go drunky.”

***

I pushed open my hotel room door, Kenny following swiftly behind me.

“Alright Beautiful, Let’s get you in bed.” Kenny held my waist, guiding me into the dimly lit hotel room.

I groaned to myself, “Ughhh, I don’t wanna be alone.” I flopped myself on the edge of the bed, bending down, unstrapping my heels.

Kenny walked toward the bathroom, “You know you contradict yourself a lot? A second ago you told me to go back to the party.” I heard the bathroom door click closed and decided to hurry up and change for bed.

The room was spinning as I undressed, barely able to make out what I was ripping off from where. I was stood in the middle of the room,  and my black thong and matching bra, searching for my pajamas.

“Oh…right.” I mumbled to myself, remembering they were in the bathroom.

I stumbled through the room, and knocked on the door leaning against the frame, “Ken, I need my pjs.”

He swung open the door, “Fuck you’re–” I watched his eyes scan me up and down, “Whoa.”

I snuck by him, grabbing my clothes off the vanity. “What?” I asked.

Kenny cleared his throat, “Ella the tequila may have stolen my filter,  but you look,” He bit his bottom lip, “Incredible.”

My face burned at his compliment, and from my current state of intoxication. “Ken you’ve seen me in my gear, this isn’t that different is it?.” I spun around, giving him a nice view of my round behind, teasing him a bit.

He ran his hand over his face, “Oh-ho-ho, you have no idea…”

I climbed onto the bed, Kenny following quickly after me. I rested on the edge of the bed, my knees dug into the mattress to keep me from wobbling.

I reached out for Kenny and grabbed both sides of his lapel, pulling him into me slowly.

“Still want me to stay?” He asked almost hopeful, placing his hands on my hips.

I paused for a moment, allowing my eyes to connect with his. I saw a hunger in them, one that made a throbbing erupt from between my legs.

“I do.” I breathed.

Kenny brought his face close to mine. “Is this okay?” He asked.

I nodded. He brushed his lips against mine, and ran his rough fingertips up and down my sides. “Is that okay?”

I swallowed hard, “Yes.”

Without hesitation, Kenny kissed me. Hard. His hands searching for every curve my body had…

***

And the rest is history.

Except for the past few weeks, Kenny hadn’t spoken to me outside of work. He stopped calling, stopped texting…everything just stopped and he was gone. Kenny was never just gone, he always woke up with me, our limbs tangled together. He would kiss me good morning, then ask if I wanted to grab breakfast.

“Ella? Did you hear me?” Matt asked, eyebrows raised.

I looked to him quickly, “Hm? Oh yeah. Thanks, Matt.” I said. Truth be told, I stopped listening. I’m sure he was just telling me what everyone was telling me. At this point, I was sick of hear it.

I downed another shot, before excusing myself. “Matt, I’m just gonna run to the bathroom.”

His eyes widened. “But Ella didn’t you–”

“Matt,” I interrupted. “I’m fine.” I gently rubbed his shoulder before turning to walk–or stumble my way. The bar was dim, and smelled like an odd combo of memories and mistakes.

As I turned the corner I stumbled and slammed into the wall.

“Fuck…” I said as I hit the ground.

I heard a gruff laugh, “Nice mouth.” I looked up to see a strong hand held out for me.

God has a sick sense of humor. I thought to myself, realizing Matt must have been trying to warn me.

“You just gonna hang out on the floor all night?” Kenny said sarcastically.

I begrudgingly held my hand out, allowing him to help me up. I rose to my feet, crossing my arms in front of me.

“Thanks.” I spat.

Kenny smiled softly, brushing a stay piece of hair out of my face. “No problem, Els.”

I continued toward the bathroom, a billion thoughts running through my head. Does he hate me now? Was I not good enough for him? Has he moved on to someone else? Someone better than me?

“That’s it.” I grit my teeth together, and stomped back towards Kenny.

“Hey!” I shouted at him as he walked away. His head turned towards me, stopping mid step.

“You. Me. Outside…now.” I grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and yanked him towards the door.

He walked with no hesitation. Outside onto the dirty street, and down the small side road next to the bar, he finally stopped to perch against the brick siding.

Kenny’s eyes bore holes into mine. There he was. Right in front of me, and I had every opportunity to say everything I was feeling.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

…and I choked.

“What?” He asked offended.

“What nothing!” I yelled. “You’ve completely ignored me for the past few weeks. You can barely be in my presence for more than two  minutes without finding a reason to leave!” I was screaming at the top of my lungs, and it felt damn good.

I took a deep breath, “You made me feel like shit, Ken. You made me feel used. Was that your plan? Get your dick wet, then ignore me for the rest of your life?”

Kenny took a step towards me. “Are you done?”

I scoffed, “Unbelievable! I can’t believe I was stupid enough to think Kenny Omega could ever give two fucks about me.”

“Don’t say that…you know I care about you.” He said, hurt painting his words.

“No you don’t. You cared about having someone you could fuck on a moments notice, well jokes on me huh.” I flipped him off, walking away swiftly but he pulled me back.

“Oh no, you don’t get to scream at me like a psycho then just walk away.” He held me still so I couldn’t leave. I snatched my arms back and crossed them in front of me.

“What could you possibly have to say to me to–” Kenny put a finger to my lips. “Ella, please, as much as I love your voice, just…shh.”

Kenny stepped back and brushed his hair back. “I haven’t been with anyone else.”

My eyes flashed to him. “What?” I asked.

“You. The last time we we’re together, you we’re the last person I was with.” He said confidently.

I rolled my eyes, “What does that matter Ken?”

“I don’t know. I’m just offended that you think so fucking little of me.”  He rested his hands on his hips. My head was so foggy from the booze that I couldn’t tell what emotion he put behind that sentence.

“You haven’t exactly given me a reason to think otherwise.” I said, slurring my words despite my best efforts.

“Really? So I guess the years of friendship before any of this happened were pointless?” It was Kenny’s turn to get loud now. I guess I kinda deserve it.

A chill ran up my spine, the cold air registering with my flush body causing me to shiver. Kenny noticed, and stopped his pacing to walk toward me.

He let out a small laugh, before removing his jacket and placing it over my shoulders. “See? I’m not this heartless monster you made me out to be.”

This is the Kenny I knew. Sweet, and kind and always taking care of everyone. “Thank you.” I smiled softly.

“Did you ever think that maybe I didn’t want to hurt you?” He mumbled suddenly.

“What?” I questioned.

He cleared his throat. “Ella I’m not good at this stuff. I don’t know how to do the whole one girl thing.”

I scoffed, “Did I ever ask you for that?”

“No, but it’s what you deserve.” He spoke.

“Kenny, I knew what I was getting when we started whatever we were doing.” And that was true. I needed someone and so did he. We were more than comfortable with one another and it seemed to be enough, until my dumbass caught feelings.

“I was sick to my fucking stomach thinking about you with someone else. I couldn’t sleep without you next to me. I don’t know when I became such a fucking softy.” He laughed.

I placed a hand on his cheek. “Why did you just up and disappear then?” I said.

He sighed. “I needed to know if what I was feeling was something or if we had just gotten too comfortable with each other.”

I looked up to his eyes, “Well?” I asked.

He paused before he spoke, obviously trying to word what he wanted to say, “I fell for you, Els. I fell hard. I know I’ve been dick and I’m sorry. If you’d give me the time, I promise I’ll spend as long as you’d like making it up to you.”

My heart skipped a beat as he spoke. I didn’t know what to do beside stretch up and kiss him.

…and that’s exactly what I did.

I tangled my hands in his hair, our mouths getting familiar with one another again. Kenny pulled back and rested his forehead on mine. “I’ve missed that, Els.”

“Me too.” I said.

He stood up, offering me his hand. “C'mon. Let’s go celebrate with our nosey friends.” Kenny said gesturing to Nick and Matt’s faces in the window.

I took his hands and gripped it tight, “Can I buy my girl a drink?” He asked as he held the door.

My stomach churned at his offer. “Not a chance, Babe.”

[discordant-daydreams]

valkyrie rosin: enter

i had done this for school about one of my ocs i have been trying to develop since 2013 but turns out i didn’t need to. I’m posting it here so it was worth it also because i am proud of it! please enjoy! 

I had been napping. It was a hot summer day, well it was spring but it felt more like summer, and I had nothing better to do. Napping was always interesting. Whenever i napped i had dreams, No not dreams, nightmares. They were always the same thing, my village was being destroyed. I always wake up panicking and honestly who wouldn't. I've talked to others about it and they always say that it's just my internal fear of becoming leader of our village but that feels wrong. I feel it is a warning like someone telling me something bad is going to happen. In the dream an evil shadowy man with glowing red eyes is destroying the village. At the end he always says i told you. Today was no different.

“Val! Wake up! We’re gonna have another race and you are still the winner!” i hear my older brothers voice. We are a race of shifters, a species that looks human but can transform into two other species, and i can become a horse or swan hence the name valkyrie. My brother a bear and a wolf. He hasn't gotten a name yet and he doesnt really want one. We are given normal names at birth, mine being rosin his being beamard but id rather valkyrie. So many people struggle on remembering how to say rosin that its just easier to go with valkyrie. I groan in annoyance and get up.

“You know I’m going to win if you allow the use of abilities, right? I can become a horse!”

“Yeah but eric is gonna join us today”beamard remarks with a smirk

“Oh no,” my brother laughs pats my shoulders and walks to the location

“So you have the same dream?” he says with genuine worry. I frown and nod. There's a silence for a while as we make our way towards the venue. My brother gives the normal rundown of rules. No inflicting pain on another, no cheating, yada yada yada. We start to take on our fastest forms and i notice hesitation on my brothers face.he glances towards me and forces a smile and mouths that he is fine. I raise an eyebrow and stay guarded.

Me and bee have been talking a lot about the history of our species and how it has been forgotten. We used to be able to shift into anything but we had to know the species very well and practice. We used to use it just to change our appearance slightly or prepare for battles and such but some wanted more. Our village got greedy and tried to learn any species possible so we could have the upper hand and the humans didn't like that. They never liked us because we are different but i get that. I understand how it feels. Some species scare me and my first reaction is to react unfavorably so i understand if they want to attack us. The humans asked us to agree to learning no more identities and we accepted it well reluctantly. My parents didn't like having their freedom taken away and neither did I when i learned.

My brother takes on the form of a wolf, Eric a falcon and me well i did something different. I tried a thoroughbred horse instead of a friesian. I probably would have been stopped had i not waited till the last minute. The cap gun goes off and we took off. I knew i was doing the wrong thing but man the adrenaline i was feeling was unreal. It was amazing. We all make it to the end but i zoomed to the finish line last minute and won. I was cheering having my own celebration but no one else was cheering.

“Ah c’mon guys don’t be sore losers it was only a-”

“Rosin how could you! You know that's forbidden! Are you trying to get us killed!” beamards shouts as he grabs my shoulders shaking me. The terror he is feeling was tangible and i looked up at him frowning.

“I-i thought it would be fine if it was just a different breed im sorry… im sorry! I don't want to get you killed! Im sorry!” as i begin to cry beamard softens and realizes he reacted harshly.

“Im sorry val i just worry i don't want anything to happen to you and honestly they wouldn't punish an entire village for an 8 year old’s curiosity.” somethign about the way he spoke felt fake and wrong but i just brushed it off and ignore it. we hug and our friends declare me the winner again. I convince them to all go out for ice cream by saying bee would treat them. He frowns and says fine and i laughs. Everything is nice and fun again and after ice cream w get home for dinner with our family. My parents seem oddly serious and beamard steps behind me. Dad nods at beamard and sighs.

“We know beamard you don't have to say anything i want you two to grab your dinners and go to the basement.” beamard nods and grabs our plates and heads off nudging me forward. I stand firm and glare at my father.

“No i will not! All day everyone has been acting.. Off? Weird? I cant describe it! Whatever it is im tired of it! Stop leaving me out!” beamard just quietly says please as i yell at my parents. Was it wrong of me to yell probably. Had i known what i know now would i have yelled? I wish i could say no but knowing myself the answer is still, probably. My father and mother kneel in front of me and frown grabbing my hands and say,

“Sweetie i know you want answers but please you have to trust us. We will be joining you two in the basement soon!” i frown, nod, and hug them and follow beamard to the basement. We eat our dinner in silence both too worried to speak. I suddenly remember my dream as it plays back in my head and i start crying as i realize.

“Beamard? The humans, they are trying to exterminate us aren't they?” he looks at me shocked but then nods and gestures for me to come over. I do and we huddle together hopeing for the best. “So my dream was correct… that really sucks.” i try so hard to keep my emotions under control but its hard. We hear screams outside and magic. we feel rumbling as homes are destroyed. The home we knew for years being reduced to ruble. The village i was to lead some day, no more. Everything we knew was being ripped from our grasp just because humans don't understand. Beamard looks down at me frowning.

“Rosie please don't hate the human. Please promise me you will stay open minded with them. Not all of them are terrible. Not all of them intend to destroy those they are confused about. Please keep your kind loving heart and promise me if anything were to happen to me that you wont change. That you wont let the hatred consume you. Please remember that i love you-” the door blasts open and a short winged humanoid comes in. they are wearing a cloak so we are unable to see what they look like but they are pale almost pinkish in hue. The vibes they give off are feelings of unsatiable blood lust and a hunger for violence. They send chills up my spine and i have the urge to run away. My brother grabs me and runs to the farthest corner of the room where he left his sword. I hiss through my teeth. Why didnt he have his sword on him? I draw my sword and approach “rosin no!” beamard jumps in front of my his sword clattering to the ground. There is a bright indigo light and it goes through my brother and reaches me. I an feel a searing pain from my left shoulder down to my hip and i wince, gritting my teeth. As i look forward to check on my brother all i can see is a pile of glittering crystals where my brother once was. I lose my composure for a moment and weep, collapsing where i stand, nd then regain it tearing off the crystals forming where the wound is.

“You arent a normal 8 year old are you? Youve prepared for this.” the person says with an unsusual voice. Its higher and friendly. One you would here and think of an innocent childlike individual. “A normal 8 year old would have been too afraid of the danger let alone the threat of death. They did warn me that you are an intelligent individual but i thought that meant for an 8 year old.”

“Yeah well you don't know our species then.” i get up draw my sword careful to make sure they arent looking and charge at them driving my sword through their middle and then using a match to light their wings. I didnt expect it to do much but they panicked and managed to break their wing. I oull my sword out and run away. As i am running i see the village i once knew. It was on fire. The cause? A grey dragon whose face was the angriest ive seen. The dragon made eye contact with me and it seemed to be appologizing. I run into the forest leaving a trail of blood. I find a cave and settle down when i hear a voice. The voice of a child about my age.

“Hi there my name is uh alex, we’ll go with that, um why are you in my cave?” i frown out of it.

“My village was just destroyed can you not see?” the child pauses and smirks. The smirk makes me go cold

“Oh yeah i forgot. I did warn you though.”

[absolutiondotexe-blog]

Of The Eyes: A Fallout Equestria Short Story

I preface my first-ever story post with this: Don’t expect much.

What you are about to read is an egotistical, slovenly mess of self-indulgence and pointless anger. This story came from thoughts not of myself, but of others. A seed that sprouted from complex emotions I had not yet found a way to rein in.

So I started writing. I wrote and I wrote and I wrote, and the words kept flowing. I look back on it now, and I see... Imperfection after imperfection, over and over and over, and I hate it. I hate not just the imperfections, but the fact that I absolutely must find every last one and scour them from my work.

Will that not make it stale and boring?

So listen up: I tried. I tried really hard. Too hard, probably. Everything in the following attempt at Fallout: Equestria-based pony horror will probably have an amount of that “try-hard” feel to it. But you know what?

It’s my first damn work. It’s the first thing I’ve ever cared to publish. It’s the first piece of work that I had an editor for, for christ’s sake.

But I can tell there will be imperfections. Over-explanations, continuity errors, overused/crutch words, OP OC Syndrome, “OH HEY LOOK AT ME IM SO COOL” syndrome, but... Guys, I feel something from this one.

While I can bash the shit out of myself, while I can mentally burn myself for even coming close to the thought of posting this work... I’m proud. I did my god-damned best, even after a horrible bout with disillusionment.

The purpose of my work changed halfway into making it, and I thought it ended. But it never fucking gave up. It stayed and it urged me to go on. I had no choice in the matter.

So... Even if it sucks, guys, please try to enjoy it if you enjoy horror. I’d love to have constructive feedback, too. Or even just feedback.

A warning, though. This is as dark as I could muster. A lot of strange, painful feelings went into writing this little piece, so if it somehow turns out to be well-written, then have a look at the tags and avoid if any of them are not in your taste.

Written by: Scribbles von Belfry

Copy Editor: Lorna Ightormens

Story after the break.

As a high pitched cackle resonated up and down the sparse, dingy alleyway, a stout, cerulean unicorn practically leapt backward like a frightened feline, scooting his hind legs as he toppled the only trash can within 30 feet.

With a stumble and a particularly loud cuss, he halted himself and stared back at his garbage-soaked leg, fetid liquid coating halfway toward the decorative red crosshair adorning his flank. A bounty hunter’s mark, if ever there was one.

With great disdain, he raised his dyed-black tail skyward and kicked the great tin pail aside, confusion crossing his oft-stoic visage as the bin tumbled away. A nervous hoof slipped up to adjust the ragged poncho his associates often mistook for a stack of old carpets.

He raised his chin, his amber eyes peering across at what could only be the unmoving body of a lanky, beige stallion, curled up right in the middle of the alley. Were it not for the bloodstains soaked into that particular earth pony’s white dinner jacket, one could swear that he was just a well-dressed vagrant who couldn’t find a place for the night. The unicorn’s issue was baffling, though.

Corpses don’t laugh.

After a long, silent pause, he shook his head. “... Nah. I’m hearing things. Yeesh…”

With a contemptful grunt, a shake of his soiled leg and a nervous stroke through his greasy black mane, he took a few cautious steps back toward his victim. “Three shots in the heart… Nobody survives that. No pony, no griffon, no nothing’.” He mumbled as he peered over to his silver-haired target’s face, discomfort quickly dressing the apparent assassin’s lightly-scarred features. “Why’d he have to die smiling, though…?”

Indeed, the corpse bore a great toothy gash of a grin, as if cleaved from ear to ear with a rusty razor. Each and every chomper was stained yellow and bore its own unique crack or chip. While dental hygiene was a commodity in the wasteland, the sheer contrast served to make the observing killer’s skin crawl.

Adjusting his dusty drapings once again, the hitman willed himself to thoroughly inspect his target anew. The contract wanted this guy dead, so he was going to be delivered dead.

And he was pretty sure this skinny stallion was dead.

He commenced a slightly-fearful survey, his focus hanging upon the gravity-defying mass of silvery hair sprouting from his quarry’s skull, then shifting to the dinner jacket, and finally heeding the spindly, cream-white hindquarters that bore an elegant alpha-symbol for a buttstamp.

“Wonder what the ‘a’ stands for...” the hesitant hunter quipped, slipping a teal hoof amongst the many layers of his shoulder-carpets and drawing his trusty foldaway rifle. He swung it by its hinge and snapped it into form with a flick of his hoof, then let his dull orange aura embrace the firearm. Reaching the barrel down, he prodded into one of the holes in his target’s mucky, formerly white clothing. Concern soon spread about his already-disconcerted face as he shifted the punctured fabric about…

“No holes? There were holes. There has to be-”

He froze, instantly regretting the very moment he chose to peer back at the beaming cadaver. Cold, dead, dark-grey eyes stared right back up at him from over their owner’s shoulder, its formerly-resting noggin held high. His accursed smile remained, the off-yellow teeth glinting in the low light as his bleak, void-like irises latched onto those of his living counterpart.

Seconds passed, the unicorn’s brows practically adhering to his hairline as he tried desperately to process what he beheld…

A familiar guffaw then resounded, echoing down the alley once again as the dead grin somehow spread itself further across the muzzle of the supposed corpse.

“... Boo!”

Crack! Crack crack crack crack crack!

Round after round fired and casing after casing scattered about the concrete, the contract killer laying rounds into his target’s neck, shoulder, torso, two in the hip, then one in the torso again. Anything to put the corpse back where it belonged. But the frizzy silver strands that made up the cadaver’s mane stayed skyward, his haunting eyes still locked directly to the horrified hitman’s.

Silence reigned for a few moments, the air tainted with gunsmoke. The freakish form of the lanky earth pony remained so still it seemed like he had given up the ghost with his head still raised. A peculiar case of rigor mortis, or so the gunpony hoped. He almost let himself feel relief, but all it took was one simple, “Hmm?” from between the sterling maned stallion’s filthy fangs to shatter any sense of safety.

The unicorn gave up on his firearm, instead slipping a hoof into yet another fold in his dusty drapes and withdrawing a long, well-used war knife. With a great roar, he reared back and buried the blade, tip to hilt, directly into his target’s eye. Holding tight upon the handle, he panted and shuddered, staring his bleeding quarry down. With creased brow and bared teeth, he waited, nay, dared for any sign of movement... Or worse, laughter.

The very moment the unicorn thought to twist the blade, however, fulminous giggling once again rattled through the alleyway, both seeping from between rotting teeth and gurgling through the hole in the undying stallion’s long neck.

Letting fear get the best of him, the sharpshooter backpedaled once again, but soon tripped on the lid of the toppled trash can, falling backwards onto his rump. From there, he had the perfect seat to witness the cackling carcass rising. And witness he did, frozen in fear and awe as the undead stallion straightened up, stretched his giraffine neck skyward and sneered down at him. Blood flowed copiously from the creeper’s numerous wounds, but he didn’t seem to care.

Lidding his lead-grey eyes, the beige, suited spire of a stallion began to quiver on the spot. His audience, confused at first, peered about his quaking body, trying to discern the cause. It took its time in manifesting, but soon the stunned onlooker witnessed why, exactly, his initial survey yielded no wounds.

Each and every visible hole began to heal before his very eyes. The blood that once drained from his elongated jugular slowed to a trickle, then halted completely. Soon after, the crimson dot that marked bullet-entry drew thinner, and by the time it was gone, taupe fuzz had already sprouted atop it to cap it all off. All that was left was a thick red line trailing down his overgrown neck.

As the sanguine cascade slowed, one of his spindly forelegs rose, his hoof gripping the handle jutting from his eye socket. With a few light tugs, followed by a great twisting wrench, it came free, painting a crimson spatter across the alley wall.

“... What the fuck are you!?” the gaping gunner questioned.

The self-mending stallion’s head whipped around to face his former assailant, his gashed eye twitching and shifting, though its bleeding had already halted. The other, though, locked to the armed unicorn once again, yet another chuckle ringing forth…

“Wh-CAUGHLPH!”

Before his lengthy throat could voice its reply, the revived one’s visage contorted. He doubled over, wrestling with his lungs until a “clack” could be heard upon his yellowed teeth. Peering about, he laid eyes on the overturned wastebin, then angled his chin and spat a small, hard little something. It sailed through the air, arcing perfectly and landing inside with a noise reminiscent of a tin spitoon. “Sorry. Bullet.” He simpered, before raising the bloodied brow borne above his wounded eye. “In fact, one moment…”

His long, tan neck tilted downward, both maimed and untouched eyelids shutting tight. Then, still bearing his trademark beam, he whipped his body to and fro like a mutt straight out of a watering hole. Many more chunks of shattered, flattened lead loosed from his hide and shirt, only to clatter to the concrete below. The cartoonish corpse then halted, his inquisitive brow ever quirked.

Slowly, he canted his head to the side, raising a hind hoof to meet his marvelously messy mane. Then, with surprising authenticity, he scratched and jostled the mass of silvery hair, continuing to channel his inner canine. Finally, one last bullet loosed from his grey locks, rolling for a spell as it met with its brethren.

“How that got there, I’ll never know…” He chirped.

The taupe terror then met eyes with his fearful audience. As best he could, at least.

“Thank you for waiting! Now, to your question... What am I, then?” He cooed, slowly turning on the spot, his steps marked with the sound of a bloodstained knife dragging along the concrete.

“Why… I am your penance~.” The answer echoed down the empty alley, his foppish accent curling around each slowly articulated word.

“My penance...?” Is all the seated unicorn could manage, his own black brow quirking. “... The hell do you mean by that?”

The smiley beige stallion soon bowed, his hoof sweeping from below and meeting his shoulder, the knife in it flicking yet more crimson to the nearby bricks. “At your service~.” He teased, ignoring his former killer’s counter-query. He kept his neck held low, his head shaking visibly for a few scant seconds.

As his second twitching fit of the day subsided, he hefted his skull skyward once more, grinning loftily down at his ‘inquisitive’ observer. Both monotone eyes were on display, whole and un-wounded. “And you would be Straight Shooter, correct? Such a contrast you’ve taken to your name… Tut tut tut~.”

A spark flared in the gunner’s eyes. Clearly, this had been brought to his attention before.

“... My name ain’t my demeanor, y’fuckin’ freak.” He growled, letting his quick temper melt away fear’s icy tendrils. With lightning speed, his rifle lifted from the ancient pavement, then pointed straight to the looming almost-giraffe’s grinning mug, glimmering with the poncho-clad stallion’s magic. “It’s my speciality.”

“HAH-”Crack!

The shot hit home, exactly where Straight Shooter wanted it, right between the freak’s parted teeth as the he tried to cackle. The placement was so perfect, in fact, that his former quarry’s head snapped backward and lifted a tad. His skull had come free from his spine.

As his freakish former-target’s chin thrusted skyward, Straight Shooter took the opportunity to leap and run. Even if his shot was more-than-fatal, Shooter wasn’t going to take any chances, having just watched a dead pony come back to life. He fled up the abandoned alley, folding his rifle and tucking it away, out of ammo by his count. The moment the firearm was secure, though, his ears flicked as he noticed the sound of steel tapping to cement not too far behind. He couldn’t resist the urge to peek…

“Oh, fuck me in half, are you shittin’ me!?"

With his head hanging backward and chin still in the air, the bloody-suited river mutt was in hot pursuit. His neck was held upward, his back just as straight, his legs galloping along in an oddly efficient manner. Everything was in perfect working order, save for the fact that his skull flailed behind him like some sort of grotesque pennant. Each and every step shook his unhinged, bleeding noggin, causing it to flick forward once in a while.

He was still grinning, of course.

It soon became clear to the gunstallion that he wasn’t going to escape the crazed cadaver. Even without a functioning brain, the thing behind him was catching up fast.

In a last ditch effort, his horn glimmered once more and he whipped himself around, revealing a sizeable six-shooter from one of his many carpet-folds.

His last loaded weapon.

Crack!

To Straight’s surprise, the bullet met only air… Not because he missed, but because the corpse-pony had shifted to the side at the very last possible moment.

Crack!

Another dodge, something of a leap toward the opposite wall. The creeper’s movements seemed robotic, overly calculated, only shifting and leaping precisely when he needed to.

Crack!

Progress. Aiming for a hoof caused the demon to stop for a moment, the shot embedding in the concrete before him. Shooter’s pistol quickly raised, and-

Crack!

His pursuer crouched beneath the hurtling slug, just in the nick of time once again. His mocking smile came into view for a moment, just in time for another shot.

Crack!

His freakishly spindly legs sprung upward, catapulting the cadaver over the next bullet. With fresh momentum, he barreled toward the living stallion once again.

Shooter, known for counting his shots, took a deep, shuddered breath. Last one. He needed to slow the zombie down, at least. As his coal-black brows furrowed, he took every moment he could to line up.

The sound of the hammer cocking seemed to trigger something in his pursuer, as while the near-headless horse closed in, he suddenly whipped his towering nape, snapping his head right back into position. A move akin to a pre-war candy dispenser. His grin glinted, ever vigilant, much like his renewed gaze upon the contract killer as the hammer fell.

Crack!

“Hah-HAH!”

With an effort-laden laugh, his lanky body launched skyward once again, curving in the air past the chunk of hurtling lead. His back was arched, his legs were stiff, and his unsettlingly idiotic smile shone wide and proud as he arced down toward the empty-gunned hitman. It seemed less like he was pouncing upon his fleeing prey, and more like he was playing a simple game of chase, bounding like an antelope among his kin. One last giggle sounded as he bore down on the now-unarmed stallion, his last moments of freedom playing back in slow motion as the leaping lunatic’s vibrant, yet somehow still lifeless, eyes drew closer and closer…

With a series of loud yelps and muffled grunts, the pair of them tumbled out into the abandoned street, not a single other soul in sight. Straight Shooter picked the perfect place to hide a corpse, it seemed.

Before he knew it, the disarmed assassin was in a vice-like headlock, his throat compressed a tad as all four spindly limbs wrapped right around him.

“Guh-! LEMME GO! FUCKIN’ FREAK! GET OFF!” He bellowed, writhing and wrenching his shoulders against his captor’s unexpectedly unbreakable grip. For such a weak frame, he sure had some power behind him.

“Harsh words, little sir! But, fair, as well. After all…” He replied, before letting his voice lower to a deep, raspy whisper, his stony eyes peering over Shooter’s shoulder… The closest they had ever been. “It takes one to know one~.”

The beige limb strapped across the contract killer’s chest slowly dragged itself out of view, the familiar knife it gripped painting a dull, streaky red line across his dusty trappings. A moment later, the blood-warmed steel found itself nestled neatly between the two, resting on its flat against the quivering unicorn’s spine.

“Now, you won’t be needing this…” The spider-giraffe stated as he reached into Straight’s clothes, pulling his folded rifle free and tossing it aside to join its revolving brother. While empty, it seemed the slender stallion didn’t like to take chances. He even searched about within the  carpeted folds for a few moments, before resuming his headlock.

The anti-corpse’s whimsical, dandy voice soon breezed over his prey’s shoulder. “Now that I’ve caught you, Mister Straight Shooter, let us discuss why you’ve found yourself in my giddy clutches.” With little warning, the spiderly stallion rolled atop his wriggling fly, quickly pressing the writhing captive’s head directly to the cracked cement below. “Sixteen. Does that number mean anything to you?”

The gunstallion continued his silent squirming, both of his hooves soon lifting to grip the slender one pressing him down. Alas, the grinning lunatic didn’t budge, even as Shooter wrenched and pulled with all of his might.

“I don’t hear an answer, Mister Shooter.”

“FUCK, I don’t know, the number of foals you ate last week!?”

“HAH! Nasty, but no.” With a shift of the hips, the corpse put all of his weight down, drawing a grunt from his newfound quarry. “... Sixteen would be the number of innocent ponies and gryphons you’ve killed.” Having found Shooter’s blade again, his unburdened, spindly hoof drew abstract circles in the air, letting blood flick about as he recounted. “Though that’s just by my count. Even I am not perfect. Who knows how many more you’ve popped for your amusement...” From above, he quivered, though the reason wasn’t apparent, especially when the unicorn could barely turn his head to look.

“‘Innocent’ is the key word here. To define, I refer to ponies and griffons who had nothing to do with your contracts. By my research, 16 bodies is about a quarter of your career, which means you’re still liable to sin again and again and again-”

“What’s your fuckin’ point!?” Shooter shot, grunting amidst his attempts to shift his aggressor’s unmoving limb.

After a one more moment of silent squirming, he felt a breath whisk past his cyan ear that practically wilted his fur. How a pony can heave air so cold, he had no clue. Then, the ex-corpse’s tan lips loosed what seemed to be their favourite word yet again.

“Penance. Remember?” The word made the captive killer’s azure-furred skin crawl anew, the towering stallion simply relishing in the resulting shiver.

“Now. Upsy-daisy~!”

In one swift movement, the unicorn’s forelegs were wrenched upward, and his messy trappings were lifted off and unceremoniously tossed aside. He could have sworn his ear came off with them.

Before he could think to attempt an escape, the unshakable tan hoof pressed down again, this time a little lower; to the back of Shooter’s neck. As if on cue, he gripped at the spindly limb again, wrenching and writhing anew. He froze a moment later, however, as he finally met with his trusty blade again, the sicko planted atop him making a game of dancing the very tip up and down his quaking spine.

“Now, then,” the undead hunter mumbled. “Let me see…” The flat of the blade soon pressed to Shooter’s frozen foreleg, slowly-yet-firmly wiping across it. His captor grunted from above, having leaned in to inspect the results.

“Out of ink. One moment~.”

The noise that followed could only be described as that of a pitchfork plunging into a bale of rain-soaked hay. The captive killer quickly writhed and shook, worried he had taken a stealthily-placed stab. “Shit... What the hell...” He murmured after a moment’s pause, feeling nothing.

“Ahh… There we are~!” Not a hint of pain could be heard in the now-likely-bleeding earth stallion’s tone. It should have come as no surprise, given the fact he could take bullets with a smile. Soon, the ensnared unicorn felt wet steel press lightly upon his back, keeping deathly still as it traced a great, wide, measured circle. A trickle of what Straight could only presume was blood soon trailed down from his captor’s foreleg, dressing his pinned neck in an unsightly crimson cascade.

“Outer ring...” the loon sung out, lifting the blade away. “Tell me, is what I’m doing obvious, yet?”

“Fuck you.” Shooter spat.

Down it came again, dancing in a tighter, daintier circle within its streaky red predecessor.

“Inner ring… Come, now! It has to be!”

“SHUT UP! STOP! WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU’RE DOING-”

“That is not a guess, Mister Shooter.” Cooed the nut, silencing his captive with a quick press of his hoof.

The knife’s edge daintily lifted away once more, returning to trace a quick, rough ring dead-center amidst the other two. Then, with a pair course-yet-purposeful swipes, he colored in the center of his little piece of art. “And… Bull’s eye.”

The hitman could practically feel the grin burning upon his mane.

“... What the fuck are you doing?”

“Playing with my food~.” He declared, audibly licking his chops, if just for effect. “Feels different having a target on your back this time, doesn’t it? HAH!” Again, the knife disappeared, the pinned stallion left only to imagine what came next.

It definitely felt that now was the time for diplomacy. Shooter soon halted his resistance, drawing a deep, calming breath as he began his appeal. “Okay, listen buddy. Stop. I’ll do what you want. Let’s be reasonable.” He began..

“Reasonable!?” The shrill cackle that followed echoed through the alleyway behind them. “I stood up after being shot thrice in the heart! What makes you think I’m going to be reasonable!?” He chuckled to himself for another moment or two, before he let the haughty smirk he wore become evident in his tone.

“Alas, you are giving me what I want, little killer... Such emotion! A polar shift from mere moments ago~.” With a shift of the hips, the knife-wielding maniac adjusted his position… And it was then that things went a few steps beyond less-than-reasonable.

The lanky vengeant squeezed his thighs tighter as he shifted about, loosing a dark chuckle as his hips angled back. If it wasn’t clear how much the screwball was enjoying himself, the weight that found itself pressed to his captor’s lower back spelled everything out.

It was warm, too. Not warm enough to thaw the chill that draped over the unicorn’s very being, but warm enough to let his captor’s grotesque desires be known.

“... What the fuck is that? What are you doing back there!?” Shooter’s accusatory tone could barely mask his sudden, intense panic, his head trying its hardest to twist back and see if what he felt was real.

While the madpony’s tone remained whimsical, a savagery weaved itself amongst his words, low, dark and gravelly. “You have no idea how hard it is to find a fellow like yourself, you know. I can’t just do this to any old hunk of walking filth.”

Cyan hooves began dragging and scraping at the busted pavement all around them, scrabbling for purchase, for leverage, for a weapon, anything.

“I mean, goodness, I love sowing fear, I adore weaving pain, but this time…” The creeper’s rotting tone inched closer overhead, until Shooter could practically feel yellowed teeth nestling to his flicking ear. “Oh, this time I get to truly appreciate it.” The last three words billowed forth in a shadowy whisper, dribbling with pure vitriol. “On this day, little killer… You are mine.”

“You… You fuckin’ freak! You psychopath!” the shocked Shooter yelped, gripping the pinning limb once again and wrenching at it with all his might. The hitman’s fighting spirit only seemed to make his captor more excited, however, as the aforementioned warmth snaked up his spine.

“... A psychopath? Moi?” Shooter’s molester pressed the neck-borne hoof down a tad more. “Do you even know the meaning of the word, you vile, contemptible swine?” He spat, his tone belying his blatantly obvious enjoyment. “I am bringing you your penance. I am here as compensation for the pain of which you have wrought, to pick the produce of the seeds that you’ve sown and stuff them down your wretched gullet.”

A cold breath swept over Shooter’s ear once again as he felt his spindly subjugator lean back down.

“I saw what you did to her.”

The killer’s already-chilled heart almost stopped then and there, his body stock still. “Whuh… Who…?” was all he could manage.

With a somehow-still-whimsical air, the twisted creeper elaborated “Her. The subject of your debauchery. The one you decorated the wall with.”

The unicorn couldn’t move. Not just from the thorough pinning, but also from absolute, unfathomable dread. “... H… How do you know that was me...?”

“I have eyes everywhere, you bubbling, seeping cyst of a stallion! I prowl for demented bags of vomit like you. I prey on you.” Somehow, the air around them grew colder. “Seeing what was left of that poor mare, spread-eagle, all on display... The centerpiece to your little piece of demonic art...” The slim stallion’s hoof ground into the teal neck-fuzz beneath. “It was painful. You made sure to leave as little of yourself as possible, but also made absolutely sure the pain of her final moments was obvious to those who would find her.”

Harder he ground, drawing a gag from Shooter’s slowly-shutting throat. “Yes, I found it infuriating, yet also found it oh-so-very, mmm…” He ground and ground, pressed and pressed, adoring the pained gurgling as Shooter fought for air. Then, before the murderer could escape consciousness, the pressure released and he drew a deep, desperate gasp.

“Mmm... Alluring~.” the smiling stallion cooed.

“You’re… Fucking sick…” Shooter gasped.

“Seeing the carnage you wrought meant I had finally found someone to let loose upon! To unload every feeling, every emotion I’ve harbored, stored and saved!” The demented lunatic shifted his hips, just to highlight his captive’s predicament.

“Oh, gracious, I think it’s been years!” His sing-song tone returned, the spindly leg on the back of the hitman’s neck soon grinding about as much as his spindly hips were. Among the pitiful noises of a rapist’s throat being forcefully closed and reopened, he added “I fancy myself a bit of an empath, actually.”     “BULLSHIT!” The tormented unicorn screamed, his contempt echoing through the empty streets. He found himself gasping once again, though, as an equally contemptful hoof squeezed at his neck.     “Not bullshit, you feckless imp. Think about it. Who better to dole out true retribution than one who yearns to feel everyone else’s pain?” With another audible lick of the chops, followed by another horrid grind, he continued, “And I will certainly be feeling yours, Straight Shooter. Your penance shall taste so sweet~.”

Suddenly, knife and owner united once again, a good quarter of it embedding itself right in the contract killer's shoulder blade like a dart in a board. A pained howl rang out, quickly stifled as the earth stallion pressed his panicked prey’s throat closed once more, resulting in a near-silent gurgle of which the torturer utterly relished.

“Hah~... Oops! What a miss! Good thing you keep this thing sharp, though. Goodness, I only dropped it a foot and a half!” The demented torturer confessed, applying the slightest of pressure to the hilt.

“Though I must admit, that was delightful! A veritable sonnet to my ears. Let’s see how far we can take a scream like yours.”

“You’re gonna burn, fuh-... Freak! They’re gonna come looking-”

Shooter found himself quickly interrupted. “Oh, no way! You’re letting me say my favourite line! Oh, I shan’t pass this up. Ahem…” Familiar, ice-cold breath soon draped over the unicorn’s shoulder, the spindly hunter’s tone carrying just as much whimsy as it did the boiling venom he loved so much…

“Let them come. I hunger.”

He then plunged the buried bolo further, scraping past bone, slicing muscle and severing sinew. The titillated torturer simply soaked in the high pitched squeals and shaky wails his captive rewarded him with, a certain eager heat inching up the singing sniper’s spine all the while.

In time, the torturer tired, and he wrenched the knife free, at which the shuddering mass of pain and torment below spluttered insult after insult through his rough, ragged breaths.

“F… Fuck you. Fuck you, you fucking sick, mutant fr-EAK.”

He had little time to loose his anger, mere seconds having passed as the falling blade’s tip hit his barrel once again. This time, it found itself caught deftly between a pair of ribs. “Oops, again! I’m so bad at this game!” The buzzy bloodletter admitted, shifting his ever-eager flanks. “Oh well, at least I got a lung.”

Reacting instantaneously, the pinned unicorn took a deep breath, as if to test his subjugator’s theory. He held his lungs full for a few slow, painful moments, but soon turned his head the iota it was allowed, the grinning goon witnessing an inquisitive black brow.

“What the fuck are you ta-”

He interrupted himself with his shortest-lived scream yet, his taupe tormentor having lovingly timed a deep, hard push to both interrupt and answer his question. The pain of a blade dulling itself upon one’s bones and severing every muscle that stood in its way was soon matched by the sharp, searing sensation that could only come from a punctured lung.

A series of hard, hacking coughs followed, the equine pin-cushion met only with great discomfort and irritation as he painted a picturesque spatter of blood and saliva across the cement. His forelegs, once fighting fruitlessly for his freedom, began to writhe and scrape at the ground desperately, though their strength waned as their owner lost precious oxygen. Each cough his body forced him to loose only allowed the invading weapon to cut more tissue, adding to the crimson spatter across the concrete canvas before the two.

But what hurt the most, above all else…? The entire time, while the pathetic, punctured unicorn writhed and suffered, the freakish undead retributivist throbbed against him.

“Oohoohoohoo… Yeeees…” the former bullet-sponge purred, his hips practically dancing upon Shooter’s writhing body. “Oh, it has been a while! It sounds like you’re almost done, too.” Shooter felt it coming. Chilly breath was to dress his blackened mane once more.

“I know I am~.” The toothy taupe terror mocked, his defenseless killer’s desperate wheezing only fueling further presses and grinds. Just when Shooter thought he could compensate for lost air, his sadistic torturer wrenched the blade sideways, tearing the puncture wider, just to milk him for more sweet music.

The burdened wail the unicorn let forth was akin to to a child in tears. Long, anguished and split by blood-sodden hacks and splutters. Yet all the deranged desecrator gave in return was a high-pitched, quivered grunt, as if a long-standing itch had finally been scratched.

After he had his fill, the manic maimer gave a merry jiggle of the protruding handle, loosening the embedded steel from sawed bone and stiffened muscle. Then, with nary a thought to be gentle, he yanked it free and lifted it high above, letting one more sanguine line spatter itself across the his already-thoroughly-bloodied jacket. The resulting coughs and gurgles sent another delighted shiver up and down his sadistic spine. “Such little struggle you provide, now! Have I struck a chord, I wonder?” He mocked. “If not, don’t worry! Soon I’ll be fiddling with your heartstrings~.”

Shooter’s blood-drenched body convulsed as the blade dripped overhead, its wielder clearly cheating as he lined the little crimson droplets up.  “Now, one more try…” The slender stallion took his time, letting each red glob land closer and closer to the mark. His thighs squeezed tight to urge their captive to keep still.

One last globule spattered directly upon the now-dried bullseye as a somewhat-childish giggle emanated from above. Out of the corner of Shooter’s sunken, golden eye, he saw a flash, a glint of sodden steel slicing down through the air. The moment it slipped out of view, however, his back was forced once again to greet the blade he had once trusted with his life. He would have wailed, screamed, begged and pleaded for help, but he couldn’t. Weak, gurgling gasps were the only thing that escaped his overburdened chest.

“HAH! Booyah! Perfect~. Dead-centre. Bull’s-eye!” The giraffe of a stallion celebrated, lifting his pinning hoof up for a few quick claps. Not a moment after, he leaned right down, craning his neck to have his eyes meet a sullen, despaired pair below. “Oh, gracious... If only you could see your face…” He let his words hang for far too long, shifting his head about as he scanned Shooter’s sullen features. “I wonder if this is how she looked.” He teased, holding his grievous, endless smile. “I couldn’t tell. You didn’t leave much more than a chin.” His eyelids narrowed. “A scattergun? Really?”

A moment passed, Shooter staring right back into the cold, lifeless eyes before him. Then, without warning, the torturer’s teeth parted and a long, draconic tongue slipped forth. It dragged itself from the moribund unicorn’s blood-spattered lips, all the way up his exposed cheek. Shortly after, that familiar gust of arctic wind wrestled a flicking ear. “Worry not, little killer… Soon, I will find comfort in your deadened stare.”

“Puh… Please...” Shooter croaked, barely registering a whisper.

To his surprise, the beige assailant stopped short, staring incredulously down at him.

“Please? You must be joking.” He dismissed, forcing each word through grin-bared teeth. Nonetheless, his grey eyes bore the slightest hint of genuine confusion. “You only thought to beg now, did you?”

As he was met with nothing but a wheeze and an expression of desperate torment, his silver brows furrowed, the foppish freak taking an unfamiliarly thoughtful tone. “... No, no, this is often when they beg for it all to end. When it’s become too much, and they wish for a push into the painless depths of demise.” He leaned an inch closer, squinting as he inspected the dying stallion’s expression, chatting his thoughts out along the way. “Are you asking for me to end things quickly? Or are you possibly showing… Remorse?”

“I… I’m sorry…” Came another choked, pathetic whisper, borne after a long, labored pause.

The unholy hunter’s cold, steely eyes widened at the very gesture. “... Sorry? You’re sorry?” His tone evolved from inquisitive to downright bewildered. “You’re telling me that you’re sorry for the pain you caused? The lives you forever changed, the hell you wrought upon entirely innocent souls?”

“Y… Yes…” the unicorn wheezed, gulping down a throatful of blood to do so.

For a few moments they simply stared each other down, a one-sided standoff if ever there was one. Then, finally, the fellow on top opened his strangely uncloven lips to speak.

“... You know, I do have the means to nurse you back to health, even with a punctured lung left to bleed this long. Were I to will it, I could make it so.”

It was Straight Shooter’s turn to widen his darkened eyes, the prospect of living past the ordeal kindling something akin to hope in his expression. It all stopped short, though, when the maniac closed his own eyes, and his chaotic grin re-emerged.

“But then, hah hah…” Venom dripped once again. “Then, I remember her again. I remember what you did, and I remember how much you enjoyed it…” He reminisced. “You chose a soundproof room, you put her through what looked like hours upon hours of beating, you fucked the living daylights out of her…” His cold eyes tore open once again, gazing into Shooter’s very soul. “... You placed the barrel in her maw and pulled the trigger, right in the middle of the act. What got me, though, you freak of nature, nnngh... PAH!”

The slim sadist spat, spraying the unicorn’s cheek as he laid bare the torment Shooter had caused. Even through such vitriol, the creep still smiled, framing the intensity in his countenance with pure contrast. After a short pause for a calming breath, his yellowed teeth parted and he went on,

“... What got me was the cigarette. Lit post-mortem, then doused upon her exposed tongue. Somehow, after displaying that you are the worst kind of sapient being imaginable, you were still proud of yourself” he hissed right into Straight Shooter’s ears, his words borne on an bitter, arctic tide. “Pride is your downfall, Mister Shooter. For such disrespect, there will be no remorse. No mercy. You do not deserve anything of the sort.” He practically mashed his muzzle directly into an ear, delivering his final verdict. “You deserve only pain, torment and death.”

It was then that the hitman finally noticed that his own blade was aimed directly at his heart, having already pared a rib from his spine where it lay. Meekly, his hooves began their desperate struggle again, but while drowning in blood, he surely could not hope to find the strength to free himself.

Straight’s bleeding barrel twitched once again as the embedded blade twisted ever so slightly, his captor’s grinning mug pulling itself from view just in time for another burdened cough to paint the broken sidewalk.

From above, a certain dandy voice declared its master’s victory. “You now get the greatest gift of all, my dear Straight Shooter! You get to ride your own blade right into death’s comforting bosom... Oh, you lucky dog~!” The contractor could feel his knife jostling as the nutcase leaned down once again, gripping the handle with both hooves. “I suppose I should take this nice and slow, then, hmm? Let us both savour the journey.”

With that, the reddened steel began its leisurely plunge, sinking millimeter by millimeter into the spluttering Straight Shooter. His muscles tightened in an attempt to halt his impending doom. Yet he knew, deep down, that it wouldn’t be enough. He had sharpened every millimetre himself, intending for it to cut bone like paper. It did its job well.

“Come now, just let it happen…” The giraffe-stallion mocked from overhead, his off-white hips angling back to allow him a few deeper, heartier grinds. The dying killer couldn’t take much more. Such revelry in the fact that he was in pain, such merriment in the prospect of his death…

Despair painted itself across his visage. His muscles loosened, his eyes lost focus, his burdened wheezes began to slow and… Silently, he wept.

Yet the knife never stopped.  “Thaaat’s it… Good boy~...”

Deeper, deeper, deeper it crept, muscle and bone acting only as a curtain before his pounding heart. The fiend dragged his warmth about the unicorn’s back and held a bated breath as he drew his victim’s last moments out as long as he possibly could. Soon, the teary teal transgressor could practically feel the edge prodding at his ticker, his head attempting one final twist, throwing his last fearful, pleading stare…

“Oh, look at those eyes, little killer… Rich with fear and despair!” came yet another chilly whisper from between the unhallowed hunter’s stained teeth. “Mais non. There is a little bit more to be said.” Unbeknownst to the ‘killer pony’, the vengeant who strummed at his heartstrings shifted his muzzle to the pommel of his commandeered murder weapon, as if to address a microphone. “Take your last breath knowing that your actions lead to this. Live with what you’ve done, little killer…”

There, Shooter managed to drag his head upward to meet his tormentor’s gaze, searching amongst the iron-hued irises bearing down upon him, trying to make a desperate appeal to the maniac’s very soul. But all he was met with was emptiness. To him, it made no sense for such a vivid and animated being to bear eyes so very dead.

Through it all, one thing remained. That smile. That fucking smile.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, psychopath. Deep down, you know this is what you deserve.  Live with what you’ve done... “ The taupe terror repeated. “... And die by it.”

His words echoed in the dying stallion’s mind, the last he would ever hear, as his former target made a rough thrust and buried the knife down to its hilt. Shooter’s heart was practically sliced in half.

In his the last moments of his consciousness, as his lungs drained in a forlorn, gurgled rale through his blood-painted maw, Straight Shooter felt the steel buried in his barrel shake and shift as his ungodly hunter painted his back with streak after streak of…

No. He wished not to imagine.

Minutes passed as the hot wasteland air dragged wave after wave of dust along the long-forgotten streets. The giraffine predator panted amidst the sudden winds, staring down at a certain messy, black mane. His teeth glinted to the slowly waning sunlight, his lanky form poised like a cat upon a mouse.

“Hah… Surprising! You took a lot out of me, dear lad~.” He huffed as he stood, adjusting his gait with a shake of a hind leg. His stance soon wavered, though, as he began to quake on the spot. “Oh, this is so exciting! The conditions have never been so perfect!” he exclaimed, clearly quite thrilled.

Drawing his hoof away from the firmly-embedded knife, the lunatic retributivist quickly peered about the desolate burg. Nopony for miles, ever still. Then, with a strangely-childish giggle and a leap for joy, he clicked his hooves in the air, landing beside the unfortunate unicorn with a dainty flourish.

His shoulders gyrated in a little victory dance as he peered down upon the hitman-turned-cadaver. “Oooh, I’ll bet it’s perfect! I’ll bet you learned everything I sought to teach! I’ll bet you regretted every single sin in your last few moments!” His eyes squeezed shut as his grim grin widened once again. “Oooooh, a fake death, a devilishly creepy chase, the whole target-on-your-back schtick, a punctured lung... AND I got to truly unleash for the first time in, um…” He quirked a pondering brow. “Mmm… Two years? Two years!” he tittered, glancing back to Shooter’s corpse.

“How could he be holding anything other than a face of pure and utter regret~?”

He sauntered around the front of his unfortunate captive, admiring his handiwork along the way with a raised brow and a hearty chuckle. But the moment the painbringer could get an angle on his victim’s face, his dead-grey eyes snapped shut. “I must relish this… The big reveal!” He declared, marching on the spot to straighten his stance. “Now… On the count of three.” He cleared his throat, giddy with anticipation.

“One… Two… Three!”

His head quickly canted down, and he laid eyes upon the broken, lifeless visage that once spoke for Straight Shooter. After a few moments study, however, the vengeful undead stallion furrowed his silver brows once again, his grin slowly fading.

“Wait… Why- No. No.” He craned his neck downward, disbelief striking his token grin away as he studied his victim closely.

“You… You little prick.”

The cerulean fur coating Shooter’s once-vivid golden eyes had taken a much darker tone, framing the faraway half-stare in a suffocated navy blue, one of them loosely lidded the moment his time came. His lips were pursed, but still hung down a tad, the muscles having loosened upon his last breath. A stream of deep-red blood trickled down from his nostril, joining the one trailing from his lower lip, his lungs having found some space in his maw within which to drain their burden.

However, none of those particular features seemed to interest the revenge-killer. He soon focused primarily upon the open, but still half-lidded eye, framed by a set of blackened, comparatively-relaxed brows.

“No remorse…” He whispered, summing up the entire expression. “No bloody remorse. Can't any of you psychopathic freaks realize what you've done?" The irony of the statement drowned in the whirls of dust below him.

“You daft, sullen fool… I make it so obvious, so blatantly bloody obvious, and you just give up, or worse, find relief.” A bloody taupe hoof began grinding into the pavement, the first freakish frown of the night plastered across the disgruntled faux-zombie’s face. And what a frown it was, seething with the venom he had weaved not so long ago.

“Selfish to the bloody end, you prick. You cowardly prick.” Upon his last spiteful expression, the formerly-grindy hoof whipped forth and struck the bleeding carcass across the chin.

And what a strike it was. The meaty “THOCK” resonated down the ruined street as Shooter’s jaw pulled clean from its hinge, breaking in multiple places and settling horizontal to his skull. Were it not for the skin and sinew packaging his chops, the deceased assassin may just have lost half of his teeth.

“I will have it… I will teach you wretched fucking raiders at least an ounce of remorse if it’s the last bloody thing I do,” he growled, bitter to the very core. Then, he paused, as if listening to the lifeless unicorn’s reply.

“... No, you were not a professional. There is nothing professional about your wretched craft.” He bickered. “You were a stroke of feces, a bloody skid-mark on the bowl of the outhouse of which this world has become. I come to clean, to purify, and you see nothing but your own filthy desires. You see to your wretched, demonic evil all as I try my bloody hardest do my duty.”

He then leaned nose-to-nose with the clearly-inattentive, broken body. “You wretch… You filth… You-you... Drug-addled, psychopathic SCUM.” He let fly, as if to send his disdain to the afterlife with the ex-unicorn.

His tan cheeks twitched as dead eye met dead eye in yet another fruitless stare-down. Minutes passed, it seemed, as he practically willed Shooter to take a leaf from his own necromantic book. But, as time went on, the angered cadaver’s expression softened, and he heaved a defeated sigh.

“Fine. FINE.” He huffed, lifting his head high into the air, staring down at Shooter with the utmost of contempt. “Come. You’ve a date with a giant blender.” The taupe terror quipped as he extracted the overly-sharp bolo from its great, red target. With a grunt, he then hoisted his prey across his back, teal jaw swaying in the air.

With a thoughtful hum, the exceptionally-strong, gangly stallion sidled over to the killed killer’s neck-kilt, quickly draping it over its former wearer. “A trophy, at least. Not something I normally do, but I’ve been needing a new doormat.” He loosed a light chuckle, letting his soured mood shift gears. With a dainty wiggle of his hips, he took a merry stride, draping himself in the fresh shadows of the evening.

“I thought I had it that time…” He sighed. “Oh well. Plenty more hitmen out there.”

His smile was soon vivid once more. So much so, it weaved itself back into his tone as his voice echoed into the night.

“Next time~.”