#like a shark circling wounded prey

[youjustgotlawyered]

When you join a new gym and it’s right next to McDonald’s:

[sleepiestwizard]

Gem spits the blood out of her mouth, wiping the rest of it off her face. She raises up and pulls her sword out of the fallen body, his horns broken and clothes tattered.

She finally looks up, scared to face the result of the concurrent battle taking place near her. The cruel hand of fate twists both ways, with her ally fighting her… something. She’s simply glad she didn’t have to be the one to face her again, memories of a time past clearer in her mind than the peaceful waves of home, blood and loss and swords and an arrow in her back.

Joel stands up too, brandishing his axe, gleaming with the witch’s blood. He’s grinning big and feral, teeth shining in the moonlight, wolfish smirk dangerously loud in the sudden silence that’s befallen their temporary residence.

Two wild animals in a standoff that can only end in more blood.

Gem still has her sword raised, keeping her eyes on the moving target, never straying to the corpses littering the ground. They start circling each other, two celestial bodies, never close enough to touch.

“So what now, Gem?” he asks, red eyes scanning her, red patch in his hair, red blood staining his face, red, red, red. His sharp grin is still in place, too wide for what the situation calls for, but Joel’s always been a fool.

“I don’t know, Joel,” she replies, voice even, face stoic. “You’re the one that started circling me like I’m some prey animal. I’m not afraid to fight you, you know.”

“Oh I know you’re not, Gem. But you should be.” He jumps at her, axe raised high in the air, clanging against her sword. She managed to block, but barely, his ferocity surprising her.

“Oh, should I now?” she asks, something teasing in her voice. The fighting feels natural, the way Joel matches her perfectly in this way making something warm and fiery burn brighter in her chest. It triggers a memory in the back of her head, one of simpler times, of wooden swords and trophy heads, of jokes and salty air.

His axe catches her as she’s distracted, too slow to sidestep the attack. Blood spills down her arm, and she curses, steeling herself. This is no time to be distracted, she admonishes herself as she gets into a lower stance, counter attacking with her sword.

Steel drags against steel harshly, sword and axe at odds. They’re grinning at each other, Gem realises as she tastes sweat and blood on her tongue. There’s something almost beautiful about the fighting, two dancers so in sync, it feels like a performance. Animals, performing an intricate mating dance, before they devour each other, angry teeth against flesh.

Her sword catches skin and guts and everything in between as she manages to hit Joel in the abdomen. He gasps, the first sign of weakness he’s shown since they’ve stopped being allies - forgotten are the nights spent in the barn together talking about anything and everything, their hopes and fears, huddling in a single bed when it was cold despite being too big.

Like a shark that’s smelled blood in the water Gem pounces, ferocious and fast, a flurry of steel and red hair, red rage, red, red, red.

But Joel knows her, knows inside and out, has spent days upon days sparring with her and fighting other people with her, and he side steps with ease.

Back to circling each other. Gravity against the vastness of space.

It’s Joel’s turn to spit blood, raising a hand to wipe at the corner of his mouth. The hand goes back down to his newly acquired wound and he grins again.

“That all you got, Gem?”

Gem screams, something feral and wild and lunges at him, his axe barely coming up to block her sword. His smirk falls off his face, a concentrated expression taking its place, sweat dripping down his brow. She privately takes pride in that, it’s not easy for Joel to stop pretending, to drop the mask.

The fight for a while, the sounds of steel and heavy breathing all blending into the melody that accompanies their dance. Their steps calculated, the choreography premeditated. They exchange the lead when they feel like it, both of them too untamed to allow themselves to be led for too long, their need for control equal as their skill.

The fight drags on so long, the first rays of sunlight rain down upon them, birds chirping happily in the distance, oblivious to the battle below them. Orange paints the sky and Gem pants.

She’s clutching her side now, the wounds she’s acquired over the course of the night catching up to her. Joel’s the same, their circling now taking on a rather staggering quality, exhaustion dragging their limbs down like lead.

“Don’t suppose you want to give up? Any minute now?”

Gem scoffs, a smile tugging at her cracked lips. Joel smiles back, softer than the situation calls for. But Gem’s always been a fool.

“Didn’t think so,” he admits, and charges at her.

Later, she stands over the bodies.

She is gonna bleed out any minute now, she knows.

She walks to the red barn, one last time. The sunrise paints the sky red. Geminitay bleeds out. Red, red, red.

[charliehoennam]

hero's homestead

A/N: just a lil blurb I've had stuck on my mind and had to frigging get out since watching Road House

Pairing: Elwood Dalton x f!reader

Warnings: physical injuries, jealousy, kissing, mentions of grief and death

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

Growing up in Glass Key made your face quite familiar around these parts. Everyone knew you, not because you were popular or from a rich family. Lord knows you wish you were.

But because the island was just so small, like a little fishbowl with too many sharks circling around their prey, everyone knew each other around here. However, the small island was full of a strong sense of community.

Your friendship with Charlie started while you were in high school. You were just a freshman and Charlie was six when Stephen and his wife would very often ask you to baby-sit.

Saying no to them was nearly impossible. Not only did they pay you well, but they always offered you a ride home and made you sure you had dinner before leaving. They really treated you like you were part of the family and helping one another in the community was just so normal.

They always treated you with welcoming kindness and respect so, if there was anything you could do to help them, you did it. Aside from baby-sitting Charlie, this included working at their book store.

You were around there most of the time. If you weren't at home or at school, you were at Glass Books.

As you got older, you started to spend less and less time there in order to focus on your own personal and professional life.

That didn't mean you were never around anymore. You still made your frequent stop to buy the new read of the week.

"Why don't you just get all the books you want for the month, so you don't have to keep coming back?" Charlie questioned genuinely curious.

"Nah, I like coming here. I like the service. And besides, you'd miss me too much, kid" you chuckled watching the young teenage ring your book up at the register.

When Stephen told you about his wife's illness, it really took you by surprise. She could've easily been voted the happiest woman of Glass Key. The aura she possessed could make the dullest room become the brightest. Her sense of humor would have even the most no-nonsense person cracking a smile. She was an amazing woman and a motherly figure to most.

The entire community mourned her loss. The blue sky and the tropical environment wasn't enough to brighten the day for your neighborhood's residents. The heavy rains that followed that entire week led you to believe that even the island was weeping for her absence.

Between medical expenses, funeral costs and a growing teenager, Stephen had to learn to be a single father quite fast. And that meant working a full-time job to make end's meet.

He asked you to help out with the store and you happily agreed. Glass Books was his wife's dream. She loved spending her days there, in the cozy little bookstore she'd built with the love of her life.

Although you know Stephen has a lot on his plate, you can't help but wonder if he wants to avoid the store and her memory altogether.

You refused to accept money for it, knowing the shop didn't make so much money. Even so, Stephen would still transfer you a small amount whenever he could and would often bring you breakfast, lunch or dinner because he felt it was the least he could do.

All you wanted to do was help.

He was more than grateful, especially when he saw how you could make Charlie laugh by putting on music and dancing in the middle of the store with her.

He could see her slipping into a dark place after the death of her mother. Dealing with his own pain, he did his best. But, you were the best friend she needed. A feminine figure she could go to talk about more embarrassing situations or just to get her mind off of the loss.

Gradually, it seemed like their small family was beginning to heal. Although the loss was a still a fresh wound, and Stephen would often find Charlie clutching a small portrait of her mother asleep in bed, they were managing to keep the pain at bay.

You understand how important this store to them. It represents so much more than being just a simple local book store. It represents her.

The store was just as special to you as it was to Charlie and Stephen.

It had always been your refuge, but now, it was always the place where you met him.

Charlie, with her overly friendly nature that she inherited from her mother, struck up a conversation with the then stranger just outside the bookstore.

Her overprotective father was soon outside within seconds. Although the friendly streak ran deep within him too, he knew these parts were full of men with bad intentions.

Once he realized the stranger wasn't from around, he felt a little more at ease.

Although you remained inside the shop, you could overhear their conversation as you inched towards the door and opened it to stand in the doorway, eyeing the stranger with caution.

Stephen was surprised to know he'd come out of town to work at the Road House. To be honest, neither of you expected him to last very long. At that place, security never does.

The bouncer turnover never ceased with the riots that broke out there almost every night. So, you didn't bother getting your hopes up.

However, Dalton kept coming back. Every other day, he came in with the excuse of using the computer or buying a book just to strike up a conversation with you and lay down his flirtatious charm.

Charlie was the first to notice he would always come around when you were there and, if you weren't, he'd always make sure to ask when you were.

She had quite a bit of fun poking fun at you, telling you he had a crush on you or mocking the unconscious change in your voice you had when talking to him.

It didn't long take for feelings to develop between you and him. There was no doubt in either of you. Although unspoken, the magnetic attraction was undeniably present.

Some of those talks were deep and you felt you could confide in him to share things you hadn't shared with anyone at all. He, in turn, told you about the night on the train tracks and how the last fight he had in the ring haunted him every night.

There was no denying the bond you were forming. However, the rumors that were spreading around the island about the closeness between Ellie and him made you hesitant to make the first move.

When you casually brought it up into conversation, he shook his head and told you it wasn't anything serious and that she'd took him on a date once. You wanted to ask him if he had feelings for her, but that would be too much.

"So what's the deal with you and Dalton?" Charlie curiously asked, having picked up on the constant courtship that you two refused to act on.

"There is no deal. We're just friends. Hardly that."

"I may be young, but I'm no fool. I know there's something going on between you two."

"Sorry to disappoint you, kid, but there isn't. Besides, I hear he's got a sort of a girlfriend" you replied without looking up at her from the book in your hand.

You were both sat in fold-out beach chairs placed in front of the store, enjoying a couple of white cherry slushies, hoping the ice cold drink could soothe the hot, humid weather.

"How do you have a 'sort of girlfriend'? Either she is or isn't."

"Those things are complicated. I guess they're getting to know each other," you shrugged wishing you could avoid the topic.

"Like you guys are?"

"There is nothing going on. Sure, he's cute and funny and all, but he's seeing someone else. He's not interested in me, Charlie."

"So, you are interested in him?"

"It doesn't matter if I am. She's a doctor, she's smart and she's really pretty and drives a nice car. I know I don't stand a chance, so I'd rather not get my hopes up," you rambled, failing to read anything on the page you were stuck on. "Can we please drop this now?"

"Oh my god," she smirked staring at you. "You're jealous."

You scoffed at her ridiculous accusation and shook your head as you closed the book and set it in your lap.

"I am not jealous. I do not get jealous."

"Yes, you are! You totally are!"

"I am not! I just don't want to talk about this anymore, alright? So can we drop it?"

"Alright, alright. Sorry I brought it up."

She couldn't stop smiling as you opened your book to continue reading. Although you weren't her parents, her mind couldn't stop thinking of a way to parent-trap you into getting together.

However, her plans were brought to a halt when Brandt's lackeys invaded the shop just a few days later.

You tried your best to stand your ground and defend the shop along with Stephen. He told you to leave, but you refused.

After the beatdown you both received unwillingly, a fire had been set and the cruel men left. The adrenaline that surged through your bodies was enough to numb the pain in order to get you both quickly back on your feet to put out the fire.

Between the blood loss and the resurfacing pain, the billowing smoke got stronger and stronger. The flames became too strong too quickly and had engulfed the entire wall across the front counter.

Light-headed and dizzy, Stephen tried to save whatever he could from the store. As you rushed back and forth, you realized that the fire had grown too much and swallowed the front entrance.

The heat of it shattered the glass windows. The open air only fueled the fire more. Coughing from the heavy smoke, both you and Stephen got down on the floor to avoid the unbreathable air and attempted to crawl to the back exit.

Everything went dark after that and melded into one huge blur.

You don't remember when you actually blacked out, but you do remember feeling relieved once you heard the fire department's arrival.

The time you spent in the hospital was short - only a couple of days - but it was enough to make you reflect on your life.

An overwhelming sense of regret washed over you as you thought about Dalton.

You'd only known each other for a few weeks, but what if you could've had something special? What if Charlie's jokes were true and he actually ended up to be your soulmate?

She could be wrong too, but the fact that you could've died and never found out if you ever really did stand a chance ate at your mind.

You hadn't fully realized the extent of your attachment until a couple days later.

You show up at the store with a limp from the beatdown you'd received a couple days ago.

Stephan tries to assure you they're fine, that you need to rest and recover, but you argue that you'll go insane if you stay at home with nothing to do, high on pain meds.

Helping the owners clean and salvage whatever they can, Charlie casually mentions that Dalton and left her and her father a suitcase full of money to rebuild the store before he got on a greyhound bus destined to leave Glass Key.

The same regret you'd felt in the hospital strikes you again and secretly consumes you.

You try to play it off and instruct her to not to tell anyone about the money. You barely understand what she said after that. All you can think about for the rest of that morning is that he left and didn't even say goodbye.

When Charlie and her father invite you to get some lunch with them, you politely refuse, opting to stay back and keep yourself busy. You lie and tell them you had a big breakfast beforehand just so they won't worry.

You promised you wouldn't get your hopes up. You knew better than that. Bouncers never last at the Road House. You know this just as well as any of the other residents of Glass Key.

He's gone now.

You just want to be alone for a bit to process it.

The door opens and the bell above it rings as you sweep away at the shattered glass, forcing you to look back over your shoulder.

The sight you see has you frozen in surprise.

His face is impossible to forget. You could never forget those big blue doe eyes, even with the dark skin that circles his right eye.

You groan lightly at the shooting pain from your broken rib as you straighten and turn to face him, holding the broom by your side as you stand next to it.

Dalton closes the glassless door behind him as he greets you with a silent but friendly smile until the cut on your lip and the black eye remind him of the damage he caused.

He doesn't look too different from you. His eye is still a little swollen but mostly black now, his lip busted and the stitches on his eyebrow are all evidence that business has been handled at the Road House.

"So, the Glass Key hero returns" you smile at him, ignoring the sting on your bottom lip. "Charlie said you were riding off into the sunset. You forget something?"

"I'm not a hero and, no, I didn't" he starts, looking around the burned down shop trying to swallow his guilt.

"Changed your mind?"

"Someone kinda changed it for me, actually. A very wise person told me that heroes don't always have to ride off into the sunset. They can stay and make a homestead instead."

Joy bursts within you like fireworks on new years. You try to fight back the smile that creeps onto you lips.

"Thought you weren't a hero."

"I'm not."

You nod biting the inside of your cheek to mask your excitement. You take the second broom that Charlie had been using earlier and left leaning against the wall by the front door.

"This homestead could use a hand" you smile and offer him the broom.

He takes it with a happy grin, feeling finally accepted as if he finally found somewhere he belongs.

"There's, uh, one more thing" he says in a soft voice.

His hand raises to your chin, tilting your head up as he cranes his neck to kiss you in the most tender of ways.

Unable to forget about Ellie, you place a hand on his chest and gently push to stop the kiss.

Dalton's face contorts with confusion. He doesn't notice the breath he's holding, anxiety settling in as he fears that you'll ask him to stop. Maybe he got the wrong signals and you don't like him that way. He'd respect it, if that's the case, but it doesn't mean his heart won't be crushed.

"I thought you were seeing Ellie?"

He blinks slightly surprised. That's not what he had expected to hear, but it makes him kind of happy that you're not asking him to stop.

"She took me on a date and we kissed, but that was it."

"So, you are dating her?"

"What, are you jealous?"

"Why does everyone keep saying that? I'm not jealous."

"You sound a little jealous" he smirks.

"I'm not. I just... I don't wanna get my hopes up."

"I'm not dating her," he says gently stroking your bruised cheek. "I told her there's someone else for me, someone that I really wanna date."

He gazes into your eyes as you smile up at him and let him continue his kiss. You let his lips linger on yours and smile when you feel them stretch into a grin.

The cuts on your mouths hurt, but neither of you bother to pull away.

His kiss gradually intensifies. His tongue flicks over your bottom lip, politely asking for entrance. His free hand reaches for your waist as the other sets against your cheek, leaving the broom tucked in his arm.

You let his tongue slip past your defenses. The gentle way his hand cradles your face has you holding onto his strong forearm and the other broom for balance as the room spins around you from his vertiginous kiss.

Your chest presses against his as you moan softly into his mouth. It takes him every ounce of his self-control to not pin you against the wall.

The bell rings again, alerting you both of another's presence so you quickly pull apart, trying to quickly compose yourselves. Your eyes shoot to the door along with Dalton's.

You realize who it is, so he shyly lets his eyes wander around what's left of the store and sweeps the ashy floor.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," Charlie smirks sipping her juice from a straw as she stands in the doorway.

"No, no," you reply nervously as heat pools in your cheeks. "Dalton and I were just, uh, cleaning up."

"Cleaning what? The floor or each other's throats?"

Dalton snickers at her candor, glancing at you until she continues.

"Good to see you're back though. And if you ask me, it's about time."

[vinetooth-prime]

A scene from a roleplay in which my friend vented her HTCM trauma a very angry and void-corrupted e-ghost takes the form of every Elder Dragon by hijacking several hologram rigs.

Descending from the top of the swirling veil of shadows swims the holographic voidform of Soo-Won; her movements elegant, visage resplendent, even in this hardlight-copy of a corrupted form. Still, these are the behaviors of a practiced ocean predator, circling the roof like a shark around wounded prey. Only this time, something is wrong. In each of the dragon's hands, she clutches the glitch-corrupted swords of Azumi Maeda scaled up to befit a dragon to wield. "W̵̬̜̓͆͋e spě̷̪̒͊��ak ̵͎̔̅̕ with ̵͎̔̅̕one vǫ̷͎͍͝i̷̙̍ce. This ̵͎̔̅̕ reality will ȩ̵̞̽́̉nd. You can̴͔͛̒͊n̶̼̼̍͌́͜ǫ̶̘̤́͐t stop ̴̙̉ï̶̖̺͜t."

[artofhazbinhotel]

I wrote an original Vox POV radiostatic song called 'Teeth'

Verse 1:

You tore my chest open

And ripped out my heart

You sunk your teeth into it

And ripped out spare parts

Guess you like to play with your food

Or does it just depend on your mood?

You told me I was your favorite flavor

That I taste so sweet

Do you ever regret

The way you sunk your teeth into me?

Chorus:

I want power on my platter

I want to share it with who matters

You want the same dish every day

So you went and threw the best away

You left me to rot

How could I have forgot?

When you said you'd never change

But I liked the way you were

I liked every single stupid word

You smile to hide your deceit

You were lying through your teeth

Verse 2:

Sharks like to circle their prey

A shark's skin is tough to break

Their teeth will tear you apart

Their teeth are deadly sharp

I don't like to feel used

And I don't like to lose

And I won't after what you did to me

I'll make each puncture wound last

Because of what you did to me

You'll be the best dish I'll ever have

Chorus:

I want power on my platter

I want to share it with who matters

You want the same dish every day

So you went and threw the best away

You left me to rot

How could I have forgot?

When you said you'd never change

But I liked the way you were

I liked every single stupid word

You smile to hide your deceit

You were lying through your teeth

Bridge:

When I met you I saw sparks

An original response I can't replicate

And my wires are left with marks

Because the repairs came too late

I moved on, I met someone better

But sometimes I think about you

And how I didn't matter

Do even I matter to him?

Or am I in the same cycle again?

Because of you I'll never know

Because of you I think he'll let go

And leave me just like you did

I'm over you, but I'm not over it

Chorus:

You were the power on my platter

We were supposed to climb the ladder

You want the same dish every day

So you turned mine away

Tear you open, I hope you rot

I think you forgot

The way you helped me change

When I liked the way I was

Even if I was never enough

You smile to hide your disease

I want to rip out your teeth

[fishenjoyer1]

Fish of the Day

today's fish of the day is the cookiecutter shark!

The cookiecutter shark, also known as the cigar shark, scientific name  Isistius brasiliensis, is well known for their distinctive bite marks. Often referred to as "the leach of the shark world" the cookiecutter shark has an extensive diet. Any animal that is large enough to support a bite from a cookiecutter shark, can and will be bit. prey includes, but is not limited to: whales, dolphins, seals, dugongs, almost every shark that shares a range with cookie cutter sharks (great white, blue, megamouth, tigar, etc), bony fishes, squids and other soft bodied animals. That includes humans, and biting of humans by cookiecutter sharks rises every year.

The cookiecutter shark is parasitic, leaving carter wounds that measure about 2 inches across and about 7cm deep into its prey. The shark can make these marks through several adaptations of the mouth. The spiracles, behind the eyes, close, and the tongue is retracted, to create a suction to their prey, sealing them together. Then, the shark will twist around, rotating the body in a circle, aided by a saw-like movement of the jaw, which moves the teeth back and forth. This is how they feed. This diet supports them getting as large as 17-22 inches in length.

The range for these fish stretches from the latitude of 20 degrees North to 20 degrees South all across the world, although in the warmer seasons for each hemisphere they can migrate as far as 30 degrees North and South respectively. The cookiecutter shark prefers living near the equator, in tropical or warmer temperate areas. This shark takes place in diel vertical migration, a kind of daily migration that occurs at night where animals that tend to live in deeper waters come to the surface. The cookiecutter shark can travel up to 2 miles up and down in the migration each day!

A smaller known fact other than this shark's feeding habits, is based on its bioluminescence! The cookiecutter shark has the strongest bioluminescence of any shark species known. A darker collar on the underside of the shark is thought to act as a lure for attracting prey. Their life is similar to that of other dogfish sharks, despite their many adaptations. A litter of pups bore at a time is between 6-12 and are gestated in the female by sustaining off of the yolk until birth. When born the bioluminescent collar is yet to form, and they are only 6-6 inches in length. Sexual maturity is achieved once they reach 14-15 inches in length, and it is unknown how long their lifespans are.

Have a wonderful Monday, everyone!

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Adrift at Sea

Author’s notes: Catius’s debut in Living Waters au!

Future

Summary: Catius is looking for somewhere to patch up his wounds and finds a cave. It seems empty of inhabitants. Supposedly.

Warnings: unreliable narrator, descriptions of injuries, feelings of loss and betrayal, survivor’s guilt, let me know if I need to add anything.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @kit-williams, @sleepyfan-blog

Tagged if it doesn't work: @kit-williams, @whorety-k

Swimming in the oceans of this world, filled with pollution and trash, as well as a lot of life was interesting. His strong ribbon dark blue take with spots of yellow-gold mark him for being of the Ultramarine shoals.

The wicked warp storm that he and his brothers had been swimming through, being shown the ways through by Captain Sicarius had been vicious, and the warp predators were even more ferocious. He feels the sting in his hearts and eyes as he remembers the First Born Second Captain abandoning him and his brothers for his own skin.

He and his brothers had been fighting together to try to break through the storm and predators. Each of his brothers falling one by one and he had assumed he'd die as well, as he continues to swim, still bleeding heavily, but alive, on this world he doesn't recognize, he may still die, or attract predators that scent the blood of a wounded creature and circle and pick at his corpse to eat his flesh. He shakes his head, no! He shouldn't think like that! He still has some of his weapons that work and his armor, while it will need to be repaired, still offers him more protection that going without it would do.

His vox is busted and his throat is healing, so trying to sing out for help is out of the question at the moment. He's blinking the spots out of his vision; he needs to find somewhere to rest and recover. He's spotted sharks, and other predatory aquatic life start to scent the blood in the water and chase after him. A few bolter blasts chase them right off, for easier prey as he silently bares his teeth in a soundless snarl at them, his scales rucking up to make him seem larger and more intimidating before he continues to swim on. Tired from battle, and his hearts sore from the loss of all the brother's he's been raised and trained with the most.

Loss and death are some of the duties of an Angel of the Imperium, and something he knows would be his fate at one point or another. But to be abandoned, before his first mission, to be torn apart and eaten by warp predators so that the first-born officers could save their own skins was... well, older brothers, especially first born are more valuable because they are older and more experienced, but an entire Company of Primaris Marines in exchange for one Captain? Even though he is the Second Captain feels a little... well, no- those thoughts are Bad Thoughts. And Not Good.

Captain Sicarius was... he likely had his reasons for leaving them behind to die. Even if he doesn't know what those reasons might be, even if they are ones that he doesn't know if he has the capacity to listen to and try to understand at the moment. He'd been warned by some that those of the gene-seed of Guilliman could have a Berserker's rage if properly pushed too far, and he'd been pushed over that limit during their abandonment, which was what likely allowed him to survive, even if he'd much rather to have died honorably alongside his battle brothers.

He takes in a couple of deep breaths and his gills flare a little as he spots an underwater cave, he slowly approaches it. He carefully scouts within the cave, making sure to keep a sight line in order to not get lost within the caverns. So far it doesn’t seem like someone is living here, whether it’s an entity or a large, or a school of smaller creatures that could potentially give him trouble as his wounds self-knit and he stops bleeding, the pain slowly fading from his body. He checks over his body and takes some rations to nibble on as he eases the complaints in his stomach into low rumbles as he tries to fall asleep.

[definitelynotstable]

Camomile pt. 17 [Ghost x gn!Reader]

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6, pt. 7, pt. 8, pt. 9, pt. 10, pt. 11, pt. 12, pt. 13, pt. 14, pt. 15, pt. 16, pt. 17

AN: Another oneeeeee.

Synopsis: Closely follows the “El Sin Nombre” mission from mw2 (reboot). Rights to the game developers <3 Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: canon divergence, canon typical violence, guns, wounds, swearing, brief mentions of sa etc Ghost x gn!Reader (Callsign: Rags): Note about pronouns at the bottom :)

✧˚ · .

You hood is yanked from your head and you squint at the harsh fluorescent lighting. 

“Hermana.”

Your eyes widen as they meet the brown ones in front of you.

“Alejandro?”

He’s in a suit and wears a matching balaclava to the men at the gate. He rests a hand on your shoulder, holding your gaze.

“How did you–“

–“No time.” He cuts you off, “Listen, give them good intel in there. Don’t lie, tell them everything they want to know or you’ll die here.”

“Everything?” You know it’s part of the plan and partially your idea but you’ve been trained not to give up intel. This goes against everything you’ve learnt as a soldier.

“Everything.” Alejandro confirms, “Mexican special forces, American PMCs, Shadow Company, Philip Graves – all truth.”

“Even your name?” You ask, unsure of how much is too much. But there’s a screech and elevator doors open, cutting you off.

A man stands, a double leather holster overlaps his brightly patterned shirt. He’s bald with a dark beard and a chain rests on his chest. Your gaze flicks up to his and he grins at you like a hungry shark and it takes everything in you not to gulp like a cartoon character. You settle for a shaky breath.

“¿Es ella?”

“Sí, señor.” Alejandro replies, pushing you forward with a firm shove.

The man tilts his head, still smiling.

“You got a name, chica?” 

You swallow. No lies. 

“They call me Rags.”

“¿Qué tipo de nombre es Rags?” He laughs, reaching forward to grip your upper arm. “Let’s go.”

You tug back slightly, eyes hard. “I want to see El Sin Nombre.”

He turns back to you and grips your jaw tightly, wrenching your neck forwards and into the light.

“You’re only alive because you may have some information.” He squeezes harder and you bite your tongue. “It better be good perra or I’ll let my men have their way with you.”

He shoves you away with a laugh.

“Get the fuck out of my elevator.”

✧˚ · .

You’re shoved down the narrow hallways, trailing Diego as he gives you a scuffed version of a tour. Finally you’re pushed into a dimly lit room a the end of a corridor. The floor steps down and there’s a single light casting a hard glow on a cluster of chairs where two men in army uniforms are slumped; bound and gagged. Another sits with his back to you in more civilian attire.

“Valeria.” Diego says as you enter, “There’s one more. A gringo.”

The woman, Valeria, stands behind the two uniformed men. She’s in a tank top and jeans, a scarf around her neck and holster on her hips. She looks at you with an interest smile, almost like a cat.

“Sit down.”

The man to her left shoves one of the soldiers off a chair. He slumps over and rolls to the side, unmoving. You eye her warily as you cross the room, someone’s laid a tarp down in a poor attempt to keep the blood spatter from the polished wood floors. You swallow thickly as it squeaks underfoot, careful not to lose your balance with your hands still zip tied in front of you.

“¿Quién es?” Valeria asks, stepping in front of you to talk to Diego. There’s an authoritative air about her and Diego’s body language suggests she holds the power here – though it’s his house.

“El nombre es trapos.” He replies as she questions him. “They came to us.”

“¿Trapos?” 

You watch as she circles the man like an animal hunting its prey.

“And you let them in?”

Diego stands stock still. “They say they have information.”

You flinch as Valeria kicks out his legs from beneath him and holds a knife to his throat.

“¡No la conocemos y nos ha visto la cara!”’

“Valeria.” Diego gasps against her hold, palms raised in surrender. “We need intel, they could help us.”

She spits a threat to him in spanish before removing her hold and shoving him forwards. He lands on his hands and knees before scuttling to the side. 

Valeria’s gaze turns to you and she pulls out a gun from her holster. She holds it in a casual way which almost feels more threatening than the guards before. She’d use the gun to maim – a bullet to the head would be too easy.

“Children!” She says, swishing her hips as she comes to stand in the centre of the circle of chairs. “This is simple: I ask questions. You answer truthfully.”

She swings her gun around. “Do not lie to me.”

She turns to you, eyes dark and calculating.

“Recently we were protecting a friend in the mountains. Someone attacked us there. Who?”

The man across from you sends you an anxious glance. You realise he isn’t in civvies – he’s in the army but wears a jacket unlike the other two.

“Fue un caos. No lo vi.” He stutters and Valeria tuts.

“English. For the gringo.”

He gulps. “I-I think it was the Rivals Cartel.”

Valeria stares him down for a moment before turning to you. 

“Your turn, blanquita. Who attacked us?”

“It wasn’t cartel.” You say, mouth dry. It feels as though your betraying your own. “It was Mexican Special Forces.”

“We found the bodies." Valeria narrows her eyes and turns back to the man in front of you. “Now, how would an outsider know they were Mexican Special forces and not you?”

You watch as the man swallows, Diego pushing himself up from where he was sitting in the background – rolling his sleeves as he approaches.

“M-maybe she was there!”

Diego hisses something at the man in spanish and Valeria leans over the man menacingly.

“There were outsiders helping the Mexican Special Forces. Who were they?”

“We – we heard them yelling – some in English. They were with the gringos – like her!”

Valeria turns to face you and you meet her gaze.

“American PMCs. A group called Shadow Company.”

Diego curses from where he stands behind the man and Valeria spits at the ground.

“What proof do you have?”

You jut your chin out, “check my pocket.”

The woman leans forward cautiously and pulls the patch from your pocket. The overhead light casts harsh shadows and highlights her muscular shoulders; arms covered in tattoos.

You lick your lips nervously as she studies it. “Shadow company insignia. Proof.”

Valeria drops the hand holding the patch to her side and leans over you, warm breath fanning over your face.

“Who leads Shadow Company? Give me a name.”

You feel less guilty saying the Americans name. He hasn’t earned your trust like Alejandro has. 

“Phillip Graves.”

Satisfied, Valeria pushes off the chair and away from you, studying the insignia again as Diego chuckles.

“Fill graves. I like that.”

Valeria passes the patch to him before turning back to you.

“This man …Graves. What does he want?”

Your jaw ticks slightly. “He wants the missiles you’re moving.”

The man across from you scoffs and says something under his breath. It seems to anger Valeria and he speaks in rapid streams of spanish. Diego approaches him, gun in hand and his voice raises. He’s begging for his life.

You watch, eyes wide as Diego pressed the gun to his temple and pulls the trigger. Blood and brain matter splats wetly across the floor and you hold back a gag. It’s easier to pull the trigger than be forced to watch someone else do it like some sick play.

You’re grateful when Valeria rounds on you, filling your vision and blocking the now-dead man.

She leans down, her knife in hand.

“How nice.” Her dark eyes bore in to yours as she cuts through the zip ties around your wrists. “You did good. Well done.”

She turns and walks to the door, the other men in the room stepping out of her way. 

“We’re going upstairs.” Diego beckons you forward. “Come on, chica.”

✧˚ · .

Diego shoves you roughly into the elevator and converses in spanish too complicated for you to understand. Valeria still watches you with her calculating gaze, only looking up when the elevator dings and the doors open. 

A man in a suit and balaclava waits at the top – a guard.

“This is where you wait, Rags.” Diego shoves you into the arms of the waiting guard and barks an order at him. The guard presses you roughly up against the wall as Diego disappears down the hall with Valeria.

The guard holding you says something to other guard nearby. He says something back before chucking a pale mask at the one restraining you and exiting through a door nearby.

“Your alive.”

The voice catches you off guard. You almost forgot he was inside with you.

“Alejandro!” You sag in relief, arms still against the wall as your friend pretends to search you for weapons. “I’m glad you’re alive too.”

“What did you find?” He asks, squatting to pat down your pants.

“El Sin Nombre is in the penthouse – third floor.”

“We’ll need a keycard.”

“Diego has one.” You reply, remembering the man fidgeting with it and using it in the elevator.

Alejandro finishes his fake search and hands you a mask and a knife.

“Take this.”

You slide the knife into your belt, feeling considerably safer with a weapon. “Why a mask?”

“Some people here can’t be seen with the cartel.” He says, already striding away from you and down the hallway. “Comms are hooked in.”

You slip it on, rolling your neck as it itches against the skin there. His voice buzzes in your air. 

“Radio check?”

You give him a thumbs up. “Copy.”

“You’re good.” Alejandro confirms back, “Let’s head out.”

✧˚ · .

AN: ok here’s the situation re pronouns. This dialogue was so damn hard to write gender neutral esp since I don’t know a lick of spanish. The spanish is the only part that is gendered and the logic here is that Rags is most likely fem presenting and so that’s the language used. I’m a she/they girly and I get it’s probably insanely disappointing for my other enbies out there to find gn content. I’m sorry to disappoint but at the end of the day I’m trying to get these out as fast as I can on top of uni and don’t quite have the capacity to be as thorough as I’d like when it comes to this. I plan on turning this into an OC fic eventually and Rags will be afab and use she/her pronouns in that. The rest of this fic will stay generally gn though :)

✧˚ · .

Taglist

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Masterlist

[arttheclown]

   fic: The Killer in Me (is the Killer in You).    fandom: terrifier.    rating: mature; minors DNI!    characters: art the clown, sienna shaw.    dynamic(s): art x sienna.    trigger warning(s): implied major character death, descriptions of gore, references to drugs, general toxicity.     (ao3 link can be found here.)

   When Angel Bitch’s blade slices clean through his throat, her animal scream bouncing off the walls, all Art can think is that it wasn’t fucking supposed to go this way.

    On paper, it had been a simple plan – kidnap the brat, lure big sister to her tomb, and bleed her dry as he’d done to her cunt mother and worthless friends. With those kicked puppy eyes and that quivering little voice, he hadn’t been expecting her to put up much of a fight. Dreams were just dreams, after all, and he’d crushed hers under his heel. Took that fancy knife and drove it straight into her guts, just like the little miss had asked.

    He’d felt strange, watching the girl’s lifeless corpse fall into the pit – chest tight, temples throbbing, heart pulsing wildly. It wasn’t dissimilar to the way he was feeling now, with bitter blood spurting from his wounds and rapidly flooding his lungs. (Should’ve stopped by now. Tissue should’ve healed itself.)

    Art’s fingers clamp around his torn throat. His jaws wrench open to suck in air, but there’s no relief to be found; only a pitiful gurgle as his gloves turn a deeper stain of scarlet.

    How embarrassing.

    From the corner of his eye, he sees the angel side-step, circling him until she looms over his twitching form. She’s a far cry from the golden warrior she’d been masquerading as when the night began, with her matted hair and filthy wings. As she stares down her nose at him, Art searches right back. Looks for anger, resignation, disgust – anything he’s learned to identify in a victim.

    It’s when the black, hungry eyes of a shark stare back at him that everything clicks into place.

    Angel Bitch’s breath comes out laboured, pupils big enough to swallow her irises. Her jaw clenches and he can hear the chattering of her teeth; smell the salt of her sweat, potent even under layers of blood and dirt. The fact she’s rolling is hardly news to him, but the way her upper lip twitches, peeling back to reveal her gums –

    Vitamin E can fuck your head up bad. Speed will fuck it up a lot worse and a lot longer.

    But that look she’s giving him…

    It makes him feel small in a way he hasn’t in years. Like he’s the shit under her fucking shoe. A measly morsel caught between her fangs.

    He doesn’t want  the thought to make his toes curl and he hates her all the more for it, rage boiling and billowing within him as he watches – pitiful, pathetic, impotent – the angel raise that pretty, shimmering blade over her head.

    Sure, she can deliver the killing blow, if it makes her feel better. But if Art knows anything, it’s that good girls don’t smile when they catch the eyes of their prey. They don’t linger, sucking in the stench of fresh blood and panic through flared nostrils and parted lips.

    If he knows anything – and oh, does he know! – this will not be the last time she stands over a heaving, battered body – and it will be far, far from the last time that that body is his own.

    Art smiles and bares himself.

[queeniesaurus]

When Sirens Sing of Freedom

Part 3

Pairing:

Siren Wooyoung X Mermaid Princess Reader

Summary:

You’d always been warned about sirens, about how seductive and dangerous they could be. One taste of blood and they would know your true desire, and they would do anything to help you realise it, just so they could drain you of your blood once they had. But nothing could have prepared you for what happened when a siren decided to make you his prey. None of the stories had warned you about falling in love with one of the darkest creatures of the sea.

Warnings:

Mentions of blood, mention of injury, mention of wanting to die (let me know if I’ve missed anything)

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6

~xXx~

Much like Yeosang had predicted, it had been decided that you would stay where you were for now. The only difference was that security had increased a lot. One of your guardians was with you at all times, except late at night when you were going to bed, but even then, there would always be a guard stationed outside your door. You were to call for help immediately if the siren showed up during the time you were alone.

As excited as you were to stay on the surface, anxiety bubbled just underneath. You found yourself jumping at shadows, afraid that one would turn into the siren that was burned into your mind. Even now you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Of what he had promised you.

Freedom.

That’s what he had said. The word stuck in your mind like a chant you couldn’t escape. You still couldn’t work out exactly what it meant, or how he had planned to help you achieve it. Either way you tried hard to push it from your mind, knowing that there was nothing you could do to change your life, even if you wanted to, which you still weren’t sure that you did.

A couple of nights after he had visited you in your room, you were curled in the armchair in the corner, book in hand as you wound down for the night. Just as you were about to put the book down, you felt a rush of cold air. Looking to the balcony door, you saw it open slightly, and fear jolted through you. The now familiar black smoke drifted in, and you reached silently for the dagger you had started keeping near you at all times.

The dagger had been a gift from Seonghwa. It was simple in design, the hilt and sheath coated in mother of pearl, with an opal inlaid at the end of the hilt, and simple engraving circling around both ends. The blade itself was made of titanium, and was much sharper than it might have looked. The lieutenant had also taught you how to use it, and it had been incorporated into training sessions with all the Guardians (sessions that were very much kept secret from your mother, who would never have approved).

As the smoke solidified into a person, you wasted no time charging him, grabbing the straps on his top and using your momentum to pin him to the wall, dagger pressing into his throat.

He hissed in pain, but made no move to push you away.

You were acutely aware that San, who had been sat in the room keeping you company earlier in the evening, was stationed right outside your door. But Something in the Sirens eyes made you hesitate to call him.

The sirens face was scrunched in pain, sweat beading on his forehead, and he lifted his right hand to push against his left side, breath catching slightly as he did. Still he made no move against you, the only acknowledgment of you, and the position you were in, was his eyes locked on yours.

You looked down to where he placed his hand, and noticed blood seeping through his black-tipped fingers.

Your eyes widened in surprise, “you’re injured?”

“Hm.”

“How- why?” You asked, unable to fathom why he would come here of all places, come to you.

“I didn’t know where else to go” he gritted out, “and I thought you or your guard sharks might be able to end this quickly” his eyes were hard as they looked into yours, nothing like you had seen them before.

“End it?” You asked, sure that he couldn’t mean what you thought he meant, but he confirmed it with his next words,

“Kill me. Quicker than this wound will.”

Something caught in your gut at his words, your heart dropping. With only a split second of thought, you removed your blade from his neck. He frowned at you in confusion, as you put his free arm over your shoulder and helped him move over to the centre of the room, sitting him on the floor with his back against your bed. He let you guide him, putting up no resistance to what you were doing.

You placed the knife down and got up again, heading to the cabinet in the corner, keeping as quiet as you could so as not to alert San that something was wrong. The siren watched with confusion, breathing laboured, as you pulled something out the cupboard and approached him once more. His eyes locked onto the first aid kit in your hands, and a small sarcastic smile spread over his lips as he winced in pain.

“Really princess? Wouldn’t it be easier to just kill me and end this? Or do you plan to torture me first?”

You gave him a hard stare, kneeling down beside him. “Just shut up and keep still.”

Honestly you weren’t really sure why you were doing this, but something about seeing him in pain, seeing him almost begging for you to kill him, had a softness growing in your heart, a need to protect and save him. It would have been easier to call San in and see the monster arrested or killed. But somehow you just couldn’t. So instead you opened the first aid kit, pulling out a cleaning wipe and a bandage. You turned to him, surprised that he seemed to have listened to you and was watching you silently as his chest heaved with pain.

You gently moved his hand out of the way, the contact with his cold skin sending the same shiver down your spine that it always did. He tilted his head, eyes still on you, as you carefully lifted his shirt up, just enough to uncover the large wound on his abdomen. You gasped. The wound was big, and the edges rough. Blood was seeping slowly but surely out of it, down his body and soaking into his leather trousers.

You swallowed, biting your lip to keep yourself focused on the task at hand. You had never been good with injuries, and you were hoping you could keep it together now. Taking a deep breath, you opened the wipe, gently wiping around the wound as carefully as you could. He tensed under you, a grunt of pain leaving him, eyes squeezing shut, but he made no move to stop what you were doing. Once you were satisfied, you took the bandage, and carefully started to line it up over his side. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked at you, a look of sadness in his eyes, so different to how you’ve seen him in the past. He looked so vulnerable sitting there, you almost forgot he was a monster that was hunting you as his prey. And then he spoke, his voice no more than a gentle whisper, and you felt something in you change,

“Please little bird, don’t waste your time. Only blood could save me now. Just kill me and end this.” He grunted out, resting his head back against the bed behind him.

You frowned, letting his words sink in. After a moment, you reached back out for your dagger, taking a tight hold of it before you had time to really think it through and convince yourself against what you were about to do.

You took a deep breath and he turned back to look at you, smiling as he caught sight of the dagger in your hand, closing his eyes as he leant his head back again, waiting for the final blow.

But it didn’t come. Instead you raised the blade to your own arm, swallowing as you pointed the tip of it into the soft flesh of your wrist, drawing it along slowly, a line of red following where the metal sliced your skin.

Hi eyes shot open as the smell of your blood reached him, focusing immediately on your arm as his irises turned red to match.

“Princess?” He whispered out, confusion and desire mingling in his tone.

You lifted your arm to his face, nodding towards it as he looked up to meet your eyes. “Take it. I won’t let you die in my presence.”

“I- please don’t tempt me.” He practically begged of you, as his tongue snaked out to wet his lips almost involuntarily. You could see him shaking with the control it took for him not to latch on immediately.

“Just-.” You sighed. You really didn’t know what had gotten into you, and you once again thought that you must be under some enchantment, but he wasn’t acting as you had expected either. This whole time he had been hunting you for your blood, but now he was hesitating to take it. Why? And why come here at all? Did he really just want to die, or was there something else? “Please, just take some before I change my mind” your voice was barely more than a whisper now.

He nodded slowly, and you watched his adams apple bob as he swallowed. Then without warning he grabbed your wrist, pulling it close to him and latching his mouth around the cut. You felt his fangs graze the skin, and his tongue dart out to get as much blood as he could. It felt strange, the sensation of him drinking your blood. It was unpleasant, but not awful.

After a few moments had passed, you were starting to feel lightheaded. Whether from the loss of blood, or simply the pain of the cut itself, you weren’t sure, but you could see that his breathing had gotten easier, and he felt stronger against you, so you were sure that your blood had done enough.

“That’s enough” you said, voice a little quieter than you had intended it to be. He didn’t stop, but you were almost sure you heard a small growl escape him as you tried to pull your arm back. You stomach dropped as fear started to push through you. Had you made a mistake, was he going to kill you now, take more than you had to give?

“Please, stop!” You raised your voice ever so slightly, and even you could hear the fear in it. You placed your hand on his shoulder and gave a small shove to try and encourage him to let go. There was a beat, another rush of panic, and then he let go of you, turning his head away and wiping his mouth with his already bloody hand.

“I’m sorry.” He took a breath and then turned to the first aid box, still refusing to look at you. “Thank you”

You watched on in silence, not sure what to say, as he reached for a bandage, and then very gently he took your arm in his hand, finally meeting your eyes as you flinched slightly at his touch. “I won’t hurt you again tonight, little bird.” A soft, shadow of his cocky smile rested on his lips, as he took a fresh wipe and started to clean the cut. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, a weird truce having settled between you.

“It’s Wooyoung, by the way” he breathed out suddenly, as his gentle hands wrapped the bandage around your arm carefully.

“What?”

“My name. It’s Wooyoung”.

“Oh. Thank you for telling me…” you smiled gently at him, but something was niggling at the back of your mind, and you spoke your thought out loud, “it seems… familiar somehow?”

“It’s a common name” he replied, not looking up from what he was doing, but there was something in his voice you couldn’t quite read, almost like he was nervous, or hiding something.

“It’s really not” you replied, and he just shrugged. “At least not where I’m from” you added, suddenly aware that you and him were from two different worlds. Whatever moment of peace this was between you, it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t.

After he’d finished wrapping the bandage around your arm, and gently tying it off, he stood up, pulling his shirt back down over his own bandaged wound. He definitely seemed much better than when he’d entered Your room, and you could feel the relief flood through you, even though you knew that wasn’t what you should be feeling. Everything about this felt so wrong, but somehow also right. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. He smiled at you with his cocky grin back in place, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly in disbelief as he looked at you.

“I think I’ve overstayed my welcome for tonight, little bird, but we’ll see each other again very soon I’m sure.” He winked at you, before reaching up and gently tracing a claw down your cheek. His smile dropped, and his eyes shone with something you couldn’t place as he looked at you, voice sincere when he spoke again, “Thank you princess. I owe you my life”

Without waiting for a reply, he returned to black smoke, disappearing out of the balcony doors and fading into the shadows of the night.

“Your welcome?” You muttered as you shut the door behind him, heart still pounding in your chest, and a feeling of anxiety and confusion settling over you. You stood for a moment just breathing, trying to think through what had happened. You certainly weren’t going to get any sleep anytime soon.

You really needed to go for a swim, to let the waters wash away all the confusing thoughts in your mind.

Why had you helped him?

He had been hunting you for what felt like weeks now, and you finally had the opportunity to put an end to it. So why didn’t you? Why, instead, did you help him, do the worst possible thing you could have and given him your blood?

And the worst part? You didn’t regret it, you knew you would take the same course of action over and over again. Somehow it had felt right to help and not hurt him.

Was it just because you were incapable of killing another living creature, couldn’t stand being the reason someone was condemned to die? Or was there more to it than that, was it the siren himself, Wooyoung, that had weakened your heart at a moment it had needed to be hardened?

The thoughts tore through your brain like a hurricane, until you could barely breathe. Going for a swim under the stars was the only way you could think to calm yourself down, but you knew you would need permission, and an escort if you were to leave the embassy. You knew you were safe, after all you’d already had your run in with Wooyoung tonight, he’d already gotten what he wanted from you this evening, but the others wouldn’t know that, and you certainly weren’t about to tell them.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled on a jumper and exited your room, nodding to San who was posted on guard duty outside your door, and walked to the next door down, Seonghwa’s, before knocking gently. San watched you with a mix of worry and confusion, following you the short distance down the hall. You weren’t planning to tell any of them about Wooyoung, you knew they wouldn’t understand what you had done, or why you had done it, especially as you couldn’t even explain it to yourself, and you couldn’t face their disappointment. You pulled the sleeve of your jumper tighter over your bandaged arm, trying not to wince at the pain, and hoping they wouldn’t notice the fresh injury and enquire how you got it.

Seonghwa opened the door quickly, but his eyes were still cloudy with sleep and you instantly felt bad for disturbing him, your reason for being here suddenly feeling trivial.

His eyes widened slightly when he saw you, “Princess? Is everything ok?” His eyes darted to San, standing behind you, as if the other man would have the answer to your sudden appearance.

“Everything’s fine, Hwa.” You lied, suddenly unsure of how to word your request to him. “I just… couldn’t sleep. I wondered if i might go for a swim?”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, concern still clear on his face as he replied,

“I’m sorry princess, not tonight. We can’t risk you in the water at nightime.”

You knew it would be safe tonight, but how could you possibly tell Seonghwa that without letting him know you’d seen the Siren?

“Please, Hwa? I have a lot on my mind, I could really use a good swim right now” you practically begged,

He just shook his head, voice a little sterner when he replied. “Not tonight. We can go first thing at sunrise.”

You frowned. You knew that tone of voice, he wasn’t going to change his mind. You thought about telling him what had happened, but couldn’t bring yourself to admit Wooyoung had been in your room and you hadn’t called for help. Even more so you couldn’t admit to helping him.

For a moment you wondered if Hongjoong would have a different answer if you went straight to the captain, but you were sure he would say the same and then both of them would be annoyed that you had tried to go above Seonghwa.

You sighed. “Ok. I understand. I’ll see you first thing in the morning. I’m sorry for disturbing you. Goodnight”

He nodded to you, smiling tightly. “goodnight princess, sleep well.” he watched as you turned and went down the corridor, sharing one last look with San, before shutting his door behind you. San followed you back to your room, looking at you with concern.

“Is everything alright? Do you need me to come in for a while?”

You thought for a moment, “actually, San, would you mind staying with me until I fall asleep?”

He smiled gently at you, “of course princess.”

You led the way into your room, hoping that his presence would be enough to help you fall asleep, despite the hurricane of emotions still fighting inside of you.

He waited patiently while you got yourself ready for bed, being careful not to let him see the bandage on your arm, and thankful that Wooyoung hadn’t left any blood in your room.

Once you were ready, you climbed into bed, and San perched on the edge, smiling down at you gently. You suddenly felt guilt flood through you. They all cared so much, did everything they could to keep you safe, and you were keeping secrets from them now. Dangerous secrets. You turned your back to him, curling yourself under the covers as you felt the first tears slip down your face, no longer able to keep the torrent of emotions locked inside.

You heard San singing softly, an old lullaby from your childhood, and it was his voice that helped you sink gradually into a dreamless sleep.

[wavveyj]

‘Intrusive thoughts circle me like sharks waiting for their prey to become weaker & weaker. I have seeked in search of help or perhaps a solution but realize the solution to the dillema I carry day in and day out was but the final solution. Teary eyed I smile while wanting to dial for you, someone, anyone but find myself hanging. Dangling while I gasp for air I think of those I let down and the ones I’ll be looking up to from where I am going. It was never the answer but fighting an enemy where their knife is yet another wound that I rubbed with salt only to see get infected I’ve grown oh so tired. My desire to push on has dwindled and a twinkle of stars above me is what I last saw when my eyes closed.. I digress’.

[touyasdoll]

Ash…bby…I’m just thinking about a thing.

The thing being Dabi and his fuckable-ness for lack of a better term.

Just like…how jealous Dabi gets when you’re being as helpful as you can around the LOV hideout? Cooking breakfast…tending to wounds when you can. Shiggy and Spinner have definitely noticed your presence.

You’re not doing anything wrong at all but the shorts you’re wearing are drawing the attention of other’s and while Dabi loves your confidence, he hates other people looking at you.

So he gives you a warning…then you wear them again 😈

Idk I just wanna start shit with some of my favorite characters and see how they’d handle it tbh

Lilith, my love!! Bless you and your beautiful brain 😩 I started this v drunk & am finishing it sober lmao bear with me pls.

Forever

pairing: Dabi/Touya x villain!reader

warnings: marking/branding, quirk play, possessive behavior, biting, exhibitionism, daddy kink, degradation (v light/to be safe), fingering, despite these warnings, he’s soft in this. Go figure.

“Thanks again for making breakfast. Sometimes I really don’t know what we’d do without you around,”Spinner’s smiling politely enough, innocently enough when he says it, but Dabi knows better.

He knows better, because he sees the way that fucking lizard’s eyes attach to your ass when your insist that ‘it’s nothing” and walk away to get to cleaning up the kitchen.

He sees the way Shigaraki ogles you when you take it upon yourself to tidy up the place. Bending over to pick up this and that. Shit that he knows the bastard purposefully left out of place just to watch you like he’s doing now.

He sees the way Compress can’t seem to keep his eyes off your tits when you’re hunched over trying to patch up the gash on his arm. The idiot always seems a little too pleased to complain to you whenever he’s been injured.

He sees it all. And he’s just about fucking sick of these entitled jackasses leering at what’s his.

It’s always the worst when you dress like this. Sure, he loves the view, but he hates sharing. Never has been very good at it. Never will be, he assumes.

Those skimpy shorts that and those shirts that hug your curves just the right way have the other men circling you like sharks in the water. You’re the freshly wounded prey.

It’s like they’re always waiting to pounce. Always waiting for you to open that door, just a crack. That would do it. At least they’re not dumb enough to actively pursue you. He would have to roast them if they tried and Shigaraki would likely drone on and on about that at the next meeting, if it were to happen. Another torture that he would rather be spared from.

So he thinks to minimize the risk. He asks you as politely as he can to, "Maybe not wear those shorts around the other guys, okay, doll?"

But do you listen? No. Of course you don't. Dabi didn't fall so head over heels for you, because you always do what you’re told. He figured you wouldn't exactly take to him policing your outfits, so he'd expected this.

And being the crafty bastard that he is, he’d come up with another solution.

"Hey, doll," he smiles sleepily at you from his position propped up against the counter, making you wonder when he slipped behind the open refrigerator door as you close it and nearly jump out of your skin.

"Oh!" You let out a breath, still instinctively clutching your chest, which is well defined by the low cut shirt you decided to wear today; out of spite, perhaps? He thought there was a good chance of it. "Babe, you scared the shit out of me!"

You playfully smack his chest with the pack of bacon you've retrieved from the fridge and he only smirks in reply, pushing off the counter to follow you to the stove.

His hands catch your hips, gripping them tight as he slides you in front of him, pinning you to the counter by pressing his stirring erection flush up against your ass, half of which was visible from beneath the shorts you'd decided to wear yet again today, unknowingly setting your boyfriend's plan into motion.

"Babe!" You chortle, admonishing him in a hushed tone while looking over your shoulder to see if anyone was around before you met his flickering blue irises.

"'S'matter, doll? Don't you like when I touch you like this?" His nose nuzzles into the crook of your neck before his teeth sink into it, pulling a soft groan from your lips that sends a jolt to his cock, prompting it to rise to full mast as he ruts against you.

"Y-yes, but—"

"Someone's gonna see?" He chuckles, a warm, dark echo against your skin. "That's the idea, sweetheart. Gotta remind these assholes not to touch what isn't theirs from time to time. It's a tough concept to grasp for people like us," he murmurs, dragging his mismatched lips along the back of your neck to litter kisses along the other side.

"'M'all yours, Touya," you whisper quietly, fighting off the moan hiding just behind your lips.

"And I'm all yours. You know that. I know that, baby," his tongue runs over your pulse and that moan of yours slips out. "But do they?"

You can feel his voice rumbling in his chest as he wraps an arm around your waist, leaning forward to bend you over the counter as he grazes the nape of your neck with his teeth.

"Daddy," you whimper, pressing your palms flat to the surface in front of you, eagerly pushing back against him in search of friction.

"Mm, we'll get to that in a minute, doll," he brings his lips to the shell of your ear, letting his breath fan over it before he growls, low and deep, "Daddy's gotta make sure that everyone knows who you belong to.”

His hand drops from your hip, moving to your thigh to slowly climb up the back of it while his palm begins to heat up. You squirm as the heat continues to rise, it’s not painful yet, but you have a feeling it’s about to be.

“‘S’okay,” he says softly, a quiet reassurance in your ear. “Won’t do it unless you want me to.”

The arm around your waist slides further south, slipping into your shorts, so that his middle finger can slide between your folds.

“Fuck,” he marvels in a hushed rasp. His lids fall shut and his cocks throbs against your ass as he discovers the slick dripping from your core. “You’re already so wet for me. Willing to bet you want me to do it, huh, doll?”

He takes the lobe of your ear between his teeth, tugging gently as he plunges the finger into your empty hole, making you mewl, a cautious plea for more as you reach back and knit your fingers into his hair.

“Yeah, you want me to burn you, don’t you? Want to be permanently mine? All mine.” He draws out the the last word to the tempo of the slow and intentional rut of his hips, the idea clearly making him as excited as it’s making you.

You nod, a soft whimper spouting from pursed lips as your brows pull together, “Yes, daddy, please. Wanna be yours forever.”

A gruff grunt escapes him as you utter the word ‘forever’. He shifts behind you, sliding his hips to one side of your body to pin you to the counter and expose your ass cheek from beneath your shorts as he tugs it up high, wedging it between your cheeks to allow him access to the full expanse of your plush skin.

“You sure ‘bout this, doll?” He can feel his palm itching as it glides over the globe of your ass, he wants to do it already, but he needs to be certain. “No takin’ this one back.”

You inhale a quick breath and nod, insistent. “‘M’sure, Touya,” you breathe out. “Forever,” you repeat thoughtfully, bracing yourself against the counter with a tight grip on the edge of it.

His forehead drops against the back of your neck, another quiet groan leaving him at the thought of you wearing his mark for such an expanse of time.

It happens quickly. His palm suddenly and very briefly searing hot enough to leave a large, bright red hand print across your asscheek, the tips of his long fingers extending to peek out onto the very top part of your thigh.

You hiss, clenching damn near every muscle in your body as the worst of it hits you before all that’s left is the singing sting.

“I know, I know,” he assuages you with gentle whispers and even gentler circles on your clit. It doesn’t do much for the pain itself, but it certainly distracts you from it. “I’m gonna take care of you, alright, doll?” He seals the promise with kisses to the nape of your neck before he rests his chin over your shoulder, affectionately nuzzling his nose against your cheek before he murmurs another promise against it. “Forever.”

[that-yandere-life]

I was wondering, what would Yandere Bucky and Natasha’s reaction would be someone killed their s/o right in front of them, after they being kidnapped?

[Warnings: Yandere Themes (Obviously), Death, Graphic Torture Scenes, Murder, Sad as fuck...]

Natasha-

Natasha watched with absolute anguish as your lifeless body fell to the floor, blood running from the corner of your mouth.

The man who had kidnapped you had stabbed you through the heart, not caring at all about you just wanting to get to her.

When you died, a huge piece of her died with you, a piece of her that she would never be able to fill.

All fleeing bits of sanity she had left snapped as her vision faded to red, trying desperately to acquire their target.

Leaping full force, wrapping her legs around his neck, ignoring the man's feeble attempts to stab her during the action.

Unable to tell that her thigh was grazed in the encounter as she ripped him and herself down to the floor.

Desperately grasping her legs to create a tighter grip around the kidnappers neck, holding him in place until he passed out.

Sure she could have ended it all right then and there, but she wasn’t going to let him get off that easy.

All the guy had done with killing you was signing his own death warrant, one that was going to be a long harsh drawn out process.

They were going to suffer, the way she was now going to suffer having to spend each moment of the rest of her life without you.

Sorrow didn’t even begin to describe what her heart was feeling, she was utterly destroyed, the only thing keeping her going was revenge.

Part of her just wanted to lay down next to you and hold you until she too perished, but you wouldn’t want that.

Tying him to a chair tightly as she couldn't care less if she cut off the circulation to his limbs, she was making damn sure he wasn’t going anywhere.

Dumping a bucket of freezing water over the asshole, startling him awake, letting him adjust to his surroundings wanting him to see how fucked he was.

Circling around him like a shark after her prey as it soaked in that he had clearly messed with the wrong person.

Gripping his hair in her fist, ripping his head back forcing him to look at her while she spoke, pieces starting to come off from the harsh tension.

Spitting in his face before releasing it yet again letting it bounce up and down moving to stand in front of the chair.

Thoughts of you racing through her mind, barely willing herself not to cry and show any weakness.

Rearing back, punching the side of his head several times, alternating her fists to the sides, a satisfying crunch under her knuckles with every impact.

Later her hands would hurt like a bitch but right now, it was a burn that made her feel alive for the first time since the light left your eyes.

Pulling out the same knife he had used to end your life she was ready for the main event, it was showtime.

Slowly plunging the knife into muscles around his entire body, knowing exactly where each major artery and organ was so she made sure to avoid any fatal areas.

Wanting them to feel every inch of the blade penetrating their flesh, the warm oozing of the blood rushing from the wounds.

Their cries of agony were music to her ears, like the chorus of her humanity slowly leaving her body.

Spreading the punishment out over several days she finally was beginning to grow bored of waiting for him to perish from the collaboration of her attacks.

Grabbing some piano wire from her collection of torture devices she wrapped it around his neck from behind.

Using all of her strength to strangle him to death, tearing his head back so she could watch every last moment of it.

Holding them long after the struggle had left their body, she had to be sure they could never hurt anyone ever again.

Finishing the job, she dropped to the ground sobbing wracking throughout her entire body begging to the air for forgiveness for not protecting you.

Feeling like she couldn’t have failed worse if she had tried, despite her intentions to keep you safe since the day she met you.

Now she had nothing else to live for, you were gone, the one who did it was gone, and she was left alone.

That was the day she gave up ever trying to be happy, those dreams laid to rest with you, the love of her life.

Bucky-

Bucky felt like a grenade had gone off inside of his chest when he watched you be dropped from the top of a tall building by the person that had taken you.

Diving off the side after you praying that he could reach you in time to protect you with his own mass but it just wasn’t possible.

Landing on the ground next to you, only he was fine where you never would be again, your eyes stuck open staring at him blankly.

In that moment he was no longer Bucky, the soldier which had long remained dormant inside of him was now all that was left.

Stalking back into the building and up the stairs to where he had left your murderer, since there was no where for them to go.

Having disabled the elevator there was only one way out, and no way to get around him; that was one thing he was damn sure of.

Ripping the door to the roof off its hinges sending it careening down the stairs, the noise filling the entire area.

Fear was the only expression on the perpetrators face, as they debated whether they themselves should chance jumping off instead of the soldiers' wrath.

Bucky wasn’t going to give them a chance to take the easy way out, he was going to destroy the man until his last breath.

Shooting the man in the leg with the pistol he had strapped to his ankle at all times, causing them to collapse to the ground in pain.

Gripping them by the throat with his metal hand lifting them up in a near instant, so fast that if you blinked you had missed the action of him moving forward.

Slamming them into the ground, not giving them a chance to catch their breath before he did it again.

The force of each impact cracking various bones, bruising various organs, and causing internal bleeding.

Still not enough to actually kill them however, he was merely incapacitating them to the point where they couldn’t get away with any amount of speed.

Throwing the guy over his shoulder, carrying him down, the ability to fight was no longer an option for him giving into his sordid fate.

Having no clue what he was really planning on doing to him, it was far worse than imagined that much was soon to be clear.

Going unconscious due to the various trauma’s waking up to being splashed by a large amount of water.

So much that it surrounded the man entirely, Bucky standing outside of the range of it biding his time.

Meeting his eyes, the mercy long having left his own cold steel blue ones, all that was left was revenge.

Motioning to the killer to look down there lay three car batteries hooked together by jumper cables at their feet, half covered up with water.

A smirk on his face as he walked over to the wall a lever attached to it leading to the main power supply.

Waving goodbye Bucky flipped it watching as electricity arched through the entire building in multiple places.

Leading up to the convulsing body sat in a metal chair, surrounded by water, the current killing off every last living cell within.

Finally having enough he turned off the power, the person who had torn him apart no longer breathing.

Something he now wished he himself had in common with the two of you, because he just felt empty now.

Sure he was used to losing everything he cared about, it was what his entire life had been filled with… but he never thought in a million years that he would lose you too.

Thinking back to all the times he promised you he would keep you safe, a promise he never intended on breaking but he didn’t get a damn choice.

Letting go he began to weep, dropping to his knees and holding his hands in his head begging the universe to tell him why you…

Suffering wasn’t new to him, but now he would never know another moment's peace, forever mourning the life the two of you once had at your fingertips.

Until the day he is reunited with you in the afterlife he will never be the same, a hollow shell of the man you once knew and loved.

[This was a hard one to write, because it is just angst, pure utter angst... I might have cried a little but I do like how it turned out! I hope that you all enjoy, and that it was what you were looking for! <3]

[delimeful]

leave your shaded hollow

custom commission for @borrowedblue! just in time for the end of mermay :)

warnings: blood, injury, fear, miscommunication

-

There was blood in the water.

Virgil pressed a hand against his shoulder as he swam, trying to stifle the trickles of red that were pluming out into the ocean around him and dissolving. He’d lost his bag somewhere in the scuffle, which meant that this scavenging trip had been for nothing and he now had nothing to stifle the bleeding with.

He shouldn’t have been bitten at all, but the eel swarm had ambushed him with practiced ease, and even a mer as quick as him hadn’t been able to dodge all of them. He’d gained a lead, but he couldn’t go home as he was now. They’d follow his blood trail for as long as they could, and if any of his neighbors were out and about…

The swarm would have no compunctions about changing targets for a slower meal.

Everything was dark down here, enough so that even Virgil, who wasn’t exactly a shallow-reefs type of mer, could barely make out more than shapes even with his pupils expanded to catch all the light they could. His sonar would have helped, but sending out a signal meant that other creatures could receive that signal. Not a chance.

A low glow caught his eye, and he dove down towards it, easily identifying the source as bioluminescent plants rather than a predator’s lure.

The plants were dotted and undersized at the entrance, but a bit further into the cave, against the back wall, he could see clusters of them growing strong and tall. Mindful of the fact that he had sparse moments before trouble caught up with him, he darted further into the cave, hurriedly gripping the plants at the base and tearing some of the fibers off.

As expected, they worked well enough as makeshift bandages, and he wadded a mass of softer, absorbant roots against the wound as makeshift gauze before wrapping his arm with the glowing fibers. The luminescence would be attention-catching, but if he covered it with his hand, he was sure he would have better luck than if he tried to escape while leaking blood everywhere.

He tied the faux bandages off and plunged his hands into a nearby cluster of plants, scrubbing off as much of the excess blood as he possibly could. If he was lucky, the concentration of bloodscent would distract the swarm here for a good while.

In front of him, the back wall of the cave suddenly lit up with bright, bioluminescent patterns.

Virgil froze, trying to comprehend the change. Had he brushed up against a cluster of coral or something? He’d never seen anything growing on cave walls that had such a distinct pattern, nor one that lit up so rapidly.

The ‘wall’ suddenly shifted back, and Virgil’s heart kicked into overdrive.

The cave was much, much deeper than it had first appeared, and much wider beyond this entrance tunnel-- the tunnel that had apparently been blocked off by the body of the creature before him.

He could only see parts of it as it shifted around, and even those were only lit partially by the plants’ dim radiance: sleek dorsal fins, the glint of sharp claws, and an enormous, ridged tail dotted with those luminescent patterns.

Abruptly, there were two huge, glowing blue eyes in front of him, scanning the tunnel with slit pupils.

Leviathan.

Virgil’s breath had gone still in his chest, frozen in place by the ice running through his veins. He’d heard the rumors about Leviathans, unspeakably massive monsters that lived down in the depths of the ocean, able to achieve impossible feats on a whim, with moods as tumultuous as surface storms.

The creature hadn’t seen him yet, the glow of his bandages helping him blend into the plants around him. It’s face was partially lit by the eerie glow of its eyes, and with how close it was, Virgil could see the twitch of its nose as it inhaled, scenting the water.

He barely kept from whimpering, realizing that his blood had thoroughly saturated the cave by now. If this predator was anything like a shark, he was about to be torn to shreds.

The creature leaned forwards, pupils gradually expanding to see better, and when its mouth drew closer, Virgil could see the mass of razor-sharp fangs that lurked inside. His stillness began to fracture under the force of his fear, and he drew in a tiny, shallow breath.

Those eyes flicked over to lock onto him in an instant.

In the next breath, Virgil was fleeing, past the cave entrance and the open waters, every muscle in his body straining to get away, get away, get away. He couldn’t hear whether or not the monster was pursuing, his heartbeat roaring in his ears, but he wasn’t stopping, not for anything--

Something collided with him heavily, knocking all the momentum right out of him as he went spinning through the water, disoriented.

He noticed the smell first: a thick and cloying iron tang, as though he was breathing in more blood than water.

A breath later, the pain caught up with him.

The eel was latched onto his side, sinking teeth deep into his abdomen and tearing at the flesh there. He choked out a scream, trying to drive his thumbs into the sea snake's eyes, but the rest of the swarm were close behind by now, and they began to circle and constrict around him.

He was caught. Even if he somehow got away, the new wound wouldn’t be so easily brushed off or bandaged up. He thrashed sharply against the swarm anyways, digging his claws into muscle and snapping his fangs at what he could reach, but for each eel he drove off, there were two new ones to take its place.

Gills blocked, barely able to move, he was struggling not to black out when he noticed a set of familiar glowing eyes in the distance.

Half the swarm scattered the moment the Leviathan drew close, apparently easily able to recognize the glowing patterns that flickered along its tail. The other half hesitated, unwilling to release their prey, but then it reached out with one huge, clawed hand, and the rest of the swarm vanished into the dark.

Virgil wished he could do the same, but being released had hurt almost as bad as being bitten, and his fins only fluttered weakly in response to his mind’s desperate shrieking.

The Leviathan’s hand curled around him, grip firm but somehow not blocking any of Virgil’s gillslits or even grazing him with any of those long claws. He managed a frankly pitiful wiggle of protest and then went stiff with the resulting wave of pain that rolled through him.

There was a little rumble from the creature as it drew closer, bringing Virgil up to its face. He went tense, scrunched his eyes shut, bracing for pain as he got nearer and nearer to those glinting teeth--

“Are you okay?” The voice was low, just above a whisper, and sounded surprisingly… young?

Virgil opened his eyes, finding that narrow, glowing gaze locked on him, dizzyingly close. The silence stretched for a breath, and when he managed to speak past his bruised ribs and the terror clogging his throat, the word came out confused and small. “What?”

“You’re bleeding,” the Leviathan informed him, turning him a little bit to inspect the injury. Virgil curled in on himself like a sea star, despite knowing that it was a pointless gesture. If someone this big wanted to take a bite out of him, there was little he could do to stop it. “It looks really bad.”

“Hurts pretty bad, too,” Virgil huffed out, watching the Leviathan’s every move, eyes tight with pain. What was the point of this? Was he going to die quick or slow? When? The uncertainty of it all made his spinal fins shudder.

“Oh.” The Leviathan recoiled a bit, his earfins drooping like a scorned child’s. “I tried to get to you before the eels, but they’re very fast. I’m sorry.”

Virgil blinked and unfurled a little, taken aback by the giant’s earnest apology.

“If you’re sorry, you can-- can let me go,” he tried, speaking carefully.

The Leviathan cocked his head curiously, eyebrows drawing inwards. “But-- If I leave you like this, you won’t survive long. Not down here.”

It was true. His hands already felt numb, his fins distant, the cold encroaching as he lost more and more blood. He would succumb to his injuries before making it out of the abyss. He’d known it even as he asked, wondered if it was worth a slower, longer death just to avoid becoming prey.

The Leviathan tilted his head in the opposite direction consideringly, and then lifted his other hand and advanced on Virgil. “Hold still, please. I will try to make this quick.”

A shock of fear ran through him, trying to revitalize his sluggish limbs, but all his body managed was wave after wave of uncontrollable trembling. He couldn’t avoid the approaching claws, couldn’t even bear to close his eyes to avoid seeing his impending disembowelment.

The Leviathan’s fingers curled in, tucking the claws away, and it was a knuckle that ended up pressing solidly against his torso, right next to his wound.

“Please,” Virgil managed to force out, terrified and disoriented, not even sure what he was asking.

There was a low hum, the sound almost resonant, and Virgil watched as every glowing mark along the being’s skin flared up in hypnotizing patterns.

A short, searing burn, like accidentally passing over a too-hot vent, and abruptly, the pain was gone.

The Leviathan withdrew, brightening up with excitement. “I did it!”

Virgil barely noticed the grip around him relax, fumbling his hands over where there had formerly been a gaping wound. His fingers ghosted over thick scar tissue, perfectly aligned to where the bite had been, with no lingering pain to speak of. “What-- What exactly did you do?”

“I healed you,” the Leviathan replied proudly, and then hesitated. “Right?”

Virgil found himself tugged back up to the Leviathan’s face with a yelp, sending his heart racing anew. The giant’s gaze was narrowed fiercely as he inspected Virgil’s new scar, and it took him a moment to realize that it wasn’t a glare. The Leviathan was squinting, as though his vision was impaired.

“It’s-- No, yeah, it’s healed,” he reassured the deep dweller, a beat late. “But… how?”

“Oh! Healing magic,” he replied, as though the answer was obvious. “I wasn’t sure how well it would work-- learning magic is hard, but I’m a pro-di-gy.”

The last word was carefully enunciated, as though he’d mispronounced it in the past. Virgil struggled to come to terms with the fact that magic was apparently real, and that what was almost certainly a child had just used it on him.

“You should swim slow,” the kid told him, hand slowly flattening out to give him more space. “That way you don’t pull on the new tissue! How do you normally swim so fast?”

“I practice a lot.” Virgil pushed himself up into open water, waiting for the other shell to drop. Was a Leviathan really just… letting him go? “Why’d you heal me?”

“Because you were hurt?” the kid replied, doing that curious little head-tilt again. As though the answer was obvious. His gaze flickered between Virgil and the surface light trickling down from above, and he rushed out another question. “How do humans make such big structures float?”

Virgil’s tail flicked anxiously. He could leave, right now. The kid wouldn’t be able to catch him.

“I think they make them hollow, full of air, so they don’t sink,” he answered, watching as the kid wiggled excitedly, muttering about shipwrecks, his patterns pulsating brightly. He felt a little faint at the sight of that razor-sharp smile. “I’ve, uh, never met a Leviathan before. Who-- I mean, what do you eat? Just curious.”

“I eat krill and plankton mostly! And some plants that taste good, or help stomach aches,” the kid listed eagerly. “I’ve met a few little mers, but normally they pass out or swim away really fast when they see me.”

He paused and pressed his lips together, like he hadn’t meant to say so much, casting another glance at the lighter waters above. He was expecting him to flee, Virgil realized, and trying to ask as many questions as he could before he did.

… The kid had saved his life. The least he could do was be polite company.

“What’s your name, kid?” Virgil asked, crossing his arms as though to reaffirm that he wasn’t leaving any time soon.

The kid’s fins twitched in surprise. “My name is Logan,” he replied, looking at Virgil with those wide glowing eyes.

“I’m Virgil,” Virgil said, flitting up a little bit to be eye level with him. “You, um… You got anything else you want to ask?”

This time, when Logan lit up with joy, Virgil slanted a smile right back.

[excalculus]

"If by chance there should be a small incision or bit of the skin rubbed off in the finger which I immerse in the water that communicates with one of the extremities of the electro-motive apparatus, I experience there a pain so acute, when, by establishing the proper communication with the other extremity, I complete the circle, that I must soon desist from the experiment..."

"Fun" fact, this exact stupidity (in the form of bare gremlin fingers stuck into running gel elecrophoresis box) is one of two times in my entire grad school career I screamed at a student. TAE buffer isn't toxic != you can shove your whole hand into it when there's 140V running through it. He didn't have any cuts on that hand, though, so it ended at a minor ouch.

The reason it hurts so badly if you have a cut is that your skin is an insulator that will protect you from lesser electrical threats, but your insides are functionally just more salt water. Conductive. Even then, pulling this shit with one wound is clearly survivable. What makes this really not worth the risk is if you do this with two wounded fingers, you can end up running a current up one arm and down the other. Guess what organ is conveniently between the arms and relies on its own intricate electrical signals to work properly?

Do not fucking do this.

On a lighter note, it turns out lots of fish are weakly electric! Of course things like the ampullae of Lorenzini in sharks can passively sense electrical fields, but species like elephant trunk fish (Mormyridae) actually double down on this by generating their own weak electric field and sensing the differences in it as objects or prey come into range. The really wild thing is that electrical organs have evolved something like eight separate times in fish, but passive electrosensing is probably an ancestral vertebrate trait that most of us went and lost later. Then again, considering that planarians can also sense electric fields it may actually be much, much older.

Going back to the big electric fish that can straight up kill people, though, the amount of "fuck you" a torpedo ray can put out is so impressive that the naval weapon is named after the fish, not the other way around.

Alessandro Volta's Electric Eels

Okay so, it turns out that your cell phone battery is a basically a homunculus of an electric fish. 

These are the same thing. Let me explain.

@fishteriously, a paleoichthyologist, told me that Alessandro Volta invented the electric battery after studying electric eels and rays.  This sounded like a fun science factoid!  I wanted to know more!  I saw the claim repeated on any number of pop science articles from the last century or so, but none that quoted from primary sources.

The voltaic pile is one of the most important inventions, ever, of all time.  Before Volta, electricity could be stored in Leyden jar capacitors, which would discharge in a single, brief burst. Volta's pile was the first method of producing a continuous electric current, which launched the modern era of electricity as we know it. His explanation for how it worked was incorrect, but it was still a massive breakthrough.

Batteries use the same principle to this day, just with different materials (e.g. cobalt oxide, graphite, and lithium salts rather than silver, zinc, and brine).

But is it a fish?

This is Volta's first schematic of a battery, or "voltaic pile" – at the time, "battery" referred to a bunch of Leyden jars linked in series, the term wouldn't come to refer to piles until later. "Z" and "A" stand for zinc and silver ("argentum"), with brine-soaked paper disks between. It does look a bit like an eel?

But is it a fish?

Surely, if Volta modeled the pile after electric fishes, I’d be able to find a citation!  Wikipedia is usually a good place to start when hunting primary sources, but no luck.  No mention of fish at all.  I trust fishteriously more than wikipedia, however, so I went digging.  Looks like Volta first reported his discovery in a Letter to the Royal Society in 1800.

Found the letter!

Aw beans, it’s in French.  I haven’t studied French since high school.

BUT WAIT. WHAT WAS THAT.

Une commotion électrique? A trembling eel???

Okay so now I NEEDED to read the letter in English. I found an English-language summary published by the Royal Society, but it looks like the only English translation of the full letter was in the appendix an out-of-print book called “Alessandro Volta and the Electric Battery.”

So I bought a used copy. Let's see what Volta has to say about this:

"To this apparatus ... I have constructed it, in its form to the natural electric organ of the torpedo or electric eel, &c, than to the Leyden flask and electric batteries [battery = linked Leyden flasks], I would wish to give the name of artificial electric organ."

Yes! The voltaic pile was explicitly modeled after electric fishes – torpedo rays and electric eels.  Fishteriously was 100% correct. Volta never even calls it a "pile," it is always "artificial electric organ." A significant portion of the letter is devoted to electric eels and torpedo rays, in fact.

But also, the rest of the letter is bonkers.

He wrote pages on painful experiments with the artificial electric organ – touching it, poking it into his eyes and ears, making other people touch it, generally just shocking the ever loving hell out of himself over and over. He routinely shocks himself so hard that he has to take breaks. And of course, he licks it.

But that's not the best part:

He says that the artificial electric organ can be turned sideways and submerged in liquid...

"...by which means these cylinders would have a pretty good resemblance to the electric eel ... they might be joined together by pliable metallic wires or screw springs, and then covered with a skin terminated by a head and tail properly formed, &c."

There you have it. One of the most important scientific discoveries of all time, and it includes a crafts project for building an authentic electric eel puppet.

In summary, next time you charge your phone, take a moment to thank the soul of the electric fish inside of it.

[clintbartonswife]

misericordia

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes Summary: Sam finally gets to see Bucky again, but not in the way he’s hoped. @whumptober-archive no.12: it’ll be fun, they said Notes: torture, made to watch, begging. quite in depth description of torture, so beware. masterlist   ||   part one

The door swung open, and a body was shoved into the room, metal shackles holding their hands and feet together. 

The groan that escaped them was too familiar to Sam, and he strained against his restraints to better see him.

“He’ll be back with us soon,” the woman sighed, kicking him in the back as she walked past, grabbing the shackles around his hands and roughly dragging him upwards. Sam watched helplessly as Bucky’s head lolled forwards, body held up by his hands. “Got anything to say before he does? To save him that pain?”

Sam just glared, hands curling into fists by his side where they were strapped down to the chair.

“Very well,” she shrugged, picking up a metal rod from the table and driving it into Bucky’s stomach in one smooth movement.

The brunet wheezed, eyes blinking open hazily just in time to see the rod speeding towards him one more time. Still too out of it to cover the sounds of pain, Bucky let out a groan.

The noise seemed to grip at Sam’s stomach, twisting his insides with guilt.

“You’re sick,” he spat, eyes blazing as the woman wound up to swing the bat once again, “You know that we don’t know where your people went, so why are you still going?”

“That’s just the thing,” she smiled, “I don’t know that you’re telling me the truth - and until I know that, you’ll be kept alive. Afterwards, surely you realise I’ll have to kill you if you’re useless to me.”

“Not if we get out first.”

She laughed at him, openly and genuinely, “I struggle to believe that’s possible. Look around you, Mr. Wilson.”

“All I see is someone I’m going to enjoy beating into the ground.”

She sighed, crossing her arms, “If you’re so against helping yourself, then I guess it’s only you to blame for the dramatic action I’m going to have to take.”

Bucky finally fought the battle against his eyelids, gaze fixing resolutely on Sam. Unspoken words of trust travelled between them, before he was distracted by the steady stream of blood that had been gushing from the wounds on his thighs, Bucky’s look turning into one of panic. The bleeding had slowed down to a sluggish trickle, and Sam distantly noted that he had lost feeling in it.

“Nice to see that you’re back with us, soldat.” the woman greeted, finally catching on to their silent exchange, positioning herself in between the two of them.

“That’s not me anymore.”

She tutted, gripping his chin between her forefinger and thumb, “That’s always what you’ll be. We created you, and we can destroy you just as easily.”

Sam tensed his jaw as Bucky moved his head, freeing himself of the woman’s touch, “You don’t control me anymore.”

She just laughed at that, “What’s undone can be rectified easily enough.”

At that, the door in the corner opened once more, two men dressed all in black pushing in what looked like a portable battery pack attached to metal plates. His stomach dropped into the earth below as he saw the recognition in Bucky’s eyes, muted panic clear in the way that his lips pursed together.

“Recognise this? Who am I kidding - of course you do.” she talked as she circled around Bucky, movements reminiscent of a shark hounding it’s prey, “We can’t use the big machine straight away - you’ve gone too long without conditioning - but I’m sure you’ll remember this is just as adequate.”

“Don’t touch him!” Sam snarled, straining against his restraints.

The woman just tutted, ignoring him and bending down so that she was eye to eye with the brunet, “You have one choice asset - and it’s the last one I’ll give you for a long time. You can either be a good soldier and don’t fight against us as we prep you, or...” she trailed off, smirking as she nodded towards Sam, “You can watch as we turn your new friend in to our very own play toy.”

His answer was immediate, voice already cold and detached, “You don’t go near him.”

Sam shifted in his seat, “Bucky-”

The metal-armed man ignored him, staring resolutely ahead and into the woman’s face, “I can almost assure you though, this won’t work and when I’m free I will have no qualms in crushing your throat under my boot.”

The woman just laughed, patting his cheek condescendingly before stepping back, “Wire him up.”

As if the reality of the situation had finally hit him through the fog of blood loss, Sam began pulling at the leather restraints with new vigour, ignoring the searing pain that slashed through his body with every movement. Every few seconds, he looked back up to see Bucky getting hooked up to the machine, expression detached and emotionless. 

He had given up.

-

The first jolt of electricity rushed through the machine, Bucky’s whole body going stiff as a rod as he fought every impulse within himself that ached to scream. He refused, not wanting to upset Sam anymore than necessary, but soon the pain was too much.

Sam flinched as the raw screams were finally pulled out of his partner, a singular tear escaping him as the leather chafed against his bruised skin. 

During the data dump that Nat had released during their scourge on the previous leader of SHIELD, Sam had come across the video of Bucky’s so called ‘conditioning’. He had felt sick to his stomach, understanding more than ever why it was so important to find him. Even in his haze, he had managed to hide the videos from Steve, not wanting him to see his best friend in such pain.

The videos did nothing to show the pure horror of the actual process. 

Sitting this close, Sam could physically hear the strength of the electrical current that shocked through Bucky’s body, the horrible sound not drowned out by his screams. 

If that wasn’t bad enough, the sick sadistic smiles that were on the agents’ faces was enough to make Sam want to be sick. Despite his stint in the air force, he always managed to forget how truly evil people are, and the sudden reminder of the true extent of humanity’s evil was a shock to his already overloaded mind.

After what seemed like hours, the woman motioned for the shocks to stop, Bucky’s body going completely limp, shoulders heaving as he fought for breath. Somehow, the fact that he was still strung up by the chains made it worse, the position looking just that much more uncomfortable.

“Soldat.”

Sam watched with barely restrained horror as Bucky’s head rose in response. His eyes were dull.

A twisted laugh came from the woman as she grabbed his chin once more, the laughter growing louder as he made no move to try to escape the grip, “Just like I said, everything can be undone.”

“No.”

The word was quiet, barely a breath, but the woman whipped around to face him nonetheless, “Thank you for bringing the asset back to us. Truly.” She made a little hand signal to the guards, and they began removing the chains from Bucky’s body, “but I believe you’ve outgrown your usefulness.”

It was only as the guards retreated to the far side of the room that Sam realised what she intended to do.

“No.” he repeated, this time louder. 

The woman laughed once more, cutting the restraints from around his limbs with a sick smile, “Better make it a fair fight.” She turned to Bucky and with a smug smile ordered him to ‘take out the spare’.

Bucky’s dulled eyes locked on to him almost immediately, beginning to approach him with a slightly off-kilter walk. His sweat-matted hair was glued to his forehead, and Sam just sat, knowing moving wouldn’t do him any favours. If he passed out right now, he was truly fucked.

“Bucky,” he heard himself saying, hands held out slightly in front of him, “You - your name is James Buchanan Barnes. Your best friend is Steven Grant Rogers.” His sentence broke off as Bucky smashed a chair against the wall, missing his head by a centimetre, “You - god, please Buck. I know you’re in there. Please - you gotta come back -”

Sam closed his eyes as Bucky finally stood right in front of him, his heavy footsteps stopping a touch away from him. He refused to let the last thing he saw before he was killed be his friends soulless eyes. 

After a few seconds of not-dying, Sam chanced a peek, mouth falling open as he watched the brunet whirl around and send two scalpels (he must’ve stolen them from the mess of equipment dumped on the metal table beside him) into the heads of the two guards.

With a borderline-animalistic growl, Bucky grabbed a butchers knife and raced towards the woman. Before she had time to fully process the situation, she was dead, knife stuck deep in her skull.

Quiet fell over the room, only the noise of Bucky's heavy breathing reminding Sam that he was, in fact, alive.

“Holy shit.” he muttered, scrambling out of his seat and towards the hunched over man, “Buck-”

He was cut off once again as Bucky’s full body weight rushed into him, immediately tucking his head in the safe nook between Sam’s chin and shoulder, hands gripping at his shirt tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” he gasped, pressing loser to him as if he was trying to become one,.

Sam just rubbed his back soothingly, not moving until the larger man stopped shaking, eventually removing himself from his space, “Thank you - for y’know, not killing me.”

Bucky huffed a laugh, avoiding eye contact.

“I know this is probably a bad time,” Sam said, gently testing the waters, “but I’m definitely on my way to bleeding out -”

“Oh shit. Right. Let’s get outta here.”