#scrambles up a fence like a creatur

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

🐶I want to see Liam get chased by a dog

A: this is like… the funniest ask you could have sent me

B: congratulations you made me draw a dog lol!

[overtake]

Where vet Max’s foster dog decides to chase down a rotisserie chicken and potential boyfriend Maxiel | 2.5k

CWs: light references to past animal mistreatment re abandoned kittens or dogs with trust issues - nothing explicit and every animal is okay!!

Max has fostered exactly thirteen dogs and cared for hundreds each year at his job, but none have ever challenged him quite like FiFi.

He hadn’t picked her name, he’d told Victoria sternly when he picked up the small, fluffy monster to show her off to the camera. She’d been regaled with two straight days of stories about how his new foster dog was tearing up his apartment and barking non-stop. Clearly, she’d been expecting him to show off the same pit bulls that decorated his “successful fosters” photo wall, barrel-chested and strong enough to overpower him. They, however, have all been gentle, doe-eyed angels. FiFi, on the other hand, probably has some underground demonic breed in her, and she isn’t afraid to express it.

Max never judges any of the fosters that come to him. They've all been betrayed by humans and were scared to trust again. It’s his job to make sure they can learn to feel safe with him and the people who will eventually adopt them. FiFi, despite her small stature and general cute fluffiness, is his greatest challenge yet.

Struck out on all possible ideas to get her to stop yapping all day, Max has resorted to walking her endlessly around a nearby park and tiring her out so thoroughly that she forgets her life’s mission to rack up noise complaints for Max. She’s good with other dogs, so he's happy to let her run free in the dog park and get out all that energy.

What Max hadn’t accounted for, apparently, is that FiFi has been hiding Olympic-level pole vaulting skills. He watches in horror as FiFi escapes the small dog exclusive zone to leap right over the shorter fence and barrel toward a tan, Roman-nosed guy wearing Beats and swinging along a grocery bag without a care in the world.

“FiFi!” Max calls, swearing as he scrambles over the fence with more difficulty than she’d somehow faced. The hot guy has finally caught on to the small white fluffball at his heels and burst into a run, FiFi nipping after him the whole way.

“FiFi, come here!” Max says desperately, breaking into a run of his own. His lungs burns with the effort. For such a tiny fucking creature, she can sprint like absolute hell.

The guy rips off his headphones in terror as if to better hear FiFi’s impending attack, and Max yells out to him. “I’m so sorry! She’s not dangerous, I promise!”

The guy doesn’t slow. FiFi lets out a little yip that sounds like disagreement, and Max watches in amazement as the guy throws himself against a tree trunk and begins scrambling up the branches. When FiFi reaches the tree, she scratches at the base, wriggling her tiny body and whining when she’s not able to magically scale it - though at this point, Max wouldn't be surprised if she'd magically gained that ability.

Max finally catches up, bending over and catching his breath. He heaves in and out, failing to form words in the meantime. It takes him three tries to grab FiFi and clip the leash onto her harness.

“I’m so sorry,” he pants up to the guy, who is staring down at FiFi’s fluffy body in abject horror.

Then, when the ridiculousness of this image hits them both at once, they begin laughing in unison. Max is trying really, really hard not to make fun of the guy, but it is objectively funny to see a grown man chased up a tree by a creature Max can hold with one hand.

“It's okay,” the hot guy says, though he waits until Max has FiFi cradled against him before he shimmies his long, muscular limbs down the tree. “I guess I shouldn’t buy a rotisserie chicken and walk by a dog park. Lesson learned.”

“I hate to victim blame, but you were asking for it,” Max agrees. “I’m Max, and this demon is FiFi.”

“Daniel,” hot guy says. “And FiFi? Seriously? I’m changing her into something big and scary when I retell this story. Definitely calling her Killer or something."

“Don’t listen to him, Fi,” Max sniffs haughtily. “You’re very intimidating.”

He glances Daniel up and down, really taking him in. He’s in long athletic shorts and a big hoodie, brown curls escaping a beanie pulled low over his forehead. He’s even hotter when he’s not a sprinting blur or hidden amongst branches.

“You have leaves on you,” Max says, pointing at his own head to indicate where little twigs and branches caught on the fabric of Daniel’s hat. Daniel unsuccessfully attempts to brush them away, and Max shakes his head.

“Do you mind if I —?” he asks, and Daniel acquiesces, bending his head down for Max to gently pull at the debris. When Daniel straightens, Max catches the way he looks at Max's thighs in his too-short shorts — thank god he's been too lazy to do laundry for a pair that fit — and goes for it.

“Can I get your number?” Max tries to blink his eyelashes in a way that looks more sexy than seizure-y. He grips FiFi’s leash tightly for confidence, willing himself not to look away. Daniel smiles, taking in Max’s appearance again with an appreciative up-and-down, and Max is sure he’s about to agree.

Then, like FIFi senses that something might actually go right in Max's life for the first time since he brought her home, she lets out one short, sharp bark. Daniel’s attention redirects to where Max has her pulled tight into his chest. When his gaze flicks back to Max, his face has transformed back into something cautious and polite, and he leans back against the tree instead of curling toward Max like he was a second ago.

“I’m really flattered, but I’m not looking for anything right now." The apology is thick in his words, and he does look genuinely upset about it. “It was nice meeting you, though.”

Max doesn’t let the disappointment weigh him down too much and tries for a casual shrug. “Yeah, no problem. Sorry again about her.”

He doesn’t put FiFi down as he walks away, letting her warm body comfort him as he strokes her soft fur. “I do not think you helped my chances,” he whispers to her. She looks at him with an innocent expression, and his eyes involuntarily well up. She didn’t mean anything bad by it. She was just hungry. According to the shelter, she’s permanently nervous that someone is about to snatch food from her. He can’t be mad at that face for being traumatized and wanting food from a hot guy.

“I’ll get us chicken tonight,” he promises her. As if she can understand him, she melts into his chest instead of trying to find an escape route. For the first time, she lets him carry her the whole way home.

---

Max is on his third Red Bull of the day when Logan walks into the break room with the put-on innocent smile that means he’s about to ask Max to stay past close for some bleeding heart case because he’s too afraid to ask anyone else.

“No,” Max says before Logan can even start. “I have been here all day. There are four other vets at this practice.”

Max loves his job, truly. Getting to work with animals was always his dream. No matter how painful it can be, every time he sees a sick animal return to health because of his care, he remembers why he started this practice in the first place. 

Logan, however, is driving him insane. Outside of work hours, they get along just fine. Max had actually given him this job after Oscar at the shelter begged Max to give Logan a shot. Unfortunately, this also means Logan immediately turns to Max to take on the walk-ins who find injured dogs or stray kittens. Max may technically be in charge here, but Logan barely knows anyone else and gets too intimidated to ask them to stay late.

“It’s so easy,” Logan says, words spilling out quickly so Max can’t cut him off. “It’s just some stray kittens this guy found in a parking lot. It’ll be fleas and shots, and Oscar already agreed to help sort out a foster. They are so fuzzy, Max. The cutest little noises.”

Max bangs his head against the table once, twice, three times. “I’m not fucking kidding, Logan. This is the last time. Next time, I am dragging you in front of Lewis and telling him you’re too scared to ask him to work overtime.”

“They’re in room two,“ Logan says gratefully, then scurries out before Max can take it back.

He finishes the last dregs of his drink, tipping the sharp metal against his lips to be sure not a drop of caffeine is wasted, and puts on his most approachable face. Despite his exhaustion, it isn’t this person’s fault that Logan agreed to extending his workday.

When Max raps on the door and makes his way inside the room, he finds a ratty cardboard box, clearly having been exposed to the elements, with three mewling kittens inside. They’re young — probably two or three weeks old. Max washes his hands and pulls on gloves, not tearing his eyes away from the sweet little creatures.

“Max, right?” a voice asks. Max forces his glance up from the kittens and startles at whose fingers are protectively clutching the mangled box.

“Daniel!” he says, surprised. Hot park guy looks a bit worse for wear. He’d clearly gotten caught in the unexpected storm outside when he came across the cats. His hair is plastered against his forehead, and his clothes are clinging to him with that distinct rain-dampness.

“I didn’t know you were a vet,” Daniel says. His hands reflexively clutch the box when Max moves to take it from him, but he relaxes and entrusts the kittens to Max.

“I think we were a little too focused on FiFi not eating you to talk about jobs,” Max shrugs. He carefully examines the smallest of the three kittens. As suspected, she’s got fleas, but she looks surprisingly healthy all things considered. “Where’d you find these babies?”

“In the parking lot at that park, actually,” Daniel tells him. He’s focused on the furry body in Max’s hands, eyes unreadable but soft.

“I can’t believe you returned back to such a traumatic place,” Max jokes. He weighs each of the kittens, carefully cradling their bodies, then takes their temperatures. They couldn’t have been outside all that long. All things considered, they aren’t too underweight or cold.

Daniel laughs. “Well, FiFi maybe undid years of work getting over my fear of dogs, but that park does have the best running path. How is FiFi doing? Still terrorizing innocent guys for buying rotisserie chickens?”

Max resists all temptation to run his eyes over Daniel’s legs in their tight workout shorts and compression leggings and very, very bravely looks into his ridiculously attractive face instead.

“She’s good,” Max beams. He doesn’t want to rewash his hands, or he’d show off the photos he'd received last week of her cuddling her adoptive family. “Settling into her new house well.”

A look of horror and guilt flashes across Daniel’s face. “Oh my god. You didn’t rehome her because of me, right?”

Max rolls his eyes. “I’m literally a vet, Daniel. No, I would not dump an animal because some guy in a park was scared of her. She was a foster.”

Understanding widens Daniel’s expression, and his mouth forms a little o-shape. “So I turned you down for nothing?”

Max pauses his movements from where he was about to listen to one kitten’s tiny, thumping heart. “Sorry?”

The red on Daniel’s face is almost imperceptible, but it’s definitely there. “I don’t date guys with dogs,” he explains, wringing his hands together in slight embarrassment. “I thought FiFi was yours, so…”

Max ducks his face down to the kittens before he can let himself smile too big where Daniel might see it. “No. Definitely not mine.”

Max finishes up the exam, explaining each step to Daniel and making small talk about Daniel’s job as a music producer. Daniel’s witty and sharp, and he keeps a steady stream of conversation going, unbothered when Max has to tune him out to attend to some kitten \-related matter.

“They’re good to go,” Max announces. He gently places the last kitten back onto the fresh towel he’d pulled out and lets her curl up with her siblings. He digs out his phone to text Oscar for a foster plan, but pauses with his fingers poised over the message thread.

“Are you interested in fostering them?” he asks Daniel, gesturing to the sleeping kittens. “The shelter tends to prefer experienced fosters for such young kittens, but they’re honestly pretty healthy. We'd have to do a background check and training and all, but it's definitely an option if you want.”

Daniel eyebrows shoot up into something more panicked than when he was in the tree. “No,” he blurts out, then quickly clarifies. “I mean, they’re cute and all, but I don’t trust myself with that. Could I — would it be possible to get updates on how they’re doing though? If the foster doesn’t mind?”

Max’s heart physically expands a few sizes. Daniel’s stroking a gentle finger up and down the smallest one’s spine now that Max gave him the okay to pet them, and there’s fondness even in the uncertain, trembling touch.

“It won't be a problem,” Max assures him, mind made up in a second. He texts Oscar the update and runs through his mental list of whether he’s missing any supplies. He’s been pretty focused on dog fosters in recent years, but he should have everything he needs at home. “I’ll be their foster.”

Daniel doesn’t look up from the little bodies, but Max can still see how his face transforms, crinkles forming next to his hopeful eyes. “Really?”

“Really,” Max says. He holds out his phone, a new contact entry open. “Put your number in. I’ll send you lots of photos.”

“I guess this makes sense with no FiFi around to eat them,” Daniel jokes. He’s put his name in Max’s phone just as Daniel (park). Max makes sure he sees Max deleting ‘(park)’ and adding the poodle emoji after instead, which earns him a flirty arm swat.

Daniel’s hand lingers over Max’s upper arm for a second. He has a rose tattoo down the side of his hand, Max notices. He’s never felt one way or another about tattoos, but he wonders what other ones Daniel’s hiding beneath the long sleeves and skin-tight leggings.

“So, what do I owe you?” Daniel asks after a second, clearing his throat and pulling his hand back like he only just realized it was hanging there. “Sorry, I was in a panic and left my wallet in the car, but I swear I’ll come back in to pay. You have my number now and everything.”

Max shakes his head. “You owe nothing but messaging me back to tell me how cute the cats look when I send photos.”

Daniel chews at his bottom lip. It’s still a little red where he bit at it when he asks, “Well, what about a date? It’s the least I can do.”

Max’s heart jumps and jolts, but he schools his expression into something contemplative. “I should warn you. I’m still going to foster cats, so I hope you’re not too scared of those.”

Daniel relaxes into the teasing. “I’ll learn to get used to them. After all, they can follow me up the trees, so there's no escape.”

“Maybe we should skip any rotisserie chicken for dinner just to be safe.”

Daniel winks, light-hearted but with something serious behind the words. “There's something else I’d rather have for dinner anyway.s”

---

Daniel never admits to it, but when Max finds one Polaroid missing from the wall of successful foster dogs (and three bonus entries of the foster fail kittens currently curled up in Max and Daniel’s bed), he knows the pile of ashes in the bin outside once composed a slightly demonic photo of FiFi. 

+++ Bonus brought to you by @yesloulou: this is FiFi chasing Daniel

[syoddeye]

the warren

price x reader | 895 words

had the overwhelming urge to write creepy!price. this is the result. not closely edited, apologies.

CW: blood (mentioned), hunting (mentioned/implied), theft, stalking

Bare footprints, neat impressions set into the loam ringing the lake. They veered left to the woods, to the direction of the climb leading to meadows.

Where'd you run now?

The signs of her trail are near invisible in the night - disturbed foliage and snapped twigs - but not to him. Crouching at the edge where the prints disappear into the underbrush, he sees dark droplets of blood, wet, painting leaf and root. He wipes one off of a stone, brings it to his mouth, and runs the pad of his finger over his gums and tongue. Salt and metal, the very things she tried to use to keep him out, keep him away.

The very things he had developed a taste for.

John admires her spirit, even with his plan to snuff out that independence. Her frenzied escape only heightened his anticipation for when he'd catch her.

Run, rabbit, run.

~~ Three months earlier ~~

John knew the day he spied her trespassing at the hutch that her hands were clean. Soft and unsullied. Not a speck of dirt under her fingernails. Polite and easy with her apologies, lips parting to show a pink tongue and good teeth.

She saw the cat, followed it over the unmarked property line, and then spotted the colony in its enclosure.

"You like animals?" 

"Yes, who doesn't?"

"Come see the kittens, then."

She trailed after him, around the side of the shophouse and back to the business side. He held his tongue when she observed none of the lots on the road bracketing the bay were fenced.

Fences were unnecessary this far out. Everything, everyone, knew their place. Knew where they were not allowed to tread without invitation. Everyone except her, apparently.

A newcomer to this neck of the woods.

She crouched, peered into the plastic, straw-filled tub on the porch, and watched the week-old creatures half-blindly search for their mother. The heat lamp was a functional substitute while the queen was out filling her belly.

"So, this is your shop?" She brushed herself off when she stood, eyeing the store's interior through the front windows.

"Mhm."

"Are you closed?"

"For lunch, as of five minutes ago."

"Oh."

He sighed. "But I can delay my meal. C'mon."

"Thank you, I promise I won't take long."

~~

She takes ten minutes. John leans against the back counter, steel thermos down to the dregs of the morning's coffee. The basket in the crook of her arm carries a week's worth of canned and dry goods. She presents it with a small smile and digs into a pocket for her cardholder.

He rings her up, poking through the haul. In addition to the sundry of foodstuff, there are basic toiletries, insect repellent, a lighter, and a pack of twelve-hour candles. She adds a pair of cheap red sunglasses from the revolving display. They do not make it into the final total.

"Can I ask what brings an Englishman here?" She asks after handing over a wad of cash, setting her wallet down to take the tag off of the sunglasses.

Like clockwork. Always the same question with every new face.

"Retirement," He cards through the bills and makes change. "And you? Visiting?"

"I'm renting for the summer."

He smirks and closes the cash drawer. Holding out what she's owed over a manicured hand, he tilts his head slightly. "Would that be the old Warren place? Or the Lakeshore Arms?" He drops the money.

A few coins slip through the cracks of her fingers, clattering sharply against the formica, some ricocheting to the floor at her sandaled feet.

"Limited housing supply here, least longer term," John explains, making no move to assist other than lazily pushing a quarter back across the counter.

She scrambles to collect the scattered tender, resurfacing from the other side of the counter with a sheepish look beneath her brow, clearly flustered. "The Warren place."

"Hm. Need a bag?"

"No, thanks," She says, smiling tight when she pulls two canvas bags from the sling over her chest. She drops the items into each bag inelegantly. Cans settle atop the loaf of white bread, and the bug spray slots snugly next to the toothpaste.

Never bagged her own groceries before, I'll bet.

She grabs her wallet. "Are there…any other stores nearby?"

"Next place is two towns over. About an hour and a ten-minute drive, forty-five minutes if you speed," John leans back, arms crossing. I assure you, though, the store's got everything you need right here. And if it doesn't…All you need to do is ask."

It's heavy-handed. He knows. But it's better to plant the seed now and let it take root.

"I'll keep that in mind," She sets the sunglasses atop her head and turns to leave, only to spot the short stack of bagged deer corn near the door. One hand on the door, she takes a closer look. "Aw, I didn't know you could feed the deer like this."

His mouth slowly curls. "It's bait, sweetheart."

The instant drop in her expression sends a wicked thrill down his spine.

When she leaves, he watches her hurry down the road through the glass. He flips the sign on the door again: Out to lunch. 

John fishes her ID card out of his pocket, murmurs her name, and looks back at her retreating form.

You're a long way from home, rabbit.

[whumpninja]

WOW this one was fun. Once I finally got meself off me duff and started writing it, anyway. This piece features OCs from my story The Angel of Death, and is set a few days before the main story.

The Angel of Death taglist:@i-eat-worlds @softvampirewhump @scoundrelwithboba @rainbowsandwhumperflies @octopus-reactivated @whumperfultime @pigeonwhumps @handsinmotion @starfields08000 @fleur-a-whump @worstcasescenariolullaby

Prompt used: AI-less Whumptober, removing body parts and “Don’t break down on me yet.”

Featuring: forced to fight, cage match, vampire whump, blood, gore, dismembering, THIS ONE IS GRAPHIC PLEASE WATCH YOUR STEP

Whumptober Day Fifteen: Break A Leg

Not a seat was occupied even though they had all been sold. The whole crowd was on their feet, roaring. Down at the betting boxes, money changed hands faster than any Las Vegas casino.

Mr. Moody leaned back in his chair and smiled. Business is good.

In the arena, just in front of him, two vampires fought viciously. One was using strategy, manuevering their opponent into facing the floodlights, hurling sawdust in his eyes, jumping and ducking and dodging. At one point they'd managed to scramble up the cage fencing surrounding the arena, out of reach of the other combatant. Mr. Moody had let that trick play out only a few moments before he'd sent Ronnie down with a stun cane to shock them back off and into the fight. Memo to me: electrify that fence. It was a good move, and had gotten the audience excited. But he wanted a fight, not an escape.

The other vampire had no thought for trickery or stratagem. He hurled himself at his enemy, over and over again, finding the scent and charging at them with no regard for the danger. It had been a long battle, nearly eight minutes already. Brute strength could only last so long.

"Come on, Angel," Mr. Moody muttered. "Show 'em what you've got."

He'd gone heavier than usual on the drugs. There had been complaints that it was always over too quickly when it was the champion versus one of the regular fighters. He'd decided that a heavier dose would help- it would make Angel slower, clumsier, more unsteady.

It would not make him less dangerous. And it would not save his opponent.

Angel charged again, claws catching at the meat of his enemy's side. The other vampire howled with pain and turned, driving an elbow into Angel's chest. The impact knocked him back hard. He fell, snarling and shaking his head. The second vampire crouched, tensed to strike.

Angel didn't let him. He rebounded up from the arena floor, pouncing on his enemy- his prey. An inhuman cry of agony set the stadium ringing, followed by a sharp crack as the second vampire kneed Angel in the face. The champion of the Colosseum Club stumbled back, bleeding from his nose.

The other vampire retreated, too, bleeding from much worse. Their hand clutched uselessly at where their arm had once been, thick blood trickling between their fingers.

"Finish it, Angel," Mr. Moody said under his breath.

As if he heard his master, Angel went in for the kill.

They tumbled down together, grappling with each other- the other vampire was on defense now, desperately trying to keep themselves away from the vicious claws. Angel wouldn't let up, maddened with pain now as well as the smell of blood. The crowd was electric. It had been a good fight, but they wanted to see it end, and end bloody.

Angel obliged. The other vampire managed to pin him, and Angel tore an arm free and sank claws deep into his enemy's neck. The vampire's gurgling scream ended abruptly as Angel ripped their throat out, the sounds of tearing flesh and seeping blood lost in the frenzy of the crowd.

They were so excited that they didn't notice what happened next.

Mr. Moody did. He always noticed when something went wrong.

The blood of his victim doing nothing to sate him, Angel dropped the shredded corpse. He shook his head, dazed, confused- almost seeming frightened, if a creature like him could be frightened.

Then he crawled away from the body, leaving smears of blood in the sand. He swayed, collapsed, and lay still.

Mr. Moody bolted out of his chair, fumbling for the walkie-talkie at his belt. "Get someone down there. Now. I'm on my way."

He took the stairs down underneath the arena two at a time.

Two of the security guys had gotten Angel out by now, although they'd dispensed with most of the usual restraints. They'd cuffed his hands, but not done anything else.

Mr. Moody saw the problem immediately. "How the hell does he have a broken leg?" he roared.

"That vamp put up a good fight, must have done it during that last clash," one of the guards suggested.

"When that one regenerates, stake it," Mr. Moody ordered. "It was too smart anyway. And get that fence electrified." He crouched down beside his wounded vampire, feeling clumsily along the bone. Angel thrashed wildly and tried to bite him through the wires that held his fangs, his eyes wide with panic and pain. "All right, all right, calm down." Mr. Moody snapped his fingers at the guards. "Get a tranquilizer and get him put away for the night. Keep him off that leg. I'm gonna make some calls in the morning, see if I can find a vet that'll help."

The guards ran off to do his bidding. Mr. Moody rummaged around until he found the bag of blood on the shelf- he let Angel have more than usual, hoping it might help. "You did good, boy, real good. We'll get that leg fixed up and you'll be right back to it, huh?"

Angel ignored him, entirely focused on the food. His leg was at a bad angle, and Mr. Moody knew it was going to need attention sooner rather than later. "Come on," he muttered. "Don't break down on me yet, champ. I still need you."

[crappymixtape]

this is how it ends

You went with everyone to kill Vecna, into the Upside Down, and you knew the risks, but none of you thought it would go this far – will you get to tell Steve how you really feel before it's too late? | (  2.8k, LOTS of angst, trauma, mentions of blood and violence, fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

T H I S I S H O W I T E N D S 🎶 prospekt’s march, coldplay

Everyone dies.

You know that. We all know that. But you didn’t think it’d be like this. Didn’t think it would happen so soon. There was still so much to do, but then again maybe you’d done enough.

You’d done what you were supposed to at the Creel house, had lit Vecna’s ass on fire. Nancy dealing him the final blow with her sawed off shot gun, but when you’d all gone down to see, he wasn’t there. The only sign left was a burnt and smoking outline in the lawn and then the ticking had started.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Four chimes. Four deaths.

And then the ground had opened up, torn and ripped and swallowing everything into the burning, hungry, vine-thick gashes.

Not dead.

“We gotta get outta here! Get back to Eddie’s!”

Steve grabbed your hand and pulled you out the front door as soon as the shaking had stopped, racing after Nancy and Robin as they took the stairs by twos. You could hear the howling and baying of dark creatures in the distance as you ran through the Upside Down, lungs sucking in the air that was still thick with ash, suffocating, and all you wanted was out.

When Eddie’s trailer came into view you felt relief starting to wash over you.

Please let us get out.

You don’t know how your legs were still carrying you, but you pushed them even harder.

Please let us get out.

Nancy and Robin got to the door first, fighting against all the wire and mesh to try and get inside. “It’s us, Jesus! Open up!” Robin fisted the fence in her hands and shook it hard.

Afraid of what was trying to get through Dustin and Eddie didn’t open the door right away, but after hearing Robin’s voice they fumbled with the locks and makeshift enclosures finally yanking it open. You could hear them yelling as you and Steve sprinted after them across the road into Eddie’s yard.

“Dustin, Eddie, go! Go!”

“What happened??”

“I dunno, he’s gotta be hurt or something, we lit his ass on fire, but he’s not dead. We gotta get outta here.”

“Max.”

“I know, I know. C’mon, Steve!” Robin practically pleaded out the door at the two of you as you ran up on the trailer.

“Christ, we’re coming! C’mon, babe, you next,” Steve scrambled up the steps and moved to take your hand, but when he turned around you weren’t where you should’ve been at his side. Brows knitting together in confusion, his chest tightened with panic, and then he looked up.

You don’t know how or why it’d happened, but it did. You had been so close. Eddie’s trailer was right there. The gate was right there. All you had to do was crawl through it, but instead you were still out in the ash. Out in the thick, suffocating air with a demobat wrapping its tail around your throat and squeezing so tightly little pinpoints of light pressed against your vision.

You saw the look of horror on Steve’s face as he realized what was happening and the scream that came from him was enough to bring tears to your eyes. Were you going to die? Because that’s how Steve was acting and you weren’t ready to die, you weren’t ready to go. There were things left unsaid and the regret gnawing at the pit of your stomach felt like it was going to swallow you whole.

Steve!

You thought you were yelling, but nothing was coming out. Only strangled words dying in your throat as the demobat squeezed impossibly tighter. It flapped its wings and pulled so hard you felt your feet lift from the ground before everything tipped sideways and you slammed into the rough ground. You were dizzy with the lack of air as you fought against the panic that was now spreading like a fire within you. Fingers scrambling, your hands tried to pull at the bat, nails scraping against the desiccated creature’s skin, but it was useless. It was too tight. Too strong.

Everyone dies.

A soft, dark shroud started to close in at the edges of your vision, wrapping you tightly in its warmth and you felt yourself slowing. Suffocating. Your arms and legs moving like you were stuck in molasses and it felt like eons since you’d taken in a breath. You would’ve killed for one right now, even one filled with ash, but it didn’t come. Blinking slow you watched as forks of red lightning cracked the sky in two above you.

Please let us get out.

But as the demobat tail constricted around your neck again you started to accept the fact that maybe you wouldn’t. Tears streamed down your cheeks. Washing away the soot and dirt and mud that had gathered there. You wondered at the warm feeling spreading through you and the power it had to take away the pain that had been screaming at your neck.

Your eyes were getting heavy, but you didn’t want to close them, not yet. Where was Steve? Even if you weren’t going to make it, please, all you wanted was to hold his hand. See his face. The deep brown of his eyes, long dark lashes as they swept across his cheeks, the secret little constellations of freckles and moles that dotted the line of his jaw and down his neck and shoulders. Your Steve.

I love you, you thought and you wished you could’ve told him, but it was getting harder to keep your eyes open and when they finally closed you didn’t think you would open them again.

“God dammit, die! Fucking die!”

Steve was a mess as he sprinted back across the lawn and into the fray of demobats. He would’ve gotten to you sooner, but the swarm was thick and with Dustin on the other side there were only four of them able to fight now. Swinging his heavy axe through the air he was a blur, cutting down the dark creatures like it was nothing, the thought of losing you pushing him to keep going.

Robin, Nancy and Eddie didn’t hesitate to follow after in a frenzy, helping to keep them off of Steve. Off of you as you squirmed on the ground, but there were a lot and it was taking too long.

“Steve, there’s too many of them!” Nancy yelled, tears welling up in her eyes, but Steve refused to hear what she was trying to tell them.

“I can do it!” he yelled back, cutting through four more in one swing as he saw your eyes flutter closed. “No! Don’t go, not yet, please not yet!”

“Shit, shit, shit. Robin! Nancy!” Eddie followed close behind, trying to give Steve coverage as he reached you. “He’s got it, he’s got it!”

With a guttural sound, almost animalistic, Steve cut down the demobat that was cinched tight around your neck, cleaving it in half, and as its tail went limp he scooped you up into his arms.

“Sweetheart? Baby. Please, baby,” he was begging you, pleading you to stay with him, but you weren’t breathing and he felt tears coming on. “C’mon, stay with me, stay with me,” he sobbed, putting you back on the ground, lifeguard instincts flinging themselves forward as he started CPR.

One, two, three. Breathe.

One, two, three. Breathe.

“Babe, please,” his tears were falling onto your cheeks, your lashes, your nose as he continued compressions, gave you the very life from his lungs.

“Steve, we have to get out of here!” Nancy shot off the last of her shells and threw a look at Robin and Eddie.

Everyone dies.

“Stevie boy, I don’t know how much longer we’re gonna last!” Eddie called out to him, not even trying to cover the desperation in his voice, but he didn’t have to ask again as Steve gathered you up in his arms and lifted you both off the ground.

“I got a heartbeat!” Steve wanted nothing more than to just hold you close to him, to be still for just a minute, but he had to get you out.

“Shit, okay! Let’s go. Go!” Eddie turned and shoved Nancy and Robin back toward the trailer as the bats twisted in a cyclone, preparing their final assault, but somehow it never came.

Whether higher power or miracle, as Robin says, you all made it back through the gate to the other side, but when you all landed it wasn’t the happy reunion you’d imagined.

“We gotta to go to the hospital, Steve. We can’t fix this,” Dustin’s voice sounded far away as Steve heard him talking in the back of Eddie’s van.

“Steve?” this time it was Nancy. Putting a hand on his shoulder she squeezed and took his chin in her other hand, turning his face to look at her, “This is beyond us.”

He wanted to be strong for you, wanted to tell you everything would be alright, but as he watched your chest rising and falling in short, stuttered breaths he knew Nancy was right. Squeezing his eyes shut tight he pulled you into him, wrapped his arms around you and told Eddie to go to the hospital.

Everything was a blur as the van pulled too fast into the ER parking lot. So many people, so many bodies.

“Get this one in right away on a vent! Lacerations on the neck and multiple wounds to the torso!” a team of first responders surrounded Steve as soon as he lifted you from the van, shoving an oxygen mask onto your face.

“Sir, we’ve got it,” one of them said, but he wouldn’t let go.

“Sir, please, we don’t have time for this!” and one of the nurses pulled you from his arms, Robin having to wrap her arms around Steve’s as he tried to grab after you.

“Wait, please! Let me go! Please let me go too!” and Steve fell apart as he watched them carry you into the hospital. There were no gurneys left. The sea of other people that had been hurt in the wake of Vecna’s assault on the earth was overwhelming.

“Steve, you did everything you could,” Robin’s voice cracked as she tried to reassure him and he collapsed into her, sobs wracking his body.

“I’m gonna go ask what room,” Eddie’s voice was thick as he tried to hold back his own cries, trying to find something to keep him going, to keep the adrenaline from leaving, but it was hard. It was too much.

Too much for all of you. The heavy weight you’d carried all this time. The deaths. The horrors. The injuries. The blood the sweat the tears the heartache. All culminated in the ground ripping open and swallowing you into the bowels of hell.

Everyone dies.

“Lucas? Oh my god–”

“Lucas! Is she–”

“Max?? Oh shit, Max!”

And that was it, no one could do it anymore, no one could hold it together. Lucas, bloodied and broken was carrying Max, just like Steve had carried you, and when Steve saw the same pleading look in the younger boy’s eyes he felt everything unravelling.

Please let us get out.

“Multiple broken bones here! Tachy as well! Get her in a room now!” a first responder snatched Max from Lucas as he fell to his knees, sobs shaking him as he buried his face in his hands.

“Max! Max don’t go! Save her, please save her!” Lucas cried out as Nancy rushed forward to envelope him in her arms and she started to cry too. And then Eddie. And Robin. And finally Steve and they all held onto each other like it was all they had left. And it was in a way. But this couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be the end. Not like this.

Beep, beep, beep.

Mechanical sounds cut through the deepest sleep you’d ever had. Was it sleep? Or had you died?

Beep, beep, beep.

Your eyelids felt so heavy and your brows knitted together as you put all your energy into opening them. It took everything you had to do it, but slowly the world swam into focus, unconscious melting away into conscious.

You felt something hooked up to your arm, felt a mask covering your nose and mouth, felt a monitor squeezing your finger. A painting of fruit on the wall. Windows covered with slatted blinds. A clipboard at your feet. The hospital.

“Steve?” came out weak, but you found your voice and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

Everyone dies.

But not you. Not like that.

And then a warm, steady hand pressed into yours and the painted fruit disappeared behind the sweetest thing you’d ever laid your tired eyes on. A long sweep of lashes, deep brown eyes, the soft curve of his lips, and my god that smile. Even when it was pushed beyond exhaustion, sad, and weary, it still lit your heart on fire.

“Baby? Jesus, baby you’re awake. I–I thought I’d lost you, I thought I’d lost you,” he buried his head into your side, crying softly in relief, and let your blanket soak up his tears as his hands tightly squeezed yours.

“Can’t get rid of me that easy,” you teased weakly, trying to smile, but your throat tightened with a sob of your own.

Lifting his head he pulled a hand away from yours to gently tuck your flyaways behind your ear. “Shit,” he laughed, voice wobbling as he cried, “You’re telling me.” His brows were knitted together, disbelieving of what he was seeing, fingers tracing the line of your brow, down your cheek, the soft curve of your chin. “You were really gone,” he said barely above a whisper.

Squeezing your eyes closed you felt yourself fighting a losing battle with your own emotions and tears silently fell from between your lashes.

“I tried to say it,” you confessed through your tears, “But I–”

“Oh, sweetheart. Say what?”

Lifting your arms they shook with the effort, but Steve leaned up to hold you fast, hold you steady, and you smiled despite your crying. “I love you, Steve Harrington.”

And god the look on his face then. He bit his lips in between his teeth, fighting back the sob that was pushing its way into his chest, and shook his head. He sucked in a breath and leaned down to press his forehead against yours and whispered, “I love you too.”

“You’re awake??” Dustin’s voice jolted both of your eyes open and Steve sat straight up, hastily wiping his arm across his face at his tears, and fixed the younger boy with a look.

“Christ, Henderson," his voice was crackly from crying, "It’s a hospital. People are healing.” Still Steve. Still the babysitter.

“Max is too!” Dustin didn’t listen and plowed through Steve’s protests, “Holy shit, you had us all worried. Like, really worried.”

“Wait, Max is awake?” Steve didn’t even bother to try and mask the surprise and relief in his voice.

“Yeah, well no, but yes. She’s breathing and vital signs are all perfect, but–“

“But what?” you asked, afraid of the answer.

“She’s in a coma. The doctors don’t know when—if—she’ll wake up.”

Silence gripped the three of you tightly and you felt a knot in your stomach take hold.

“She didn’t have a heartbeat for over a minute,” Dustin said quietly and you looked down at your hands, at Steve’s fingers tangled up with yours and couldn’t help the guilt blooming in your chest.

“But she’s still here, and so are you,” Steve recovered quickly, trying to reassure you, trying to find the light in the dark and you looked up to meet his eyes.

“She’s just next door when you feel up to it,” Dustin said, giving your arm a soft squeeze. “Buddy, if you need anything too let me know,” he clapped his hand to Steve’s shoulder and smiled a small toothy smile before going back out into the hallway, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

You sat in the quiet for a moment, Steve still holding your hands, and everything hit you like a ton of bricks.

Please let us get out.

“Take this thing off,” you grumbled, anger and grief and frustration overwhelming you as you untangled the oxygen mask from your ears, yanking it down over your chin.

“Babe–”

“I’m fine!” your throat tightened, tears welling up against your lashes as you pushed yourself up to sit, taking Steve’s face in your hands. “I love you. I love you, Steve Harrington and I’ll say it until your name doesn’t make sense anymore,” you choked out. And then you pulled him into you and pressed a kiss to his lips, a kiss that said a thousand I love yous, made one hundred promises to never leave again.

“I love you, too” he whispered against you and the way he caught your lips between his said a thousand I love yous, the same silent promises, I'll never leave you again.

Everyone dies.

But not today.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

[symbioticsimplicity]

So I made a sequel to this post, and it looks like there will be another part after this! These boys are too much fun to leave alone, thanks once again to @thediktatortot

Part 3! Part 4! AO3 link!

                                                             *

Steve dearly wished that whatever God he pissed off in his life time didn’t have such a fucked up sense of humor. 

Their plan worked flawlessly, with a roar Billy punched his way through the head of the first demodog at their door. The next one was deflected by Tommy and the baking sheet he’d found in the teacher’s lounge, making it easy prey for Steve and his nailbat to pick off. Eddie and his spear shredded through the demodog that leapt at him, and Billy crushed it’s head with his foot for good measure.

They were out, and they were moving, tossing or killing anything that came their way. There were dozens of the damn things, but they were making progress.

Until Tommy tripped.

Steve saw it in slow motion, his heart seizing up in his chest as he heard the yelp, saw the creature with it’s teeth around Tommy’s ankle. He was struggling against his own demodog, the thing was bigger than the rest had been and even with Billy’s help it refused to die easy. 

There was no way he’d be able to reach him before they did.

“Tommy!” He screamed through gritted teeth.

Tommy’s wide eyes found his and Steve heart tore itself in half as he smiled at him. Tommy wasn’t the brave in the face of danger type, he wasn’t trying to reassure Steve. He smiled like that when he was scared and nervous and didn’t know what else to do. He’d done it on the first day of kindergarten and the first day of highschool and Steve wanted to throw up at the sight of it now.

But then a leg was blocking his view, a black jean clad leg.

“Get the fuck up, Hoops, if you die like this they’re gonna think I killed you and I’ve outgrown my whole ‘wanted for a murder I didn’t commit’ phase.” Eddie drove his spear into the the demodog on Tommy’s leg, holding his shield up to keep the next one back.

Tommy looked up at Eddie like he’d seen an angel, almost immediately scrambling to his feet, only to fall back down with a curse.

“Can’t!” He hissed.

Steve slammed his bat into the demodog he and Billy were fighting, half paying attention to it, half to Eddie and Tommy. He knew better, he really did, but his instinct to protect overrode his common sense as it so often did.

“Duck!” Billy shouted, catching Steve’e ear but not his attention.

Steve did not in fact duck, catching the overgrown demodog’s back leg straight to the dome. He briefly had the thought that it wasn’t really a true Hawkins Adventure until he’d gotten some sort of head injury.

The thought immediately rolled into getting the hell out of the way as Billy snagged his nailbat from him and swung for the fences. 

The smart move would have been giving it to him in the first place, as the creature’s head went sailing down the hall as if it hadn’t just been attached to a living creature. 

“Head in the game pretty boy.” Billy pulled Steve to his feet, “Nobody dies today means you too.”

If he’d known Billy any better he would have sworn the tightness around the edges of his eyes was concern. But to the best of his knowledge, Billy tolerated him out of necessity the same way he tolerated most things. 

“Can’t have me bringing down the mood.” Steve agreed, noticing that Billy’s hand was still lingering on his forearm where he’d picked him up.

Billy noticed at the same time he did, pulling away almost as though burned.

“I’m not explaining to any of those kids that you bit it.” Billy shook his head, “Easier just to keep you alive.”

While not the warmest declaration of care Steve had ever heard, it was something at least to show that Billy Hargrove had a heart in there after all. He would probably have given him more shit, if they hadn’t been needed elsewhere.

So instead he nodded and turned back to where Eddie was keeping a smaller and smaller perimeter around he and Tommy.

“Them too.” Steve rushed towards them.

“Them too.” Billy agreed.

                                                        *

“You know, if you wanted me to carry you, you could have just asked.” Billy teased as he carried Tommy down the broken rib cage of Hawkins’ main road.

Tommy had his arms crossed over his chest, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as Billy bridal carried him as though he weighed nothing. His ankle was in pretty bad shape, would need stitches at the very least, but they’d wrapped it as best they could using the flannel Eddie had been wearing. It wouldn’t solve much, but it would hold until they got somewhere safe and that was all they needed.

“I’m not a chick, Hargrove, I’m not looking for some big strong man to save me.” Tommy rolled his eyes.

“C’mon, you telling me this beefcake doesn’t have you swooning at all?” Eddie chimed in, grinning like a loon, “All the work of saving our asses, and not even a flutter?”

Tommy rolled his eyes so hard Steve’s own did the same instinctively. 

“You saved me.” Tommy asserted. “Shouldn’t you be pimping yourself out here?

“You’re right! I was the daring knight in shinning armour for this rescue, I should get the damsel! How about it Hagan, you free tonight?” 

“Do you ever stop yapping, Munson?” Billy’s slow, heavy glare rested on him.

Eddie kept smiling like he couldn’t feel it at all, “Nope!” 

“Steve, put a muzzle on your pet freak, would ya?” Tommy groaned, the pain making him more irritable than was already native to him.

Steve hardly heard the conversation, his focus moored on the walkie talkie he’d just barely managed to scoop up on their way out of the school. He’d dropped it on the way in, and it looked like it had been stepped on, but the damage was mostly cosmetic. It was still receiving a signal, he just had to hold it in just the right position.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m nobody’s pet.” Eddie pouted, “Pets take a certain amount of love and patience and feeding and no one has shown me any of that, so I’m staying feral thank you very much.”

“I’m showing you patience, I’m showing you a lot of patience.” Billy grumbled.

Eddie’s grin was back just like that, “You gonna love me and feed me too, cause I’m not really opposed--”

“Guys, shut up.” Steve hissed, the walkie cutting in on the corner of a conversation.

“--eam. Repeat Team Macho Man, do you read?”

“Yes!” Steve almost shouted into the receiver, “We read, we’re here!”

It sounded like Dustin on the other end, which immediately waylaid one of Steve’s biggest fears.

“Oh thank-- okay guys so the plan changed. Find somewhere to hole up for the night and we’ll regroup in the morning.”

It was as good a plan as any, and honestly at this point with how far South their original plan had gone, he was sure they needed the time to work on a new attack plan. 

“Rodger that, any injuries on your side?” Steve asked, knowing Dustin would hear the underlying question that he couldn’t bare to ask.

“A couple, but nothing life threatening. You?”

“One,” Steve said until Eddie nudged him and he remembered his own bloody head wound, “Er, two, but nothing life threatening here either.”

“Good.” Dustin sounded as relieved as Steve felt, “Then get your asses somewhere safe. See you in the morning.”

“Yeah, see you in the morning.”

Steve took a deep breath and let the knowledge that his friends were alright soothe the remnants of anxiety clustered in his chest. They were alright, they were all alright. 

“Okay, now that Mama Bear is soothed, where are we going?” Billy caved in the moment of peace, “I’m not carrying Hagan all over the town so it better be near by.”

“Thought you were enjoying carrying me, Hargrove.” Tommy smirked.

“Never said that.”

“Didn’t have to.” Tommy grinned salaciously.

Steve watched Billy visibly think about dropping him and decide against it. 

“Keep talking shit and I give you to Munson.” 

Tommy narrowed his eyes, “You wouldn’t.” 

“I wouldn’t carry you either.” Eddie made a face, “Pretty sure you’d end up in the creek. You could swim next to us, like our own personal Hasselhoff. Hey, you guys think demofish are a thing yet?”

Steve winced, picturing all manner of deep sea fish he’d learned about in high school. Along with his already tumultuous relationship with water, the visual had his hands going clammy.

“No one is tossing anyone into anything cause Hagan is gonna be a gentleman, isn’t that right?” Billy asked with that menacing edge he seemed to be able to produce on the fly. Coming out of Steve that same sentence would have sounded like a nagging mother. 

Sometimes he envied Billy his role in their group. Just a little.

“I can’t promise anything.” Tommy muttered, “But I’m trying.”

That seemed to soften Billy a little, though only by fractions. He wasn’t the type to drop his guard all the way for pretty much anything. But in the middle of the multidimensional warzone Hawkins had become, one would be more likely to draw blood from a stone.

“‘Preciated.” Billy murmured in response, catching Tommy’s attention, “Now where in the fuck are we going?”

“How about Mel’s?” Steve suggested.

“The convenience store off main?” Eddie asked, poking his head around Tommy and Billy so he could see Steve.

“Yeah. It’s got bars on the windows, a security door, food, drinks--”

“Cigarettes.” Billy added, nodding along as thought his alone made the place viable.

“And booze.” Tommy pointed out, “I could use a shot. And so could this fucking bite, it itches.” 

“Might have to cut it off.” Billy said stoically, his poker face cracking at the look of sheer offense Tommy shot at him.

“No the fuck we will not.” 

“Seems like a good place to set up shop.” Eddie drummed the tip of his spear on his chin, full body wincing as he realized what he’d just done.

“Never been so happy about the idea of a wetnap bath.” Steve winced in sympathy for Eddie as he wretched.

Billy laughed so hard he almost dropped Tommy.

                                                            *

They made it to the convenience store with relative ease. Sure they had to fight a creature they had no name for to get inside, sure Tommy had puked when they realized the piece of meat Billy threw to distract it had been someone’s leg, but all told, it went better than Steve had thought it would.

Now they were barricaded inside, with Steve and Eddie rounding up ‘dinner’ while Billy tended Tommy’s wound.

“Never would have clocked you for a nurse, Hargrove.” Tommy said through his teeth as Billy dabbed blood away from the bite on his ankle with a surprisingly gentle touch.

“You’ve never talked to me before today for more than five minutes.” Billy muttered, pressing the whiskey and water soaked rag delicately against the outer edges of the wound.

Tommy groaned, his head tilting back as he tried to breathe past the sting of it. Billy handed him the bottle of liquor without looking. 

“Fuck, thanks.” Tommy spun the top off with one move, a practiced flourish that he’d done a hundred times as a party trick.

“Mmmhmm. It’s gonna need stitches, but you’re lucky.” Billy pinched the side of Tommy’s foot, all but ignoring the indignant ‘OW!’ the action produced, “Doesn’t look like it fucked up any nerves or tendons or shit. Hit the bone though, that’s gonna hurt like a bitch.”

Steve had seen Billy drop into this a couple times before. But the vertigo that had hit him the first time Billy helped him close up his wounds rather than causing them was still unmatched. Out of all of them, Billy was undoubtedly the closest thing they had to a field medic. 

“Thank you, doctor Hargrove.” Steve smiled a little at Billy, not entirely surprised when the ghost of a smile met him back.

He crouched down and let his bounty sprawl out in the space beside them. He’d grabbed as many things that were as close to actual foods as he could find. Canned chili, Vienna sausages, spam, even canned veggies. Eddie, of course, had gone the opposite route and rounded up as much junk food as his arms could carry.

“There was a generator when I poked my head in the back,” Eddie popped back up as soon as he set down his haul, “It’s getting dark and as much as I’d love to have a romantic candle lit dinner with you guys, that’s more of a third date kind of thing.”

“I’m pretty sure this counts as a third date,” Steve glanced over at Eddie, “If we’re going by Upside Down related bullshit.”

“We’re on our third, Sunshine and Flash Thomson are still new. Ish.” 

“Why does he get a comic book character and I get ‘Sunshine’?” Billy groused, “And this isn’t a date, Munson.”

Eddie sauntered on towards the back, “Why not? The adrenaline, the bonding, the fear of fucking it all up, it’s got the right vibes.”

“You haven’t been on a single date have you?” Tommy asked at the same time Billy said, “Because I have higher fucking standards for my dates.”

Eddie just shrugged his shoulders vaguely and disappeared around the corner into the back.

“God he’s fucking weird.” Tommy muttered.

“He grows on you.” Steve shrugged.

“Like mold.” Billy agreed.

                                                          *

Ultimately, Eddie did get the generator running, and they managed to heat up their food on the little radiator Billy found tucked behind the counter. Steve never would have thought of that, even presented with the same options, wouldn’t have managed to heat the food as evenly as Eddie and Billy had even if he did.

Now their bellies were full, and they were passing around a bottle of raspberry vodka that Billy had deemed ‘too sugary’ to clean Tommy’s wound with.

“So,” Tommy interrupted the mostly companionable silence they’d been sharing for the last few minutes, “You guys have been stuck hiding out from monsters before, what’s traditional to pass the time?”

Steve breathed out a laugh, rolling his eyes while Billy took the bottle from Tommy to down another swig.

“Usually we take watches, but nothing followed us in here. Probably still should.” Steve answered.

“Okay, should have been more specific, what do you do that isn’t boring as all fuck?”

“In my experience, usually the paralyzing bone deep fear keeps it from being too boring.” Eddie shrugged, “But this is a pretty nice set up we’ve got going, spoiled punk like you could call it boring.”

Tommy threw an M&M at him, which Eddie caught in his mouth. Billy applauded and Steve couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer offense on Tommy’s face yet again.

“I was going to ask if anyone wanted to play a drinking game like a normal bunch of dudes but I should have fucking known better.” 

“Hey you’re not normal anymore either.” Eddie argued from around his misbegotten treat, “When that bite scars, you’re not gonna be able to just explain it. That puts you right at the weirdo table with the rest of us.”

A look passed over Tommy’s face a little too fast for Steve to catch, “You… all have scars?”

Billy grunted but Tommy’s eyes were on Steve. 

“Yeah.” Steve nodded, “Plenty.”

Eddie lifted up the bottom of his shirt to show off the scars the demobats had left him. They hadn’t healed smoothly, the skin there largely being grafted from his back, which while also having suffered damage, wasn’t as gnarly to look at as his sides were. Eddie didn’t seem too put out, though Steve knew him well enough to know how well he could lock down his insecurities. 

“Stevie’s got matching ones, but these are from like six months ago.” Eddie let his shirt back down, “Bats.”

Tommy looked a little queasy, still hadn’t blinked since Eddie had lifted up his shirt.

“Didn’t get bats. Liquid people monster.” Billy’s voice was tight with emotion he would sooner die than show in front anyone else, “Fucked me up pretty bad.”

That was an understatement if Steve had ever heard one. Billy had been in critical condition for three weeks, and then spent the next eight months recovering. They still didn’t know everything going on with him, other than that in addition to super strength, his blood was now basically battery acid. 

“No scars?” Tommy asked, though his voice was much softer than Steve was accustomed to hearing it.

Billy sighed, sitting up to strip off his top. He only hesitated a moment before he was pulling it up and off of himself.

In the center of his chest was a dent with tightly stretched pink skin across it. The skin was almost shiny and so thin when he breathed Steve could easily see the bones through it. On either of his sides, the skin was similar to Eddie’s though the wounds were single points rather than jagged collectives. Some of the musculature on his left side was also concave, missing where it hadn’t been able to heal properly. 

Steve heard Tommy’s intake of breath, knew he was comparing what he saw with what he knew Billy had looked like before. To Steve surprise he wasn’t recoiling in horror, wasn’t spewing venom to cover for the fear it must have seeded in him.

“Well shit.” He whispered, “Should I ask what the other guy looks like?”

Billy laughed, softly at first before it seemed to take root and he couldn’t stop. He tilted over, laughing so hard tears formed at the corners of his eyes. 

“What?” Tommy asked, when it was clear Billy wouldn’t be able to answer him, “I know I’m a riot but I’m pretty sure I’m not that funny.”

“The other guy was a four-story tall melted people monster that got taken out by a little girl and an assload of fireworks.” Steve explained, “Billy looks way better than it did.”

“Hey Munson, you want to pass me back that bottle?” Tommy shuddered.

“Yeah, take a double man.”

[nani-nonny]

For some reason i imagined LCD would try to eat but meet a street cat that walk by him obviously hungry so he gives them some and that cat ends up begin loyal.

Heck i can imagine it try to show LCD it's kittens

I love that so much

He would definitely be the “dad that didn’t want the pet but eventually ends up babying the hell out of the pet and loving it more than his kids”

Fuck it, Leonardo meets cat vvv:

Leonardo collapses backwards, bracing himself on the building wall before turning to lean on it and slide his back down until he lands roughly on the alleyway’s disgusting floor. He takes this brief moment of peace to catch his breath, completely exhausted from chasing after a few pirates that have been robbing many homes in the Hidden City. He inhales sharply then exhales slowly, closing his eyes to focus on steadying his breaths.

He pulls out a stale piece of bread, one that on several occasions he had to shove back in his belt pockets because of “responsibilities” he has in the Hidden City. Will he ever get to finish it? Possibly never. It seemed the city always had a knack for calling for him with “impeccable” timing. The city has made him starve for a few days now, maybe more. He hasn’t been keeping track.

And just before he can take his first bite of the day, he hears something close by. He pauses.

He hears the rustling of paper and cardboard, disturbing his moment of peace. He listens for a moment.

Short scuttling, fidgety and hesitant. From the sound, he can tell it’s lightweight, whatever is making the noise.

He whistles sharply between his teeth, short and akin to an alarm.

The fidgety creature scrambles in a panic, scraping against papers and cardboard until he jumps from its hiding place. It appears to Leonardo’s right from behind the building’s fence.

A cat.

Dirty, small, and covered in fleas. He can see the cat’s bones protruding under its skin, and the way its ears flick off communities of bugs. Its stained fur makes it impossible to tell what color it truly is, and mangy whiskers twitch as it backs up. There’s a fearful look in its eyes as it backs up slowly, tail between its shaking legs. But it never looks away from the bread in his hand.

Leonardo narrows his eyes as he stares down at the small cat. He hasn’t eaten in days, what makes the dirty thing think he’ll give up his bread.

But one look in its big, pathetic eyes and his expression softens. He curses inwardly and clicks his tongue in defeat. He can wait a few more days for food, it’s not like it’s out of reach for him.

“You’re one ugly, little rat,” he tells the cat and rips off a piece of his bread. He tosses the piece to the cat, making it scramble away in a panic.

The cat crashes into several things in the alleyway before finally hiding behind a soggy cardboard box. It peeks from the box, eyes now locked on the ripped piece of bread.

He rips another piece, then another and another until he’s left with nothing but a handful of crumbs. He takes one and pops it in his mouth before tossing the rest on the floor.

He gets up with a grunt, ignoring his muscles that scream for a longer break. Tough shit, he mocks inwardly, he doesn’t deserve a break anyways. What was he thinking…?

Shaking his head, he walks away without looking back. He doesn’t have the time to lounge around, he has some pirates to catch. They could be a problem in the future, especially if those teens come back looking for him blindly.

The last he saw the pirates, they were heading toward Big Mama’s hotel. They could be working on the surface, supplying the stolen items to—.

He pauses when he hears the smallest mew. He looks over his shoulder to see the dirty cat staring at him. Not some piece of bread in his hand or the bread on the floor. It’s staring at him. And it’s then he sees two more cats, way smaller than the first, appear from the soggy cardboard box.

Kittens. It has kittens.

The tiny kittens eat the pieces of bread like it’s their first meal in months. They scarf the stale bread like it’s the best thing in the world. But the mother cat doesn’t eat, even when the kittens finish eating all of the bread.

And never did he feel more guilty for eating one, small piece of bread than he did now.

He looks away suddenly. Whether to save himself from the guilt or to refocus on his previous task, he couldn’t tell. But this time, he walks away at a faster pace, all while thinking of where the closest store is to this place.

[houseflyy]

The Feast for One.

Why leave out food for anyone to eat?

1.2k words.

Prev. / Next.

—

A single fly with an entire load of garbage to herself feels nothing short of pure, exuberant joy. Melody ate until her stomach felt it would burst, and even then, she continued snacking on whatever tasted best between short breaks. That meant spoiled fruits, stale eggs, sugars and proteins that kept her so active.

It wasn’t her finally practicing restraint that stopped her; it was the sensation of the garbage bag being picked up and carried away.

The bag’s contents jumbled and piled over each other. Melody was caught in the turmoil: Two slices of bread crusts that smushed her between them and a mushy blend of skim milk and oatmeal that caught her fall. She scrambled to find her footing and somewhere where she wouldn’t be hurt. She settled on a partly crushed eggshell, climbing within it and ducking beneath her cap. It was there that she listened, and her mind worked away.

“Humans don’t like their garbage,” she thought aloud, “so they put it where they can’t see it. And when those bins and cans get too full to hold anymore, the garbage has to be moved somewhere else. It goes in bigger bins—dumpsters—then to the big, square trucks, then to… oh, I don’t know. I can get out before then, I think.” She brought a concerned claw to her face. “How long do I have to wait?” Would it be like being in the suitcase, sitting in the dark so long that she dozed off? Then, she would wake up in an entirely different place and be lost all over again.

Luckily, she didn’t have to wait much longer. The large footsteps outside settled in place, and with it, the bag was opened and tilted on its side. Light spilled in, and the mess of food spilled out. Melody clung tightly to the eggshell and braced herself. The shell tumbled and toppled over and over until it lay halfway submerged in the other dumped foods. Outside, she heard the footsteps walk off until they faded.

Melody inched cautiously out from the eggshell once she was sure the human, whoever it was, had gone. “Is this a dumpster?” She looked about at her surroundings. The food pile sat outdoors in a wide, rectangular bucket against a towering fence. “It doesn’t have a lid,” she said incredulously. “All the food is sitting out for anyone to eat!”

Melody prepared to search further and get a better view, but her wings sputtered out as she hopped to takeoff. “Oh,” she groaned. She took them in her claws and frowned as they sagged in her grip. Her wings had gotten soaked from being tossed around in the garbage bag. She wouldn’t be able to fly again for quite some time. She remembered one particularly unsavory occasion of falling into a dirty puddle after a rainy day, and her fugitives had taken turns carrying her for hours until her wings dried.

“Well... I guess that’s all right.” Melody glanced at the foods around her again and gave her face and limbs a quick scrub. “I can keep eating until then.”

She had only begun gathering droplets of fruit juice in her claws when she heard more footsteps approaching. Maybe a human was coming to collect the waste after all? But something about these steps was noticeably different. It wasn’t two big feet stomping one after the other; it was one pair working with another. Not a human, but an animal. Melody smelled an odd scent, too—a rich, earthy stench alongside the sweet aroma of flowers. She couldn’t name what animal this was, as no creature in the city or the suburbs had had a scent quite like this. And she’d never heard any animal snort and huff as this one did as it approached.

Once she thought she couldn’t bear the suspense of who this mysterious animal was any longer, a flat, pale snout rose over the bucket.

Melody gasped, shook the juice she gathered away, and huddled beneath her cap at the sight of it. This truly was unlike any animal she knew of! Her curiosity overtook her caution; she peeked out a little and watched the strange nose wriggle and sniff at the slop below. At the end of the snout, she noticed two bright blue eyes idly staring down, their lids nearly shut. They didn’t look as invested in the food as the nose. Then, the animal opened its wide mouth to dip into the food, take mouthfuls, and chew away.

It looked like this animal would claim all this food, and they were surely big enough to eat the entirety of it. That meant it was time for Melody to take off, as she wouldn’t want to be scooped up along with it. But as she got into position to hop and fly away, she realized again: She couldn’t fly. She gave her wings another look to make sure; she scrubbed away at them as if that would dry them in an instant. They were still hopelessly limp.

“Oh, no,” Melody whimpered. She had to make her way out on foot. That’s all right, she tried to assure herself. It’ll only take a little longer.

With one last hard stare at the big, pale animal feasting to her right, Melody set off to her left. She crawled up and over a fruit rind, then to a mass of hard noodles, where she picked one and traveled along its twisting, curling path on quick feet. Ahead of her, where foods piled against a side of the bucket, everything looked like mush. Melody could find no dry footing to get over it, and she hesitated. Where to go next?

A hard tug on the noodle she gripped pulled her away. Melody yelped and glanced behind her. The animal grabbed the entire bundle of noodles in one bite and gradually gathered them up in its mouth after one great big chomp after another. It brought Melody closer and closer...

She tugged her gaze away to look ahead of herself. Now, she was being lifted up off the food pile. The noodle she held shook so much that the ground beneath her wasn’t certain. She hoped for the best, braced herself, and let go.

Then she dropped into a pool of cold soup. She couldn’t begin to flap her wings and escape from it, so Melody lay plopped on the surface, flailing her limbs to get to the nearest solid surface, but she never got any closer to it as hard as she tried.

The overwhelmingly familiar scent of the soup reminded her of being attacked before by that frightening woman. She thought of a giant hand coming down and around her to swat her; she thought of being chewed and crunched. She thought of both happening at once, over and over. Chewed and crunched and swatted and—

“Help!” she cried as loud as she could muster. “Father! Father!” Her cries were all she could manage to do aside from her thrashing. In her panic, she didn’t notice the animal quickly turning its head and floppy, raised ears to the left and right until looking downward and searching and finally laying its widened eyes on her.

And it bellowed: “Ohmigosh! You need help!”

—

[talesfromthegameff14]

Prompt #1: Steer

The rroneek looked between the two boys passing through the far end of his pasture.  Normally the old bull would ignore anyone passing through, far more interested in the feed dumped into the nearby trough at dinner time. The bull would eat, the kids would run through on their way to dinner, and life was good.  Today though was different, it was late summer and the bull was feeling his oats so to speak from the nearby presence of some cows brought in from the far pastures to get bred for next season’s calves.  Anything in his part of the world was a threat right now, a rival to be rid of so that the cows would be all his. 

A flopped over ear twitched, unease settling between Linn’s shoulders at the same time that Watt started looking around before he spotted the rroneek watching them intently.  “Isn’t the bull normally eating?”, the hyur asked, steps slowing a bit so he didn’t trip on anything while watching the creature.  “Uhhuh.”, Linn’s reply drawn out as he too started watching the bull who started to stomp and tear at the ground.  “I think we should...” A loud bellowing sound as the bull reared back slightly before bringing both of his front hooves down on the ground hard enough to shroud himself in dust.  “RUN!”, the boys yelled in unison as the thundering of hooves got louder in their ears, the bull charging down at them with frightening speed.  Linn was the first over the fence, the gangly boy pulling himself up and over with ease.  Watt was a few fulms behind him, he wasn’t slow but even at this age he was shorter and considerably stockier than the shetona.  Normally it didn’t matter much, but right now?  It was a problem, a big one.  A 2000 ponze one of solid  muscle that was intent on catching the remaining person in his field.   “Shit, shit, shit!”, Watt jumping up to catch the top bar of the fence only to miss the grab and land on his ass.  The bull was a few fulms away and closing fast as he scrambled back to his feet to try again.

Linn leaned over the fence, eyes wide from fear, “Watt!! Grab my hand!”  Another jump and this time Watt managed to grip both the fence and Linn’s hand.  Adrenaline benefited both boys, giving the extra push for Linn to yank his best friend upwards as Watt went up and over the top of the fence as fast as he could.  It was just in time for the rroneek bull to slam into the fence, causing the electrope bars to spark and flare as the defenses programed into the circuits came to life.  The bull roared as he was zapped with enough electricity to hurt but not harm him and a force field sprung up around the perimeter of the fence to ensure that the enraged creature couldn’t break free.  Both boys watched with wide eyes as the bull charged at the fence over and over, bellowing his rage for all to see.  After a couple of charges Watt started to giggle, the giddiness of having narrowly avoided having his legs crushed or worse getting to him. Linn looks over him confused and the hyur isn’t able to say anything at all, instead giving his friend a helpless shrug as all he could do was laugh and laugh.  It was infectious and soon enough Linn was flat on his back, staring at the lightning streaked sky as he too laughed uncontrollably. 

It took a second call to dinner from a frustrated sounding woman to get the boys back on their feet and moving again.  Watt trying to catch his breath as he got up, reaching down to help Linn up.  “We ain’t tellin’ anyone, right?”  “Not a soul.”, Linn replied with a grin. “Don’t wanna get yelled at, or worse.”  The memory faded, Watt staring up at the starry sky that was so different from home. No endless clouds, no feeling of static in the air or the danger arcing overhead.  There was the sound of crickets and a cool breeze that rustled the leaves of a nearby tree.  “You’d like this Linn.”, he said softly, eyes turning glassy. “Wish you were here to see it.”  A grunt as the long legged shetona pushed himself back up to his feet to get walking again. The town was nearby, he could use a drink or two.  Maybe it would be enough for him to sleep dreamlessly.  He could always hope. 

[ranchracoon]

Ch. 5 The Castle

She has two options: run back to the hotel room and forget all of this or go forward and try to get the answers to her dreams. The creature from before helps her decide by coming out from behind the tree line. It's hunched, covered in fur but walks on two legs, it has tattered on clothing like a bad werewolf costume. Only this creature foams and drools from the mouth. Carmen hunches down ready to attack, she mistakenly takes a step back to brace and finds the ground caving from beneath her. She falls down the embankment and lands with a hard thud on the dirt, she shakes herself off and scrambles for cover. Great, now what is she going to do? She pokes her head out to find the creature is not following her down, that's a good sign at least. Now, she can either stay in her wolf form and get attacked by whoever lives here or change back into human and get attacked by whomever lives here. She can hide easier as a human. 

She finds a cloak hanging from a clothing line and snags it, using it to cover her face and body. It also keeps her warm but she deeply regrets not wearing the boots Clara got her. The snow and mud seeps through the canvas of her shoes instantly. She shivers and bundles herself tighter as she weaves around the few people who are staggering around. She catches mumblings but doesn't bother to stop and listen for clarity until she finds herself near the center of the village, at least, she thinks it is.

She smells the air, other than shit and mud, she doesn't smell much else. Maybe she should try to listen with her other senses. Carmen steps off to the side and closes her eyes. Her wolf is going crazy inside, her mate has to be nearby but there's something else in the village that she can't pinpoint. She can't feel any connection to her goddess, as if something or someone is blocking her out entirely. She feels cut off and alone. Carmen snuggles the cloak around her impossibly tighter as people look her way, she lowers her head.

Carmen sighs, she has to keep moving before someone notices she doesn't belong. She begins following people discretely; one person leads her to a shop, another leads her to the graveyard where something screams at her to stop. She looks around, only seeing headstones and a giant stone mural. Her mind tells her to turn around but her body compels her forward toward the wall. She reaches out her hand and traces the depiction of a faceless thing with large horns and wings. It's holding the body of something in its clutches. Next to it is a faceless woman in a dress with a sword above her, and a shield with the face of a goat in front of her. Carmen traces the empty slots where clearly something circular is missing. The rest of the picture?

"Hey! Get away from there!"

Carmen startles and looks over to an elderly man approaching. He has the look of horror upon making eye contact and Carmen instantly turns and flees. She has to get through this wall, but it's locked tight. Option b it is. She loses the cloak and shifts mid run, her body exploding into her wolf. People run and scream, clutching their children and hiding in buildings. She finds a closed gate ahead, perfectly in line with the stone wall. The gate gives her chills; it has two golden circles on each door with a fetus looking mass in the middle and two outstretched black wings. Carmen can use that. She charges, jumps up, lands on the gate and pushes off to propel herself over the fence.

She lands almost perfect. Her front paws hit the ground but her back lose traction in the mix of snow and mud. Carmen huffs and stands up, shaking herself off and looking up at the imposing castle. Her heart is racing and her tail is wagging, this is where her mate is! She's sure of it. After so long, perhaps whatever is blocking Carmen from connecting to her Goddess is also the reason she hasn't reached her mate. But, why now? As she wanders around, she crosses a moat, climbs up another stone wall, and finally, she finds what looks to be a vineyard only to hear voices.

She ducks into some brush, her ears perked forward to listen. Carefully she scoots on her belly until her muzzle and eyes are exposed. There are a few women in the vineyard dressed in thick winter clothing, they're working on something, but she can't tell what. After waiting for however long, the three women hoist up what appears to be a scarecrow. Carmen narrows her eyes and upon closer inspection finds that it is in fact, an armless, legless, torso of a man. His head is tilted to one side with his mouth hung open. 

What. The actual. Fuck.

This is where her mate is? What if her mate is one of those women? What if her mate is being tortured? She has to get them out of here! Carmen uses all her restraint to stay put while the women huddle together and go inside the castle through two, thick double doors. She waits a little while longer, another shiver coursing through her from the cold. After it seems safe, she slunks down and approaches the doors, shifting back she quickly opens and closes the door as quietly as possible.

She lets out a soft sigh of relief at the rush of warmth that greets her. She walks up the steps and briefly admires the painting of three Victorian looking women. Triplets from the looks of it. Perhaps the daughters of whomever owns this castle, or the owners themselves. Carmen quietly goes through another door, down a hallway and takes a right. She tries these large double doors to find them locked, so she continues down the hallway. Whoever lives here definitely has a richer taste than she does.

The carpet is ornate carpet is intricately designed with reds and golds. The molding of the ceiling is gold, there are pillars and paintings on every wall. This is exactly how she pictured a castle would look like, and now she suddenly feels guilty from the mud she's tracking in and currently stuck to her clothing. Carmen comes to another turn and ends up in a large room with two doors on the left, a wide, short, staircase to the right, and another door in front of her. So many doors.

Carmen walks carefully toward the middle only to hear footsteps approaching. She doesn't have time to hide before a woman wearing a long black dress appears at the top of the stairwell. She's carrying a tray, and she freezes upon seeing Carmen. Carmen makes a shushing motion with her finger, but the woman drops the tray and screams.

"Intruder!"

"Shit!" Carmen curses.

She runs for the nearest door; it's unlocked and leads down another hallway. This one leads to a seating area; the fireplace is roaring with life with two love seats facing each other. Carmen sees another set of doors, this one has got to lead somewhere, right? But before she can go there, hundreds, if not thousands of insects appear in front of the door. Carmen stumbles backward as the mass takes shape into another woman. This one is also wearing a black dress, but hers is more maintained with woven designs in the fabric. She's also wearing jewelry; a black choker, with a large red gem in the center, and from that is a necklace wielding three different types of daggers and a green, elongated gem. She has black hair, and her mouth is dripping in a red substance. The woman giggles wildly and she holds up a sickle in her leather gloved hand.

"Oh fuck no." Carmen mutters.

She takes off the way she came, she bursts through the doorway and takes a left up the stairs. She narrowly avoids the broken class and deep red liquid that was spilled before. This leads to another living room, with a winding staircase to the left and a fireplace on the right. This is from her dream! She recognizes the doors ahead, and the furniture. Just as before, a mass appears to form into another woman only she has blond hair.

"Where are you going little one?" She calls.

Carmen realizes she has to look up. She's at least 5' 10" (178cm), how tall are these women? Carmen goes to run up the stairwell, but she's corned by the black-haired woman. They trap her by using inhuman strength to capture her arms. She struggles and yanks, they certainly hold her but struggle to do so. One of them brings down their heel on the back of her leg, forcing her down onto one knee. She growls lowly and tries to shift out of their grip but is stopped when she hears loud, clicking heels nearby. Carmen pauses her attempt at escape to look toward the double doors, a sudden wave of DeJa'Vu washing over her. 

The doors fly open, and she sees nothing but a large black hat, and two long arms with black leather gloves on the hands. The person is hunched over and walking through the doorway before they stand upright in the room. Carmen's eyes widen, this is the woman! The woman from her dream, and from the portrait! Her wolf is ecstatic! Mate!

She's over 9ft tall, wearing a cream-colored dress that hugs her curves. She has black curls that poke out from underneath her hat, her eyes are piercing and gold, with blood red lipstick painted on. The woman rests her fists on her hips, looking down at Carmen. Carmen can't help but stare up in awe at her, she probably has a dumb ass looking grin on her face too. After all these years..

"Look mother!" One girl says.

"We captured the intruder!" The other states.

"Very good daughters. Now, let's see what this intruder wants."

Carmen's smile fades when the woman raises one hand and flexes, long sharp claws extend out. 

"No wait!" Carmen yelps. 

"Speak." The lady demands. 

"My name is Carmen Rojas, I didn't mean to come in uninvited I swear. I was just trying to get out of the cold and well, I stumbled here by accident-"

"I don't have time for lengthy explanations. Tell me what you want." The woman orders. 

"You. You're my mate." Carmen squeaks. 

The two women holding her arms erupt in laughter, one of them doubles over and holds their stomach. The woman scrunches her nose and scoffs down at her, Carmen's face heats up and turns red all the way down her neck and to her ears. 

"This one must not be very bright." One of them cackles. 

"Don't let Daniela near this one." The other quips. 

"Enough." The woman orders, retracting her claws. 

She kneels over and grabs Carmen by the neck, hoisting her up to eye level. Her legs swing frantically as she grabs onto the leather glove to try and support herself and keep from being choked. 

"I don't know who you think you are, but I know exactly what to do with your kind. You think you're the first to come here and try this? Pathetic. Bela, take this vermin down to the cellar and wash her off. Put her to work until I can contact Mother Miranda. She'll decide what to do with you."

[rfaromance]

Suit the cat... curling up on Suit Saeran's lap when the latter is paranoid.

Saeran certainly didn't intend on having any sort of companion in his workspace.

With Ray's needy, pathetic little doll locked up in that royal prison that Ray had designed, a locked dollhouse to which only two people held the key, Saeran had hoped to work faster. Faster, harder, better, stronger. He would track down that filthy traitor sooner than Ray ever could have.

At times, though... he almost missed the sound of that whiny, wimpy voice.

To clear his head, he found himself pacing outside, always ending up in Magenta's gardens without consciously intending to go there.

Maybe Ray wasn't entirely asleep just yet. That was a horrible thought.

His nighttime forays into the gardens would not have been so awful, having the darkness and crisp air to clear his mind, if not for the pitiful, whimpering creature that he'd come across on one fateful evening.

"The hell is this?" Saeran gruffed, stomping forward to get a closer look. In a panic, the black-and-white ball of fur had scrambled away, perhaps intimidated by Saeran's powerful figure. Good. "Some sort of tiny bear? We should get strong fences out here," he muttered, turning around to head in the opposite direction.

Except the creature found him again. And again. And again.

Saeran's biggest mistake was throwing out scraps of food he didn't want. Meats, rices, breads. He thought that if he gave the beast some food, it would have what it wanted and then leave for good.

Unfortunately that only brought the mewling brat back for more.

Saeran didn't know when he anticipated this pathetic furball as part of his nightly routine. He didn't know when the scrappy creature entered his mind, his life.

All he knew was that on the night of a fierce storm, he found himself venturing to the gardens and scooping up a sad black-and-white mop of fur out from under a bush and into a cardboard box.

~~~

Saeran wasn't a fan of thunder, either. He wasn't sure what about the loud bangs, combined with the brief flashes of lightning, rattled him so much, but he knew that he detested it. Possibly because the storms interfered with the internet signals and disrupted his work. Possibly because he couldn't hear himself think above the booming of thunder, the whooshing of wind, the smacking of rain against Magenta's walls.

But for whatever reason, curling up in his chair with the quivering fluffball on his chest helped ease his nerves. The beast was just as frightened as he was, if not more, but it kept butting its head against Saeran's chest and hands.

Cautiously, Saeran ran his palm and fingers along the creature's scalp, prompting a deep rumble from its chest. He scratched it between its two pointed ears, and the furball let out a soft "mrrrp" of approval.

They jumped in unison at each boom of thunder. At one point, Saeran felt a sharp sequence of pricks digging into his shoulder, and he realized with a hiss that the animal had dug its claws into him. "Who do you think you are?" he gruffed, but as it bumped its head against his chin, Saeran's frustration dropped to low grumbles. He stroked the animal's back repeatedly, finding the rhythmic movement and the softness of its (now dry) fur to be soothing in an odd way.

"I can tell you're terrified," he muttered at last. "But you're trying to comfort me?" With a disgruntled sigh, he grabbed the creature by the scruff of its neck and held it out in front of him.

Saeran hadn't noticed the pattern on the thing's fur before. It was mostly black, but the chest and paws were white. In a way, the pattern almost made the beast look like it was wearing a tuxedo, or perhaps... a suit.

"You know... you might be stronger than I gave you credit for."

[thatturtleleon]

I Would Share My Orange With You

Content + Warnings: Violence (krang mutts), Swearing, Set during the ROTTMNT apocalyptic future timeline, Sunita x April, Oneshot, 1,361 words.

Author's Note: This takes place after my other one-shot, but you don't have to read that one in order to understand this one. (It would be super cool if you did check it out though!) Advice and tips are welcome :) Got the whole idea from that one poem about sharing oranges lol

“You sure this is the right place?” Sunita squints at the map in April’s hands.

The two women were standing in front of a large bent sign with dully printed letters, “Repo Mantis Salvage.” Bits of metal, most likely from an old fence, jutted out from the grass around it. However, that didn’t even compare to the actual junkyard. Looming over them were towers and towers of cars stacked on top of each other. Chunks of old machines and bits of electronics were scattered across the ground for miles. The air reeked of rust and garbage. Loose metal parts creaked and groaned in the slight breeze. April assumed this is what an ant felt like crawling around in Donnie’s lab.  

She folded up the map, “Yup.”

“Well, we have about an hour and a half before nighttime.” Sunita declares.

April recalls Leo saying he once fought off a giant mutant cat here and adjusts the bat strapped to her back, “Let’s be careful ok?” 

Sunita nods. Careful not to step on the sharp metal laying around, they make their way towards the salvage. 

—---------------------------------------------------------------

After dusting off some old binoculars and adding them to the bag, April turns to Sunita, “Alright I think we’re good to go. It’s been about an hour and the team is gonna kick our asses if we don’t come back in time.”

Sunita nods and looks up, taking notice of the dimming sky. The blotchy blood red fading into a deep erubescent. April’s gaze wanders to a building several hundred feet away, most likely an old garage. How had she not noticed it before? There could’ve been some good spare parts in there. 

Oh well, she thought.

Both of them began hiking back to the base. Shadows from the large junk piles grew longer as the sun set lower. The wind became still. Clinking and clanking of rickety metal grew silent. All that could be heard was krang mutts howling in the distance. 

Krang mutts. 

“Shit.” April reaches behind her head and pulls out her bat. 

Sunita follows, immediately getting into a defensive stance. 

The howling grows louder. Facing the sound, they spot a distinct red glow. The darkened sky making the krang mutt’s luminescent markings more noticable. April takes note that there seems to be only three mutts. Still, they were rapidly approaching; mouths open and legs thumping the ground.

“Commander, is this a fight or flight situation!?” Sunita voices anxiously. 

April’s head whips around to find cover, an exit, something. She would fight if it came to it, but couldn’t afford to lose the parts they had collected. She promised Donnie they’d come back with the parts. She’d promised they’d come back alive. And she’d be damned if she couldn’t do either. 

Spotting the old garage in the distance, April aims her bat at it, “There!”

Both of them bolt towards the building. The snarls of the krang mutts echo through the junkyard. Metal clanging together as the mutated creatures scramble towards April and Sunita. Their backpacks beat against their backs as they sprint.

Sunita, still running, shoves her hand into a pocket of the backpack. She pulls out one of Donnie’s newest weapons; a mini bomb. It was about the size of her hand, but Donnie guaranteed it would cause some serious damage. However his idea of “serious damage” could scale from a tiny fire to full out nuclear explosion.

“Please PLEASE just blow the mutts up and not us!” Sunita shouted, turning and launching the bomb towards the mutts. 

Fireworks blast out of the device as it impacts the ground. Crackles of fire lit up the surrounding area. Red and orange sparks flew everywhere. Two of the three krang mutts were blasted sideways. Both giving a yelp and stomach-churning splat as they crashed into debris.

“NOW I remember why Donnie was banned from touching fireworks.” April remarks breathlessly, still booking it to the garage. 

The rundown building comes closer into view. April and Sunita’s footsteps thud against the ground. Quickly spotting a rusted car near the wall of the building, Sunita motions for April to follow her.

“C’mon I have an idea!” 

April eyes the car and instantly gets the message. The glow of the mutt’s eyes illuminates the area as it draws closer. They use that to their advantage and scramble onto the vehicle. April tosses her backpack onto the top of the building. Reaching up and jumping onto the edge of the roof, Sunita hauls herself up and extends her hand out. April grasps Sunita’s hand. The krang mutt barrels closer. Its eyes are locked on April. With a loud grunt, Sunita pulls her onto the roof and both of them stumble backwards. The mutt launches itself into the air, jaws snapping╴just missing April's leg. 

Before either of them have a chance to catch their breath, a clang echoes from below the wall. With a thud, large claws grip onto the roof’s edge. The creature snarls and growls as it heaves itself up. 

“Bad doggy!” April’s bat slams the krang mutt’s face. The impact sends it smashing into the car. Glass shatters and the mutt lays motionless.

April and Sunita hold their breaths, ready to fight if it so much as twitches. However, the mutated creature remains still. Both of them let out a sigh of relief and collapse backwards onto the roof.

After laying there for a bit, April turns her head towards Sunita. Her eyes are closed, and a faint smile can be seen on her face. Suddenly, her eyes crack open and peek at April. 

Wiggling her eyebrows, she says, “Watcha looking at commander?” 

April’s rolls her eyes as her face breaks out into a small smile, “Nothin’”

“Nothin’ huh?” Sunita grins, then sits up and grabs her backpack, “I just remembered something. I got a surprise for you.”

There’s a mischievous tone to her voice, and April sits up as well. Curiously, she watches Sunita shuffle through her bag. Although their bags are worn down and used for scavenging purposes, Sunita still chose to decorate hers. They weren’t allowed to use vivid or flashy colors, as it might lower their stealth. So she chose a light purple fabric from her old clothes to cover patches in her pack. April even had a small patch of the same fabric on hers. 

“Ah ha! Got it!” Sunita exclaims, pulling out a round orange object about the size of her palm. 

April’s eyes widen, “Where…” her gaze flicks from the object to Sunita, “Where did you find that?”

Sunita gently places it in April’s hands and shrugs, “Just from Todd, he’s been working on some stuff. Trying to bring back whatever plants and fruits he can, this was his first successful orange.” 

“Why are you giving it to me?” 

Bumping her shoulder against April, she replies, “It’s for you to eat silly.”

April’s expression softens, and she begins peeling the orange. The sweet, citrus-y aroma fills the air. Both of them took a deep breath, the smell was comforting. It smelled like home.

Once April had peeled all the skin off, she broke the fruit in half. 

“Here.” She handed Sunita one half. 

“Are…you sure?” Sunita hesitates, before taking it, “You can eat the whole thing, you don’t have to share it.”

April nods, “I’d be happy to share my orange with you.” 

Sunita’s face beams into a contagious smile. Quickly stuffing an orange slice into her mouth, April tries to hide hers. Having a genuine, peaceful moment with someone she loves feels wrong nowadays. She can’t help it though, being with Sunita is like being a kid again. April wished they could go back in time and be kids again. She wished Donnie had the materials to build a time machine. He most certainly had the brains to build one. She wished Cassandra were still here. April wished a lot of things at that moment. However, wishing wasn’t going to change the situation. So instead, they continued to sit in silence, savoring the sweet-tart taste of the orange; the sun now just barely peeking over the horizon. 

“The boys are gonna kill us aren’t they.”

“Yup.”

[the-ikran-man]

May 29: Fix It/Gift/Ally

Scrambling to join Recom week because we're very late. Combining the days we missed. The rules made it seem fine so, full steam ahead!

WARNINGS:

Mild Blood

Very Animal Like Eating Habits

Pandora Animal Death [Mentioned]

Possible Incorrect Medical Knowledge [We don't know what we're doing]

But other than that, reasonably wholesome stuff between recom mens.

--- ---

"What you piss off this time, lil Dragon?"

"...it hurts."

"I'm sure it does."

"...help."

Dragon's fellow recom quietly sighed, before he leans down to scoop the smaller injured Recom up, humming, "Try to not bleed out on me, okay? I'm not the first aid type."

Dragon let's out a pathetic noise at his words. Like he could really stop himself from bleeding out. For all he knew, most of the damage could be internal, and if it was, there was nothing he himself could do.

"One day you're really going to have to figure out whatever is going on in that head of yours that makes you do this,' Fellow says, "We thought maybe you were doing this on propose, but if it's something medical, you should get looked at before you get yourself killed."

"..don't wanna."

"Course, valid, totally understand, but, you might need help, and shoving your face into Direhorse stomachs and trying to eat Viperwolves, well, isn't doing that. I don't even think it's safe for you to be eating some much uncooked meat."

"...better than what- hiss -they give."

"Your growth says other wise and you know it, Dragon. You're what, 20? And so small."

Dragon grumbles, pressing his jacket harder against his wound. He's been holding it in place to stop the bleeding, but he's really not good at this stuff. How he's kept his head on his shoulders is beyond everyone else.

"You're lucky I'm around or you'd have died a long time ago."

Dragon, rather immaturely blows a raspberry at Fellow in response.

"Geez, what am I going to do with you?"

"...not let pandora kill me."

"That's a little hard, all things considering, you're always running off into it," Fellow says, his tail swishing behind him at the thought of the first time Dragon had done something like this, hopping the fence like he didn't know the meaning of gravity and hunting some poor lonely Direhorse down.

They'd had to drag him off of it kicking, screaming, and hissing.

Fellow had shoved the rubber of his knife handle grip into Dragon's snapping teeth to avoid him biting anyone.

Oddly enough like a dog with rubber bone, that'd had seemed to calm him down somewhat.

Dragon had gifted him with many chewed knife grips after that, Fellow constantly having to replace them.

Most probably would have gotten tired of it, but not him. Dragon and him were as thick as thieves. Pretty loyal to each other on a moon where you weren't sure if you'd live to the next day. Probably helped that Marines tended to stick together.

"Another creature feature gone bad?"

"Pretty sure you used that wrong, but yeah. Could we bother you to patch him up again?"

"Maybe dying will help him not do this."

"..no."

"Right mister invisible, you can't be killed," the doctor said with a serious eye roll, "Put him on the table so I can fix him up."

Fellow trots over to the table with Dragon and carefully set him down.

"Sometimes I'm really tempted to not knock you out before I do this, maybe the pain would make you learn," the doctor says as they prep sedative.

"I'm sure the lecture he's going to get later will make him think a little bit," Fellow says, even if he knows it won't.

Dragon barely winces when he's jabbing in a vein with the sedative.

"You'll be right as rain by the time you wake up," Fellow says, grinning down at Dragon.

"...your smile is baaad."

"And you sound like a goat."

Dragon hisses.

"Good thing I like goats."

"Don't flirt in my work space."

@recom-week

Getting to ramble out a fic about our recom babies really made this fun, can't wait to do more!

[hdawg1995]

"Bark"

prompt 2 (I am unofficially participating in FFxivWrite2023. no order, no 24 hour limit, i’m just writing to write and get the gears turning)

Bark The wolf pup wasn’t any sort of threat, he knew. It was small, barely an ilm high. His stub of a tail caused his whole back end to wiggle as he barked and attempted to mock charge at the hyur.

“Come now, what was your name.” Thancred took a moment to think as the small creature gave a squeal of a snarl at him. “Ah yes she calls you Match! Sit Match!”

The pup paused in his aggressive display to do just that. Tilting his head this way and that, Thancred finally smiled and gave the little creature a nod.

“Good boy. Now, wheres Ixie? Come on, where is she boy?”

Match barked and jumped up, running in circles before darting up the dirt path leading from the beach. When tataru said she had found an island sanctuary for M’ixie he had in mind the resort of Costa de Sol or the hot springs of Bronze Lake. As he walks though the foliage following Match it had never accorded to him to think of M’ixie needing a sanctuary in the form of a wild island teeming with fish in the oceans, fruits in the trees, and dodos in the fields.

Match leads him to a bungalow where music blares. His bark carries over the sounds of wind-ups scampering about and marmouts working, so he isn’t surprised when the music cuts out and M’ixie steps out of the house shaped tangle of logs and leaves. Match runs up to Thancred, barking all the while until he plops himself at the hyur’s feet.

“Your guard dog is very effective.” He says. “Nearly ate my leg before I could ask where you were.”

“Good! I raised him well to be a good warrior! Didn’t I, Match?” M’ixie stoops to pick the wolf pup up.

He gets into her arms like any loyal companion would, trusting her to hold him and not drop him. Its only when he is restrained and unlikely to bite that he finally reaches out to pet the scamp.

“So, whats up? Did ya want to take a break? I was just about ta take Qutro out and gather some clams.” M’ixie, The Warrior of Light, offers as if Thancred ever has the time for a vacation.

“I’m actually here to get you and bring you back to civilization. You’re needed.” Thancred retracts his hand from the pup as he starts to playfully chew his palm.

M’ixie frowns, her ears folding flat against her head. When she opens her mouth to say something both Thancred and Match interrupt her.

“Its not so urgent we can’t take a day to relax-“ “BARK!”

Match was out of M’ixie’s arms and charging off after a nutkin. A nutkin Thancred realizes is the one that always ends up showing up when he either least expects it, or, such as now, when its the worse time to show up. To say it was a very silly chase would be putting it mildly- After Thancred called for the nutkin to come to him and it ignored him (understandable, since the wolf pup was between him and the tree creature) the two critters ran though M’ixie’s bungalow, knocking several wind-ups and marmots about. Match had gotten up a tree after the poor creature and had leaped into the corral, the warrior of life getting caught on the fence trying to grab him. “Cuddles” and “Snuggles” the Apkallus darted around and away from the pup and nutkin, which caused the ground squirrel to startle and escape as well. This lead to Match running up into a tree house while the creature comforts marmots gathered the escaped animals.

While M’ixie disentangled herself, Thancred pursued Match, taking the steps two and three at a time. He almost froze when he saw the nutkin flick it’s tail in challenge at the wolf up, baiting him to jump at it as it sat on the safety rail.

“Gotcha!” Thancred grunted as he tackled Match mid leap, the wolf pup attempting to throw itself over the railing to catch the nutkin.

The nutkin, seeing it’s would be assailant captured, escapes unharmed as M’ixie scrambles up the stairs.

“I thought for sure he was goin’ ta jump o’er the rail!” M’ixie pants.

“He had a mind for it, yes.” Thancred held the pup up while he laid on his back. “And now he is in air jail.”

The pup whimpered a protest but struggles very little. M’ixie sat beside Thancred, taking the pup from him. The chase hadn’t taken very long, but with the sun just shy of noon, the light shining on the ocean water… it was nice. The wind picked up, tossing Thancred’s platinum locks. They both felt exhausted.

“We can leave tonight.” He says, throwing his arms out and relaxing on the floor boards of the tree house.

“Agreed.” She replies, setting the pup down as he yawned, falling asleep beside the two friends.

[dcviltry]

❝𝕴 𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖒𝖆𝖉, 𝖆 𝖌𝖔𝖉 𝖍𝖚𝖗𝖙 𝖒𝖊, 𝕴 𝖋𝖊𝖑𝖑.❞

                                     witchy mumu penned by sam.

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘.

MERYEM KAPLAN | air witch & kaplan coven

the youngest daughter of the kaplan coven, mery is a breath of air in the weight and grounded nature of the earth witches. she's flighty, and prone to laughter and trickery, often escaping her lessons to find some sunshine or the company of unassuming tourists. the lack of pressure for her to take on responsibility or leadership within the coven has spoiled her, but she minds very little, experimenting with the magic that feels entirely her own and leaving all of the difficult tasks behind for her siblings.

VINCENT 'SAINT' CORVIN | fire witch & unaligned

they say that he's from rhode island, from a coven that now exists in cinders. whispers swirl around saint corvin's ankles, they hover like soot. he's a dark creature, whose blade of a smile is too sharp for most pleasant company. instead, he is often found under the morgue of the funeral home that he owns, shifting through his collection of magical artifacts or poring over old grimoires. his magic is raw and instinctual, lashing out like a whip. those who dare speak behind him murmur that he's up to no good, and they'd be entirely correct.

FRANCIS MONTUORI | fire witch & montuori coven

the eldest son of leon montuori was conjured in his own image. francis is cold and cunning, whose mannerisms mirror that of a whetted blade. manipulation comes just as easily as flame to his fingertips, and he twists and twines through interactions and connections with an alarming lack of genuineness. with francis, everything is theatric and done loudly: when he is good he feels god-like, but when he has fallen from his roost: he is craven and despicable. often he is found walking through the city without true destination, completing the menial tasks that his father has set out for him to keep him out of trouble.

MATEO AGUILAR | water witch & montuori coven

he's noone's son, a water witch in the heart of many inclined for fire. no one remembers how he came to be, or when mateo blew into town– just that he has found his place with his crooked-fence smile, curving charming words into willing ears and putting out blazes without a second thought. he doesn't often work for a living, in fact– some would say he doesn't work at all. mateo finds employment as a club promoter and the occasional dj, shifting from one party to the next, causing trouble in his wake.

VICTOR MARIN | air witch & marin coven

son of the former luis marin, victor finds himself lost in the wake of his father's death. the marin coven has elected a new leader and he has shifted his way to a position behind them, scrambling to find a purpose and a place in a world where he had always been preparing for a role that he finds himself unready for. he's more of a pitbull than a man, baring his teeth and falling into anger before reason. vanity is also the king of his sins, holding hand with grief as he navigates NOLA with new eyes.

ALICE BURTON | water witch & delmare coven

the burton family coven was once prominent in england. they were renowned for their glorified righteousness, for their power to wipe out dark magic and those who wielded it. it was fire that swallowed them up and their great gift, and when alice was too young to understand it: she was without a manor and without a family. it was her sister that she tried to find, wandering europe with little in the way of magic or street smarts. she grew that way, a student of the wide world, learning lessons the hard way. her spirit is empathetic, and it has lead her to new orleans, seeking out the name of a woman who could very well now be a ghost.

YASEMIN KOZEN | fire witch & covenless

the kozen sisters are enchanting: they have been taught to be by their mother, a cruel woman who sent them into the world with little else. yasemin is a fire witch, whose temperament matches her element: she's hasty and destructive, but fiercely loyal to those whom depend upon her. it was a marriage that secured her stay in NOLA, but the dissolution of it has left her and her sister stranded. left behind at a hotel with little to their name, yasemin is angry and desperate, seeking out any avenue to find security for herself once again.

[cappurrccino]

just a creature

for @meowlevolentweek day 4 - creature! (it's not the day after, shh, it's fine)

based on a true story from my childhood, just replace the abandoned house with my grandparents' actual house ^^

[ read it on ao3 ]

~

The little house looked like it should be haunted.

The grass was overgrown, twisting and hanging over the front walk, barely contained behind a picket fence long past its prime. Its windows, clouded and broken; its shutters barely hanging on. More than one hole seemed to have crept into the sagging roof, and Arthur suspected they’d be lucky if the floors were any better. Even the typically gloomy weather of Arkham was playing it up, with dark clouds hanging low in the sky and thunder rumbling in the distance.

Parker let out a low whistle next to him. “You sure this one isn’t cult stuff?”

The wind picked up momentarily and one of the shutters lost its valiant fight against gravity, falling into the overgrowth with a muffled crash.

Arthur hummed noncommittally.

He gave the gate an experimental push. It swung, mostly, before one of the rust eaten hinges went the same way as the shutter and the top of the gate fell back at an angle.

“Christ…”

Maybe the inside of the house would, miraculously, be entirely unlike the outside.

The inside of the house was, disappointingly, exactly like the outside.

Dust and debris cluttered the main room, and the air was thick with the humid scent of rotting wood. What had been left in the house when it had been abandoned had been tossed about, and Arthur was willing to bet money that the other two rooms off the back looked exactly the same.

Parker clicked the flashlight on next to him and cast it around the space, a theatrical sigh escaping him as the light revealed more of the room. “Why can’t you ever take me anywhere nice?”

“This is nice. There’s no mysterious blood stains…” Arthur said, taking a tentative step forward. The floor held, though it did creak ominously. “And look! The floor even holds!”

Parker snorted. “Yeah, fine, alright. Least it’s not like the last one with all the—”

A painfully loud metallic banging rang out from the back of the room, followed by an inhuman shriek that echoed around the small space.

“—screaming…”

The flashlight’s beam quickly swung around toward the back corner of the house where there was once a kitchen and was now a pile of rubble and collapsing woodstove. Arthur was certain he imagined the slight movement of the smokepipe. He looked toward Parker and raised a brow. Parker grimaced at him.

“Look, we can just ignore it. It’s not like a thief would hide stolen jewels in a—” Parker trailed off, seeming to realize that an old woodstove is exactly where a thief might hide something he wanted to come back for later. He paused, sighed, and mumbled “Goddammit.”

The woodstove screamed again.

“I’m sure it’s just an… animal,” Arthur said. “It’s not—”

“A ghost or a horrible cult beast or a disembodied head or a demon waiting to possess one of us.”

Admittedly, Arthur hadn’t been thinking of any of those things, but now they were all he was thinking about. Thanks, Parker. Very helpful. He scowled.

“Give me that,” he hissed, snatching the flashlight from Parker’s hand. Slowly, they picked their way across the floor to the old kitchen.

(He did not jump when the stove rattled and screamed again).

He stopped in front of the woodstove, staring at it like it could be intimidated into silence. The floor groaned slightly as Parker crept up behind him and the metal pipes clattered around again (perfectly normally) as if in response. Arthur hoped he didn’t have his gun out—he wasn’t keen on being accidentally shot.

(Just an animal, just an animal, just an animal.)

It was hard to tell what happened next, but it definitely involved a massive clattering and rustling and cloud of black and ash. It likely involved screaming from one or two of the PIs in the room. It presumably involved some scrambling backward over uneven flooring, and more than a little tripping and falling.

In the aftermath, both detectives were in a tangled heap on the floor, covered in dirt and ash and feathers.

On top of the woodstove now, sat a particularly ruffled looking blackbird.

It looked at them, blinked, cawed loudly.

It was impossible to tell if he or Parker started laughing first.