#layering the symbolism a bit too hard

[patriciavetinari]

Burnt Orange Heresy is one of those movies that is very movie

[runa-falls]

what a mess~

pairing: miguel o'hara x reader cw: smut, established relationship, superhuman stamina, overstimulation, cum EVERYWHERE, 'use a condom, it's too messy X(', 'bitch stfu i'll show you messy'..., so many sheets, reader is a pushover (bc I WOULD BE TOO) wc: 1k + a/n: i um... just take this and I'll go to a corner of a room and think ab what I've done.

---

Having a superhero boyfriend is great – he gets you discounts at your favorite restaurant, he easily carries you home after a long night out at the bar, he saves you from getting kidnapped by his arch-nemesis for the fourth time this month (though isn’t that his fault in the first place?....) – but there are aspects of the relationship that you didn’t consider before. 

Apparently, with great power comes great… stamina. 

To put it plainly, Miguel’s (sex) drive is unheard of. You better clear out your schedule for the whole day because he can go for hours. And most nights, you can barely sit up after he fucks you.

You like that – or you did when you could afford to be sore every other day. You like how enthusiastic he is – how much he wants you. It makes you feel desired and beautiful. But it’s not just the intense workout you risk every time you steal a kiss that turns into more – it’s the number of times he can…finish. 

Every time you think he’s finished, he’s still hard and thrusting into you, overstimulating you until black stars start to fill your vision. 

It’s a mess in the end. 

You lay on top of him, filled to the brim, dripping all over his lower stomach and onto the sheets under you, breathing so hard you’re sure you’d rupture a lung. You feel like you’re barely conscious on the bed as your heart beats harshly against your chest from how hard you came. Hair sticks graciously against your forehead as your eyes struggle to stay open to see Miguel, who gently pulls out and watches his mess spill out of you. 

He whispers sweetly of how well you took him, how pretty you look all fucked out, how much he loves that he can turn you into a blabbering – mindless whore. Being the possessive man he is, he attempts to shove it back in, using two of his thick fingers to gather and push his essence back into you, hoping that, against all odds, it’ll take, despite the fact you take your birth control religiously. 

Of course, when he sees how your thighs shake and squeeze around his hand from the overstimulation of him fucking his fingers into you after you just came, he immediately gets hard again. 

He gazes down at you with apologetic red eyes as he bites his lip under a sharp fang, “I can’t help it when I see how wrecked your pussy is for me…”

It’s nice – it’s hot – but you end up having to change the sheets 5 times a week. He’s insatiable… well ok, you’re just as thirsty as your boyfriend, but the amount of maintenance you need for each session is ridiculous. You basically gave up washing your sheets after every fuck, and instead ordered several identical sets of bedding to make the process easier. 

Many sheets have been destroyed beyond recognition. Okay, maybe you’re being a bit overdramatic, but the amount of cum-stained sheets in your linen closet is insane. How are you supposed to hide this if you were to have guests over?!

After staring at the layers of folded-up and stained sheets that you’ve accumulated over the past few months, you decided you were going to do something about it. 

You can still have fun without the mess.

…right?

—

Miguel has you on your back at the end of the bed with your legs resting on the crook of his arms. You have on a cute little nightgown – white to symbolize purity (though what you were about to do was far from pure) – with nothing underneath. It was one you bought just to get a reaction out of him – and now you got it. 

He holds you open for him, regarding you like he would a special gift – though there’s nothing to really celebrate (unless you count his raging erection). He breathes harshly against your neck as he paints your skin with kisses and nips. You’re nearly folded in half with how closely he’s pushed against you, but you can barely recognize the mere tinge of soreness in your legs with how fluidly pleasure seems to travel from his lips down to the apex of your thighs. 

Miguel O’Hara, the strong, independent Spider-Man, is truly a mess in front of you. His once neatly ironed tie now hangs loosely around his neck, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned halfway down, and his hair a tangle of unruly curls. His fingers, now caressing your body, are already dripping in your slick from when he forced a couple of orgasms out of you right when he got home. 

You find a sense of satisfaction in the disheveled state of his appearance, relishing how his once meticulously groomed demeanor has been disrupted – how his eyes transition from their usual chocolatey brown to a striking blood red, how his lips swell sweetly with lust. 

Miguel groans deeply as he grinds his clothed hardness against your wet center, “Mm…I want you so bad.” He unbuttons and unzips his pants, sighing as he releases himself from the tight fabric. No underwear? 

“Wait, Mig." he pauses his movements, waiting patiently – prepared to do whatever you want. “Get a condom.” …Except maybe…that. 

“Condom?” He could barely hold back his sneer, but you could faintly hear the growl vibrate from his chest. 

“Mhm, we’ve been too messy lately. We can’t just keep buying new sheets every week!”

“...We could…”

“Miguel!”

“I don’t see what the problem is… this is just how it is.”

“But it’s too messy.”

“I thought my baby likes to be filled up…”

“...I-I mean, I do sometimes, but –”

“Don’t you like it when I get you all messy?” He leans in close, distracting you from denying him. “Have you dripping with me for days?” He presses closer, and you can feel his hard cock slip against your wetness, dragging against your sensitive clit. 

“Miguel.” You whine.

It’s so hard to deny this man.

“How about we just try to be more careful, hm?” He presses against you gently, nearly entering you, but not quite. It feels so good, the tip of him barely stretching past your entrance. 

“Okay…j-just this once though…” You surrender with a whisper.

[our-trans-punk-experience]

THE BATTLE JACKET MASTERPOST

FINALLY PUNKS IT'S HERE

a battle jacket (also called battle vest, cut-off, punk jacket, patch jacket, and probably other stuff) is a jacket (duh) usually made from denim or leather with DIY additions of patches, studs, flags, painted panels, chains, and other bonuses, used to signify subculture. Punk, metal, and biker scenes all use patch jackets, but I'll only go into specifics about how they're used in the punk scene. Metalheads, I think, almost solely personalise with music/band shit. Bikers use them to signifying which club you're riding with. Punks started using them in the 70s and they've remained a staple of the subculture's style since. They're good for signalling your politics, bands you like, and other information you might want to get across. They also look cool.

HOW TO START

If you're here I assume you wanna learn how to make your own so I'll cut the history lesson short and get on to the practicals.

1: first you're going to want to get a plain jacket, probably denim or leather, but you could get a canvas jacket if you're nervous and new to the scene because it's way easier to stitch canvas, so you could experiment with that as you're building confidence. The jacket should be at least a bit oversized because with all the stitching and painting or whatever you'll be doing, you could run into fit issues with a very form fitting jacket. also, this jacket might frequently be worn over other jackets or layers so that will help with that too

2: start making choices. namely whether you want to keep the sleeves. obviously you can remove or reattatch the sleeves later but I think making that big mod first is a good starting point to help you feel like it's a work in progress. so if you're going to chop the sleeves I say do it now

3: brainstorm. I know, I know, coming up with your own ideas is hard, but this is your own totally literally unique piece, so think about what sorta look you want

4: you don't have to brainstorm alone though. search tumblr or pinterest for punk jackets, punk patches, punk clothes ect for inspiration. you might get a good idea for an individual patch, or for a broader layout

PATCHES

1: the big deal. this is what will make your jacket into a battle jacket. there are some unofficial rules/sayings in the scene about what sort of patches you should put on your jacket. some people get dickish sometimes about if you put a non-punk band on your jacket? however i think that is bollocks and you should do whatever you want forever. one saying i do personally mostly stick to is "politics up front, bands on the back" with the idea you stick your politics on your front so you can see the punches coming

2: where do you get the patches? you make them yourself. You can buy ofc but don't get shit off amazon or shein or whatever the fuck. If your fav band or small artist is selling patches go for it though. You will have the most choice if you make your own patches. Do you have scrap fabric (maybe the sleeves of the jacket, which is where i got a lot of my patch material)? Do you have paint and paintbrush? good. you can make a patch

3: how do you do that? well depends on whether you stencil or freehand. stencil means you cut out an outline, of say a band logo, out of card, and use that as a stencil. freehand means you paint whatever tf you like

4: paint?? yes paint. messy as you like. start maybe with simple slogans or symbols often found in the punk scene like "ACAB" or "eat the rich". maybe an anarchy symbol. i also like to paint a layer of mod podge over my designs to waterproof them.

5: great, you've got a patch, what are you going to do with it? sew it onto the jacket. unless ofc you bought an iron-on in step 2, in which case iron that shit on and be careful punks. most likely though, you're sewing it on. a lot of punks use tooth floss to sew on because its cheaper, easier to find, readily waxed and waterproof, and does a better job sewing shit down onto heavy duty material like leather or denim. I use a combined running stitch and whip stitch personally

STUDS n SPIKES

1: all those punks you've seen have metal sticking out their jacket eh? yeah, theres a whole lot of options here. spikes of many different sizes and shapes, which within that can be stitch on, screwback, or have fold down prongs on the back of them

2: where do you put them? probably the front or top of the jacket. you can put them on the back but that might be uncomfortable, or rip up someone's upholstery

3: where do you get them? you can still DIY these by cutting up a metal drinks can [whole other post] but BE CAREFUL. i suggest checking out the internet for these, same buying rules as patches though. no shein. no amazon.

OTHER SHIT??

1: go wild

2: other common additions would be chains, lighter caps, badges, and can tabs

HAVE FUN PLS ASK ME QUESTIONS AND SHARE IF YOU START A BATTLE JACKET

[skyenish]

Twst mlp AU | thoughts behind the designs

I made Leona an earth pony with a thicker build. Hes a square with sharp angles! Hes one of the first drawings I made for this ‘series’ so its a bit lackluster, but I wanted him to be nice and hairy. I gave him a more lion-like tail, and some jewelry from his culture. His ears are nicked and he has long, slightly tangled hair. He also has a lot of hair around his neck becuase he’s a lion! I gave him a color scheme vaguely resembling a lion as well. Also nice and hairy legs, i love to draw those on horses. His cutie mark is three claw marks over clouds of dust. There are multiple different meanings to this cutie mark.

Vil covers up his cutie mark for personal reasons, but its a spotlight shining behidn some curtains. I tried to give him a more ‘feminine’ look while also keeping sharper angles. I love his color scheme, and i made him a unicorn because I thought it fit perfectly. I considered making him an earth pony to really show how he works hard for everything and doesn’t take shortcuts, but in the end unicorn won. I might change it later though! I had to give him some elegant white spots too, because aesthetically it just clicked in my head. He has a purple bow and has his unique hair accessory in his bun. I gave him longer eyelashes, and instead of making his hair a blonde-purple gradient I made some locks purple.

Jamil!!! He’s one of my favorite designs. I know the obvious choice seems to make him a unicorn, but HEAR ME OUT ON PEGASUS JAMIL! It adds a lot of symbolism and extra layers I think, it’s very tragic. Plus, he looks pretty with wings. I gave him darker and greyer colors to portray his darker and jaded nature, and it’s a nice contrast to Kalim’s design. I tried to vaguely design him off of Arabian horses but it didn’t come through very well. Did you know that MLP has a race of horses called ‘Saddle Arabians’? I didnt and i think its absolutely hilarious. Jamil is also supposed to have bags attached to the thing around his waist, but I’m too lazy to draw them.. His cutie mark is an eye with the world as its pupil, and a snake curling behind it. I put a lot of thought into his cutie mark and I’m really happy with what I came up with! To me it has 4 different meanings! I kinda want to redraw Jamil because he looks so small compared to the others!

Kalim is a unicorn for even more delicious angst. His whole family is unicorns. He’d much rather be a pegasus, but at least he has the magic carpet! Jamil thinks it’s bullshit that Kalim can use magic AND can fly. I made Kalim’s colors more vibrant and yellow and lively. He wears lots of jewlery, has tattoos and is my favorite design of these four! He also took me the longest. His cutiemark is a sun or a coin with gems on it, and it has wings. This too has multiple meanings. I think in the Scalding Sands culture the snake jewelry was something the sorcerer of the sands, an alicorn, wore around his horn. Maybe the original was a magical artifact? Well, Kalim, and other people from the scalding sands, wear fakes to honor the sorcerer. Anyways, I made Kalim slightly hairier then Jamil to show how he’s softer and wilder.

———

I’d love to do more with this AU, because my mind is already full with so many cool ideas! Thanks for reading my rambles and have a nice day :)

[zarla-s]

well i have no clue if you answer random asks like this but hell yeah it's great seeing one of my fav artists get into omori!! how far are you into the game / have you finished it already? any thoughts on it? :0

I finished both routes about a week or so ago! I wrote up a giant post about it over here (SPOILERS). It's hard to think of how to talk about it without spoiling it, haha.

But I think it's really effective at what it's trying to do! It has a great sense of atmosphere and sound design, a lot of neat uses of color. The quirky RPG parts are a lot of fun! Silly and lighthearted and the battle system has a nice level of depth to it, not too much but enough where you have to really think about your plans when battles get tough. The horror parts were also done well, very good at creating palpable feelings of dread and unease, and I think the execution of those sequences was done really well. It would've been easy to go too hard and make it sort of a parody of itself but I think it showed just the right amount of restraint. There's a lot of layers to it in general, you can really dig into it and untangle symbolism and metaphors if you want, and there's a lot of room to interpret and explore people's emotional/mental states, which is something I also really enjoy.

I liked the characters too! Got attached to all of them, they're all charming in their own ways. It hit some very realistic and relatable emotional beats for me.

I think maybe some of the Headspace bits ran on a bit long, but that's mostly because I was really interested in the mystery of the game and wanted to solve that sooner than later (before I got spoiled), haha. But on the whole, although it would sound weird to say I enjoyed it exactly, given how mentally/emotionally draining it could be, I do think it was a good game and a definite worthwhile use of my time.

[eddiediaaz]

hi lovely!! do you have any tips on making cool fun and sexy typography?

hey joanna!! this made me giggle haha, i'm not quiiiite sure how to answer that, but here are some tips i keep in my when i do typography, and some examples:

FONTS

don't be afraid to "shop" for fonts and try funky fonts you've never used/seen. i often try so many before settling. i almost always use at least 2 different font for gifsets, even 3 sometimes. i think a good font pairing can do a lot for a gif. it's usually something like:

serif + cursive/funky fonts (example)

sans serif + cursive/funky fonts (example)

serif + sans serif fonts (example)

two different cursive/funky fonts (example)

or even simply the same font but all caps + all lowercase (example)

in case you're unsure where too start or want inspiration, here's a great resource: usergif's font pairing guide and its fonts page

BLEND MODES & LAYER STYLES

i think playing around with different blend modes and layer styles will always elevate your typography game, in my opinion. it's usually a bit more dynamic than just an opaque color. tho this minimalist typography can also be really good.

when you double click on a text layer, you get all the layer style options, as well as the blend modes. a very popular layer style is setting the layer's blending option to difference, paired with a color and/or gradient overlay (often set to multiply/color dodge). a drop shadow is also important so the text is more easily readable. we often see a black soft drop shadow, but don't hesitate to be creative with it, for example a thick, hard line, colorful drop shadow.

i feel like this step often takes the most time for me because the possibilities are endless. definitely play around with layer styles, especially drop shadow, color overlay, gradient overlay, stroke. and also try different blending modes for these settings.

as for the layer's blend mode, also definitely play around with them. and keep in mind that the text's color will also give a different result, it doesn't have to be white + blend mode set to difference, even tho this is a classic that works well.

TEXT WRAPING & POSITION

a great feature on photoshop is definitely the text warping tool. to access it, right click on a text layer and go "warp text". from there you'll get a few different styles and setting sliders. my favorites are flag and wave (example). you can always go back to edit these settings once they're done by right clicking again. and you can even keyframe/animate these settings!

typography doesn't always have to be centered and straight, i often prefer it on a side and rotated a little. you can easily rotate typography by selecting the layer(s) and hitting ctrl + T. you can also play with the skew and pespective after hitting ctrl + T by right clicking the canvas and clicking on either. these will give different ways to move your text.

SIZING

i love playing around with different font sizes, it makes the typography more interesting in my opinion, and it's a way to emphasize some words.

so for that reason i usually put each word on a different layer so i can edit each word separately. sometimes i will also put each letter on a different layer, because it can be interesting to offset/rotate some letters sometimes (example) (another example).

i often pair a quite small serif or sans serif font with a much bigger funky font (example). and often that bigger font will also have different sized words (example). i play around a lot with this!

ADDED EFFECTS

there are some things than can be done to enhance typography:

adding a colorful rectangle block behind the text (example)

using text symbols such as quotation marks or backets (example)

using lines around the text (example) (another example)

these can definitely bring typography to a different level

MORE RESOURCES

great font website

usergif's typography tag

my fonts tag

this is all i can think of right now, i hope it helps :D if you have any question on a specific text effect let me know, i can definitely make a tutorial!

[natsuki-kibutsuji]

Woman with the moon in her eyes

Part 1

Previous: prologue

There is a full moon that night, beautiful, but for one person terrifying. Hope flashed through Natsuki's thoughts that Muzan wouldn't show up.

"Maybe he forgot... Or maybe he won't make it in time... Maybe it will be too late and I'll turn into dust... Or he's taking care of his fake family and it's keeping him busy..."

The woman sat at her dressing table, combing her hair and thinking about the hours ahead.

"Am I kidding myself?" she asked her reflection in the mirror.

Her blonde, wavy hair fell over her shoulders, and her blue eyes sparkled amid the dark light of the lamps in Infinity Castle. Natsuki stood up from her chair in her silk western nightgown. She gracefully walked towards the bed to lie down, but before she could do so, she felt dizzy. Quickly she grabbed the bed rail and tried to lie down.

Suddenly, Natsuki felt a presence in the room. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Muzan standing in the entrance.

"Maybe you'll finally decide to give up? I'll bring you a human to feed on." Muzan spoke up, slowly walking towards his wife.

She bowed to him, fighting against the weakness of her body.

"Thank you for this kind of dinner. I will remain true to my values."

Muzan supported her arm and helped her lie on the bed.

"Always the same..." he replied, positioning himself on the other side.

He didn't have to explain or add anything. Natuski, like a little spoon, allowed him to embrace her. However, his wrist slipped at the level of her mouth. Natsuki, revealing her demonic fangs, bit through the layers of his skin one by one, reaching for the blood. The taste and smell of his blood spread throughout her body. Disgusting, but in demon form an extremely tempting experience. She could have moaned in pleasure, but she didn't let herself do that. She always tried to stop such animalistic tendencies.

"Good girl..." his voice echoed in her ear, "Maybe one day you'll even let me fulfill my duty as a husband," his tone sounded like he was teasing her.

Natsuki almost escaped from his embrace "Never!"

"I hope you enjoyed your dinner," he smirks, "Next serving on another full moon, unless you ask earlier."

"Please stop, this is embarrassing enough."

Natsuki waited a moment until Muzan released her. The taste of his blood and his masculine scent still tantalized her senses. She laid on her side, facing away from him. Earnestly, she tried to breathe to calm down her demon blood stirred by Muzan.

The man, ignoring his wife's dryness, took a book from the bedside table and focused on reading. This one moment, the full moon, became the closest experience of their marriage. Muzan tried hard to keep her alive all these years. According to her - as entertainment; According to him - as a symbol of waiting.

The truth came as a surprise to these two.

next: part II

[gritsandbrits]

Hazbinverse Salt: Stella

Okay I finally gathered my thoughts about why, as a swan aficionado, I dislike Stella's design so much. I'm also going to point out what I would change.

Too much going on while bland at the same time:

On first glance it looks good enough but the more I think abou the more I start to scream internally

So many feathers, face is cluttered, isn't very regal, even her arms (why not make the gloved full length?)

Dress is TERRIBAD

Honestly the design tries so hard it ends up boring

Except for feathers and color palette her design doesn't reflect her basis very well

HER NECK IS TOO SHORT

Either make the dress solid with less feathers and keep the "hair"

Or you could keep the feather dress and make her hair shorter in length

Alternatively turn the hair into a bridal train to symbolize her purpose

Also if her (assumedly full-blood) brother is a peacock wouldn't it make more sense for her to be a peahen?

Eh I'd make her a mixed species; and also include peafowl feathers as part of the dress or an accessory

Long hair + big ass lashes + crown = cluttered face

Again I would shorten the hair length or style it differently

SHORTEN THOSE EYELASHES

Somebody pointed out that her lashes are so long they literally blend into to the background

Change the eyes back to pilot's blue to match Andre & pop out from all the pink&purple

Silhouette isn't very regal

For someone groomed to be royalty she doesn't look like it

HER NECK IS TOO SHORT WHERE'S THAT GRACEFUL S SHAPE SWANS ARE KNOWN FOR

Amp up the design to be Victorian/Edwardian inspired: that's when circuses really blew up in popularity; fits the circus theme of Hazbin

Some historical refs I found

See one of them even has feathers!

Instead of a gradient top make it a solid color and the top layer of skirt the same color; end with a gradient or keep it solid

Change the bottom layer to a lighter purple or pink

Lack of dark colors makes her evil less conspicuous

Probably stripes or a star pattern her name means star after all

Keep the short sleeves

The more evil Stella grows the darker her palette becomes; maybe more plums and maroons with hot pink

Cluttered Face AND hair = mess

See above

Again I'd keep the head hairless and change the eyes to short lashes and blue orbs

If Goetia shouldn't she have celestial motifs?

Have a star shaped crown or jewellery

Make her palette sunset themed

Since Stella means star have her wear solar themed clothing at times

at least SOME heat based power to contrast her brother's ice; since she is demonic royalty I guess she should have some magical power

Having a bit of power shows that she is more of a threat than given credit for; justifies why she's an equal match for Stolas

IT FITS HER PERSONALITY

Adds a sense of tragedy: her power never recognized for their potential due to outdated ideals of hell

Which in turn legitimizes Charlie's crusade; changing Hell for the better would prevent future situations like Stella

Tragically, Stella succumbs to her flaws instead of growing out of them; tragic, complex villain instead of a cartoon caricature for wittle ol' woobie owl to overcome

Aaaand that's about it. I might draw my dream look for Stella. I think as someone who's supposed to be a villain she should've had a way better design. The Pretty Pink Princess turns out to be a total witch. Cool concept, uncool execution.

[swollenbabyfat]

How did you come to draw and paint the way you do? What inspirations do you pull from? All of your art oozes with some strange, almost ethereal emotion I've not quite seen anywhere else, something similar to what I'd like to capture with my own works.

I’ve always had a bit of a hard time answering this bc like…I honestly think aesthetic/inspirational/taste stuff is a library you build up over your whole life, or maybe a closet that you try things on to see what does and doesn’t work for you. My biggest advice to this kinda stuff is to experiment a lot and take in a lot of media in a purposeful way, and try to actively apply things you like about said medias to your work. And don’t just consume stuff within your field, I take inspiration from a ton of stuff that isn’t art. I also recommend having somewhere to keep a kind of reserve of inspo, wether it be on tumblr or Pinterest or what have you.

So with that being said I’ll try to sum up what I can about myself.

I’m a horror lover, have been since I was (too) young. I’ve consumed a ton of horror movies, read a lot of books, and certainly have digested a lot of art about it. I am a bit of a haunted person haha, and I’ve always really attached myself to horror, and with some exception to just purely cute stuff I truly am always thinking about it with my work. I am not really aiming to make people feel comfortable with my stuff, in fact often the opposite, but many feel understood anyways which feels nice. I don’t think horror for horrors sake is always as fufilling to me, it always pulls from something internal that I’ve been wrestling with or are afraid of myself.

I am classically trained in fine art due to the kind of art program my highschool had (magnet program if that means anything to anyone), it was incredibly good and I always feel so lucky I got to go there. Bc of this I learned a lot of techniques in painting as well as the fundamental of art. I don’t think my art would be the way it is without this training, but I also think with how the internet is now you can probably do the same thing at your own pace, just have to be dedicating a decent amount of time and mental energy into it.

Bc of my highschool training I also learned about art history, which had a big impact on me, particularly renaissance, baroque, and rococo. Religious imagery as well had a huge impact on me, particularly catholic (probs cause we learned about it it the most). I would say doing master studies with these would be a huge help.

I would say it’s important to me that each “full” illustration tells a story of sorts, I can’t really help it, I’m a story teller at heart. I use a lot of symbolic imagery, I pull a lot from religious imagery but also within fruit, flowers, personal objects… I think “what am I trying to say with this work” and kind of go from there with what I choose. Make your own personal symbolism language.

There’s like this certainty digital painting aesthetic I really enjoy by niche furry artist lol, many of them really nsfw so I don’t feel comfortable linking to them. It’s like…highly detailed well rendered pieces that they make with literally one brush that is often without any kind of pen pressure, just layering things with opacity. It’s crazy and yeah idk they’re definitely up there in inspo for me.

I really really care about fashion. Lolita was my first love in terms of clothing, and I pull a ton of inspiration from it, but also a lot of other street styles and runways stuff. I like drama and frills.

I play with my art and stories in a way that I don’t know how to describe other than childlike. It’s important for me to do so in my process, but basically, I let my imagination run wild, I talk to my characters, I listen to music and think about them. A lot of my bigger pieces take a lot of time of me thinking about them ahead a time, I draw in my head a lot. Sketchbooks are a huge help in this.

I thiiiiiink that’s all I have to say for now…I could probably list a million things but this feels like a good core to start with. I hope it’s not too vague, but I’m always good to keep answering stuff like this if you wanna know about one part in depth.

[project-sekai-facts]

Is it me or are the new outfits simpler? Like old ones had a lot of tiny useless details all around, the new ones look "cleaner" in comparison. It's not bad I kinda like it but it definitely feels weird

Before we start I just wanna say that I kinda critically analysed the costume designs instead of you know. just talking about the details. cool here we go

Yeah aside from VBS they all feel so. Plain, I guess? MMJ’s outfits probably the worst instance, imo they felt more same-y than before and I get they’re an idol unit so they were gonna be uniform but there’s something off. It’s the blue, I get that it’s probably a nod to the blue penlights, but using green or their respective image colors would’ve been better I think. You can barely even see Haruka or Shizuku's image colors on the skirts. Honestly I don’t think the accessories are that bad, they’re pretty cute and fit the group, though the costume being so plain outside of them just makes it look like there should be more. the thing is the outfits aren't the same, they have different skirts and shirts like the original it's just the fact that they all have the same color scheme and similar-enough accessories that it makes the differences less noticable. their image colors should've been the primary or secondary color not the tertiary color.

Leo/need I can get being more uniform, it goes with their whole thing, and I liked how there’s still a lot of details to differentiate them and give them personality. Honestly their original color scheme was pretty basic but making their image colors the secondary colors instead of of the primary colors of their outfit? it just wasn't it. honestly it wouldn't be too bad if the grey wasn't such an ugly color it looks really bad. if they'd gone with black or a much darker grey for the blazers it would've looked so much better and made the accents stand out more. also, the lack of accessories... i get they're more "professional and mature" but their outfits are quite boring, especially next to Miku's. If all of them had a big star armband like Honami or even had a bigger star buckle anywhere (like on a belt) it would look a bit nicer.

WxS was an improvement from Leo/need maybe? The outfits are definitely the most detailed so far, and they had a lot of personality. I like that they kept the original theme of character types (Rui being a villain, Nene being a fairy, etc), and it's not hard to tell what role each of them are meant to be (except emu but it wasn't obvious what hers was in the first place). I think Tsukasa's fits his personality quite well; he plays hero roles so he has a prince sort of outfit, he's the leader so he's got the sash, and he usually dresses very smart. it's very plain though, definitely could've done with brighter colors on the accessories, and maybe keeping the belt charm. also the jacket and trousers being the same color without much to separate them and balance it out doesn't look great. emu and nene's are both better, the color palettes are really nice and their outfits aren't plain holy shit. Emu's fits her personality really well - just by looking you can tell she's a fun and positive person. Rui's is probably the one i'd say is best out of the bunch. I know we can't see the front but the asymmetry and use of black in the color palette makes it stand out a lot and really adds something that the others were lacking. it's a very good villain outfit as well.

N25's were simple, but managed to actually pull it off. they didn't feel really plain compared to some of the other units despite actually being pretty plain. their outfits were always dark, and that hasn't changed, but making the colors more murky adds an extra layer to it. the addition of the flower patterns really adds something to take away the plainess of the original outfits, as well as adding relevant symbolism. Mafuyu's especially stands out being the lightest color and being the most ragged. It tells you she's different, she appears bright and perfect at first, but when you look further down, she's damaged. The image colors could've done with being a bit brighter maybe but other than that these are pretty good.

VBS outfits are actually really good. There I said it. They're able to feel cohesive as a group while still managing to reflect the individuality of each members and not be plain. The outfits fit their personal styles really well, Kohane's more girly, An's more cool and mature, Akito's sporty and active and Toya's more smart but still has the street look. Despite their outfits looking totally different, you can tell they're a unit because of the reddish-pink accents on all their outfits and also using white as a unifying color. i know i complained about the white making the other outfits plain but it's far more balanced out here and isn't as in-your-face. it isn't like MMJ and WxS that have white as their main outfit color. With VBS it's just one white item of clothing: Kohane's sweater, An's cargos, Akito's hoodie and Toya's tshirt. it's incorporated in a very natural way and isn't overly prominent. their image colors and other colors are used just as much in the outfits to balance it out. they have the best balance undoubtedly. even the accessories, they aren't big and there's not a whole lot of them, but the outfits already have a lot going on so they don't need to be complex, they're just there to add something extra.

There’s too much white.

[theroyalthornoliachronicles]

La Flamme de Minuit Victorious at Prix de Thornolile

In a heart-stopping display of skill and speed, La Flamme de Minuit emerged triumphant in a gripping race during the highly anticipated Prix de Thornolie. The race, which unfolded over a five-furlong distance, captivated spectators and showcased a fierce battle between its top contenders, La Flamme de Minuit and Griffon Rouge.

Set against the picturesque backdrop of Thornolia's vibrant l'Hippodrome Épitoise de Thornolie, the event drew a crowd of enthusiastic onlookers, including Thornolia's esteemed famille royale. Monseigneur l'Épin, a distinguished figure in the equestrian world alongside his father, graced the occasion and presented the victorious horse with the inaugural Coupe de l'Épine d'Or, a trophy specially crafted for this prestigious race in celebration of its inclusion in Thornolia's first ever Saison.

La Flamme de Minuit, a majestic equine with a fiery spirit, proved its mettle under the expert guidance of trainer Francois Delacroix and the skilled jockey, Pierre Leblanc. The horse's exceptional speed, agility, and determination captivated the audience, who eagerly anticipated a thrilling showdown between the top contenders.

As the race commenced, the thundering hooves of La Flamme de Minuit and Griffon Rouge echoed across the racecourse, creating an rousing atmosphere. The two horses showcased their remarkable athleticism and unwavering spirit, engaging in a neck-and-neck battle that left spectators on the edge of their seats.

The five-furlong race unfolded with breathtaking intensity, as La Flamme de Minuit and Griffon Rouge pushed each other to their limits. The crowd roared with excitement as the horses charged towards the finish line, their determination and skill evident with every stride, but it was La Flamme de Minuit who surged forward around the last corner, galloping across the finish line and securing victory. Griffon Rouge, displaying remarkable tenacity, finished a close second, leaving spectators in awe of the fierce competition between these equine powerhouses.

Adding an extra layer of prestige to the occasion, Monseigneur l'Épin presented La Flamme de Minuit and Pierre Lablanc with the first-ever Coupe de l'Épine d'Or. The Monseigneur also looked to be in extremely high spirits, leaving many to wonder if more thrilling news is on the horizon. This magnificent trophy will forever serve as a testament to the horse's remarkable achievement, as well as an enduring symbol of Thornolia's rich equestrian heritage.

As the sun set and the crowds dispersed, the echoes of this thrilling five-furlong race lingered in the air. La Flamme de Minuit's remarkable victory in the Coupe de l'Épine d'Or will be remembered as a shining moment in Thornolia's racing history—an exemplification of the unwavering spirit and indomitable strength of these magnificent creatures.

And let us not forget our Monseigneur's endeavours to find a wife during this inaugural saison. With the upcoming bal masqué in honour of his upcoming birthday in mere days, many wonder if he will soon be making an announcement. Though should we? He's been far too indecisive, and it may be a bit hard to believe he's made any sort of decision, though we believe it safe to say that it does appear to be between Mademoiselle Aubert and Mademoiselle Valery. Today's event left many questioning the Monseigneur's motives once more, but we suppose only time will tell.

Previous | Beginning | Next

[fuckyeahisawthat]

So I'm still super obsessed with your take that Paul's visions are an "inversion" of reality and there's one that my brain is vibrating about in particular. In part 1 there's that one shot of him and Chani (and a couple others I think but it's not clear who they are) on a ship about to land (on Caladan?), with Paul in front and Chani standing behind him.

Now maybe I'm reading too much into this or taking it too literally, but for the most part the visions that are the most obviously "inverted" were the ones concerning the two of them, so I'm wondering what your take on that particular vision might be? Could it be she's actually in front with him behind her? Which seems like an unimportant detail but there could be some deeper layer there perhaps?? idk my brain is buzzing about it and I wanna know if you have Thoughts

Heyyyy. To be fair I'm not the first person to notice the thing about Paul and Chani's positions switching in his visions; I think I first saw that on Twitter. But ooh yes let's talk about that vision.

I'm assuming you mean this series of shots, from the visions Paul has in the tent after the attack on Arrakeen:

I don't think them switching places is going to be a one-to-one thing that happens every time Paul sees them together in a vision. But there is a lot of interesting stuff to talk about here. Chani wearing black--the color of power and empire--dressed to match Paul, standing at his right hand with no Irulan in sight. Chani gazing haughtily down at Paul's followers in a way it is hard to imagine the real Chani doing. Chani seeming entirely okay with this situation.

This makes me think that this is either a possible future where she has come to accept what Paul is doing, or a future where she is pretending to accept what he is doing for reasons of her own. But, as with all Paul's visions, we don't know if this is the future. (For one, the flags are different than the ones we see at the end of Part Two; they're the traditional Atreides green, white and black instead of the red and tan Desert Power Edition.) We don't know what else Paul sees once he drinks the Water of Life, but this could certainly be a possibility for "She'll come to understand, I've seen it."

While I was watching back through this series of visions I noticed another interesting thing. In Part One, there are multiple shots where we are following Chani walking through the desert, wearing a long white dress with her hair blowing in the wind. But in Part Two, Jessica is the figure in white that Paul is following. (I also think there is at least one shot where the person in white is so backlit/out of focus that we can't tell who it is.) We also have these parallel scenes of Paul in a tent in distress over a vision: Paul seeing the vision of following Chani while Jessica is there trying to comfort him, and later in Part Two, Paul describing the nightmare/vision of following Jessica to Chani as she tries to comfort him.

The metaphor here I think is a bit more obvious--Chani and Jessica represent two opposite paths Paul could take, either embracing the prophecy or rejecting it. But it's interesting to see them connected or superimposed on each other through the visions this way. In the vision in Part One, Jessica even speaks through (or over) Chani; we see Chani say "Paul" in the same urgent way Jessica is saying it in real life.

What does all this mean? Once again, we don't know! Chani is a phantasm at this point in Part One; Paul has not actually met her in real life so it's not clear if the Chani in his visions represents an actual possible future for the real Chani, or if she operates as more of a symbol or a projection of things in his own head. I think the intent is to keep us guessing by having the visions function in different ways--some are the future, some are a version of the future but twisted, and some are metaphors or warnings, and we often don't know in advance which is which. But I'll be super curious to see if some version of this scene comes back in Dune Messiah.

[jotun-philosopher]

So, I was listening to this video recently (apparently it's Gneil's favourite song from the Span, which is a strong recommendation in and of itself) and it got me thinking...

The song being in Scots dialect and making references to France (in combination with the Gneil connection above) instantly associated it with Good Omens in my mind, and the speed at which Maddy Prior sings puts me in mind of birdsong (not a knock against Maddy in the slightest, she's a bloody amazing vocalist) -- and that reminded me of a thing I saw on Springwatch yonks ago!

Springwatch is an annual BBC thing looking at British wildlife reacting to the changing seasons, where wildlife experts gather to be super enthusiastic about it all; one year there was a segment about the structure of birdsong, where they slowed some samples of birdsong down to show that they were made up of discrete pulses of sound a bit like 'words', and they demonstrated the principle by having one of the presenters doing a tongue-in-cheek 'come on if you think you're hard enough' speech (the sort of thing birds use their actual songs for) and speeding it up until it sounded like a snatch of birdsong.

The Good Omens connection is this: what if the Ineffable Husbands use something like this as a means of covert communication in S3? It'd work nicely with their pre-existing bird symbolism and isn't too far removed in principle from the layered covert language they already use (as chronicled by @vidavalor -- go check out their blog for an epic crash course in frequently horny ineffable linguistics!)

Also, show of hands, who else can see Crowley rocking a dress like the one Maddy Prior's wearing in the video?

[totallynotsilversora]

I may be a bit tired but I think enough time has passed for me to say this:

Even though it felt unfulfilling and wasn't executed in the way that I hoped it would, I really enjoyed Tokyo Revengers' ending because it confirmed my suspicions from the start:

That the point of that final jump - and the point of this manga in general - was to end the cycle of violence brought about inadvertently by time leaping and that the only way to save everyone would have been to reset everything back to the start.

And no, Takemichi didn't START this cycle.

Takemichi is the one to END it.

MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW:

Shinichirou got his time leaping powers in the original timeline after he enacts violence on a stranger, who tells Shinichirou that he got the ability using the same method - violently killing another time leaper. Though we learn later on that it can be passed on with more peaceful methods, that doesn't mean Shinichirou should've murdered someone out of NOWHERE with no proof to whether their claim would be true, regardless of how pure his intentions were. He reacted based on violence and that same violence is what seeps into Mikey when Shinichirou leaps back in time the first round and continues to fester in every timeline that becomes generated into a "Dark Impulse".

How do we know that's where it came from? Well, remember how Tokyo Manji's symbol is the Manji swastika? There's a reason it's moving COUNTER-clockwise and not clockwise like the ones you see typically with Buddhism:

This swastika has ties to things like KARMA, the NIGHT, and KALI aka GODDESS OF DESTRUCTION.

It's no coincidence that Mikey forms Toman to be a gang based on protecting one another and enacting retribution, however looking back at how Shinichirou became a time leaper adds another layer to the symbol: Mikey's ENTIRE existence has been inextricably tied to his brother's karmic actions the moment he is successfully saved by Shinichirou. That means every little thing Shinichirou has done in both the past and present will inevitably affect Mikey in every time line no matter what.

And let's be honest. Shinichirou was definitely not a saint. Whatever unfinished karmic retribution was left after he got killed the same exact way he murders the former time leaper (down to the fricking CROWBAR), it fell onto Mikey.

Shinichirou, whether he knew it or not, left behind an awesome yet violent legacy for Mikey to inherit, and Mikey carries that legacy through Toman - a gang that was created specifically to get back at anyone who tried to threaten them or their loved ones.

Pure intentions or not, someone WILL pay in blood.

That's why every arc began to feel repetitive. Because the cycle of violence continues to repeat itself around everyone Mikey gets involved with specifically because of the karma he carries.

That's why, when Shinichirou passes his powers to Takemichi in hopes that he can protect the ones he cares about, that cycle begins to unravel the moment Takemichi becomes involved in Mikey's life - because Shinichirou saves Takemichi WITHOUT VIOLENCE.

This isn't just about moving on from your failures and trying to live a fulfilling life even with all your losses. It's literally about karma and how violence perpetuates a cycle that can affect EVERYONE you know around you in the most terrible ways. How fighting for what's right or to protect someone doesn't always have to involve throwing a punch (though in Tokyo Rev's case, it IS allowed and I'm glad they let that slide).

The reason this ends with a hard reset is because the only way to allow everyone to have a happy ending is to undo the negative karma that had plagued Mikey for so long. A curse that has been with him SINCE HE WAS SIX YEARS OLD.

I get it. I don't like the ending all too much either and everyone feels way too different to the people I had grown to know throughout this series.

But goddamnit this was EXACTLY what I was hoping for and you can't tell me it's an entire cop out.

PS: I also don't think Chifuyu is the only one who remembers what happened from the other timelines. If anything, NO ONE would be there at that wedding unless they all had an INKLING of what happened in the previous timelines. It doesn't have to be the full thing like Chifuyu, but I think everyone still vaguely remembers what happens and hence why lots of them wind up having different stories (Inupi no longer having a scar bc he probably remembers wtf happened and saves his family from the fire, for instance). That's just my personal theory, though! Whether any of you agree with me or not is no matter and I just wanted to share my thoughts with Negai no Astro coming around the corner!

[kingscourthouse]

This is a Ren Cinematic Universe moment

Did a quick update on my Ren designs. Note: King RenTheKing isn't included because I don't see him as someone separate from ren himself. Grimm (Demised RenBob) is my own mini au I guess? Don't really know what he would be, but I like to imagine him n Grim are a team in killin'.

If anyone cares, details on them below!

Base things on all of them: All of them have some sort of enchanted band on them with protection. If they were to remove it, they would just be some big dogs. (This way I get both Ren and dog Ren >:D)

Have you seen those glasses without the arms just pinch to your nose bridge? Yeah, they kinda need them. Dog ears lol.

They all have diffrent versions of Ren's facial hair. Obvi Grimm's is based on Renbob's and the others are based on Ren's. Example, Red still has the same shape of stubble like ren, but his is much thicker and a bit messier like his hair.

Their hand nails are all diffrent too if that counts.

Ren: Legit just basic Ren Diggity Dog. Pan flag colours on his ear peircings. Leg coverings are layers of leather that button in the back to keep them from being too damaged while working. Prot band is on his left arm. It's made of netherite so it can't be destroyed...unless he runs into a cactus. Very fluff, is a good boy.

Red (King): Still grey from the death games and curse, but has a bit of colour unlike the demised. His hair is much messier and a bit longer than Ren's. Ears are more pointed like a wolf. When Ren was King, Red made his crown and cape for him. Red still thinks he's better though. Slacks are tighter fit around his knees for movement. ROYAL BLUE BABY- Not a chestplate, but has gold plating around his neck and shoulder that holds his cape. Gold cuffs on his feet because he hated the lack of movement with full leg coverings. Gotta protec those toe beans. Cape is pinned to his sleeve so it moves with him. Very elegant. Prot band on his left hand is a gift from Martyn. Has his symbol so he may always protect his king in some form. Martyn also learned the hard way that Red's cape is basically a giant weighted blanket. How the hell does he carry that?!

(Ren) Bob: Sometimes the hermits call him Rob. Basically a Timmy/Jimmy situation. Again, just basic RenBob. Very flowy clothing. His necklace is a crystal gifted from Impulse back in season 6. He also has earrings made from Grian's feathers he'll wear. They tickle sometimes though, so it's not often. No leg protection. Wants to "Be connected to the world" or whatever he said. Most of his jewlry is wooden. The wooden earrings pull his ears down a bit, but he likes the floppy ears anyway. Prot band is wooden braclet on his right arm. He has a wide variety of goofy cardigans. The egg one is one of his favourites.

(Link to the actual cardigan if you want it)

Grim (Dog): Demised Ren. Kinda like the life games, he has a thirst for death. Maybe not as intense, but he'll sometimes be in a hunting mood. There are tallymarks on his arm are a count of how many he's killed. He's very grateful for the respawn system, he can play these games forever now! Loves very outgoing deaths. Explosions and fireworks are his favourite. NEVER TRUST HIM WITH A CROSSBOW. Prot band is a choker hidden by his hood. Died from fall damage. In death, he invent footwear better than featherfalling to keep him from perishing like that again. (Think long fall boots from Portal. They're shock absorbers.) Has a fear of heights, but he'll never admit that to you. Eyes may look like pure white, but you'll see his iris in a dark room. The iris and pupil glow white, the sclera don't. And yes, his glasses are the shape of coffins.

Grimm (Bob): Demised RenBob! (Rob???) Also gets the urge to kill but prefers not to. When he does, it is much quieter deaths like drowning or suffocation. Grimm prefers to follow around Grim and tend to the dead. Arranging graves, leave flowers, tag you with how you died, that's all him! Died by suffocation. Nobody knows how but Grim. Doesn't talk very much. The most you'll hear is him muttering prayers to the dead. Sometimes he'll also just say a single word and scare the daylights out of somebody. Prot band is a choker beneath his hood aswell. Eyes are just like Grim's; You won't see his iris, but it's there. May not have the weird cardigans like his counterpart, but a few hermits are a fan of his glasses. Tango loves the X glasses. Reminds him of cartoons!

That's all I can think of right now. Any questions? Feel free to ask!

(Suggest more silly cardigans for renbob and I might draw them)

[blooming-violets]

CREATURE LIKE ME || CHAPTER SEVEN: MURDERER

[TASM Peter Parker!Werewolf AU]

Story Summary: Kraven and his guild of hunters have been tracking and quelling the werewolf population for centuries. The time has come for Aylin to complete her first solo hunt to prove herself to the guild. It was supposed to be simple. One wolf, one death, one victory. She never expected to end up with a secret hostage on her hands.

Chapter Seven Warnings (spoilers): this chapter contains a SA scene and a depiction of a murder

[link to chapter index]

Aylin leaned her shoulder against the stone wall and watched with a placid detachment as Kraven carried the naked wolf girl over to the table. He laid her limp body down with a sort of tenderness Aylin wasn’t used to seeing from him. The wolf girl’s eyes remained closed. Though, her dark, wet lashes clumped together as if she had been silently crying only moments ago. Through the thick layers of dirt and caked over blood, her body was painted with a myriad of scars. Old and new. Knife slices, whip slashings, bruises, bite marks. Aylin could make constellations out of the red marks of abuse hidden among her black and purple galaxy skin. Whatever she had experienced down here, the wolf girl had experienced much, much worse. 

Her death was the last piece of the puzzle for Aylin to gain her freedom 

Her life would amount to nothing more than a final sacrifice. One life traded for another. Her death meant Aylin could live again. 

And Aylin didn’t even know the girl’s name.

Kraven took a step back from the table and observed the young girl with a quiet contemplation, “Don’t ever mention this to Calypso but I think I’ve grown a bit fond of the wolf. She was a fierce fighter for being such a little thing but, alas, everyone gets broken in the end. Look at her now. Wasted away to nothing. Her blood has served me well. Even now, it still courses through my system. They only last a few hours inside of you depending on how much you drink before the effects start to wear off. I tell you, it’s like a power you’ve never felt in all your life, Aylin. Truly an addicting substance. It’s no wonder the wolves fight so hard to stay alive. They must feel incredible all the time.” He paused to glance down at the girl, rethinking his statement. “Well, not all the time.”

Aylin pushed herself off the wall and padded over to where he stood. Each step shot an agonizing, fiery pain up her thigh. She had to position her legs further apart than usual so her thighs didn’t rub together. Even with Calypso’s special salve covering her brand, it still seared red hot and angry. 

“Why are you telling me this?” She muttered, standing at his side. “What you and Calypso are doing is a direct betrayal to the guild. You’re consuming the blood of the enemy. You’re drinking wolf blood. Does that make you a werewolf, too? Are you one of them now?” 

The guild had no prior knowledge on how Lycan were made as far as she knew. Wolves kept their secrets close to their chest but the Colt’s always assumed it had something to do with consuming their blood. Peter only mentioned that a person could be turned or born into it. He never stated how that transformation took place. It seemed like blood would be a key factor in it, though. 

Kraven gave her a side eye and shrugged, “Who are you going to tell? You’ve been branded with the Kravinoff emblem. You’re one of mine now. If I go down, you go down.” 

Kravinoff emblem. This symbol of the sun belonged to the entire Silver Colt guild. It wasn’t something only for him to claim. Her mother wore a golden sun pendant around her neck. Her father had it tattooed on his shoulder. She had it embroidered into her hunting jacket. That didn’t mean they were all claimed by Kraven. The sun united them together against the moon worshiping Lycan. It didn’t claim them. Her brand meant nothing to her except a physical reminder that she lived a lifetime of lies. Her sun, charred into her skin like a farmer’s cattle, did not signify anything other than a sun. She gave it no power over her. No matter who manipulated her body, her mind would never belong to anyone but herself. 

Unless he managed to sever what little grasps of sanity she was still desperately clinging to down here.

“We’re not werewolves,” he stated. “Neither Cal nor I have experienced any change besides feeling stronger and more youthful than usual. We’re not one of them. We’re just enhancing our bodies to be better hunters. Clearly, blood isn’t what transforms a person. We were wrong in our assumptions.” 

The Silver Colts were wrong about a lot of things. 

The broken, naked wolf girl laying half unconscious in front of them was one of those things. 

They were two abused, degraded women confined to a torture chamber with a hot-headed narcissist and his psychopathic wife. It didn’t matter where either of the girls originally came from, only that they ended up in the same place, at the same time. While one’s story was going to end in this room, the other’s was just about to begin. 

Aylin stepped forward when she noticed the girl shivering. She had no comfort to offer her, no blanket, or clothes for warmth. All she had was herself. Aylin placed a hand over the girl’s forehead and gently stroked it over her hair like her mother used to do for her when she was ill. She could tell the girl had a high fever from the heat radiating from her skin and the cool, clammy sweat clinging to her forehead. Her body was starting to shut down. 

"Give me your shall, Sergei,” she demanded. 

Kraven shrugged it off and passed it over. Ever since he branded her, he’d been much more compliant to her wants. It seems she had him fooled. When he told her she would want for nothing if she agreed to his terms, she didn’t think it would happen so quickly. As long as he still believed she would give her body over to him, he seemed to adhere to her. 

Aylin draped the Lycan shall over the girl’s torso. She was so petite that it nearly reached from her shoulders to her ankles. Aylin rubbed her hands down the girl’s arms to help warm the chill in her bones. She hoped that maybe the feel of Lycan fur against her skin might be of some comfort to her. She was so out of it that Aylin hoped she wouldn’t take much notice of the morbidity of the pelt. 

“You’ll be home soon,” she leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You’ll be welcomed home by the ones you love. Think of your mother. Your father. Anyone who brings you comfort. Imagine their faces smiling back at you. They love you so much and they’re so excited to see you again. Your pain is all gone. It’s all over. You did so well. You were so strong but now it’s time to rest. You’re ready to go home.”

The wolf girl gave a quiet moan, her brows scrunched together, and then relaxed as a small smile graced her chapped lips. It wasn’t much but it’s what Aylin would have wanted to imagine as her last thoughts on this plane of existence. She’d want to be thinking of the people she loved most in her world. In times like these, she missed her big brother. He would have noticed she was missing. He would have come searching for her. She wondered what Emir’s last thoughts were as the bullet lodged into him and blood poured from his stomach. She wondered if he thought of her or their mother right before the wolf’s teeth sunk into his flesh. 

Peter’s teeth. 

She couldn’t think about that. She had to push that thought away. All this time she had been searching for reasons to hate him to make killing him easier. Here it was. Right in front of her. The perfect answer to all her problems. And, still, she couldn’t find a single ounce of hate left in heart to aim at him. He was too soft. Gentle. Caring. Sad. Those big, grief-stricken solid brown eyes. 

She didn’t hate him anymore than she hated the girl in front of her.  

Aylin could feel Kraven’s stare burning a hole in the back of her skull but she refused to turn around. This was between her and the girl. If she was going to kill her, she was going to do it her way. Her freedom came with a heavy price and she wasn’t going to pay it lightly. 

“What’s your name?” She whispered down to the girl. 

The wolf mumbled out some pained, unintelligible sounds. Her dulling emerald eyes cracked open into tiny slits to look up at her. 

“Stop delaying the inevitable,” she croaked out. “My name will not save me. You don’t deserve to know it. It’s all I have left that is mine and only mine. I’ll take it to my grave.”

She was right. Her name would not save her but it would soothe a piece of Aylin’s frantic mind. It would give the girl an identity she could hold onto after her death. A name to remember her by when she thought of her in the future. She would not have to be the nameless Lycan ruthlessly slaughtered at her hands. She was also correct in saying that Aylin didn’t deserve to know. Knowing that bit of personal information would only be used to serve Aylin, not the girl. She would be dead whether Aylin knew it or not. She didn’t care how her memory stuck around with a Silver Colt. She had the right to keep the last of her secrets even if it left a heavy weight of guilt and unsolved answers on Aylin’s mind. 

She reached her hand behind her back, “Give me your dagger, Sergei. Let’s finish this.” 

She felt the hilt press into her hands.

“I don’t want blood all over my sh-” Kraven started to speak but Aylin cut him off. 

“It will wash out.” 

She was hyper focused, zeroing in, on where she assumed the forever nameless wolf girl’s heart was under her chest. She wanted to be as precise and quick as she could to make it as painless as possible. 

This was going to happen. She was going to take her life. Right here. Right now. It was suddenly too real. 

Aylin’s vision blurred but she fought off the tears. In another world, it could have been Peter laying here, half dead, with her dagger raised above his chest. This was what he wanted from her. He wanted her face to be the last he saw. He wanted this death at her hands. In another world, she would have never hesitated. Now, she couldn’t see past the haze of tears clouding her sight. The lump in her throat grew heavier with each passing second. 

All she wanted was to go home. 

“Once I do this, I can go?” She asked, her voice thick with heartbreak, seeking assurance that this won’t all be for nothing. “I get to walk out of here and go back home to my mom?” 

Kraven paused for a beat too long. His silence was deafening. 

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as all the alarm bells started ringing in her head, “Sergei? Answer me.” 

When she got no response, Aylin whipped around to face him, overcome with dizziness at how fast she spun. Whatever numbing drugs were in that tea earlier had all worn off. She could feel every twinge of pain branching out through her entire body. Her knees felt weak like they were struggling to hold her own weight. Her rapid heartbeat sent shockwaves of anxiety penetrating through her chest. Kraven’s dark eyes bore into her with a look that told her all she needed to know. 

She was not going home. 

Ever.

“After you complete the ritual, I will bring you upstairs. I will bathe you, Calypso will reclean your wounds, and then I will bring you to bed to rest for the remainder of the night. While there, I will have you tied. You are not to be fully trusted. Not yet. You will not experience this basement again, as long as you behave, but you will not have the freedom you seek. You are mine now, Aylin. You made a promise to me. We will care for you, treat you kindly, but you will not leave until your deal is done. You have promises to keep and debts to fulfill.”

There was no freedom in her future. She was still a prisoner. She was naive to think she’d ever be anything other than that after experiencing this basement. This was going to break her mother. She wouldn’t ever be able to understand the weight of what Aylin did to get in this position. She would never understand where her daughter went or why she disappeared. Peter would think she abandoned him. He’d think she chose her guild over him. He’d never know just how alike they really were or how much comfort the memories of him brought her down here. He’d never know how much she fought just to keep him safe. She trimmed off parts of her soul for him and she’d only be remembered as another disappointment in his life. All the pain she suffered through was for nothing. All hope was lost as the reality of her situation took over. 

A single tear slipped through her tight hold to carve a path down her bruised cheek. 

She swallowed at the lump in her throat threatening to send her into hysterics. She was so weak, in so much pain, and so tired that her willpower to keep upright was draining. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep it from quivering and turned around to face the girl. 

Her death would truly mean nothing when there was no hope left to be had. There was no escape in sight. 

Aylin wished they could trade places. Death was better than what Kraven had in store for her. She wished she was the one on the table instead, waiting for the dagger to hit, waiting for it all to end. Death was the only escape from Kraven. The girl had helped to grow her fire and give her hope when Aylin was at her lowest. Now, there was only darkness. For both of them. 

Give ‘em hell. 

The time for hell giving had passed. She had missed her shot. Even with Kraven’s dagger clutched tightly in her hand, she knew she couldn’t overpower him. The drugs had worn off. She could hardly hold her own arm above her head. Her shoulder muscles trembled as she wrapped both hands around the hilt and hovered it over the wolf girl’s chest. 

At least she could end the girl’s misery before Aylin’s own life was lost to Kraven. She’d be a murderer but at least the girl wouldn’t have to suffer any further at the hands of a Silver Colt.

She could have the freedom Aylin dreamed of. 

“I’m sorry,” she mouthed, mostly as an apology for herself since the girl’s eyes were closed. 

I’m sorry it had to be this way. I’m sorry I was a part of a life that caused you so much suffering. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to get either of us out. I’m sorry it was all for nothing. 

A massive portion of her carved up soul would be shed with this futile murder. 

She wasn’t sure how much soul she had left to hand over. 

Kraven placed a steading hand against Aylin’s hip, “We’ve wanted her dead for some time but something about having her blood in our system made it impossible to kill her ourselves. It was like that with Parker, too, all those years ago. Like it’s their last defense against death. We figured we might as well keep her around until someone took care of it for us. Your failed solo hunt was a perfect opportunity for that. Or so we thought.” He grazed his nails up her side as he molded his pelvis against her bottom. “All will be set right soon enough. Pierce down with enough force to break through her sternum then use the curve of the dagger to pull downwards towards her stomach and rip her open.”

Aylin could feel his cock twitching against her ass as he spoke. He was getting off on the thought of mutilation. She let her hatred for him blaze through her and push out the hopeless numbing that had taken hold. He ruined her life. He had a hand in her every move even before her own conception. He had lied and manipulated and murdered and tortured until he got what he wanted.

Well, he did it. He got his prize. Here she was, branded and claimed by him, doing exactly what he wanted like his obedient, little pet. She’d kill for him. She’d spread her legs for him. She’d birth his children. She’d lose every bit left of herself because he gave her no other options. Groomed until she was nothing but a shadow of who she once was. She wasn’t just killing the wolf girl today. She was killing herself along with her. 

Aylin steadied her shaking breath and closed her eyes. She mentally placed herself on the table instead. She looked down into her own hazel eyes and hated the woman she saw staring back. Her hair was clean and waved around her soft, rounded cheeks. There was no blood or bruising painting her skin, only an air of innocence written all over her face that she no longer recognized. There was sadness and grief too but nothing like the hollow emptiness she felt now. This was the woman she was before she left on her solo hunt. This was the woman who she had been before she found Peter and learned the truth. A woman kept in the dark and living a life of lies. 

She could never be this woman again. She could never go back. That Aylin was gone. Forever. 

With a rage driven, exasperated, feral scream ripping from her throat, she drove the dagger straight down with every bit of declining strength she had left in her body. Her stab landed true. The wolf girl never even opened her eyes to watch the incoming blow. She never cried out in pain. Her body simply jerked into itself at the sudden attack but quickly collapsed, listlessly, back against the table. 

A spray of warm blood splashed against Aylin’s face. It splattered across her clenched mouth. Without thinking, she instinctively licked at her lips to remove it, tasting the copper there. She stumbled backwards into Kraven in shock. Her legs gave out. She collapsed onto the floor. She couldn’t finish the job. Not yet. She was too weak. It had taken everything she had in her to make sure she killed the girl with a single strike. Her body was failing her as the adrenaline flooded through her veins. The clotting wounds on her back ripped open. Her blistering thigh rubbed with a searing fire against her other leg. A flash of horrified agony ricocheted through her body. She was unsure if the pain was physical or mental. 

It didn’t matter. 

The wolf girl was dead. Aylin was dead. She had killed them both. 

Murderer. 

Kraven was crouched by Aylin’s side. He was scooping her limp form into his lap as he sat on the floor. His hands were all over her. Grabbing at her ass. Groping her chest. Pushing against the thin fabric protecting between her thighs. Pulling back her underwear to probe his finger inside of her. His tongue was bathing over her blood splattered lips. Lapping it up. Licking along the blood on her cheeks. Pushing his blood stained tongue back into her mouth to forcefully tangle with hers. She could taste the metallic as it mixed with the salt from her flowing tears. She couldn’t move to stop the assault on her body. Her hands were shaking as she openly sobbed, losing all control, while he molested her. 

He was moaning into her mouth, “You look so sexy covered in blood. I’m doing everything in my power not to fuck you over the table but you need to finish what you started. Soon…soon…I can have you soon.” 

He was collecting her in his arms and pushing them to a stand as the basement spun around her. She couldn’t catch her breath as the whirlwind of spiraling emotions overtook her. Her vision fuzzed black around the edges. She felt like she might vomit except there was no food in her stomach to bring up. All that was there was the taste of acid burning up her throat. 

Kraven steadied her in front of the dead wolf girl, holding her upright by clutching onto her hips. There was a desperation of longing in his voice, “Now finish the job. Get her heart. Throw it in the fire. And we can finally put this behind us.”

She could never put this behind her. She would never shed herself from this guilt. 

Murderer.

Aylin stared down at the dagger sticking from the wolf girl’s chest. Dark, fresh blood soaked over her small breasts and trickled in thick, slow lines down her side to pool over the table and sink into the cracks in the wood. There was no name to remember her by. Nothing to memorialize her with. There would be no loved ones to mourn for her. No happy memories shared between old friends. No last goodbyes. They would burn her body until there was nothing left but the polluted memories Aylin held. She was gone with nothing to show for her sacrifice. 

Peter was right about the Silver Colts. 

They were a bunch of violent murders. She included herself in that group. She deserved everything Kraven did to her. She deserved to be punished for her crimes. 

Her slack hands were being placed back on the hilt of the bloody dagger by Kraven. He wanted her to finish this quickly so he could get to fucking her. 

She couldn’t move anymore. She was only remaining upright because his arm was wrapped around her waist. Everything about her was limp. 

“I know you’re weak but just a little more. We’re almost done. I’ll help guide yo-”

He was cut off by an ear splitting shriek from upstairs. 

They both froze and whipped their heads towards the sound. 

“Sergei!” Calypso was shouting. There was fear evident in her voice. It was an unusual, alarming sound to hear from her. From the look on Kraven’s face, it was one he didn’t hear often. They listened to her hurried footsteps banging above their heads as she ran towards the bookcase door to throw it open. “We’re under attack! Fire!” 

His brows furrowed with confusion and he pulled away from Aylin, “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

She tumbled against the table, holding herself upright with her forearms, and watched as he leaped up the stairs and disappeared from view. 

A hushed, breathless silence fell over the basement.

Aylin stared down at the wolf girl then back to the stairs. She was alone. Uncuffed. 

Her heart leapt with a sense of hope she thought was long lost. 

She could hear a frenzied commotion happening above her. Lots of bewildered shouting. Lots of stomping footsteps back and forth. 

Aylin pushed herself up and away from the table. She took a few stumbling steps towards the stairs before collapsing at the bottom. Her knees cracked against the concrete floor but she was shocked to find that there was hardly any pain as her bones made contact with the hard surface. She stretched out her back, waiting to feel the terrible sting of her wounds, but felt merely a light tickle. 

Her breath began to grow rapidly as a wave of warmth spread throughout her veins. She could feel the liquid fire traveling down her arms and into her finger tips. It spread throughout her chest and coursed down her legs as it consumed her entire body in its bathing glow. Aylin squeezed her eyes shut then reopened them, searching around the basement as if she was taking in an entirely new sight. What was once dark, damp, and dreary was now exploding with colors she never noticed before. She could make out each varied speckle of gray and brown and tan in the cobblestone walls. The light from the still burning fire raged in beautiful hues of deep orange and vibrant yellows. Light danced across each surface like a delicate ballet for her eyes to savor. 

A strength flowed through her. A power unlike any she’d ever felt. Aylin had never been a weak person apart from when she’d been tortured into submission. She had always been physically strong and capable. But this…this was different. This was an inhuman type of strength. Something was happening to her body. A change was taking over. 

She stared down at her bloodied hands in front of her, able to make out every line of her skin with a rapidly improving vision. She focused in on the different tints of red, some dark, some lighter, that stained her fingers. It wasn’t her blood. It was the wolf girl’s. 

Lycan blood. 

Aylin’s eyes widened as she staggered to her feet. She had tasted Lycan blood. It had only been a few drops but clearly that was enough for it to have an effect. It was morphing the very fabric of her being with each passing second that ticked by. Her strength returned to her in a way she never thought possible. 

The unmistakable smell of smoke reached her nose to drag her attention away from her shocking, new developments. Her sight darted up the stairs. The bookcase had been left open. Thick, gray and black smoke was starting to billow through the door and creep along the ceiling down the stairs. She could hear the blaze of roaring fire as clearly as if it was in the room with her. She could hear Kraven and Calypso moving in a panic above her. The accuracy of her acute hearing allowed her to place them directly in the kitchen. They were distracted. 

This was her one chance. 

Aylin paused for only a moment to take one last look at the Lycan girl, nodding her head in her direction as a silent sign of respect, before she darted up the stairs with a remarkable agility for someone who could hardly stand only moments ago. The last gift the girl had given her was that of her blood. It was a gift she would not waste. She would get out of this hell. She would regain back control. She would enact revenge on both their behalf. The Lycan would not die in vain. Aylin would make sure her death was not wasted. 

She burst across the Kravinoff hallway, emerging from the basement like a gazelle escaping a lion. Her elbow slammed into the opposite wall to break her stride. She wasn’t used to being able to run this fast. Her body surged with power and speed. It electrified her skin. Vibrant colors flashed across her vision, swirling around her, as she stumbled down the hallway. She could hear every panicked breath the couple took in the room beside her. The heavier, deeper one was Kraven’s, panting in anger, as he tried to douse the growing flames. The lighter, more birdlike breathes were Calypso, desperately spraying water from the kitchen sink hose. She could hear their every breath even over the sounds of the roaring fire. Through sound alone she could visualize the fire crawling up the kitchen curtains and licking at their house made of wood. If they weren’t fast, it would quickly eat up everything in its path. Smoke rolled out into the hallway and slithered with thick layers of black over her head. She crouched down to keep under it. Whatever had started the fire had been her saving grace. She may have killed off her old self in that basement but she would be reborn again thanks to the flames. A phoenix emerging from the ashes. 

Aylin made her way down the hall with a near silent stealth in the opposite direction of the kitchen fire until she landed at their backdoor. All it took was a quick switch of the lock for the door to push open. 

She leapt into the chilly night air and broke out into a sprint back towards her house. 

Running for her life.

Running for her freedom. 

Her lungs expanded and filled as she drew gulps of air into them. It tasted sweeter than honey. The night had never looked so bright like she was gifted with her own personal night vision. She would have guessed it was morning if it weren’t for the explosion of stars plastered in the sky through the treetops. They were brighter than ever before as she neared a clearing in the overhead branches. Beautiful. Stunning. She could have been looking at a photograph straight from the Webb Space Telescope. The sight was so mesmerizing, her frantic sprint slowed to a light jog. She couldn’t pull her eyes from the vibrant milky way splitting across the sky. 

She could stare at its hypnotic beauty for hours. 

The sounds of screams drew her back down to planet Earth. Her head darted around to search through the woods for the alarms. Through the trees she caught sight of another blazing fire down the dirt road from Kraven’s cabin. Behind that fire was another breaking out. Three different houses were ablaze. Distraught shrieks of chaos erupted in their little town. She could hear people running into the woods, running towards the destruction, all trying to extinguish the flames before their entire forest went up like a box of tinder. The Silver Colts were under attack. This was no accident. Those fires were intentional. They were being targeted. Houses were being set to burn while everyone slept. 

Her newly eagle eyed vision set straight towards her own home. They lived on the outer edge of town. It was quiet and dark in that direction. Her mother would still be safe. Aylin left the chaos behind her and sprinted, barefoot and nearly naked, through the forest towards her chance at freedom. 

The mossy ground under foot hardly touched her soles before she was pushing off again. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. Her hair blew out from behind her like a cape as she took flight. She sprinted like her life depended on it. She ran from that basement with every ounce of strength the Lycan blood allowed her to have. Every smell consumed her, every breath felt like ice in her lungs, every sight swirled in pools of color around her until she no longer felt human. 

The spirit of the wolf soared beside her and carried her in record time to the one place she thought she might never see again. 

Her charming, humble cabin with its peeling, painted brown wood and faded, white trimmed windows. It had never looked so perfect, so dreamy, so inviting in her life. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she jogged towards her safe haven. Pine needles softened her tread under her bare feet to welcome her home. 

She slammed open the front door, accidentally ripping it from its hinges, and stumbled inside. She was drunk from the overwhelming power flooding her body. 

“Mom!” She screamed into the quiet house. “Mom! Wake up! We have to go! We have to get out! 

A small, black shadow darted out from under the couch and past her ankles in reaction to her cries. She jumped back with a shocked yelp, ready to pounce and attack the intruder until her sights settled on the frightened cat lurking under a table leg and eyeing her suspiciously. 

“Fuck, Kedi. Scared the shit outta me. Fuckin’ cat,” she mumbled, holding her hand over her chest.

Her breath was catching in her throat. Her heart was racing. She was finding it harder and harder to breathe the longer she stood still. Her body needed to run. Move. Jump. Climb. Fight. Anything. Her emotions all tumbled together along with every new smell. She could smell the sweet scent of lavender vanilla from her mother’s body lotion clinging to every surface. She could smell Kedi’s dander in his fur. She could smell the spinach and feta filled gözleme her mother had eaten for dinner still lingering in the air even though hours had passed since it was last cooked. 

“Mom!” 

The sound of her own voice was too shrill in her ears. She could hear a battering ram chorus of moth wings hitting against the porch light. Every pur rumbling inside Kedi’s chest, as he slinked out from under the table to rubbed his side across her legs, vibrated in her own head. Her heart beat was thumping in her ears at an unnaturally rapid pace. 

“Mom! Wake up! We have to…have to…go…” 

It was too loud. Her skull was cracking under the pressure of her own voice. The smells were making her dizzy. Colors blurred together and swirled in front of her spinning eyes. 

Aylin stumbled through the living room towards her mother’s bedroom door, shoving it open, and collapsing onto the cold, hardwood floor. 

Her bed was empty. The sheets were pulled back and tossed to the side like she had run from a sound sleep. Her slippers and robe were missing. She must have heard the commotion in the village. She must have heard the fires and gone to help. 

Except that Aylin would have met her along the way. She would have seen her running in the opposite direction. 

Something wasn’t right. 

Aylin’s breath was picking up speed into quick, short bursts. Her knees and forearms dug into the wood under her as she pressed her throbbing forehead down to the floor. Her entire world was shifting, tilting back and forth, until she felt like she couldn’t hold on any longer. What was left of her fingernails, clawed into the wood in a desperate attempt to try and keep her balance. 

There was too much stimulation piling on and suffocating her from every angle. There was no place she was safe, nowhere to hide, when it was her own body fighting against her. 

She clasped her palms tightly over her ears and let out a deafening shriek, curling tighter into herself, and begging for it all to be over. 

An arm snaked around her neck and a warm, strong hand tightened over her mouth to silence her.  

Her eyes shot open. She could hear everything but she couldn’t hear her attacker approaching.  In an instant, she scrambled out of the hold, flailing onto her back, to violently kick up at her assailant. 

Kraven had found her. He was going to drag her back. He was going to hurt her. He was going to-

Peter caught her ankle in his grasp before she could make contact with his chest and lunged on top of her. He pinned her to the ground, hand covering her mouth to keep her from screaming, and fastened his knees over her arms as he sat on her chest to stop her from striking him. 

“Shut up,” he hissed. “It’s just me.”

Aylin blinked up at him in confusion. All her senses that had been launched into overdrive, redirected themselves onto him instead. The edges of his outline waved in front of her bloodshot eyes but his face was as clear as it could get. His chocolate brown eyes had always seemed so dark and solid of color to her before. Now, they were flecked with specks of lighter caramels and circled his pupils with a honeyed bronze. They were nearly as bewitching as staring into the night sky. 

Her lips parted as she stared, wide eyed, up at him. Frozen in place. Mesmerized by the details of his face. His thick eyebrows raised in confusion. The way his nose dipped into a perfect slope. His succulent bottom lip peeking out from under his scraggly mustache. Every freckle over his tanned skin and every soft hair on his head was crafted with a transcended beauty. 

He was back. 

He was still here. 

He hadn’t left her. 

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he hurried her. “We have to get out of here. We have to-” He paused as he focused down on her face. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head ‘no’, still unable to pull her attention away from his eyes. They were like a cup of steaming hot coffee on a cold, rainy morning. Comforting and safe. If she dared to look away, the overwhelming senses would flood her again. He was her anchor keeping her from getting lost in the thrashing waves.  

“Your pupils are blown out. Your heart is racing. I can smell the adrenaline sweating out of you. Your skin is on fire,” he rolled off of her in horror, taking in the sight of her injuries and dried blood, slowly connecting the dots, “You look like…are you…” 

“Lycan blood,” she breathed. “I can feel everything and nothing at all. I’m falling and flying at the same time. I’m broken and whole. My brain is on fire. I feel like…like….’m gonna…” 

“Have a heart attack? Because that’s exactly what’s about to happen,” he hissed through worried, clenched teeth. “Your heart is about to explode if you don’t calm yourself. Not everyone is built to handle wolf blood, Aylin. It’s going to kill you if you can’t calm down.”

Her skin was tingling and breaking out a cold sweat. An uncomfortable, squeezing pressure gripped at her chest as her heart raced. Her breath felt constricted in her throat. Waves of panic rocked over her. 

Kraven was going to find her. 

Her mother was missing. 

She killed the Lycan girl. 

Murderer. 

“Peter,” she whimpered. “‘M don’ feel good.” 

“Fuck,” his distressed eyes darted around the room before landing back on her paling face. “Okay. I need you to listen to me, Aylin. You need to calm your body. You over stressed yourself. Pushed yourself too far. I’m gonna sit ya up, ‘kay?” 

He wrapped a protective arm behind her neck to avoid the wraps covering her back and helped her into a sitting position. He carefully leaned her back against her mother’s bed. He knelt down between her open legs and gently grasped her face in his large hands, covering her ears to help muffle the overpowering noises hitting her from every direction. 

“Follow my breaths,” he whispered. Even with her ears covered, she could still hear him perfectly. “Breathe with me.”

Peter pressed his forehead against her sweat drenched one, locking his eyes with her, as he demonstrated taking a deep, long breath. She held onto the intoxicating color of his eyes like a drowning person clings to a life preserve and followed his lead. 

Deep inhale for four seconds. Hold it for seven. Exhale for eight. 

Repeat. 

Inhale. Four. Hold it. Seven. Exhale. Eight. 

Peter continued the process until the sounds of her pounding heart started to slow back to a normal rhythm. The adrenaline leaving her body caused her to slump over with her cheek resting on the cool floor as he gently released her from his hold. She curled herself into the fetal position. 

The weight of Peter’s heavy hand, his palm pressing against her forehead, feeling her temperature, gave her the tiniest warmth of comfort. She let her eyes close and leaned into his touch. He would protect her. If Kraven came calling, he would keep her safe. 

He belonged to her. That’s what she had told him right before she dragged him from his confinement. Peter Parker was hers. She was safe with her Lycan but he wasn’t safe in the Silver Colts territory. They had to leave before the fires were put out. They had to get out before Kraven noticed her missing. Their time here was limited. 

The fight was leaving her body. She felt like her entire soul was draining out of her pores as exhaustion replaced the adrenaline. 

“I have to find my mom,” she muttered through sleepy breaths. “I have to get us out of here.” 

He swallowed, his attention flashing between his concern for her wellbeing and keeping an attentive eye on what was happening outside of the cabin, “I think the Lycan blood is leaving your system. Your heart has calmed down. You’re going to be okay. The worst of it is over but you’re going to crash once it’s completely gone. It’ll suck out every last bit of energy you have left. I have to get you out of here before you’re out cold.” 

He wasn’t listening to what she was saying. 

“My mom-” 

“How much blood did you get?” He asked, interrupting her. 

“Jus’ a drop or two,” she murmured. “Peter. My mom. Hafta find her. Gotta get’us out. All of us.” 

“Well, she’s not here, is she? We can’t go looking for her or wait for her to come back! There’s no time!” He shot angrily in her direction. He pushed himself up to his feet and paced anxiously around the room. “Where are your car keys?” 

Aylin tried to lift her head off the floor but was overcome with a nauseating dizziness.

“Left ‘em on the table on the porch before…before…he…”

She let her words trail off, unable to finish her sentence. 

Peter darted from the bedroom in search of the keys. She groaned. He wasn’t listening. He wasn’t going to look for her mother. He couldn’t be seen out there. She couldn’t be seen here. There was no time. Nesrin would have to find her own way out but she knew nothing of the true horrors lying under the surface of this guild.  

Aylin pushed herself onto shaky legs. She clutched onto her mother’s mattress as the room spun. Her eyes squeezed shut until she was able to steady her vision once more. When her eyes reopened, they focused in on Kedi sitting quietly on the mattress in front of her, gazing at her curiously with wide, amber eyes. He got up and headbuttted the top of his head into her arm as if willing her to keep moving. 

“Thanks, bud,” she whispered down to him. “‘M okay. I’ll be okay. Jus’ hafta go away for a little while. I got’ta warn mom.” 

She gathered what was left of her strength to shuffle towards the door and out into their small kitchen. Through the smudged, glass window over their sink, she could see out into the dark forest. Her sight wasn’t as vivid as had it been when she first ran from the basement. It was already settling back to its normal state. A blazing fire in the far distance illuminated through the dark trees. There was only one now. She couldn’t tell who’s house it belonged to but, whoever it was, there wouldn’t be much left once it burned out. The entire village would be focused on helping their neighbors but, once the fire was under control, they would be out for blood. A hunt like never before would begin. The village had never been directly attacked like this before. The Silver Colts would not take this lightly. Her and Peter needed to be as far away as possible. Any Lycan within the area, or anyone seen conspiring with one, would have their head on a spike. Literally. 

She wondered if it was Peter who started those fires. 

It must have been. 

With a surge of unmistakable devotion, Aylin reached for the empty grocery notepad left hanging on the refrigerator. She grabbed a pen from the kitchen drawer and scribbled a quick note. 

“Take dad’s truck and get out. Don’t speak to anyone. Trust no one. Pack as little as possible and run as fast as you can. Go to a hotel. Somewhere with people. Not safe here. I love you. I’ll find you again soon. -A” 

Peter had saved her. He had given her a way to escape. He had taken her from the clutches of her prison just like she had done for him. He did not abandon her and showed up when she needed him most. Her infatuation for him was growing. 

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe he didn’t belong to her. They belonged to each other. 

Aylin took a step away from the note and stumbled backward. The pain was starting to return. She was so tired. So broken. Her legs couldn’t hold her up any longer. Everything was draining just like Peter said.  

Her sight blackened around the edges as her knees gave out. 

Before she could hit the kitchen floor, Peter wrapped her up in his muscular arms. The last thing she felt was the feeling of safety as he cradled her to his chest, his voice echoing in her drifting mind. 

“I’ve got you. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

[CHAPTER EIGHT]

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