#it all comes back to the flesh eating snail curse in the end :/ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

myth-lord · 4 years ago

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Why don’t you just DIE! (already)

Sometimes when you kill an enemy it isn’t exactly the end of the fight, sometimes it is just the beginning!

These are all the monsters from my list/project that can metamorphic into a new form after you seem to have beaten them.

KHALKOTAUROI

First Form:

Much like a mechanical/golem-like bull made from metal, strange red fiery spiritual fire leaks from its cracks, eyes and nostrils.

Reborn Form:

After you destroy the mechanical body an full HP Aatxe spawns, this red bull spirit was trapped inside the metal shell and is more angry than before.

ALP-LUACHRA

First Form:

Like a very pulsing big human, almost bursting and very disgusting, intelligence isn’t in its eyes, it just wants to eat, instead of a tongue however an Olm/Amphibian-like creature bursts from its mouth, seemingly controlling the human host.

Reborn Form:

After killing the human host, the small Alp-Luachra bursts from the corpse and is forced to fight for itself, it tries to enter the bodies of your playable characters, so you better kill it fast.

MANANANGGAL

First Form:

Much like a female version of the Aswang, which are demon-possessed humans in my project, much like the creatures from the movie Evil Dead.

Reborn Form:

After you do enough damage to the Manananggal it will turn into a different form, it sprouts bat-like wings from its back and its torso rips itself free from the lower body, its intestines dangle beneath it and it can use these organs to attack enemies with.

Third Form:

Doing even more damage to this flying form will morph it into the final form, which is just a head with bat-like wings instead of ears, much like a more crazy and scary looking Chon-Chon (my other flying head which is unrelated to the Manananggal), in this final head-form the Manananggal is extremely desperate and it attacks with tentacles which dangle from its neck.

AWD GOGGIE

First Form:

Like a horrifying giant green caterpillar.

Reborn Form:

After you seemingly kill it, it will turn into a cocoon, and while you may think this will turn into a butterfly monster you are wrong, the Awd Goggie is loyal to its giant Caterpillar form and will become an bigger, more colorful red spiky caterpillar, it gains very different attacks and abilities in this new form. You can destroy the cocoon before it hatches, so the second form can be stopped, if not, it is a pretty tough enemy to fight!

EINHERJAR

First Form:

Much like a bigger Berserker (wild humans bred for combat and war) with stronger armor and instead of two small axes like their Berserker brothers use, the Einherjar uses a giant axe.

Reborn Form:

Even after the death the Einherjar won’t stop fighting, it turns into a Draugr first, which is a zombie-fied version of the Einherjar, it behaves much like the Draugr-enemy, but it can’t re-spawn as a Draugr after being killed, as it has a third form as well.

Third Form:

Killing the zombie form of the Einherjar also doesn’t stop it from fighting, now it will turn into a powerful spirit and picks up his axe again to fight once more, instead of striking flesh and bones the Spiritual Einherjar targets and destroys the soul/spirit of its victims.

BINAYE AHANI

First Form:

These twin aberrations are also found as a duo, you can target each of the two twins separately.

Reborn Form:

The best way to deal with these monsters is trying to kill them both at the same time, as when you kill one of the twins first the second will go berserk and transforms into an even more abominable and powerful form, raging with anger and emotions after losing its other half, it gains some new lightning-based abilities in this new form.

BUBAK / TATTY BOGLE

First Form:

The first half of this monsters fight is mostly magical as it seems to be just a scarecrow hanging from the famous wooden crosses they are mostly found on in real life, in this form it just summons fear-magical attacks, illusions of your worst fears and supports the other enemies on the battlefield with its evil magical buffs.

Reborn Form:

After doing enough damage to a Bubak it will turn into a physical attacking enemy, it will jump from the wooden cross and now replaces the magical attacks for physical attacks, it’s attacks can still cause the fear-effects on your playable characters.

DJIEIEN / DEATH WEAVER

First Form:

While still alive, these macabre Lich-like spiders look pretty much like giant monstrous spiders, while they have undead features, they aren’t really undead, YET.

Reborn Form:

After being killed the Djieien’s own necromantic poison automatically reanimates its corpse into an undead, much like a lich, but instead of a human it is a giant spider. While alive the Djieien are already terrible horrors with abilities to create undead minions with their necromantic poison, but in their undead forms the creatures becomes even more powerful and harder to defeat, it can create mummy-like minions with its magical webs and only critical hits can fully destroy them.

FAFNIR / GREED DRAGON

First Form

: Vile but beautiful, that is the best way to describe these golden dragons of extreme greed. A Fafnir looks like wingless golden dragon surrounded by its own treasure and covered in precious jewels and legendary items of value.

Reborn Form:

Even after the death these dragons can’t part with their own treasures, their avarice-cursed spirits will possess their treasures and animate them into a living treasure heap. While not as powerful as the dragon itself, this form gives the Fafnir a second chance to defeat their foes and still being in control of their treasure.

GOBLIN / ELOKO

First Form:

At the start of the battle these green, envious, small humanoids start in a trio, standing on each other’s shoulders, the highest Goblin on top uses a ranged weapon to attack.

Reborn Form:

After some damage is done, one of the three goblins dies and they are now a duo, this changes their entire tactics and they use a new weapon together, they use a very long saw (used to saw through trees) together, they run through enemies both holding the saw on one side.

Third Form:

After receiving more damage the second Goblin also breaths out his last breath and joins the dead, leaving a single Goblin behind to fend for its pathetic existence, in this form the Goblin mostly tries to escape, leaving the players characters without the deserved exp, so you have to kill the Goblin before it escapes.

SPRIGGAN

First Form:

Spriggans are Goblins infected with fey-energy, this mostly happens to goblins that live in the fey forests or which have friendships with fey. They have blue skin instead of a green skin, but they are still pathetic like their goblin cousins, however when they become scared or angry they turn into their reborn form.

Reborn Form:

When angry or scared (in other words when their HP is almost depleted) these blue fey goblins increase in size and strength and become a giant version of their former self, pulsing with fey magic. Why the Spriggans gained this ability is unknown, though wizards think it has something to do with the goblins/and/spriggans envy for the size of bigger creatures, fey magic helped them in achieving this goal, though the progress of turning so large isn’t without pain and stress for the otherwise pathetic creatures. After their anger or stress has gone away the Spriggan will shrink in size again.

HEIKEGANI

First Form:

I’m still experimenting with this creature, but I think I have a start now: The first form of the Heikegani in my project is of a human-corpse which head is replaced with the body of these demonic crabs, the crabs replaced the victims head and ride the corpse like a rider would ride a horse. The reason the Heikegani are so obsessed with “wearing” human bodies is because the fact that humanoid hands can hold weapons, and Heikegani are addicted to fighting and weapons, mostly swords and katanas.

Reborn Form:

After you reduce all the Heikegani’s HP its mounted body will perish and the small crab-creature will have to fend for its own, it has some nasty painful attacks even in this form though, so it isn’t defenseless to say the least.

KERIT / CHEMOSIT

First Form:

While Kerits appear to be just Black Bears, the real creature is actually an alien parasite made up from only pink and purple tentacles, they thrive inside the bodies of bigger predators, in general most are found in bears, but big cats or wolves are also possible, some were even found in predatory fishes like sharks. Anyway, in my projects game-sprite the Kerit is always a Black Bear, just to make things less complicated. While they appear to be just black bears, three tentacles sprout from their maws, hungry for the brains of other creatures, as Kerit (the parasite) needs brains to stay intelligent and alive.

Reborn Form:

After enough damage is done to their bear-host the pink/purple tentacles burst from their fleshy-shell, the creature now appears like a messy undead bear with a LOT of tentacles coming out of its torn-off lower-maw and from its belly, the largest tentacles replaced the bears sluggish locomotion. In this new form the Kerit gains more psychic attacks, and it can hit multiple enemies at the same time.

LOU CARCOLH

First Form:

This giant horrifying snail still has its shell on its back during its first stage.

Reborn Form:

After doing enough damage, the shell will break and the entire slimy snail creature is visible, while it loses a lot of defense in this shell-less form, it gains speed, and its slime-like abilities become more powerful in this stage as well.

MOROI / VAMPIRE

First Form

: Much like a vampire from twilight (just kiddn), more like a vampire from Interview with the Vampire, a beautiful man/woman (my project has both these) holding some (blood) wine in a royal-looking glass, it is dressed in fine clothes and both the male and female Moroi look like noble and rich humans.

Reborn Form:

Doing enough damage to these undead however, will release their real forms, which are far less noble and pretty, more monstrous and hungry for the blood that was denied from them, you see, the Moroi needs blood on its skin regularly to stay this pretty and civilized, without blood it turns into the monstrous, bestial undead it was intended to be.

STRIGOI / NOSFERATU

First Form:

The parents of the Moroi, these look more like the Nosferatu (cool and actual-scary vampires for newbies) and they embrace their monstrous nature, they have the power to control the blood of themselves and others, this gives them their ability to control animals, mind-control and such as well.

Reborn Form:

While already monstrous and ugly in their first form, their true form is even more bestial, they sprout giant fleshy bat wings from their backs and their fangs grow even more out of proportion, their power over blood becomes also stronger in this form, as anger turns the Strigoi more powerful.

OTSO

First Form:

In this form they are just bears with a row of green hairs running along their backs, just a cool looking bear, while they don’t have any magical abilities in this form, nature seems to protect them and after every physical bear-attack the Otso makes, nature makes a move for it as well, this can be healing the Otso randomly, giving it more strength, or summoning plant-based creatures to aid it, the Otso has the intellect of a real bear, so it doesn’t even realizes it is being helped by higher spirits.

Reborn Form:

After you kill this beautiful bear creature however, nature will embrace the bear and merges its spirit and corpse with the plant matter around it, turning the Otso into a bear made from wood, plants and other natural material, now the bear doesn’t need nature anymore to fend for itself, as it became a force of nature, natures protector, natures soul warrior, it gains intellect of its own and many magical abilities involving plants and nature, while its first form is a BEAST, its new form is a PLANT.

POLONG / CARNAGE

First Form:

What seems to be just a bloody zombie is actually a horrible blood-parasite in a corpse shell. In this form the Polong is actually very weak, and its true form is far more dangerous.

Reborn Form:

After you destroy its corpse-home, the Polong bursts out as an water elemental-like creature made from blood, the blood of murderers, thieves and other criminals to be exact. A creation of the vile Strigoi, these blood parasites gather more blood to grow larger and split into multiple Polongs after they absorbed too much of it. In this form its far more dangerous, it can harden its own bloody mass into red obsidian-like spikes to do some serious damage to its victims and enemies. The worst thing is that after another enemy or playable character dies the Polong can enter the corpse again and regenerate all its lost hitpoints, be sure to first kill the Polong and then any other creature on the battlefield.

POLTERGEIST

First Form:

These psychic spirits (also called Psychic Elementals) can enter and animate almost any tiny, small and medium object they encounter, I’m not so sure what object the Poltergeist in my project is found in, but it is probably some furniture like a chair or maybe cutlery.

Reborn Form:

After you destroy their inanimate shells the psychic spirit of a child burst out, it is a very vague humanoid spirit though, more like an insane mind of a child coming to life, it loses any physical attack it had in its object form, but gains powerful psychic abilities in return, if you keep it alive for multiple battle-rounds, it sometimes finds another object and becomes a physical attacker again.

DYBBUK

First Form:

While the Poltergeist is the psychic energy and soul of a paranormal child, the Dybbuk is the psychic energy of a demon, unlike the Poltergeist which can only possess inanimate objects, the more powerful Dybbuk can possess almost any living creature weaker than itself, it is hidden in random other enemies, and gives these monsters/creatures not only more HP but also powerful psychic abilities.

Reborn Form:

After you kill this other monsters the real Dybbuk bursts free, now losing any psychical attack it had and focusing entirely on its extremely powerful psychic abilities, it can also posses other monsters now, and if not protected by spells, your own heroes/characters can also be possessed if they are unlucky. The Dybbuk’s real form is even more insane and disturbing than the Poltergeists form, much like a demonic mind gone wild.

POLUDNICA / LADY MIDDAY

First Form:

In their first form these Nymphs of Light, sunrays and heat are still pretty, hiding their burned faces underneath their golden waving hair, almost appearing like Hesperids, the gentle nymphs of the sun or even muses.

Reborn Form:

After these ladies become angry and almost perish however, their real nature becomes apparent, their hair turns into solar-like fire, and now their burned faces become visible. Their already deadly scythes become even more deadly and become double-sided and they glow like the sun, an aura of heat becomes visible and everything around them catches flames, you really shouldn’t anger these ladies!

RAIJU

First Form:

Being playful shapeshifters, the Raiju is mostly encountered as a tanuki/badger/small predator in the wilds, in their true form they aren’t as cuddly though.

Reborn Form:

After being attacked a lot the Raiju sheds its fake form and turns into the lightning elemental it was born to be, just a wild mess of lightning and electricity without any form of its own. This Raiju isn’t as playful anymore as it is now angry that you hurt it, all it wanted to do is play with you, it didn’t know nor cared for its lightning hurting its playmates in the progress… These lightning elementals are very hard to hit and magic or magic enchanted weapons are needed to dispatch them once and for all, earth magic does great against them.

RAT KING

First Form:

Rat Kings are bizarre creatures, they appear to be just larger-than-usual rats with bright red eyes that collect swarms of non-intelligent rats around them to become a living swarm of rats (not bound by the tails though, like in the real folklore, I left that bit out of my version). All the rats in the swarm are controlled by the Rat King and they are more than willing to fight and die for their “King”.

Reborn Form:

After defeat is in range, the desperate little creature rapidly starts to devour all the death rats that made up its swarm, increasing the Rat Kings own size until it rivals the size of a bear, in this form I like to compare it to the Ugjuknarpak, a giant rat from Inuit myths. The rats that were still alive swarm all over the now giant Rat King like a living coat, functioning as a living armor of suicidal rodents.

RAUDKEMBINGUR / TROLUAL

First Form:

These red-painted monstrous whales make Moby Dick seem like a wussy, their biggest hobby is destroying ships which they use their entire mass upon, one of the biggest enemies in my project, the Raudkembingur in Mythica is like all the Evil Whales (they are all found in ABookOfCreatures) into one in my project, spare for the sharp-finned Sverdhvalur which most important feature (its sharp dorsal fin) I gave to the Japanese monster shark Isonade.

Reborn Form:

Sometimes when you defeat/kill a Raudkembingur it will turn into a Bakekujira/Ghost Whale, born from vengeance these ghostly skeletal whales never stop attacking and tracking their killers. Bakekujira are also found in the seas on their own in my project, but they can also spawn from killed Raudkembingur on the spot.

GASHADOKURO / BONE LORD

First Form:

A gigantic skeleton, nothing more, nothing less. They are created from the merged combined bones from the victims of starvation, a vile creation of the Horseman of Famine (Limos in my project)

Reborn Form:

After you defeat these giant skeletons, they will fall apart into a small army (5) of lesser skeletons (called Spartoi in my project).

STELLA

First Form:

These small Crown Of Thorns starfish monsters are burning with heat, in their first form they are red with almost red-hot spikes covering their bodies, Stella can control their own temperature and turn the water around them very hot.

Reborn Form:

After they are defeated however, their temperature and abilities changes to colder climates, they now can freeze the water around them and also the blood in their enemies bodies, their color changes to a beautiful blue with almost frozen spikes covering their entire starfish bodies.

SUCCARATH / SU

First Form:

See the artwork for what it looks like.

Reborn Form:

The Succarath doesn’t really change into a different form, it just spawns its children on the battlefield, and when you kill the Succarath while there is still a child alive, the soul of the Succarath will be transformed into its psychic child, morphing it instantly into the Succarath itself, you have to kill all the children first to really defeat this creature.

BOLOTNIK

First Form:

These fat, lazy and spoiled toad-humanoids sit on a mobile-throne which is carried at all times by four lesser Vodyanoi (frog-humanoids), the Bolotnik do all their magical attacks, which involve water, mud and quicksand, from their throne, using their magical muddy staff.

Reborn Form:

After you do enough damage, the poor four Vodyanoi slaves of the Bolotnik will perish and the mobile-throne will fall apart, so now the Bolotnik has to fight without it. It can still use magical attacks but also adds physical attacks to its list.

WENDIGO / WINDIGO

First Form:

The first form of the Wendigo has it hovering in the air, wearing the skull of a stag and mostly bestowing terrible magical curses of hunger and cannibalism on its victims/enemies and allies as well, which become more dangerous during the battle as they become more hungry for your flesh, it doesn’t attack physically at all during this stage.

Reborn Form:

After you do enough damage to the Wendigo its skull-mask breaks off and its true form becomes visible, the Wendigo falls from the sky and turns into a raging, hungry ghoul-like horror, instead of influencing others to become hungry it becomes gluttony incarnate itself, attacking with powerful claws and horrid overgrown teeth. You see, you can please both fans of the Wendigo at the same time! In my version it still wears the skull of a deer, but turns into a more accurate-to-the-real-myth version in its second form.

SLUAGH / WRAITH STORM

First Form:

Like a living swarm of spirits/wraiths, hovering together in an enormous tornado of souls and evil.

Reborn Form:

After you defeat the Sluagh, it turns into three ordinary Wraiths, the last three wraiths that survive, much like a spirit-version of the Gashadokuro turning into Spartoi Skeletons.

DRAUGR

First Form:

Draugr, in my project, look like veteran zombie warriors, arrows sticking from their bodies and into their eyes, daggers and swords are stuck in their undead flesh and it doesn’t seem to bother them at all, they only make great use of all these weapons and arrows inside them in their attacks and abilities.

Reborn Form:

The Draugr doesn’t change form at all, it just has the annoying ability to not stay dead for long, it has a 50% chance of resurrecting itself during the battle, and this can go on FOREVER if luck is on the Draugrs side, of course there is the option to just escape from battles.

@rtwork of Succarath and Heikegani = Paizo/Pathfinder

#Mythology #Folklore #Monsters #Fantasy

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mononoavvare · 6 years ago

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trickster spirits don’t get to have names.

ONE FOR SORROW,

the sparrow is nine years old when it cuts down its brother.

the old man says, fly. it leaps. he says, kill, and it gives chase. all it takes is one. one hour, chasing him down like a dog, one shaky, it’s okay. you can live, one neat slice of a blade. one head, delivered like a trophy.

they call this a graduation. it feels the noose tighten.

TWO FOR JOY,

it learns:

i. the roar of the wind in freefall, delirious from the force of it pushing the air from its lungs, the adrenaline rush. a high it doesn’t want to come down from, even as it’s caught in still clumsily drawn ink-claws, thrown once more only to be caught on its creation’s back instead. the sparrow doesn’t return to the earth for hours, until its chakra whittled to nearly nothing. nobody asks where it has been.

ii. for hours it watches a troupe of children dance one afternoon, the waves of laughter and music lulling it into some kind of contentment. it pulls out the scroll, the brush, and inks their forms down in quick sketches. so it doesn’t forget. late at night, it animates them, tries to copy the movements from memory, adds its own twists and hops, dances with the tiny ink forms into the small hours of the morning.

THREE FOR A GIRL,

she isn’t right.

the old man calls her, my dear, and his hand in her hair is a farce, an impersonation of tenderness, and still she leans into it. he is grizzled, and frail, but his hands do not shake when they reach out to her. she thinks, maybe, she hates him. she knows she would die for him.

little bird, the swordswoman calls her, knocking her down with the flat of her blade. this is a kindness rarely afforded -- most of the instructors aim to hurt, to cut deep, claim they learn better that way. the swordswoman teaches her to flay flesh from bone with one neat stroke, the advantage of speed, of silence. she tells her, you are a little killer, sneaks her bits, and odds, and ends, the occasional treat. she disappears one day, and no one mentions her again.

he calls her sweetling. his hand is on her knee. she will be glad to kill him later, feels satisfied at the gaping hole where his tongue used to be. she’s never taken pleasure in a mission before now.

FOUR FOR A BOY,

he cuts his hair. few things change, but it’s a start.

it looks ugly, patchy, cropped so close to his head, like an ugly case of mange. he can’t stop running his fingers over the spots where he’d cut too close to his scalp with the kunai, the scabs take forever to heal. he feels lighter.

the recipients of the message he brings call him ‘it’. they call him an ugly little monster, his face hidden. on his return, his fingers shake when they touch the bare spots on his scalp. he asks his bunk mate to even it out for him.

handsome little devil, aren’t you? the old woman says it at least once a day, ruffling his hair. he never speaks, but he supposes she doesn’t need him to. she thinks she has pulled a feral little stray in from the cold, perhaps believes he will speak in his own time, doesn’t mind it taking a while as long as he eats the food she cooks him (too rich, it makes him sick at first) and helps her into town to do old lady things. she doesn’t know he’s here to kill her. he doesn’t understand why he has to. she is old, she cannot be a threat. he has not seen her move faster than a snail’s pace at anything other than knitting. he tells them so, and they want him to kill her anyway. he says no, but still she dies. he does too.

when he is sixteen, they send him for another undercover assignment. the first thing he does is steal a bottle of oil, scented like dragon’s blood. he never uses it, but he keeps it on a shelf, hidden behind some books. sometimes he takes it out just to hold it, or to twist off the cap and smell it.

FIVE FOR SILVER,

under the pale light of the moon, he sees.

the team is out late, and the chill of winter is creeping in. the captain had dropped a cloak on his shoulders when he’d started to shiver, and he thinks the clouds from their breathless laughter glitter brightly in the night like their own stars, nebulas forming in front of them from the sheer force of their joy. he tugs the cloak closer, if only to hide the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

the healer with the scarred knuckles sweeps her hair back one night and the moonlight catches on a glint hanging her ear, shaped like a teardrop. he cannot tear his eyes away, leans closer, and her hands are gentle when she cups his face and holds him there. she tells him they were her grandmother’s, that she only wears them when she’s sure they’re safe. he tells her they’re beautiful, earnest in the face of her honesty, and he cannot say for sure, but he thinks she blushes.

he and the hunter with the lightning blood spend a long night in tense silence sitting next to a hospital bed. they only speak in the small hours, the older man not looking away from the slow rise and fall of the chest occupying the bed, and he cannot look away from the way he blends perfectly with the rest of the monochrome of the hospital. the hunter says, if you pick up this habit of being a self sacrificing idiot, i’ll make the rest of your short life extremely painful. he says, yes sensei.

the hero, a man bursting with determination enough to be considered a human sun, pulls his shirt off with a muttered curse. his hair, the whites of his eyes, the eyeteeth that poke out from the edge of a smile are all washed with the same shade, seemingly glowing. the creature that is no longer a sparrow catches a glimpse of a silver chain, leans forward to follow the trail to the pendant at the end of it. his hand settles, palm flat against the warm skin of his chest, pinning it between them. the hero puts his hand over his, closes his eyes, and sighs out the weight of the world.

he bums a cigarette off the captain once -- catches him chainsmoking outside a bar, placid like an inland lake, tells him the healer would be pissed if she knew. only shuts up when he decides to share. the moon is full, but the night is clouded, leaving only the faintest light for them to see by. he thinks the captain looks tired. the smoke slips from their mouths like the breath of a dragon, dissipating in the darkness. they finish the last two in the pack in silence. he says, these are nasty, gets a gentle swat on the back of the head, and a laugh, and they go their separate ways.

SIX FOR GOLD,

in the burning, inescapable light of the sun, he loves.

he sits up one night with a name on his lips, dead longer than he has lived. shakes himself apart, sweating and grey until the first light peeks through his window, creeping across his bed like fingers, reaching, stretching. he shuts his eyes against it, but the light reminds him he has places to be.

in the heat of the day, he lays in the grass, bruised to the core and panting. the fighter is humming, kneeling forest-green and bubbling next to him, fingers working out of sight. when he finally sits up, a crown of dandelions is bequeathed to him, and he takes it with great dignity, and places it on his head. the answering smile is stunning.

the malady haloed in purple pulls him from his desk at midday, linking their arms and insisting he take the rest of the day off. once is all it takes before he’s convinced, but he pretends to think about it, if only to hear the other man come up with increasingly outlandish and hilarious bribes. they were going somewhere, but between point a and point b they get distracted, end up tangled in one another in a park under a bridge, kissing the day away like a couple of horny teenagers, touching each other’s faces, stealing each other’s breath.

several hours pass with them lounging in the shade of a massive willow tree. the virgin mumbles things, sometimes they make sense, sometimes they don’t, and sometimes he responds. his head rests on the man’s thigh, their fingers tangle together, and for a while they know peace.

it’s evening, the summer sunset leaving the wolf washed in all the colors of the dying light. they’re pressed close for warmth on the edge of the roof, kicking feet hanging over the edge, chopsticks waving wildly in the air for emphasis. every burst of laughter is a victory, every soft brush of their shoulders weathering away the burrs on his soul. they are kin. they know one another.

the quiet hours of the morning leave him perched in the dragon’s lap, nose to nose with him, sharing breath, and secrets, electrifying kisses. he presses the man into the bed and leaves him breathless, again, and again, and again. he wants the moment to last forever, can’t look away from him for fear of missing a single, perfect detail, for fear he is blowing smoke.

SEVEN FOR A SECRET, NEVER TO BE TOLD.

there are things he holds close to his heart, things he will not let go.

i. he will never heal,

ii. all their tender hearts

iii. there is no such thing as freedom

iv. they all deserve a little bit of faith, forgiveness, redemption

v. love is only a weakness if you let it be so

vi. the sway of hips to an imagined tune

vii. he loves them all.

EIGHT FOR A WISH,

it takes him a while to get the hang of things.

when the sun sets, he imagines a light in the darkness to guide him. he has been wandering so long, and he thinks, perhaps, it is time for him to find a home.

on an assignment to the land of grass, he spends a majority of his watch one night observing a band of coyotes nip at each other as they rip apart the carcass of a deer, until there are nothing but scraps. in the dawn, the crows descend upon the rest.

an ancient crone with milky blue eyes grabs him by the wrist one day, her grip so strong it feels like his bones are being crushed into dust. she beseeches him to remember what he is, and no one around him reacts at all.

he walks until his feet bleed, once. just to see how far he can go, ends up somewhere in the land of whirlpools, sits at the edge of a cliff over a raging sea just to feel the spray, and then walks back. there isn’t a single comment on his absence, and eventually the scabs turn to scars, and then those fade too.

a stray dog follows him home one night, nothing but skin and bone. it vomits up any food it receives, curls up and dies in his lap some time in the night. he can feel it when the ribs stop shifting, but he doesn’t stop stroking its nicked ears until well after the sun has risen, just because he doesn’t know what else to do.

there is a duck pond a few minutes’ walk from his place, and he spends an hour there every morning for three months, just to see what it’s like. the ducks start to know him, he feeds them rice, and chopped lettuce, tiny, carefully sliced grapes. he goes on a mission for three weeks, and when he comes back they are weary of him once more. he doesn’t go back.

he ages.

it seems like death lurks around every corner, her bony fingers lingering in his peripheral vision. he is no stranger to being hunted. he is not afraid. he just doesn’t want to go. and so he will not go easy.

NINE FOR A KISS,

there are some things that matter, even if he doesn’t remember all of them.

his mother, in an uncharacteristic fit of tenderness, lays a kiss upon his brow before he is pulled from her grasp. she dies quietly, a hand stretched out for him, the knife that had been used to cut his umbilical cord buried in her throat.

his tiny body is dying of a fever, shaking apart at the seams in the cramped ROOT dormitory. most of the children hiss curses at him, and these are the ones that survive. a girl with blood red hair holds his hand, and a boy with a halo of silver brushes sticky black strands back and kisses his crown gently. confesses it’s something his mother had done, once, he swears he remembers it.

he’s eleven when he’s roaming the streets. slipped his leash, so to speak, and the crowds are bustling. he bumps into a girl half his size, knocks her to the ground, freezes when she shows him her bleeding hand. you have to kiss it better, she says, so imperiously that he can’t not obey. he returns to the compound with a tiny smear of blood on his cheek, but he manages to swipe it away before anyone notices.

there are blonde strands between his fingers, a familiar smart mouth pressed to his own, leaving the skin he touches aflame. it’s something terrible, possessive, wild. it’s a promise neither of them are sure they can (or want,) to keep.

she’s pulled her gloves off, puts her hand over his mouth to see if he’s breathing. he blinks his eyes open, blearily, opens his mouth to make another smart comment. her hand clamps down even as she laughs, and she doesn’t pull away when he licks her hand, just leans down to peck a kiss on the corner of his eye.

this one is a fight, the gnashing of teeth, bloodied lips and harsh breath, the hot slide of fingers between his legs, and then a tongue. there’s nothing gentle about it, and it leaves something howling and cold and aching in his chest. he takes as much as he can get.

there’s a predator laying kisses on his eyelids. he’s laughing about it, and that is his life.

there are several, bone breaking blows landed on his torso. his heart stutters, but does not restart. lips brush his, salty with tears, coppery with blood, desperate because they love him. his lungs inflate, and deflate, and his body remains still. rinse. repeat. it doesn’t work.

a pale hand settles over cold stone. his name would be engraved here, if he had one. the granite will not take the one they called him, remaining smooth and polished no matter how many chisels try to break it. lips brush the crest, a sentimental gesture that brings no comfort. they leave white lillies in the grass in front of the headstone, and they do not return to the empty grave.

TEN FOR A BIRD, YOU MUST NOT MISS.

when he goes, he goes hard. clawing, snarling, bleeding and cursing.

it hardly comes as a surprise to him. his days have been numbered since he came into this world, blue in the face, umbilical cord wrapped around his neck. he can only put death off for so long, dodging her cold, skeletal fingers with nothing more than a little grit, and determination. he is freezing, and he is alone, until he is not.

he loves you. he’s sorry.

#content warning /#hi this is the one that i said would take me a few days! it's been four hours. im going to bed.#// drabbles

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riottsquad · 7 years ago

Text

Lucky Us

It is finally done! My very first Tony/Drew fanfic is up on AO3. Feedback is always appreciated.

I’m tagging my lovely friends @heelnev and @cruisingforcruiserweights

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: World Wrestling Entertainment, Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Drew Gulak/Tony Nese | Maverick Characters: Drew Gulak, Tony Nese | Maverick Additional Tags: Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Smut, Dorks in Love, Drew doesn't like to be in love, Tony is here to prove him wrong. Summary: For many years, Drew lived confined in his own little bubble. Too bad a certain premier athlete decided to show up and burst it.

Drew never quite figured out how he got so lucky.

He was never one to think so naively and foolishly, but he really couldn’t figure out another way to put this particular thought into any other words. Not many can say they get to work a full time job they genuinely love in every aspect, and he could proudly say he was an exception to that curse. Traveling the world, seeing new places, meeting new athletes who share the same passion for wrestling he also does; it was, and still is, all very surreal.

Every time he steps foot inside the ring, he feels it. That rush. His skin sensitive to the touch, as he is consumed by attentive eyes from thousands of fans in attendance. It’s electrifying, yet numbing. The stiff bumps and brutal falls to the mat feel like bird feathers in the heat of the moment, however the same couldn’t be said after the match was over and he made his way back to the locker rooms. Once the haze was gone, and hungry eyes were laid upon someone else, he could feel that burning sensation on his back, and on his legs, and also on his arms. It stung and pressed deep into his flesh and bones and wouldn’t go away, but the pain hurt in the most blissful way. This is his life, and there was no turning back now.

A lot came with being a semi-famous celebrity working for the most renowned professional wrestling company. It meant restricted contact with those you’ve been close with your entire life. Traveling from one state to another, and sometimes even leaving to countries hours away from your homeland, poses a problem if you aim to keep in touch with family and friends. Drew learned, with time, that you choose your new family along the way. There would be people who’d trick you and leave you to rot alone in your own pile of shit, and then there would be the ones who’d stick around and watch you succeed at the slow rate of a snail.

Another thing he also learned is that it’s hard to keep a relationship going, romantically or not.

It’s no secret to anyone that most wrestlers can’t keep their hands to themselves, let alone keep their private areas away from temptation. There’s countless news articles written about how professional wrestlers have a hard time staying faithful and committed to another person for longer than only a few months, and the reason given to support that argument is the good old “we stay away from our loved ones for far too long, a man has its needs”. And even if you’re one of the rare fishes in the sea who stays in their lane and swims in the right direction, another big fish will come along and eat you alive. In less fancy words: there is always that one son of a bitch with too many social media accounts who still lives in their mother’s filthy old basement that will spread rumors about how your dick ended up in some cheap slut’s cunt after a wild night.

Drew experienced firsthand the embarrassment of seeing some of his fellow acquaintances suffer at the hands of those internet trolls. Call it magic, but he’s been lucky enough to dodge nasty rumors about his love life, allowing him to rest his head on his pillow every night and sleep like a rock lost in the woods. To put it simply, rumors were not a problem. Keeping a serious thing going? That’s the real challenge.

He recalls the first time he ever developed feelings for one of his coworkers, and all the symptoms were there: heart beating too fast whenever said person was around, the nervous way he would play with his fingers while talking to them, and the occasional stutter that came along the way whenever he tried to spill the truth and let them know he had this teenage movie type of crush for them. It comes with the job to have a crush here and there, considering the fact you spend most of your time working and training with all types of people. Rejection is also inevitable. Drew had an odd yet effective way of dealing with it, and it involved ignoring that person completely for a long period of time until he felt at ease with his emotions and mind. Besides, he regarded love as something futile and a waste of time to someone who didn’t have the time to even love himself, let alone love another person.

That mentality had persisted until the day he joined WWE. Among all the talented men, some familiar faces walked around backstage with him for the Cruiserweight classic, not all of them were recognizable to his eyes, but one or two guys made him recall the times when they fought in the indies.

One of them being Tony Nese.

You know, the one that never shuts up about how perfect it is, and quite honestly… the dude has reasons to brag about it. His body is beyond insane, every single muscle popping out and making Drew feel like a twelve year old boy in gym class next to him. But he wouldn't admit he thought of him as a very handsome man. It was not only excessive but also awkward and hard to explain to a dude who’s probably as straight as an arrow.

After taking a lot of kicks in the butt, you get used to getting kicked once more, just to add it to your collection of wasted opportunities. Drew never took things for granted, and this tournament wasn't going to be an exception. Out of nowhere, he and any other competitor involved could be sent away without even being offered a proposal or contract. It was all too familiar. Thus, being able to prove you're indeed talented enough to fight among the greatest names of the company... now that's where the real competition began. He was lucky enough to be offered a contract to work with WWE after the tournament, and just like him many others remained as well. There are many moments in the career of a wrestler when he feels like the unluckiest man in the world, but it's all compensated when he gets to achieve the desired objective.

It’s even better and sweeter when you get to carve this new path with friends to cheer you on, as cheesy as that sounds. Drew wasn't picky when it came to travelling by car with his coworkers. He didn't need to travel with a specific person, as long as they reached the place they were supposed to be at, he was more than satisfied.

But with time, he learned that it is much more fun to travel with someone who can make you laugh like a child, and doesn’t judge you for it. Drew didn't know that Tony had this fun and playful side to him until they started walking side by side almost every hour of the day. It wasn't just small trips to the gym, or bad dad jokes spat at each other every now and then to relieve the tension, no. It was natural to be near Tony. There was no need to have useless conversations that didn’t contribute to anything but to waste their time.

Spending time with Tony meant comfort and security. And that was scary. Drew knew this feeling all too well, and it was nerve wrecking to say the least. But at the same time, it felt like the right thing to do. To be around him, and tell him about the rude lady who took his order at Starbucks and wrote his name as “Andrew”, or about that time he almost dropped his phone on the sidewalk because he was texting Tony and wasn’t paying attention to his own footsteps. It felt right to text him every night before going to bed to send him a picture of the television screen in his hotel room that only had foreign channels, but Drew watched them anyways because he had nothing better to do. And he felt all warm inside whenever Tony did the same, and sent him a video of his stupid and adorable face trying to read the names of the hygiene products in the hotel bathroom in a language they didn’t even know existed.

It wouldn’t be a normal day in their lives if they didn’t get lost from the rest of the cruiserweights while visiting a new city and then trying to find their way back to the arena or the hotel. Bonus points if it started to rain, because then they would look like complete fools running around the streets, all wet and slippery. Actually, Tony would run around. He claimed that his hair was too impeccably smooth to be damaged by the rain, and to Drew that was just ridiculous in the most interesting way possible. Because Drew didn’t run after him, he would just watch from afar as this grown man ran around to protect his precious silky hair.

He knew he was into deep when he smiled at this nonsense.

He also knew he wasn’t the only one fucked by these feelings when he noticed how flustered Tony would get whenever Drew told him his hair was just fine, proceeding to place one single and wild strand of hair that got out of place behind the other man’s ear. Drew might act like a silly little kid on Halloween most of the time, but he isn’t naïve or stupid.

Did it make his heart skip a beat to know Tony probably smiled at their text messages and thought of him throughout the day? Absolutely.

But he also knew that having a crush on someone you’re obliged to work with for the next few years is no good once the feelings are gone. Call it being pessimistic, but he calls it common sense.

On one hand, he wanted to ignore him like he did to most of his crushes. But this time he couldn’t.

Whenever he didn’t act the same way he always did around Tony, the other one would notice right away. Tony could read him like a book, from start to finish, and back to front. It annoyed him yet it left him speechless because no one ever got to know him enough to notice the small details about his day to day behavior. Tony knows the type of music he always wants to listen to on long car rides, and he knows the lyrics to almost all of them just so he doesn’t leave Drew hanging.

He knows the name of that one kid in high school Drew told him about that used to bully him to such an extent he almost lost his damn mind and punched the kid square in the face once.

He also knows how hard it was for Drew to ignore his feelings and get over Abbey.

He knows it all.

Maybe they aren’t meant to be separated, or maybe they both enjoy getting attention from one another, or maybe they are two fools mistaking loneliness and lack of human interaction for love. Or maybe it is none of that, and the answer to all their questions is really simple.

Drew Gulak is completely, madly, and hopelessly in love with Tony Nese. And Tony Nese loves Drew Gulak in the most honest and beautiful sense of the word.

They can’t tell exactly when they decided to become a thing, but they weren’t too subtle about it. From tag team matches together, to segments backstage that made them laugh after the cameras were off, working together became the single most amazing thing that probably happened in Drew’s career. Hell, maybe even the best thing that happened in his life, and that’s saying a lot.

The only thing that topped having segments together was probably sharing a hotel room. To be able to throw Tony across the bed and crawl on top of him just to lean down and tilt his head to whisper all the things Drew wants to do with his body ... it is worth every week that neither of them was brave enough to admit what they were feeling. It was impossible to keep track of the numbers of nights they got lost in each other's arms, invested in one another, every nook and cranny still yet to be loved and cherished. This wasn’t planned, and this wasn’t supposed to happen. No one prepared Drew to fall in love with his best friend, let alone be loved back.

He didn’t expect to wake up every day next to this beautiful man and be able to contemplate how lucky he truly is. In every sense of the damn word. It became a daily thing to wake up next to Tony. Almost like a married couple on honeymoon. At first it was rather weird to wake up and find another body apart from his resting by his side, and it was even weirder to have big and strong arms wrapped around him, and Drew liked to think of this as a vague attempt of Tony securing him in bed so he wouldn’t run away. Good strategy.

Today was no exception to the rule. Only this time, Tony was sleeping with his back pressed flat to the mattress, the bed sheets barely covering his naked body. It was such an unholy vision to see Tony like this, his Godly sculpted body so exposed and vulnerable.

But it was also the way the light reflected on his lover’s body, highlighting his highly built and muscular physique, as further evidence of the perfection achieved through numerous hours spent at the gym. The temptation to touch his skin, so soft and silky, was tremendous.

His fingertips were just mere millimeters away from gently caressing the naked body of Tony, as he observed the calm and serene way his lover’s chest would rise and fall again and again with each breath of air, reminding Drew he was immobile yet present. He let his tongue wander gently across his own lips, simply observing the beauty of the other, his fingers twitching above Tony’s skin, while his brain scolded him for wanting to disrupt his boyfriend’s deep sleep for such carnal and perverted reasons. The small sleepy moan that suddenly escaped Tony’s lips made Drew drift his hand away, perhaps too abruptly but it still wasn’t enough to wake the other man from his sleep, and Drew thanked all the gods from above for letting Tony sleep throughout an entire thunderstorm and not flinching even once, or else he would blame himself for days for waking him up.

Drew's eyes suddenly became captivated by the small cascade of hair that landed on his side pad. It was inevitable to recall the events that occurred the night before, when Drew’s attention focused on those same strands of hair, pulling slightly at first and gradually increasing the strength of his grip, given the desperation of the man to whom the hair belonged to.

The moaning and pleadings to pull harder, mixed with a look full of pleasure and lust, while soft yet manly hands roamed a delicate path on Drew’s back, nails digging deep into his sensitive skin, as a desperate request followed

"Please…”.

It was impossible to deny such a desperate wish, the voice of the man underneath his body made him think of the most obscene things he could do in that moment that later on would make him blush at the thought of such wickedness. It was a very pornographic image, really: Tony, completely naked and vulnerable, body sweating and twitching in pleasure, restless and desperate hands seeking for the body of the man who made him this mess. The marks left by Drew along the Tony’s body were a clear message to whoever passed them that Tony was his.

Only he could make him moan like that, and make him beg for more even after hours and hours of pure mental and physical torture. The way Tony felt so full the moment Drew was buried deep inside his body. So thick and able to fill him in ways he thought unimaginable. There was a certain sense of fulfillment each time his beloved penetrated him; Tony felt dominated, knowing perfectly well that his body was at the mercy of this man. Any coherent thought was lost the second Drew bucked his hips and moved in the most torturous way possible, so slow and painful.

And Drew loved this feeling of dominance.

He loved the touch of skin with skin, bodies colliding with each other with each thrust, and the little muffled moans coming from underneath him.

“Fuck me. Harder… please...” And he looked up at him, my god, the way he looked at him. That look alone could drive Drew to madness. And he kept pleading for more, and more, and more. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, broken cries begging Drew to keep going, mouth dropped open as if he was waiting for that final moan of complete ecstasy to hit him, but not yet. Drew pulled all the right strings to take Tony to the point of complete pleasure, making it last as long as he’d wish.

He was the one in control. Tony could only wait. And his name echoed through the entire room, so delicate and yet so loud.

And…

"How long are you planning to stand there and stare at me, huh?" A soft yet sleepy voice woke Drew up from his perverted thoughts.

"Huh ... how long have you been awake?" Drew felt rather embarrassed for acting like such a creep and watching his boyfriend sleep for so long. He received a smile from the other man, while a muscled arm made itself felt around Drew’s much leaner torso. Drew was always going to feel those butterflies in his stomach every time Tony held him or touched him in any way. It was almost impossible not to feel loved when his boyfriend was around. And this was all new to Drew.

It was no secret that he wasn't exactly an expert when it came to the love department; he made sure he mentioned it several times. But for the first time in many years, he felt that this was a good thing. He had learned so much with Tony in such a short period of time. He never thought of doing certain things that he now does every single day, from the nastiest positions found online, to the more loving and romantic ones.

“Well…” His hand rose slowly up Drew’s arm, a touch so gentle and kind that made the younger man’s skin tingle in anticipation. His index finger traced a small path across Drew’s chest, circling his right nipple. Tony felt particularly proud of himself once he managed to obtain a small reaction from Drew, as his lover moved around on his side of the bed, trying his very best to contain a small whine that was anxiously waiting to escape his mouth “You kept poking my abs. That kind of woke me up….”

And with a simple movement, Tony scooted closer to his loved one, leaving almost no space between them, and that mouth was way too close to Drew’s.

Fuck, his lips were too tempting, even if they weren’t touching just yet.

Tony rubbed his lips slowly over his boyfriend's, knowing very well this would leave the other man aching for more. One of Drew’s hands made its way up to Tony’s neck, desperately trying to pull him closer to finally close that agonizing space between them and clench his thirst for his mouth.

He wanted him so badly.

To just flip him around and make him beg for his cock, like he had done many times before. But they had a schedule to comply to, and that was the worst part of being a professional wrestler.

No matter how many times they’d try to sneak around and show up just a few minutes later at the hotel lobby to travel alongside their fellow 205 Live workers, they couldn’t always do that.

“Easy there…” His words felt like a sword digging its way through Drew’s heart, as the older man bit down on his boyfriend’s lip, leaving him panting for more. He had the nerve to smile at Drew’s pain, because that's exactly what Tony was doing, torturing him while being fully aware of his lover’s growing erection covered by the thin fabric of the bed sheets.

“We have no time. You know that.” And with a delicate and simple movement, Tony withdrew his hand away from his loved one's chest, a shade of red emerging on his cheeks as he got out of bed, flashing Drew with the almost angelic view of his bare backside. He looked back at his lover again before picking up a pair of boxers and making his way to the bathroom.

“I promise I’ll take good care of you once we get back here… Sounds good?”

The insatiable desire of wanting to drag Tony back to bed to devour his mouth and feel the heat of his body against his own, even if for only five minutes, was too strong. But a commitment is a commitment. And when Tony makes a promise, he usually keeps it.

“Sounds wonderful.” He said, pulling himself up to sit on the bed, reaching for the blanket to cover up his naked body.

They remained silent for a few seconds, just staring at each other. Drew opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

“It’s okay. I love you anyways.” Tony knew him way too well. And with those simple words echoing in the room, he disappeared behind the bathroom door.

Drew sighed, listening to the noise of the shower water fall in the bathtub while he contemplated the ceiling above his head. It was still hard for Drew to say those three dreaded words. It wasn’t fear of getting disappointed or heartbroken in the end, because he was sure that Tony was indeed the one.

Maybe it was just shyness. Or maybe it was just Drew being Drew.

Whatever it was, it couldn’t be sadness. His face proved this theory, as a wide smile was spread across his face, whispering so quietly he could barely hear himself

“I love you, too…”

Drew Gulak was a lucky man.

#drew gulak #tony nese #205 live #cruiserweight division #wwe #cruiserweights #they are pretty gay #archive of our own #for a gayer 205 live

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