#dazzling system ocs

[your-pal-nebula]

Thinking about Razzle Dazzle and very quickly concluding there is no way his ass is a singlet

[chvoswxtch]

part one: the call

[series masterlist] | [part two]

pairing: billy russo x fem!reader

summary: a ghost from the past has returned.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of murder, creepy sleazy boss & brief mentions of sexual harassment, billy being the cocky lil shit he is

word count: 3.8k

a/n: ahhhhhhh! i've been working on this for the past few months & i'm so excited to finally put it out. I really really really hope y'all enjoy it. this is only 6 parts, so it will not be a slow burn. it's gonna get intense fast. also, there is an oc name mentioned, but it's just for the backstory of the plot. this is still a self insert, & y/n will be used for the rest of the story! without further ado, let's get this spooky slutty season started. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

This was a bad dream. It had to be. There was no other logical way to explain why you were currently sitting in an interrogation room at a precinct, being questioned by police about a man that you had gone on a blind date with not even twelve hours ago, who had been found stabbed to death in an alley two blocks away from your apartment building.

It was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real. All you had to do was open your eyes, and this would all go away. You knew how to deal with nightmares. You knew how to escape them. You’d been running and hiding from them your whole life. All you had to do was open your eyes, and the sinister shadows wouldn't be able to sink their claws into your subconscious to trap you in the dark. Just open them, and this will all disappear. 

Just open your eyes.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

The detective’s voice swiftly brought you out of the trance of denial your mind had wandered into, and your eyes snapped open. To your dismay, nothing changed. The two detectives were still sitting across the table from you, the metal cold against your sweaty palms, one eying you warily while the other regarded you with a more sympathetic stare. The chair beneath you was still stiff and uncomfortable, the light above was still a harsh shade of artificial brightness, and the large piece of glass to your right that reflected your terrified expression still made you feel unsettled knowing there was someone watching you just on the other side of that two-way pane.

“I…I’m sorry. What was the question?”

The waver in your voice gave away how shaken you were by the whole ordeal. When the police had shown up at your office an hour ago stating they needed to bring you in for questioning regarding the murder of Adam Mercer, shock had instantly shot through your entire nervous system, chilling the very blood in your veins with an icy sense of dread. 

This was the kind of thing you heard about happening in the news. A tragedy that struck someone else’s life. A nameless, faceless person whose existence you were unaware of. It was the kind of thing nobody ever thought could happen to them, until it did.

The older detective, the more commiserating one, had said they thought it was some kind of mugging gone wrong. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in New York City, unfortunately. The dazzling city was also dangerous. But since you were the last person to see Adam alive, they needed as much information as you could give them about the last few hours of his life. For some odd reason, it filled you with a sense of guilt that his final moments had been spent with you, a complete stranger, instead of someone else. 

Adam had been a really nice guy. He’d seemed to enjoy the date. He’d thrown his head back and laughed like a little kid at a stupid joke you’d told. He’d flashed you a charming smile when you’d nearly knocked your glass of wine over into your pasta. He’d animatedly told you about his family’s tradition of selecting a perfect tree together at a local Christmas farm back in his home state of Jersey every holiday season. He’d been sweet and gentle and respectful. But had he been happy? 

Had he succumbed to the inevitable fate of death at his attacker’s hands without a fight? Did he even see it coming? Had he had that moment, where everything flashed before his eyes, all his mistakes, all his regrets, all the would’ve, could’ve, should'ves? 

You knew what that feeling was like. You’d been there, once before. Nothing makes you want to live more than Death deciding to show up at your door and pick the lock with its cold, bony fingers to collect a bounty early. 

Thirteen times. Adam had been brutally stabbed thirteen times. It was excessive for a mugging. It felt more personal, that kind of anger and passion. As morbid as the thought was, you hoped the first one had killed him. You hoped he that went into shock swiftly and bled out just as fast so he hadn’t suffered through the next twelve.

Holding his pen in his right hand, the tip hovering over his worn yellow pocket sized notepad, Detective Craven repeated his question.

“How well did you know Adam?”

“I…I didn’t. I’d never met him until last night. My roommate um…she knew him. She’s the one who set us up.”

“Your roommate being Miss Riley?”

Detective Williamson had his hands clasped together in front of him on the table. He lifted one of his brows while waiting for you to answer his question. Swallowing thickly, you gave a faint nod of your head and dropped your hands to your lap, fidgeting with them under the table anxiously. 

“Yeah, Annie.”

Detective Craven cleared his throat, reading over his notes with his honey brown eyes as he continued his questioning.

“Now, you said he picked you up at your apartment around eight-thirty, the two of you had dinner at Maureen’s, and then he dropped you back off at your place around eleven. He left right after that?”

“Yeah, he…um…we said goodnight, he said he’d like to see me again, and then he told me he’d call me tomorrow.”

“He didn’t come up to your apartment at all?”

Detective Williamson didn’t bother hiding the skepticism in his voice, or the implication behind his words, his icy blue eyes locked on you in an almost unsettling way.

“No, he dropped me off at the front steps of the building.”

“And you didn’t see where he went when he left? Didn’t give him one last look after a goodnight kiss?”

A flash of annoyance broke through your stunned disbelief at the invasive second question. You hadn’t said anything about a kiss. The younger detective seemed to be fishing for a crack in your alibi for some reason, trying to catch you in a lie that didn’t exist. A flicker of defensiveness crept into your voice when you spoke.

“No, after we said goodnight, I went inside.”

Before Detective Williamson could ask another thinly veiled judgmental question, Detective Craven stood up, shooting his partner a silencing look. Glancing down at you with a warmer expression, the older man gestured towards the door with his hand.

“That’s all the questions we have for now. We appreciate you speaking with us. I’ll walk you out.”

The precinct was bustling. Various murmurs of conversation buzzed in your ears. People were breezing past in every direction, but amidst the sea of chaos, you spotted a familiar head of blonde hair. Annie jumped up from the chair she’d been sitting in and forced her way through the waves of people, not once muttering an “excuse me” or waiting for someone to move out of her way. A true New Yorker.

Detective Craven placed his hand on your shoulder to get your attention and held out a white business card that had all of his information on it in embossed black text.

“If you can think of anything else that might be helpful, don’t hesitate to call.”

Taking the card into your hand, you looked up at him and forced a tight smile onto your lips, giving him a faint nod of your head.

“Of course.”

After giving your shoulder a light squeeze, Detective Craven gave Annie a nod of acknowledgement before turning and disappearing back inside the interrogation room. As soon as you turned to face her, Annie’s face contorted into an expression of pity and concern. She immediately pulled you into a hug, and it took everything in you not to crumble under the weight of your own overwhelming emotions.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

»»———　　———««

Annie had swiftly shot down your plan to go back to work before the words could even fully leave your lips. All you wanted to do was dive head first into a distraction, to immerse yourself fully in the piles of paper and black ink sitting on your desk that were waiting to transport you to another universe and into the body of someone else whose world hadn’t just been flipped upside down. Again. 

Instead, she brought you back to your shared apartment, uncorked a bottle of wine for each of you, and did her best to help you sort through the shock and the ripples it caused within you. She didn’t understand that your instinct was to run and hide, and that was because she didn’t understand you, not really. But that wasn’t her fault. She could only understand what you allowed her to, and there were huge pieces of yourself you kept hidden from her and everyone else beneath carefully crafted layers.

Pieces you were not ready to uncover and face yet.

The following morning when you showed up to work at the publishing house, it felt like everyone was looking through you instead of at you. Everyone had heard what happened, had seen the two detectives escorting you out of your office, but none of your coworkers said a word. Not to your face, anyway. You could feel the weight of their lingering stares, their hushed whispers floating past your ear like a cold autumn breeze. It was a familiar territory you’d already escaped once.

To your relief, you hadn’t been harassed by reporters wanting an exclusive on the story. Unfortunately, crimes like what had happened to Adam were a dime a dozen in this city. You felt guilty for feeling grateful for that, but not having cameras shoved in your face to be broadcast on news outlets that circulated on social media worked in your favor. You had come to the city that millions of people called home for a reason. You came here to disappear, to be invisible. The last thing you needed was to be thrust into a spotlight that would attract attention you’d gone to great lengths to avoid.

In the midst of trying to drown out the white noise of suspicious gossip and ignoring the way the stares penetrating the glass windows of your office made your insides twist in dreaded knots, you almost missed the sound of a knock at your door. Lifting your head, you were met with the sight of the last person you ever expected to see standing in the doorway.

Billy Russo.

He was significantly more dressed up than the last time you’d seen him, looking every bit the illustrious CEO, although that signature arrogant smirk of his seemed to be missing for once. His tall frame was covered in a deep navy blue three piece suit with a crisp white dress shirt beneath the matching tie, a dark charcoal gray thick coat layering over top. His raven hair was gelled back perfectly, just like it was that night at the bar, but the gleam of mischief in his dark brown eyes was absent. As he stood in the doorway of your office, nearly taking up the entire frame, he seemed to be looking at you in an expression of something that resembled concern.

“Billy.”

The surprise in your hushed tone rang clear in the quiet of your office. Billy removed the black leather gloves from his hands, slipping them into the pocket of his overcoat.

“This a bad time?”

Your lips parted slightly as your eyes flickered down to the open manuscript on your desk before looking up at him again.

“Um…no. No…I…what are you doing here?”

Billy took a step forward into your office and quietly closed the door behind himself.

“Just came by to check on ya.”

“Check on me?”

“Derek told me what happened.”

Billy kept his eyes locked on you as he explained the reasoning behind his unexpected visit, watching you closely.

Derek Becker was a friend of Billy’s. They had served in the military together, and he now worked for Billy’s private security company, Anvil. Derek also happened to be Annie’s boyfriend. A few months back, the two of them had tried to set you and Billy up. The four of you had gone out to a bar for drinks, but instead of hitting it off with Billy, you’d found him narcissistic, and you’d had no interest in pursuing anything romantic with him. Although, based on how he had interacted with you that night, it had seemed like he hadn’t been looking for anything romantic either, just a night of physical release.

Because Annie was your best friend and roommate, and Derek was often around, you’d seen Billy a few times since then, but it wasn’t like the two of you were friends. Needless to say, the fact that he’d made the trip to your office to check on your mental wellbeing was a bit of a shock.

“I’m fine.”

Billy arched one of his dark brows, and the ghost of a smile graced the edge of his lips.

“You almost sounded like you meant that.”

You opened your mouth to fire back a retort, to protest the underlying accusation in his words, but your defense got stuck in your throat. Seeing the look on your face, Billy’s faint amusement quickly disappeared, and he let out a deep exhale through his nose as he took a few steps closer towards your desk.

“I’m sorry, I’m not here to be a dick. But it’s alright if you’re not fine. Normal people wouldn’t be fine in this situation.”

“Normal people?”

Billy stared down at you for a moment silently before turning his head to look out the glass window of your office, rubbing his large palm over his mouth and perfectly trimmed beard. Looking down at you again, a flicker of amusement was back in his gaze, and there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

“I got a real good habit of sayin’ the wrong thing with you, huh?”

The self deprecation you detected in his smooth voice surprised you. You’d never heard him say anything that didn’t have an undertone of superiority or didn’t sound prideful. The guy standing in front of you wasn’t acting like the cocky rich playboy you were used to, and it made you wonder for a second if that’s what it really was; an act. A flicker of newfound curiosity had you wondering if Billy’s persona was as carefully crafted as your own.

“I don’t know if I’d call that a good habit.”

Billy let out a puff of air past his lips, giving a faint shake of his head in faux disapproval.

“Kickin’ a man while he’s down? That’s ruthless, sweetheart.”

“I think your ego can survive being knocked down a few pegs.”

Billy let out a deep chuckle at that, and his lips spread into a wolfish grin.

“Between you and me, it’s a bit more fragile than you think.”

You looked at him in faux shock, an overly dramatic gasp leaving your lips.

“What? You mean the ego you overcompensate for with designer clothes and fancy cars is delicate?”

Billy rolled his eyes and held his hand up in a gesture of surrender.

“Alright, alright. I get it. You’ve kept me humble enough for one day.”

To your surprise, and to Billy’s, you smiled. It was small, but it was real and genuine. Billy’s impromptu visit was the last thing you expected to provide a lighthearted distraction to the whirlwind of chaos that had been plaguing you since yesterday. 

As much as you hadn’t been able to stand him the night you met him, you couldn’t deny that the banter between you came effortlessly. Within the first five minutes of meeting him, you’d called him a ‘self obsessed dumbass’, and instead of getting offended, he’d smiled. It had quickly launched into a battle of wits, who could come up with the more clever retort faster, and it only took half an hour for Derek and Annie to become exhausted, realizing they’d made a huge mistake and miscalculated their match making skills. Billy seemed to enjoy antagonizing you, and you couldn’t resist putting a man like him in his place.

Everytime the two of you were around each other, it was exactly the same. Just an endless cycle of unrequited flirting and unrestrained snark.

“Humble is not exactly a word I’d use to describe you, Russo.”

Before Billy could respond, your office door suddenly opened and your boss walked in, glancing between you and Billy in a mixture of curiosity and barely concealed displeasure. He seemed to size him up before turning his attention towards you, not so subtly letting his eyes roam over your figure sitting behind your desk in a way that made your skin crawl, which wasn’t missed by Billy. John gestured his head in Billy’s direction.

“Another detective?”

There was clear annoyance in John’s voice that didn’t go unnoticed by you. It wasn’t lost on Billy either, and his posture seemed to go rigid.

“No. No, um…friend.”

Friend. Using that word to describe Billy tasted foreign on your tongue, but Billy didn’t appear to react to it. His dark brown eyes sized John up in a similar fashion as your boss had done to him, only Billy didn’t even attempt to hide his judgment and lack of impression.

“You know, most people knock before just walkin’ in.”

Both yours and John’s heads turned towards Billy. You were momentarily stunned by the way Billy had so casually called out John’s abrupt intrusion, and John looked visibly irritated, but he turned to face Billy with a forced smile on his mouth.

“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m John Altieri. I own this publishing house.”

Unlike John, Billy didn’t plaster a fake smile on his face for politeness, or speak in a faux friendly tone. Maintaining eye contact, he reached out to grasp John’s outstretched hand with more firmness than necessary as he shook it.

“Billy Russo. I own the building.”

That bombshell had you sitting up straighter in your chair and blinking a few times in surprise. Billy owned the building? Since when? That was definitely news to you.

The smile on John’s face faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered and nodded, trying to appear unphased by that revelation.

“Pleasure. If you don’t mind, I have some important things to discuss with Y/N/N. In private.”

Billy outwardly looked calm and collected, but you swore you saw a flicker of anger in his dark brown eyes. He didn’t seem to like hearing your boss refer to you with a nickname that was spoken with too saccharine of a tone for a superior to speak about their employee. Not that you liked it either. John seemed to always maintain a balance on that tightrope of not being inappropriate enough to report him to HR, but being too friendly for you to not feel uncomfortable. 

The bastard was clever, you’d give him that. He knew what he was doing. He was careful and cautious enough that it couldn’t be classified as textbook harassment, and could be argued as a simple misunderstanding. It made you want to stab him with your pen every time you caught him staring at your chest or your legs.

After letting a purposeful uncomfortable moment of silence pass, Billy looked down at John, that signature smirk you were used to seeing on his lips spreading slowly like a sun rising over the skyline.

“Of course.”

Turning his head to look at you again, Billy gave you a faint nod of his head and a wink.

“See ya later, sweetheart.”

Giving John one last final unimpressed and cold side eye, Billy pulled his leather gloves out of his overcoat pocket and turned to leave your office with a confident stride, leaving you and John alone in your office, and your mind swirling with a flurry of questions about Billy Russo.

»»———　　———««

By the time you walked through the front door of yours and Annie’s shared apartment, all you wanted was a hot shower and a few hours of sleep. You’d spent last night tossing and turning, haunted by the nightmare your life had once again turned into, and you felt the exhaustion in every cell of your body. Tossing your keys into the little green bowl on the side table by the front door, your footsteps were slow and sluggish as you headed down the hall on the left towards your bedroom.

Dropping your purse onto your bed, you sat down on the edge of it and slipped off your shoes, letting them drop on the hardwood floor with a soft thud. Letting out a deep exhale, you closed your eyes and hunched over, covering your face with both of your hands. The muffled noise of your ringtone began to sound from your purse. Dragging your palms down your face, you slipped one of your hands into your purse to dig for your phone blindly, absentmindedly hitting the answer button and bringing it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello Y/N.”

The voice that sounded on the other end of the line wasn’t one you recognized. Pulling your phone away from your ear, you looked down at the lit screen and read “unknown caller”. A furrow creased between your brows as you brought your phone back up to your ear, running one of your hands through the roots of your hair to push it back.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“I guess your new boyfriend didn’t make the cut.”

Immediately your hand froze, and your eyes widened. A mix of confusion, disbelief, and anger coursed through you, but the latter won out.

“Excuse me?”

Your tone quickly shifted from one of puzzlement to pure fury as you sat up straighter. A sinister chuckle from the deep mysterious voice on the other end of the line further incensed you.

“Did you really think I’d let anyone else have you, Cassia?”

The phone slipped out of your hand, dropping to the floor below with a harsh sound that didn’t even register in your ears. A pit of dread opened up in your stomach, and fear trickled down your spine as if someone had started to trace the frozen sharp tip of an icicle along the back of your neck. Panic spread through your nervous system like a lit match to a dehydrated forest, and the four walls of your bedroom began to close in around you, squeezing the last breath of oxygen from your lungs.

No one in New York knew that name. 

You’d left it back in California, along with your past. The past that had forced you to run to the other side of the country and bury every trace of who you were before. The past that you tried so hard to forget and cover up with a new identity and a new life. The past that was taunting you from the other end of the line.

The past that had come back, and murdered Adam.

He’d found you.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @ferns-fics @danzer8705 @to-thelakes @simonsgirl @sweetserendipity65 @zomtart @day-dreaming-goddess @caroblogsthings @thomasshelbyswife @snowkestrel @hallowedtangerine @ameliaswife @dreadfulxives18 @ebsmind @lllla717 @slumnit

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»— if you wanna get in the spooky slutty mood, listen here! -> the manhattan murders soundtrack

[ask-dandys-world-crew]

Credit : dividers 🌈

🧁-Welcome to Dandys world!-🖍️

-Welcome to dandys world! Have you ever wanted to ask your favourite toons questions? Well now you can with our brand new question box system! Leave a question in for your favourite toon and they’ll answer it as soon as they can! Some basic rules are- be kind, be 13 and under friendly! And enjoy the blog!-

*-this is a shared blog! If you want to join dm me at @squ3akerp33ker -*

The toons!-┊͙ ˘͈ᵕ˘͈

🥇-The mains

Dandy🌈- @squ3akerp33ker

Astro 🌙 - @coffeeistired

Vee 📺 - @sleepymushrxxm / @gameshowvee

Shelly🦖- @ratinasoupkitchen

Sprout 🍓- @dazzlingqwq

Pebble 🪨 - @ratinasoupkitchen

🖍️-Toons

Glisten🪞- @squ3akerp33ker

Rodger 🔍- @genderlessjacky

Connie 👻- @m3l0dy0

Goob🖍️- @squ3akerp33ker

Scraps✂️- @m3l0dy0

Cosmo🧁- @saffronstoats

Toodles 🎱- @solanfaynai

Shrimpo🍤- @solanfaynai

Teagen ☕️- @solanfaynai

Poppy🫧- @universalloveforkirby

Boxten 🗳️- @dazzlingqwq

Flutter 🦋- free

Brightney 💡- @saffronstoats

Finn 🐟- @universalloveforkirby

Gigi‼️- @universalloveforkirby

Looey 🎈- @r4nd0m-1di0tt

Blot✒️- @r4nd0m-1di0tt

Razzle + Dazzle 🎭- @genderlessjacky

Tisha 🧹- @m3l0dy0

Yatta 🪅 - @r4nd0m-1di0tt

🎄–Christmas toons

Bobette 🎄- Free

Rudie 🦌- @coffeeistired

Ginger 🍪- Free

Coal🪨- free

🐣-Easter Toons

Bassie🧺- @cheeky-rainbows

Cocca 🍫- free

Flyte 🦋- free

Eggson 🥚- @goodcreeper90

(More info about the shared blog below!)

Shared blog rules!

-No changing the username

-no more than THREE characters for each mod

-if you wish to ship toons ask the mod of the other toon if they are okay with it

-no griefing other mods

-keep it pg please

-no posting as ocs

How the blog will work!

This blog will be set up using the “co-owner” method! If you are interested in joining the blog dm me and I’ll invite you to join the blog.

[alan-mezzanotte]

Posting my thl OC here to show some characteristics

Meet Piko Akiba!!

✩*⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠*✩

| Name = Piko Akiba

| Aliases = Dee-Dee, Dazzling Blossom(magical girl alias), Dark Shadow Detective(scrapped alias idea)

| Bday = Jun 3

| Gender = Femme

| Eye color = Brown

| Height = 159½cm

| Species = Human(bioligically human, trust me)

| Likes = Magical Girls and Puppies

| Dislikes = People opposite to her aesthetic(only Kagemasa)

| Japanese VA = Maria Naganawa(Komugi Inukai/Cure Wonderful)

| English VA = Kira Buckland(Hiyoko Saionji)

| Spanish VA = Leisha Medina(Starfire)

✩*⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠*✩

Info

Piko is the main protagonist of the story, being confirmed as the youngest student ever due to her range below the age of 17. In her childhood, she used to be a magical girl(until turning 10) thanks to a fairy she found in her garden called 'Cottoneo', where she had to fight the monsters until midnight. She is known as Dazzling Blossom.

After turning 13, Piko meets Cottoneo again when she's trapped in the institute. If we talk about her treats, she's playful, charismatic, confident, joyful, capable and silly, but can also be gloomy and arrogant-looking when things don't go well.

Due to blood problems, Piko can't use hemoanima. Instead, she goes back using her old magical transformation device so she can transform safely(everyone cares about her health)

Fun Facts:

Piko's hobbies are drawing and reading Mahou Shoujo mangas

Shes having beef with Kagemasa

Piko's everyday alarm is Cottoneo earraping the whole room

Piko is the only human biologically known by the institute system, since theres a large percentage of Neo-Burnaboids(artificial futurans-like race) and some androids in the place(Kitty is the only angel)

Just like Wakako(my U1 thl OC), Piko also sneaks in the kitchen at night to take some foodies before sleeping, except she does it for a reason

[drinkyourvillainjuice]

Secretary's DYVJ OC

Or, a study in character design by the secretary.

Hello my audience of fools and creatives, this is how me, the Secretary, designed past characters for Drink Your Villain Juice. I've designed a couple of the beloved gamers such as random one-off heroes (hello, Portrait, my beloved), and the one and only Wil (which some of you really love).

The background:

We have a free spot on the SCUM team, which is essentially a super-violent villain team doing very atrocious team for what appears to be no reason in particular. While this isn't entirely true since tragically people have motivations to hurt others (even if it's just fun!), SCUM attracts, well, scummy people and also people who may or may have no other choice than to choose these sorts of groups. They may be groomed into a role, forced to rely on violence to keep certain people at bay, or might just have been repeatedly failed by the systems than they were supposed to be protected by.

With this free spot in mind and the other characters already having fixed roles, we need a character to fit a specific niche.

The niche is secret for the audience, but essentially, we need a female character that counterbalances the other female characters within the team + illustrates a typical trope of villain characters. As you might have noticed, many of the characters within the story kinda play on tropes: Surpass is super(wo)man but a jerk, MC is a trope on the chosen hero being a villain, etc.

I'm pretty interested in making a character who might unironically have some sort of sex appeal going on. So let's brainstorm:

The base concept:

I think female characters within superhero fiction often have to rely on sex appeal to keep an audience engaged. It's rare to find a character like this within TV or comics or books that has any sort of depth to them - but the thing is, this is a one-off villain so how do I give the audiences the tool to discern the character's backstory. I have a couple of ideas:

Lack of armor and mask: This is a reckless character. She lacks foresight in protecting herself. Maybe she doesn't view herself in a good light, and maybe she doesn't even care if her face is shown to the world. Maybe she lost too much to care about her body being hurt and her face being plastered on every wall - or maybe that's exactly what she wants to punish herself.

Collected jewelry from her victims: A means to intimidate, really. If this is someone who has lost it all, gaining these small possessions mean that she holds controls over somebody. It might be tied to her power - or not! - but it is obviously tied to her psyche. Maybe she was riding the high life and it came crashing down, or maybe it's a physical manifestation of all the lives she had taken in the past as a physical mark on her body.

Trashy expensive clothes: To really solidifies the concept of someone who has lost it, maybe anchor the physical manifestation of the character by trashed wealth. Clothes that are too expensive or reserved for special occasions are being torn apart. They are mish-mashed because the character is holding down to past wealth despite the lack of coordination. What if she is also taking the clothes of the female victims? Could she be green with envy that someone is living the life she wanted to life or had lived?

With these three characters point, let's move to appearance.

The physical manifestation of her psyche, and what it means to be her:

She is an attractive woman down on her luck. She fits the specific standard of beauty within the region. She wears clothes and jewelry that are expensive, but obviously aren't hers by the way they don't fit. Her clothes are poorly mended clothes, showing that she tries to put forward a tidy image, with blood that doesn't seem to wash out, implying not everybody gave their clothes willingly. She also has too many necklaces, bracelets, and rings, especially wedding rings. If someone shone a light on her, people would be blinded by the dazzling. She wears too much makeup, caking her features, and it hides her real emotions from the cracks and drip of sweat that she is obviously exerting. Her lack of armour reveals a body that isn't honed for combat or physical exertion, implying that whatever makes her able to keep going is more psychological than physical. She may be a tad overweight, and "letting herself go" would most likely be what she would say about herself, but someone with a keen eye might be able to grasp that she is comfortable in this new life. She carries herself with a lack of confidence that makes herself appear as arrogant. She doesn't flinch, she doesn't get scared, she doesn't run - but she is clearly despondent at whatever her fate might be.

It would take a miracle to fix her, but by that point, she might have killed too much to go back.

Tying it all together with a knot:

I opted for the name Spring Breaker. Spring Break is a time for young people to go out somewhere sunny and get tanned - or at least, that's what I've learned from Jersey Shore. I think this character might be a past college student, having ignited during her spring break, and losing what was making herself. Her power should also be based on water. It would make sense with the theme of womanhood being a failed state for her since water is often seen as a feminine and passive element. But she isn't passive, she only has an image of it to probably protect what she holds on to - which is her appearance. Maybe, her power could involve drowning people which a lot of sirens, which one could say that she is, are known to do to take the riches of sailors.

So what about a young woman who was on spring break and was involved in someone's death by drowning. She might have pushed them into the ocean, or maybe have forced them underwater, due to her envy for their wealth. She ignited with the ability to constantly relive that trauma that ruined her life. In a way to punish herself, she names herself Spring Breaker, lacks a real civilian or mask identity, and puts herself in situations where she finds herself forced to drown people. She also wants to go back to before, when she was able to buy expensive clothes and have the jewelry she liked, but every time she grabs someone's chain and puts it on her neck, she finds herself back in the pool causing her downfall.

Her place as a villain:

Spring Breaker is an infiltrator in SCUM. She is what one could be best described as an assassin, taking out targets in the surroundings of the fight, and slowing going toward the fight. She takes out people from the back and makes her way forward. Her power is simple: she coats anything she touches in a thin film of water, dry drowning those with the misfortune to be grappled by her. Her ignition gave her the compulsion to steal valuables - or maybe she had it all along but now has a very good excuse - which enables her ability to rob people. Her costume changes based on what happened last time. She might wear a two-piece swimsuit with a feathered boa one time, or a see-through babydoll dress with lace underwear, or maybe a full-length gown with three bullet holes she couldn't mend around the abdomen. In every case, she leaves behind her drowned and drowning bodies, stripped of valuables.

She is obviously a bad person, but it's hard not to pity her by the way she sulks around. Some may say she should be put down for her own good, but others think she should taken out for the bodies left in her wake. Spring Breaker thinks it's a bit of column A and column B.

Final notes:

i think i can fix her

[sillymoonboi]

RWAGS OC-

MEET DAWN DEER

Her story: She was first found when Gregory went down under the pizzaplex idk what its called tunnels with boxes and he came across one called called Mrs dawn deer with a big sign on it “Scrapped daycare atendant “ and he saw the box was a bit broken and then Dawn woke up and broke a hole through the box , it detected Gregory as a intruder because of her system not being fixed and started chasing Gregory until Roxxane finally saw him, They stopped Her in time and took her to parts and service and fixed her up after a couple of weeks roxanne and Dawn became friends!

The reason dawn was scrapped its because a another deer animatronic was supposed to be build aka the dazzle dj Prototype that also got scrapped later on-

[thcnderstruck]

Designs adopted from COZYADOPTS / 0ctoberpie

Psssst psst pspst come get your ocs!

AURORA (mainly reserved for a verse w @allnostalgic ) - A female Night Light who exists in modern day and is a tough cookie. She exists for zombie apocalypse aus. She's a wanderer and scrappy to boot- immune to infections that normally would make humans zombies / infected; so she's covered in bites and battle scars. Her unique green colors make it easy for her to hide among overgrowth covered ruins.

MACAW - A male Deadly Nadder who is a vein as Nadder's get. His beautiful spiral patterns on his wings make him a popular show dragon; which is his main purpose in life. To preen and be seen rather than fly. He's a pampered boy, and can mimic speech in short bursts like a parrot.

COSMOS - A male Light Fury who lives in the deepest cave systems of the Hidden World, resulting in unique coloration. They only come to the surface during dazzle displays of the aurora borealis; it is rumored this event is where they find their life partner. Cosmos is bolder then most Light Furies, but still is an elusive beast.

DAWN - A female Night Light and older sister of Dusker. Her nickname is "Freckles" due to the white scales dotting her face and head. She is a descendant of Ruffrunner and shares his sleepy inhibitions, but is incredibly protective of her younger brother.

DUSKER - A male Night Light and younger brother to Dawn. Another direct descendant of Ruffrunner, he's an avid silly goose who loves to prank humans with his cloaking abilities just to watch them panic.

PRISM - A male Night Light and a direct descendant of Pouncer. His unique rainbow coloration is a result of his Light Fury genetics, and he uses his bold markings to reflect light and disorient prey and enemies. Good luck trying to find him though. He's not only an escape artist, but a master at ambush camouflage as well.

[dovithedarklord]

Age of Monsters - Chapter Nineteen

Pairing: OFC x Simon "Ghost" Riley, OFC x König

Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, POV First Person, Not Beta Read, Medical Inaccuracies, Military Inaccuracies, AFAB OC

Trigger Warning: The story will contain violance, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

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Author's Note

Leona goes to a party and receives love from someone that she is not prepared for.

Hello!

I'm sorry that it took so long to post the new chapter, but unfortunately, my personal life was a total mess (work, I was sick, I was struck by electricity - but that's good because now I can at least describe what it feels like from experience, if necessary:D), but I'm here again! :D

For today's chapter, I don't have many Trigger Warnings: Violence, some blood.

Have fun! :D

I.M.L. – Infected Mammalian Lifeorm I.H.L. – Infected Humanoid Lifeorm

if you're interested you can find the story on AO3: Chapter Nineteen

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The chirping of birds that filter through the cracks of the broken windows is almost idyllic, as I slowly make my way to the place of our next meeting, and the dazzling weather outside could almost distract me from the throbbing of unsatisfied desire in my muscles. After I left my favorite Hunter alone to process the remnants of pleasure caused by my skillful little hands, and with nimble steps, I marched back to the protective solitude of my room, then the heat blooming between my legs finally had time to reach my consciousness. Because as long as my nervous system was occupied with the fascinating suffering of Riley's body, the onslaught of the flames burning in my veins seemed quite bearable, but as soon as the heady scent of the man cleared from my nose and my brain was finally able to process the events, then the effect of my little action avenged itself with such force, that for the rest of the night, I trembled quite merrily from the agony. And although I could have relieved my torment myself, and without a doubt I would have had many enticing examples to choose from among the images that surged into my memories, but thanks to the masochism that had moved into my head, I managed to keep my hand from traveling to my panties, all night thinking of Riley's dark eyes swimming in lust and the tantalizing taste of him on my tongue. Because I know that later, when he finally catches me, his revenge will be even sweeter. And maybe the fact that no one has ever managed to elicit feelings like this from me should scare me, but it bothers me less and less what new things the Hunter helps me discover about myself.

And as my feet finally lead me to the dining room, my eyes immediately find the small group of people gathered around the table, who, although they are deeply preoccupied with studying the map spread out there, raise their heads almost as soon as I cross the threshold of the neat room. The speed with which my eyes connect with the masked Hunter's is quite amusing, and I can't resist the cheeky smile that crosses my face as I discover the almost invisible movement with which he clenches his jaw for a fleeting moment. And this single action is enough for me to know that I’m not the only one who feels the smoldering longing under my skin, but that the experience that I so generously bestowed upon him flashes in his head with perfect sharpness as well. Although it's obvious that professionalism has a priority over the emotions that are raging inside him at the moment, but no matter how experienced he is, I pay attention to his smallest movements with the sharp senses of a hawk about to strike. And it doesn't take more than a wandering glance and I can see how tension passes over the arch of his broad shoulders. Would you look at that…

And from the man's reaction, hundreds of devilish thoughts form in my mind once again, and despite the warning voice in my head, I give in to their temptation, and lifting my chin high, planting a playful sway in my hips, I stroll closer to the small bunch, enjoying how Riley's eyes narrow slowly but surely with danger from my obvious, naughty little ploy. And it seems that he is not the only one who becomes aware of my good mood, because my two fanboys also notice how suspicious and satanic the curve of the widening grin on my face is, with which I stride next to them.

"Someone is in a very good mood!" Garrick comments, and the sincere interest with which he tries to decipher why life has returned to me with such vigor after yesterday's exhausting exercise is quite sweet. And I'd be lying if I said that I didn't enjoy the concentrated confusion, caused by the little scene unfolding in front of them, emanating from my two friends. But unfortunately for them, this dirty little secret is only Riley's and my business for now.

"She's almost glowin'..." MacTavish notes, sharing his apt observations as well, and it would be impossible not to hear the suspicion in his voice, the weight of which accompanies me as I walk around the table with slow but springy steps. And it would be futile to deny that my pretty little body is almost bursting with a healthy glow caused by satiety and the excited buzz of my energy, but it's also a fact that my dessert was just as effective in getting me in this crazy good mood. And the dirty thought enters my mind, that maybe I should use the services of Riley's mouth-watering body more often as part of my beauty routine, if I can achieve such a spectacular result with it.

"My late-night snack helped a lot." I hint innocently, and the meaningful look with which my eyes glide over the masked man as I take my place next to him is completely intentional. And my tiny little remark just deepens the lines of wariness that appear on the faces of MacTavish and Garrick with clear outlines, and as their eyebrows rise almost in unison to meet in a worried grimace in the middle of their forehead, I bite the inside of my cheek to stifle the smug laughter that wants to bubble up in my throat.

And I have enough evilness in me to add to the confusion created by my words, and I know that my favorite Hunter doesn't miss that tiny touch, lasting only for a tenth of a second, with which my fingers run along his arm as I lazily lean against the table to take a closer look at the map, which is now interwoven with not only the captain's but also Riley's diligent little notes. Although the drawing of the winding streets of the colony, filled with keen observations, has nothing new to offer me, but I can feel the chocolate brown eyes almost burning a hole in the sensitive skin of my face, they fixate on me with such heat, and I'm mad enough to withhold my attention from him, even after I have so vilely reminded him of the power he has placed in my hands under the cover of night. Although it would seem like nothing more than just an overheated affair to anyone else, where he alleviated my misery and I, in return, helped his suffering, but much more took place between the walls shrouded in lust. Because this terrifying man, who could kill even the most bloodthirsty mutants with a single move, and who could grind every pitiful bone of mine to dust with his bare hands, gave me control over his body and his passion to play with as I pleased. And this rekindles the drunken joy in my head, because I strongly doubt that many people have had this privilege before. And although I know that his retribution will be a thousand times more painful, I would be lying if I said that I'm not filled with joy knowing that now only the presence of our audience prevents him from taking back the reins from me, which he actually gave me voluntarily himself.

But despite how keenly my senses are sharpened for every small and invisible move of Riley, even this concentration is penetrated by the probing stare, under the intrusion of which foreboding settles in my stomach like the first unpleasant spasm of an incipient illness. And I'm not so stupid as not to pay attention to this, because the experience of our exchange is still too fresh in my head to allow myself to ignore it. With careful slowness, I divert my gaze from the handwriting on the map, and the speed with which I meet the blue eyes watching me tells me that he has been studying the little performance caused by my good mood since I set foot in the dining room. And I don't like the cold interest that shines in those piercing, icy irises at all, because I have to maintain the eye contact by force, despite the fear, that the blood in my veins could turn into poison in the wake of his watchful attention. Because even though, like the night before, König leans his broad back against the wall with perfect calmness and disturbingly collected indifference, as if he would be doing a favor by gracing us with his presence on this briefing, I see the dark outlines of the thoughts in his head, reflected in the bottomless depths of his eyes. As if he were examining excitedly moving ants under a magnifying glass, wondering when the time would come to let the sun's hot rays break through the lens. And this only strengthens the scratching of the questions appearing in my head, which all demand an answer to the doubt as to when their help will turn into something less friendly. Because it would be quite foolish to think that that moment won't come.

And all I have to do is catch the tiny little movement in my periphery with which Riley takes a step forward, and I know that I'm not the only one who noticed the rather interesting behavior of the mercenary hiding by the wall. Maybe it's luck, maybe it's the benevolent hand of fate, but Price and Nik appear in time at the gaping mouth of the dining room to interrupt the situation reminiscent of a barrel of gunpowder, for the ignition of which sooner or later, but the spark will arrive, we just have to give it time. And I'm just wildly hoping it happens after we finally don't have to be stressed about whether that fucking serum is going to help unleash another apocalypse or not.

And although the wind of the forming storm is dying down, instead of relief washing away the growing gloom dominating our little team, the furrows on the captain's forehead reassure us that we don't have to worry that we will finally have a bit of easiness in our mission. And at this point, maybe I shouldn't be surprised that fate, while we float in the middle of the sea of shit, will push us down again under the putrid waves, because it would be unusually nice if we finally got some damn good news.

"Tell me you have good news, Nik!" Garrick calls out to our pilot, and although the hope, that the buddies of our Russian friend hiding in the colony might help us track down the Rat, is mixed in his voice, but from the faint lines of doubt appearing on the Hunter’s face, it is clear that thanks to the grim expression of our leader, he also sees pitifully little chance of this happening.

"I have news." Nik gives the not-so-eloquent answer, and from the way he curves his mouth into a rather sour smile, as he and the bearded Hunter walk closer to our small gathering lined up around the table, the suspicion forms in me, that even his connections of dubious origin were not able to bring us close enough to our criminal. And this can be a detour that we cannot afford in our race with time, which we already started from a disadvantage, unless we want to party with dozens of degenerate hybrid monsters in the not-so-distant future. And I suspect that this is the awareness that helps to dispel the last sparks of the previous conflict from everyone in a instant, because the tension fills the worn walls of the spacious hall with an almost unexpected suddenness.

"That doesn't sound very promising." Garrick shares his thoughts, which aren’t the least rosy, and although he manages to put the foreboding into words that the shadow of which settles between his arched eyebrows, but from the small movement with which his dark eyes search for the captain with uncertainity, I can tell exactly how strongly this bad feeling spreads its roots in his mind with each minute, because it begins to crawl at the hidden corners of my skull with fantastic enthusiasm for me as well. 

"According to Nik's contact, there is a club in sector F, which the Rat uses as his headquarters. He deals with business there almost every day." Price shares the first important piece of information with us, pointing to the small square on the spread-out map of the colony with his gloved hand, which presumably marks our thug's favorite cave. And although, based on the content of his announcement, there would be reason for us to be at least a little bit happy, but from the presence of the cheerless edge resonating in his deep voice, I soon realize that there must be some very sinister twist in this promising news. And my infallible intuitions tell me very kindly, that we are about to l have another chance to get involved in some unneeded excitement again. Great.

"That's good news, isn't it?" MacTavish asks in confusion, searching the tangled network of streets stretching between the buildings resting on the ragged map, no doubt already thinking about which road would be the most suitable to lead him to the Rat unnoticed, so that he could finally get his hands, itching from the repressed aggression of the last few weeks, on the bastard's neck. And although I'm sure they are buzzing with the motivation to finally make a nice bow from the asshole's guts in the most creative ways possible, but as I notice the dark clouds passing over Nik's eyes, I begin to suspect that he will soon blurt out the critical detail that will ruin my Scottish friend's bloodthirsty ideas. 

"His people are around every corner. It's impossible to get close to him without him knowing about it." Our pilot shakes his head resignedly, presenting the same problem that has kept us on our asses so far and prevented my brutal friends from digging their sharp little teeth into their victim. And according to this, even though we have become richer with a location, the situation hasn't changed, and the sharp ears and watchful eyes of our target are still waiting in every nook and cranny for someone to turn up to hunt him down. Because I'm pretty sure he is smart enough to know that his little transaction won't go unnoticed for long if clever enough bloodhounds pick up the scent at the end of the blood-soaked trails. And he is also aware of what valuable trinket he has laid his hands on, and that sooner or later the original owner will be looking for where his destructive toy has disappeared.

"We can be quiet." Garrick declares firmly, and there is no doubt that his statement is true, because if it only depended on their imperceptibility, then our target, with the help of their chosen torture methods, would have spilled where to find the serum long ago. But unfortunately, even their remarkable abilities cannot solve this situation any faster. "Especially Ghost." He adds, when his gaze settles on the masked Hunter, who stands motionlessly in silence next to me and just nods in agreement with his teammate's very apt remark. And although I have already experienced countless times what Riley is capable of, when the goal is conceived in his mind filled with merciless ideas, now we are not going to get anywhere with sheer force. Because we need the Rat alive, and this is a complication that severely limits the repertoire of their bloodthirsty tactics.

"Not quiet enough." Nik objects, nipping Garrick's positivity in the bud, which makes me almost feel sorry for the Hunter, as I see how annoyed he purses his pursed lips. But no matter his irritation, the Russian is right, if we screw up now, we are never going to be able to find the seller or the product again. "There is an extensive underground tunnel system under Colony No. 2, he uses that, and he can escape at any time. He got his name from this." The man explains, thereby revealing a difficulty that only adds another shovelful of potential complications to the pile of rotting misery and misfortune, which slowly closes us in its hot embrace. Because what are the chances that such tricky little pathways are hidden in the very colony where we are about to play a cat-and-mouse game with a seasoned criminal who probably knows these hidden passages like the back of his fucking hand. Fabulous. "He can smell the Hunters from afar." He adds this non-negligible addition to the end, confirming the hunch that has been buzzing in the winding furrows of my brain until now.

And as unfortunate as this development is for us, it's not even a bit surprising that an outlaw with dangerous business dealings has developed a sixth sense to know when his natural predator is targeting him. It's true that the main task of the Hunters is the methodical slaughter of mutants, but everyone is aware that enough criminals drift under their brutal little hands to know how unlucky it is to spot one of the colonies' faithful dogs. And although perhaps a lower-class Hunter would still be able to blend into the herd of unsuspecting civilians, as I run my eyes over my small team, it becomes painfully obvious that neither their imposing physical attributes nor their threatening aura make them ideal for getting close enough to catch the Rat before he takes off in one of his mouseholes. Because it's also quite evident that such an important gangster surrounds himself with a dozen lapdogs, and if a speck of dust falls suspiciously on the ground, he will hightail it out of there.

"But we need the information." Horangi finally joins the conversation, reminding us of the urgent fact that, even without his intervention, enthusiastically turns the atmosphere around us more pregnant by the minute. "I still think we should smoke him out." He says easily, leaning against the wall in the shadow of his overgrown companion as if he still wouldn't understand what the problem is with his otherwise undoubtedly bomb-proof approach. At other times, I might even present him with a sarcastic comment, to enjoy his reaction with my harsh little soul, I might even analyze what kind of weakness he reveals with it, but now my brain capacity is far too preoccupied with the problem, which is enriched with more and more details the deeper we dive into its exploration.

"It wouldn't do any good. He doesn't have that thing with him, that's for sure." Nik continues, adding to the previous obstacles, and he doesn't need to spell out why it's a complication for us that the fucker is not roaming the streets with our little potentially-world-ending chemical in his pocket. Because as the slurred mumble of a colorful curse leaves MacTavish's mouth, I know everyone suddenly realizes that we are now trying to reach into an anthill in which we have no chance of finding the queen by chance.

"So we don't know where the serum is." Riley summarizes, putting into words the very apparent difficulty that makes the whole situation just tad bit disastrous. Because, up until now, we have entered the new chapter of our complicated adventure with the assumption that the Rat, in fear of his product suddenly vanishing into thin air, will rather keep it close to himself for his peace of mind. And while it wouldn't have been far-fetched to think that he wouldn't even trust his own mother enough to let her guard such a valuable thing, but in light of the fact that there is a whole network of tunnels that he knows more intimately than his own dick, its more likely that he will hide there the goods that he acquired during such great efforts.

"No." Price confirms our fears, and this one word rolls off his tongue so grimly that it quickly becomes clear how happy he is about this turn of events. And I only need to observe how the little muscle on his jaw jumps to know, that it's only the self-control he has practiced over the years that prevents him from shredding the equipment into confetti to show off the frustration raging inside him right now. "He's a sly bastard, he knows it's not worth taking any risks until the deal is sealed." He explains, running his palm along his beard with a weary movement, giving way to an irritated sigh rising in his throat, in which the power of rage flowing from his pores is concentrated.

"Fuck." MacTavish pushes himself away from the table furiously, and drags his hands along the line of dark hair running on his head with such angry momentum that it seems for a minute as if he wants to tear out the short locks tangled between his fingers. "We're runnin' out of time." He names the most pressing problem of the whole case, and his tone is mixed with the restrained rage that tells me just how much the obstacles popping up in front of us bring him dangerously close to losing the last fragile crumbs of his patience.

And suddenly, a heavy silence sweeps through the room, settling into the cracks that spread like old, gangrenous wounds on the worn walls, and in this terrible quietness, nothing but the taunting of the cheerful chirping of birds that filters in from outside echoes. For it seems that karma, on the welcoming lap of nature wrapped in spring, is having fun with the corner it forces us into with each passing day, because there is no explanation as to why fate throws us more and more hurdles that we have to climb over with sweat and blood. But it must be said that this move is quite brilliant, because now that the solution to this absurd mess, full of mutants and death, is finally within our reach, we are forced to be at a standstill like a bunch of helpless idiots.

We might be able to use some clever trick to get close to our asshat, and I suspect it would take Riley approximately two minutes to pull this feat off if it was enough to gut the bastard. But we need him alive, or the chance of finding out where the serum is will be obliterated with his spilled brain marrow. And although it would be better for everyone if that wretched chemical rotted in the endless maze of tunnels, I have the sneaking feeling that such an interesting thing wouldn't stay buried forever. Because if the master rat were to die, there would definitely be some sharp-eyed minion who could find a way to satisfy the market demand, since in such organizations there is always someone who knows just enough to take advantage of the opportunity when it's presented on a silver platter along with the severed head of their boss. So the Rat must be alive, and most of all unsuspecting, because if Nik's information is only half-credible, then in the event of a raid, he will cut and run before my friends have a chance to work on him. And without the Rat, we will never find the our prize in that labyrinth.

But this one observation is enough to finally free me from my perplexity, and like a bolt of lightning, my brain is enlightened in a flash, and I suddenly feel incredibly stupid for ignoring the obvious answer that was right in front of my nose all this time. After all, there is someone in our little team who spent half her life perfecting that vile invisibility, with which she happily hid from the watchful eyes of the authorities, like a pretty, cunning little snake. Oh, Leona… you forgot about your wonderful past pretty quickly, didn't you?

"What if he leads us to the serum?" I present the introduction of my sly idea, effectively breaking the tense atmosphere. And this one question is enough for all eyes to be fixed on me in an instant, and I don't need to say a word for the captain to realize with his honed senses, from the first glint of malice that moves into my eyes, that something very interesting was taking shape in my little head. Because his eyes narrow suspiciously, like a tired parent who already knows that whatever leaves the mouth of his child, nothing good will come out of it for him.

"What do you mean?" Price inquires, and a layman might believe that only the caution of paternal worry sits in his tone, but I already know the man better than that, and I'm aware that the hoarseness that paints his voice with curiosity comes more from an incipient disagreement than from concern. However, my little plan will be the only thing that can pull us out of that screwed-up hole, from which we wouldn't be able to get out even with tooth and nails any other way.

"I'll solve your problems." I announce easely, waving towards the map with such an elegant gesture, as if I wasn't offering them my services that I had refined over the years. Although it takes a fleeting second for the spark to light up in each of their brains, and they understand what I'm trying to convey, even through the noise of the devilish thoughts raging in my head, I see how forcefully surprise mixed with outrage takes over the facial expressions of my little team. And I can pinpoint the exact moment when they realize what I'm offering, because the lines of genuine astonishment stretch through Garrick's face, turning his handsome features into something quite comical.

"Out of the question." Riley snaps almost without hesitation, and his objection is so unexpected that I'm forced to reward it with a bewildered look. And if the definite depth of his voice wasn't interesting enough, then the fiery light flashing in the dark irises ruffles my enthusiasm for my brilliant plan. Because it's rather difficult for me to understand why the pent-up anger moves into his muscles when we both know that we are floundering in the middle of a party for which this will be the quickest and surest solution. And the nasty little voice in my head whispers its nonsensical message in my ear, that this isn't the first time I see the faint lines of disapproval appearing on the skin coated in black paint, and maybe in his own way he is telling me that he is afraid of my little body being wrecked by someone else. But this sudden thought reminds me that this is exactly the reaction I need to do this tricky little venture. Because I'm willing to risk life and limb, so that I can feel how the hot displeasure emanating from his gaze burns my face for many years to come.

"Ghost is right. You're tryin’ to walk into the wolf den alone, lassie." The Scottish Hunter shares his doubts as well, and I have the opportunity to admire the firm lines of opposition on his face, because they arrange his features into a dark expression with such enthusiasm that it is quite sweet. And although the worry flashing in his bright eyes warms up my cruel little heart, his behavior gives me just one more reason to know that I came up with the right concept.

"I appreciate your concern, but you forget how I got into the team." I note this detail, effectively reviving the unfortunate slip-up committed not so long ago that ended my secret little hiding career. And although today I'm mostly grateful to fate for helping me move into the new phase of my life with such a merciless slap in the face, luckily it didn't turn me into a saint, so my experiences live on in me very vividly. And in light of that, ensnaring a damned criminal doesn't seem like a difficult task in the least, because over the years I've managed to make stupid bastards like him lose their minds and walk unsuspectingly into my waiting hands. And since muscle and sheer violence won't help us out in this case, it's time to use my feminine skills, because, with the honey of my charming little body, it will be much easier to lure in this disgusting fly.

"This is going to be real now. You won't have a weapon and you won't be able to call for help." Price warns, placing his large palms on the table, and as he leans forward, his shoulders tense and his gaze fills with something quite hard, which makes me understand that, although his not over the moon in the least, he is forced to agree to my reckless proposal, because, at the moment, out of the countless difficult roads, this is the least impossible.

"I don't need anything but my hands, do I?" I lift one of my pretty little hands, allowing only a fleeting moment for the energy pooling in her fingertips to heat up excitedly at the promise of a delicious prey. And they should also know that no matter how harmless I may seem, it's precisely this sneaky and mean ability that makes me such an effective predator. And we don't need more than that right now. "I'll go in, trick him, and wire him up. And he leads us to the serum."

"And what do you do with these?" Garrick names the only obvious problem, pointing his hand towards my eyes and sweet little canines, eliciting a nod of agreement from the Hunter with the mohawk, who merely raises one of his dark eyebrows with his hands laced into his tactical vest, curiously waiting to see what kind of answer I will give to this small unpleasant detail. "He'll find out that you're Extreme." The man adds to his doubts, curling the corner of his mouth down with sincere doubt, as if he had really shared a reason that could make my diabolical idea fail. And his naivety is quite amusing, because neither my unusual pupils nor my small teeth will be a problem, I just have to choose the right approach. And I'm pretty good at that.

"Don't worry." I utter lightly, and I see the worry on the faces of my kind friends when I spread my lips in a grin similar to that of a demon from hell. "I'll make sure he's not going to be able to focus on that."

⃰

Although it's already the end of spring, the night breeze that travels through the walls of worn buildings caresses my bare arms with chilly fingers, but I don't care that goosebumps prickle on every square centimeter of my skin following its attack. Because it just helps my attire for tonight to become even more efficient, and I can be almost certain that my nipples peeking under the thin material of my rather risque dress will beneficially distract attention from the dubious intentions with what I stroll into a nightclub in the middle of the street, loud with blaring music.

After our small discussion, I almost immediately stepped into the field of action, and thanks to Nik's rather extensive connections, he smuggled me through the walls of the colony so unnoticed that it once again raised the question of how did the man acquire such important friends. But considering how we managed to slip through the tight check with the help of some very questionable looking guys, I decided that some answers were better off buried, so I accepted that he got me close enough to the finish line to figure out the rest of my own like a smart girl I am. And it wasn't difficult for my nasty hands to find someone in the hustle and bustle of the nightlife who seemed unsuspecting and pretty enough to be worth stealing her fun outfit of the night. Perhaps, if I had been a little bit more compassionate, I wouldn't have had the heart to knock out an innocent civilian and strip her of the clothes, bought with great effort and presumably with a lot of credit, but necessity is a much greater force than niceness, so I only had exactly enough kindness to haphazardly hang my own clothes on her and drag her behind a container, so that she can have her well-deserved beauty sleep, with which I so generously gifted her.

Although even before the departure, they were full of worry and doubt as they set me up for my trip, now as I walk along the street bathed in flickering neon lights, I only hope that my friends, who have retreated into the shadows, will also see what kind of disguise I have put together for this exciting little occasion, because their little souls will immediately be freed from the pressure of the fear of my downfall. And the knowledge that my favorite Hunter is probably following my little action from the top of one of the buildings with prying eyes, only makes the swaying of my hips even more seductive, because, in my mind's eye, I see his jaw clenching under the mask as the idea slowly forms in his head of how he will teach me a lesson because of my obvious misbehavior. Because although I will do everything only for the sake of the success of the mission, the fact is that there is also a slight, malicious intent in me, with which I would like to finally push the man to the edge of the abyss of his patience. And even though I don't have the opportunity to ask him how he likes my dress that fits me like a second skin, I have a feeling that my audacity won’t go unanswered. Until then, however, he will be forced to watch as a spectator, because I was quite serious when I told them so innocently that I would find a way to make sure that no one would be able to pay attention to the little nothings that betray my kind. But it wouldn't be a problem even if that happened, because perhaps I would seem an even tastier snack to that dipshit thug.

There is no need for me to recall the road leading to the Rat's hideout, because the club stands out from the gray concrete blocks with such ostentatious splendor, as if it wanted to lead uninvited guests to itself with a deliberate intention. Maintaining the signs in all the colors of the rainbow must be a small fortune, and even if this wouldn't give it away, then the row of cars parked next to the sidewalk, perhaps salvaged before the outbreak of the virus, can be enough of a warning sign that it's not the simple everyday-people who have strayed here to let out the tired steam. Such a carefully guarded machine would supply half a colony with food stamps, and this kind of bragging is just another fine proof that our criminal feels safe enough to dare to allow himself such a show. And even without super-senses, I can feel the searching eyes fixed on me from the dirty depths of the hidden alleys, as I march closer to the building, noisy with the pounding of the bass. There is a vermin around every corner, vigilantly waiting to alert the boss. How fucking smart.

It seems that the sea of dubious figures may have gathered in honor of an even bigger occasion than usual, because the people crowding in front of the entrance are pushing and shoving almost impatiently to get into the party, but the sizable tough guys stationed in front of the door stand like an impenetrable wall in front of the mass. And maybe it should worry me that, falling in the middle of an unknown important event, there might be more dangerous thugs standing between me and my target, but the bigger the commotion, the less attention will be focused on a hot but silly little girl like me. Only one person needs to spot me, and I could easily make that happen even if I were woken up from my sleep.

Perhaps I should thank fate for luring so many idiots here today, because I mingle with a group of girls heading for the entrance with such imperceptible charm as I finally reach the wretched club, like I had always been one of them. With the greatest naturalness in the world, I link my arms with one of the girls laughing drunkenly, and when she just curiously raises her alcohol-foggy eyes at me, I send a jolt of my energy into her defenseless body with a cheerful laugh, just enough to make her focus more on not ending up on the ground from the sudden dizziness, rather than what kind of unknown stranger joined her in the fun. And I don't have to be disappointed, because the stars that must have appeared in front of her eyes make her feet, hidden in stilettos, suddenly buckle, and she distracts one of the big gorillas just enough to make him not want to examine us more thoroughly, while he lets us in ahead of the gathered herd into the pit mocked as a nightclub. I don't mind the series of disdainful glances piercing my back when I pass between the two security men with my small group of decorative ladies, because no matter the appearance of the mutants, the world hasn't changed so much that pretty, fuckable fresh meat doesn't have priority when it comes to partying. But this is exactly the little detail that will benefit me so generously today.

And as soon as I'm swallowed up by the corridor leading to the club, I move on with my new companions, accompanied by the shadows painted on the wall by the flashing lights, and I'm almost overcome with nostalgia, as the pulsation of the music resonates through my bones. The excited anticipation, that reared its head in my subconscious every time I drifted into a cesspool like this to look for dinner, moves into my muscles. And maybe the fact that I got richer with a delicious bite at the end of each evening developed a real reflex in me, because hearing the unrecognizable booming tunes, my mind almost automatically focuses on the hunt, as we arrive into the huge room full of people. When we reach the edge of the crowd writhing in a daze, I unobservedly separate myself from the bunch of girls to lean against one of the walls and spy on the field. According to the plan, I should spend here as little time as possible, because the shorter the time they see me, the smaller the chance that someone can notice what kind of delicacy has been thrown here in my person. And the success of my disguise and operation depends quite a lot on how sneaky I can be, so I have to be on the lookout.

I was not mistaken in that the Rat didn't spare the credit for furnishing his sanctuary with enough frippery, because the garish luxury emanates from every corner of the spacious hall with such violence that it's quite nauseating. Gilded tendrils run along the marble columns stretching up to the ceiling at the edge of the dance floor, and I can tell without much expertise that, despite the glitz, all the expensive-looking decorations are at least as fake as the stench of cheap booze in the air. And although the lights flickering rhythmically from the many lamps may distract attention from the tasteless mosaic of a lion's head on the floor, which the dancers are obliviously tramping on, it cannot be denied that this den belongs to a figure who considers fake splendor important enough to pack it into every nook and cranny. Perfect. He will be the exact target that my seductive little curves will be able to keep off his feet long enough to walk into my clutches, because it's enough to charm the eyes of such stupid idiots to turn off their brains.

I catch the thug I'm looking for with almost ridiculous speed, because the platform in the far corner of the dance floor stands out with an egoism worthy of him, on which he sprawls with such comfort as a self-proclaimed king. He leans back on the couch covered in cheap silk with almost grandiose confidence, gesticulating with such ferocity towards the grim-faced gangsters sitting on the other side of the glass table, as if he were sharing some truly valuable wisdom with them. And if he wasn't wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night, I would even believe that he has some brain cells in his head, but the whole picture looks like a pathetic show, which is usually performed by tough men like him to compensate for their small size. The thought occurs to me with quite a bit of glee, that karma could not have chosen a better target for me, because this kind of prey has such a pleasant aftertaste that is hard to beat. Because when they become aware of what it feels like to endure my attack so defenselessly, the rage and fear that fills them between my claws makes their blood taste quite spicy, like mature wine.

I only hesitate for a fleeting moment, then I let the power of habit take control of my body, and I push myself from my previous hiding place with such airy elegance that it fills every fiber of me with the lustful energy that I know will be able to draw my victim's attention to me. Keeping my eyes on my chosen target, I cut through the crowd of people united by rhythmic movements, and with the graceful steps of a cat about to pounce, I avoid the entangled bodies drifting in my path, almost intoxicated by the smell of nauseatingly strong perfume and sweat floating in the air. And although I haven't been lucky enough to practice the techniques I have learned through hard work for months, my hips start to sway almost unconsciously when I reach the perfect spot and begin my little performance. I let the power of the bass emanating from the huge speakers creep into my limbs and guide my every heated movement with invisible hands, and I allow myself to be immersed in my lonely dance, because the more intoxicated I appear, the easier it will be to convince my target that I am nothing more than a desperate, thirsty whore.

And even though I'm anchored far enough that those pesky little details that could later identify me cannot be spotted, I'm just close enough to attract interest, and when I feel the hot gaze burning my skin even through my closed eyelids, I forcefully tame the sarcastic grin that wishes to climb on my face into a seductive smile. The laziness with which I slide my hand along the line of my throat is intentional, as I throw my head back and focus all my bewitching charms into every small movement of my body, and there is nothing accidental in the way my eyes flutter open, as my fingers stop on their journey, lingering at the bold cleavage of my dress. And for a few fleeting moments, I pretend to be just jolted awake from the intoxication of the music, and then almost immediately I find the hungry leer of my chosen thug, who drinks in every corner of my enticing figure with such intense intrusion, as if I had really succeeded in hypnotizing him.

It's pathetically easy to pinpoint when he decides he likes me enough to want to taste me, because he even ditches those stupid glasses to adequately revel in my one-of-a-kind show. And although I know that I test luck with my braveness, but as my eyes are intertwined with his, my curious tongue glides over my lips with just a sensual movement, and when, for a moment, my fingers teasingly wander under the hem of my dress, snug against my thighs, then I know that I have won the game. Because that disgusting grin that spreads across his mouth is a painfully clear sign that all the blood has flowed from his brain to his dick, and from now on he is letting that tiny little organ guide his actions. How predictable…

But like someone who is quite innocently unaware of the deep impression I made on this idiot, I continue my inviting activity, because I know for a fact that it's only a matter of time before he invites me to himself. It's almost comical when, a few minutes later, a rough hand lands on my shoulder, pulling me out of my soft rocking, and I look back at the mustachioed gentleman, who presumably came to pick me up for his boss's cock warmer for the night.

"You got lucky, little girl." He says without hesitation, shouting over the loud music with his hoarse voice, and I don't need to be particularly well-informed about underworld affairs to understand what he wants to convey with his careless nod of his head and his words, because it's a universal signal that is the same everywhere in the world for ripe girls like me. And as I peek over the burly man's cheap, gaudy shirt-clad shoulder and spot the Rat, I have to suppress the laughter that rises in my throat, because even though he may be shining in his mind like a real jackpot, as he stands up smugly beckoning towards him with his fingers, it's painfully obvious that how easy it will be for me to hunt him down. Because it doesn't even occur in his stupid little head who he is inviting to private fun in my pretty little person. But it's not his fault, because the prey is never aware of when it is being stalked.

And it seems that the criminal leader sees the matter settled with this little instruction, because after a last little joking comment, he comfortably sets off towards the small, well-hidden door opening at the side of the room, and then his subordinate sees that the time has arrived to deliver the delicious package to his boss. The big hand of the gorilla firmly begins to guide me towards the edge of the partying mass, and I obediently let him expertly direct me towards my new destination, occasionally sneaking a little drunken uncertainty into my steps to make my already award-winning performance as authentic as possible. The easier victim I look, the less they will suspect what a nasty little plan I'm up to, and the easier it will be for me to disappear into the darkness of the memories of unknown girls. And from the contemptuous, dirty look with which the asslickers participating in the previous meeting examine my desirable little body, I can be quite sure that this is not the first time they have seen this scene unfold. And when one of the guys with a face disfigured by scars blows me a mocking kiss with an obscene but no less pitiful gesture, it also quickly becomes clear that their leader is generous enough to share his used toys with them when he is done with them. And because of this, the spark of mercy, which might have been hidden in the depths of my dark little soul, evaporates like the imagination of an oasis rising before a dying pilgrim in the desert. Not that I'm ever going to have any sympathy for my snacks, but this scumbag just makes my job easier by acting like the nastiest louse the world has ever seen. Wonderful.

My escort pushes me over the threshold of the door perhaps more forcefully than necessary, as if he is afraid that I will change my mind after seeing the narrow corridor bathed in red neon, and from the way his fingers tighten on my shoulder, I conclude that it wouldn’t be the first time that the courage of the ladies who wandered here disappeared. But he doesn't have to be afraid, because I continue to cooperate with the naivety of a silly bitch, and I let him nudge me towards one of the countless windowless doors, so that when, after a rough knock, the entrance opens, then he, without further ado, can usher me into the tiny room. And as the only way of escape closes behind me with a loud bang, the game, for what I dragged my sexy ass here in the first place, starts.

The over-decorated tastelessness has found its way into the crimson walls of the small room a well, and the smell of cheap cologne spreads like a disgusting disease from every corner, but I don't have to look long for the source that was able to plant this god-awful stench here. Because my criminal has already taken his place, and all my cells are filled with disgust and malice, as I see his hungry eyes sliding along the lines of my bare legs, and I don't have to think much about whether he likes my outfit for tonight, because between his spread legs, straining under the material of the tight trousers, there is the clearly visible proof of his opinion. And his enthusiasm might even be flattering, if he didn't make my work almost painfully easy.

"I liked your dance." He notes, and the hoarseness of desire settles into his voice as his gaze wanders to the delicate mounds of my breasts hidden under my dress, and this is exactly the reaction I need. Oh, you stupid fool. "Come here." He tries to lure me closer, but due to the impatience in his tone, his request sounds more like an order, but his rudeness doesn't bother me. Because even though he stretches out on the leather couch as the all-powerful lord of his little empire steeped in violence and crime, and a sticky aura of superiority emanates from every cell of him, he is no more than prey. Not even if he doesn't know who he's been left alone with.

"If you liked it, maybe I should give you an encore." I suggest coquettishly as I wander closer to him, and the seductive hum I put in my voice is quite intentional. And even without his affirmation, I know how much he likes my idea, because he slurps up the golden contents of the glass resting in one of his tattooed hands so hastily, as if he would regret every drop of attention it's taking away from me. How cute.

"Go on. Show what you’ve got and maybe you can entertain me some more later too!" He offers generously, and from the wide grin that crosses his clean-shaven face, I know that he truly thinks that he is giving me a real honor. And though my tongue is stung by the sardonic remark that takes hold in my mind like poison, I let him lull himself into this vain fantasy, because until then he doesn't wonder why his company tonight has become so willing. For even though I don't have the keen senses of my dangerous friends, I can still smell the sweaty stench of the gorilla's body wafting from the door, and this fool wouldn't have to stand guard if his boss's human sex dolls didn't want to run off so often.

But I don't even give that idiot time for suspicion to appear in his sparse brain cells, because I continue my lustful little dance much sooner than his pathetic neural pathways can start to work. And the tempting heat that weaves through my every move is conscious, as I slowly settle between his comfortably spread thighs, and the mesmerized expression with which he follows the erotic movements of my hips is quite charming. I make sure that lustful desire moves to every fiber of me, and as Riley's gaze, dark with pleasure, flashes before my mind's eye, I feel that the tingle moving under my skin only makes my seduction even more believable. The longer my show goes on, the stronger the weight of hunger in his eyes becomes, and I feel almost honored by how obviously I impress him. And as my single-minded thug wets his dry lips in fascination, I know it's time to get to the point.

The moment comes pretty soon when he loses his patience and feels just the sight isn't enough anymore, and then he leans forward with almost desperate speed to smooth his big palms on my waist. There's nothing gentle about the way he grips me, and I'm pretty sure if my little body wasn't amped up by my genes, bruises would stain my skin purple under his touch. As his fingers tighten and dig into me with hungry desire to stop the sensual swaying of my hips, and his gaze finally lifts to my face for the first time during our little acquaintance, then I let that taunting grin spread across my lips, flashing my pretty little teeth at him. I see the faint light of confusion slip through his lust-clouded eyes, but by the time he can understand why vertical pupils are looking back at him, one of my clever hands has already started on its dangerous little journey, and it's too late. My palm clasps to his bald head with such speed that he doesn't have time to come to his senses, and by the time his brain can understand what is happening, my energy has already reached his defenseless little body. His eyes roll back into his skull with an almost spasmodic force, as my ability pushes him towards unconsciousness, and as soon as the first wave of my power sweeps through him, he willingly slumps back on the couch.

And although I would love to continue to admire how pathetic he looks, as he lies on the cheap sofa with the grace of a rag doll, but unfortunately I have much more important things to do than enjoying these small pleasures. That's why I get to work instead, because it's only a matter of time before someone shows up after hearing the suspicious silence and wants to check up on our dear Rat. With a firm move, I position the man's heavy body, and with no less violence, I yank his shirt out of the confines of his pants, and as soon as his upper body, interwoven with blurred patterns, is revealed, my crafty little hands wander under my clothes to search for the tiny cloth pouch in which all the necessary supplies for my outing tonight were sneakily hidden until now. With nimble movements, I release the small package from the trap of the strap of my underwear to fish out the flat piece of plastic with which this half-wit will lead us to the goods that we are so eager about. And my expert eyes immediately start searching for the ideal place where the small device can find a new home on the surface soaked in black ink. And when I settle and find the perfect target on the supple skin of his steadily rising belly, I pull out the carefully wrapped blade that Riley had so carefully bestowed upon me. Although the small tool is no bigger than a few centimeters, the masked Hunter assured me that, despite all my doubts, the edge belies its size. And indeed, as I peel my tiny weapon from its protective holster, it pierces through the tissues, soft with fat, slicing the unconscious man's stomach with flawless ease, like a hot knife cuts through butter.

My nose is hit by the appetizing scent of the fat drops of dripping blood, and although my mouth instinctively salivates from the whiff of the metallic aroma, I have more pressing matters to take care of rather than indulge in a quick snack. And before I let the wandering thoughts in my head tempt me to be naughty, I activate the tracker and push it into the exposed wound with a not-so-subtle movement, just deep enough so that my unsuspecting victim doesn't have a chance to realize what a twisted little gift I have given him. Once I'm satisfied with the way the tiny device fits into the embrace of wet flesh, with the caress of the energy flowing into my fingertips, I help the injury heal as if nothing had happened. And I quickly wipe away the stray drops that try to roll down on the undamaged skin, treating myself to a small munch.

To ensure the success of the party, my cunning little hands search for the communicator hiding in the pocket of the criminal sleeping like a baby, so that the last guest of honor of the evening can also appear in the image of that small chip, which, thanks to Garrick, will function as our ears when our illegal businessman plunges into managing his affairs again. Following the Hunter's instructions, I pop open the back of the device and slip the tricky little piece of metal in among the sea of small components, so that I can then, with the same speed, remove the traces of my sneaky little activity and sink the gadget back into the depths of the guy's tight pocket.

And as quickly as I completed the finale of my mission, I decided so urgently that it's time to hop the stick and clear out, because according to the plan, my taxi will arrive after activating the chip, which is the end of this dangerous little fun. I only take one last look at the unfortunate fool, who is peacefully dozing on the couch, and he seems so vulnerable that an absolutely brilliant idea is conceived in the grim little corners of my mind, and guided by this, I snatch up his wallet that has wandered onto the leather cover and rob it from its contents, let him believe for the sake of appearances, that a thieving bitch knocked him out and that is why his private fun was so exciting.

Hiding my small blade in the depth of the narrow gap on the sofa cover and wedging the stolen credits into the strap of my panties, I put on the disguise I need for my leave. I walk to the door while ruffling my hair, conjuring the shame of a humiliated and exploited little girl on my face, and I know that my portrayal is authentic, because as soon as the dim corridor is revealed again and I come face to face with the tough guy guarding outside, I see the unmistakable sparks of contempt flash in his eyes, with which he accompanies my hasty escape. As if this disdain would drive despair into me, I hurry towards the nightclub, sneaking a sad sniff or two into my artistic show. And when the blast of deafening melodies engulfs me again, and the corridor leading to the sex cave disappears behind me, I drop my mask and throw myself into the crowd of dancers with determined urgency, counting down the seconds in my head until the babysitter finally realizes what happened to his boss, and decides to follow me in the hope of a friendly interrogation.

And my intuition doesn't let me down now either, because I'm just about to reach the middle of the dance floor when I catch the commotion on the other side of the crowded room in my peripheral vision. The door of the corridor hiding the windowless rooms slams open with such force that even the boom of the bass is penetrated by the crash with which the thick wooden board smashes against the wall. And the angry temper with which the tough guy bursts out, who so beautifully defended his boss's lustful entertainment, doesn't promise anything good, because I suspect that he will soon turn this fierce enthusiasm to my search. And although for the time being the cover of the herd of bodies hides me from the prying eyes, I know that my minutes are numbered, and the sooner I set sail, the less chance there will be that I will have to use the useful tricks learned in my training. Therefore, putting aside all subtleties, I push through the surging mass, and when I reach the edge of the herring party, I charge towards the exit, only passingly aware of how a dozen guards band together to avenge their leader's ugly grievances.

Even I'm surprised with how quickly I reach the entrance of the club, and for once I thank biology that it missed a few centimeters when planning my height, because it's the only reason that I'm able to slip through the tight protection of the humongous lackeys, blending in among the partygoers pouring out. And for a few narrow meters, I try to stick to a smaller group, because I see the hawk-like attention with which the dangerous-looking guys begin to scan the people loitering in the darkness of the street after they receive the order to find the Rat's vile attacker through the radio in their ears. The urge to escape fills every part of my body, but I don't give in to the pressure that moves to my stomach and tries to encourage me to run, because that would put the target on my back. Therefore, imitating drunken carelessness, I continue to hang out with the unsuspecting fools who function as my disguise, and all my nerves are strained in the minutes that seem like millennia that I spend in this feigned uncertainty.

And for a passing moment it looks like my luck will hold until I'm far enough, but as soon as I hear the inarticulate yelling of one of the security men calling my cover group to a halt, I know I have run out of fortune and I'd better take a powder. I don't wait for the thug's henchmen to catch up with us, but hastily kick off the stolen high heels from my feet, and breaking away from the unknowing, drunkenly carefree civilians, I start running at such frantic speed, like a gazelle running from a lion. And I have no doubt that if I don't manage to vanish quickly enough, they will gut me with the greatest joy for hurting their employer. This sufficiently injects the power of adrenaline into my muscles, which helps me increase my already hasty sprint, and excludes all distractions from my mind, except the thought of running away.

Accompanied by the rumble of heavy footsteps behind me and the sound of my shallow breaths, I race further and further away from the welcoming proximity of the deafening music and colorful lights, and I'm only vaguely aware that I should now reach the rendezvous point, as the previously lively neighborhood turns into gray desolation. And I'm just startled enough by the stinging pain of the bullet that grazes my shoulder to not notice the huge hand that emerges like a blurred shadow from the depths of one of the alleys, past which I run at such a rushed pace. And before my mind, blinded by stress, can even comprehend what is happening, the unknown force grabs me and pulls me into the stomach of the dirty side street as easily as if I were nothing more than a helpless rag doll.

The scream that creeps up my throat is reflexive, but before the evidence of the terror tearing into me can even pass my lips, a large palm clamps to my mouth, and the rough material of the glove absorbs my desperate whimper. And instinctively, the power to fight for survival awakens in me, and I try to trash against my attacker like a rabid cat, but despite the fact that a deadly amount of power flows into my fingertips, which could instantly bring anyone close to a stroke, I can't touch anything but the fabric of the black uniform. However, when an arm wraps around my waist, and I feel the power hidden in the muscles that press against a giant body, I freeze with the shock of a frightened animal caught in a trap.

And it seems that this fills the unknown assailant with sufficient satisfaction, because the strength of the shackles holding me in check eases a bit, and although I'm no longer afraid that the stranger will crack my spine or tear off my jaw with a random movement, it still takes a few torturous seconds, before the oxygen reaches my brain through the air inhaled through my nose, and quiets my alarmed thoughts so much that I can understand what is happening. And when I'm able to pay attention, the sound of shoes echoing in the street reaches my ears, and I only catch it out of the corner of my eyes as the group of minions sent after me storms past us amid angry curses. Only one guy spares a cursory glance at the inhospitable darkness where the stranger and I hide, but he has no chance of discovering us, for we are pressed up too tightly against the damp brick wall for a mere mortal to notice. As the noise of my pursuers slowly fades away, the furious pounding of my heart subsides, and as my nerve cells break free from fear, I have the opportunity to recognize who my new savior might be.

Although at first the scent that crept into my nose, reminiscent of pine after rain, seemed unfamiliar, now the smell of blood and gunpowder is too strong for the fleeting memory not to flash in my mind, which helps to identify who this unique aroma belongs to. And as I become aware of who has come to free me from my lonely mission, hot embers of anger glow up in my chest, spreading the fury like liquid lava in all my tense cells. While in other cases I would be able to take the man down with dripping scorn, the pull of ire bubbling up in my veins takes away all the will that would help me to hide my emotions. Because this bastard knows exactly that there could have been a thousand and one ways to end my operation effectively, but more pleasantly, yet he chose the method that would elicit the most entertaining reaction from me.

When my captivity, which lasts unreasoned seconds longer, ends, and the grip of the arms that enslave me like thick ropes loosens, I tear myself out of his hands with such momentum as if I had been burned by living flames. And I see how the cruel curiosity shines in the bright eyes staring down at me. Like a shield of ice that clings over a lake during the cold of winter, under which the lifeless bodies caught in an eternal trap rise like mementos of frozen, tortured souls. The kind of deceptive beauty that thirsts for blood and devours you if you give the icy hands a chance to take you away. And the Hunter has proven more than once what kind of ruthlessness lies beneath the motionless surface.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" I snap at him, filtering the enraged words between my teeth, and I feel how the fiery poison surging under my skin settles sparks of hostility into my eyes. I don't even try to force indifference on myself, because I see the morbid, merry light dancing in his eyes emerging from under the hood, from which I know that my chance to maintain my dignity has long since been lost. Because I'm sure that not one of my frightened trembles escaped his attention, and he felt the drumming of my terrified racing pulse all too well to now find the false mask of my apathy credible.

"I helped you." König states simply, and from the artificial innocence hidden in his accent, along with my skyrocketing blood pressure, my brain is filled with the forerunner of the red fog that, in a mean voice, tries to persuade me to wipe off the grin on his face, the wrinkles of which cheerfully gather around the black-painted skin. "That was the plan, wasn't it?" He inquires, putting a deceptive tone of confusion in his voice, which can make the hurt with which he cocks his head to the side seem sincere to anyone. Like he is a fucking martyr who can't understand why his heroic actions fall on deaf ears and violent rejection when he is so selflessly risking everything for a good cause. But he doesn't deceive me. Because even through my agitation, I can see how excited is that invisible movement, with which he pushes himself away from the dirty wall and takes a small, almost imperceptible step toward me.

"Yeah..." I agree, but even I can feel the unfriendly emptiness of the couple of sounds that roll off my tongue, as if I'm trying to drive the aftertaste of bitter medicine from my mouth. "Your only luck is that your uniform caught my gratitude." I retort, and even though I know how petty it is to let the acidic sting of malice cling to my words, I want him to know that his great idea could easily have ended with the phenomenal sight of his cold corpse without his gorgeous outfit. Because I hate to admit that even for a minute he had the fragile thread of my life in his hands, and it depended only on his deceptive benevolence whether he would kill me or not. Of course, it's obvious that he is still standing by us as a friend in our little mission, but I have no illusions that he would be able to make it look like an unfortunate accident, if he managed to be more powerful with his help.

"I felt it." He utters, almost without thinking, and there is something quite unsettling in the joy with which he declares this. Although I'm pretty sure if there was enough power in my attack that he felt its sting so strongly through the thick fabric of his clothes, it was anything but uplifting. "It was wonderful." He adds to his testimony, and for a moment I'm unable to decide whether the elated hum that resonates throughout his words is real, or whether the slowly subsiding roar of the storm stirred up inside me is the one deceiving my ears.

And for a few agonizing seconds, nothing else fills the silence between us, other than the soft buzzing of the street lamps, as I quietly stare into the eyes studying me, trying to decipher what is going on in his head. It's obvious that he is trying to provoke me in his own sick way, because this whole nerve-wracking intermezzo has no doubt something to do with how much I hurt his little soul by refusing his generous approach. Although my exotic little power can tempt the Hunters and stir up the pull of raw power surging through their veins, I doubt that he wants to indulge in this fleeting, lovely experience right now. And the angry noise in my head is effectively silenced when I realize how easily I allow him to take out his childish revenge on me. This moment is about nothing else but the mending of his broken ego. This helps to turn my previous fury into fatigue, and induces that exhausted sigh with which I finally turn my gaze towards the street on the other side of the alley. And my sharp little eyes discover the metallic shine of the body of the car cleverly hidden there, which is parked too deliberately for its position to be a mere coincidence.

"Let's go." I end the whole pointless situation with these few words, and without waiting for his answer, I set off towards the car, which is probably waiting for us, concealed in the blackness of the night, to ensure our escape. Although at first only the soft tap of my bare feet echoes in the embrace of the musty brick walls, I only take a few steps on the damp concrete before I'm joined by the heavy pounding of the Hunter's boots. And I try with all my efforts to tune him out, as he tails after me cautiously, but still, he follows me in intrusive proximity, like a damned dog that longs for the attention of its master, to see if they will throw it a crumb of a word of praise. But, unfortunately, he won't have this satisfaction.

"You did a nice job." He speaks up suddenly, and even if his words of appreciation come as a surprise, I don't give any indication that his message has reached me at all, because no matter how hard he tries to cover his intentions in sugary sweetness, I know what the game he tries to play. And I'd have to be terribly stupid to once again fall for the transparent tactic with which he tries to find out along which defenseless point he can catch me. Therefore, I turn all the capacity of my feverishly working nerves towards the pain that pulses in my shoulder like the stab of tiny needles, enjoying how the ache radiates through the skin torn by the bullet along with my heartbeat, beneficially clearing up the upheaval in my skull.

"It was brave of you to take on this task." The hooded Hunter shares his observations with me again, and for a moment, even in my resignation, I recognize how amusing it is as he continues his attempts, even though he can see that he has found a suitable challenge in me with his sneaky methods. "Your teammates will surely appreciate it." He continues his train of thought, not caring about the adamant indifference with which I stride forward, slowly reaching the end of the alley. As if he only wants to amuse himself with this unnecessary chatter, and I have no doubt that he enjoys the obvious determination with which I ignore him. Because no matter how hard I try to deprive the reaction he craves so eagerly, my speechlessness is just enough of an answer for him to feel it's worth experimenting further.

"But how long will this last?" He asks with sincere curiosity, and as soon as I realize what a stomach-turningly vile question he has asked, I'm unable to command my body in time, and I halt at the threshold of the uninhabited street as suddenly as if a bucket of cold water had been poured down on my neck.

And as I look back at the Hunter with a measured coldness, considering every small twitch, all my doubts disappear that he is only probing for my weaknesses by indulging in random guesses. Because the victory-drunk spark that comes to life in those blue eyes tells me exactly, that he deliberately saved this comment for the very end of his monologue. And it occurs to me how smart this merciless man can be to find that hair-thin, vulnerable little crack in my unbreakable armor so quickly, the existence of which even I was barely aware of.

"I think we've already established once that it's futile for you to play this game." I remind him in a toneless voice, and I consciously drive away all stray traces of the slowly simmering anger that was just dormant, and now he is trying to breathe life into it again. Because I can feel all too clearly how intently he studies the telltale signs of emotions passing over my face, just watching for an opportunity to strike. Like a vulture circling over the dying body of a wounded wild animal, waiting for its victim to finally breathe its last and tear the still warm, tempting flesh from its bones.

"I'm just trying to care about you." He apologizes, but his voice is still imbued with feigned compassion, which almost instinctively makes my stomach turn. There is no good intention in the way he towers over me, enveloping me into the all consuming shadow of his strong body, as if he is trying with every cell to plant the disgusting plague of fear and distrust in me. But no matter how deceitful and cunning he is, he needs much more than that to touch my soul. Because even though I find it hard to admit how closely he strays to the painful doubts that have arisen in my soul, I won't give him the pleasure of seeing the battle of feelings that are raging in my head.

"How fucking nice." I spit the words dripping with mockery, and it takes a conscious effort to keep the fury, that flares up inside me, from moving into my voice. Because a battle unfolds under the cover of the flickering light of the lamps, where my opponent is at least as foul as I am. And maybe some other time I would enjoy that I'm finally able to release the evil comments that form on my sharp tongue, but right now I feel all too well how the sharp claws of a predator are trying to close around my defenseless neck.

There is something viscerally unsettling about the way he comfortably ambles closer to me, like a big cat playing with its prey, generously allowing its victim to believe that it won't tear open the border of soft flesh covering its belly with razor-sharp teeth. It takes a torturous moment before I recognize the condescending kindness creeping into the icy eyes as he glances down at me, like he knows a secret that my feeble mind is not yet aware of. And as he finally stops in front of me with a few narrow, uncomfortable steps away, I have to forcefully steel every part of me, because the wild desire to escape rips into me so reflexively that my muscles almost ache with the effort I try to keep myself motionless.

"One day they will realize that you have to be tamed." He notes with unflinching calmness, and there is such conviction in his tone that makes his statement seem more like a fact than an uncertain prediction. As if he already knows that this horror is going to happen and regrets in advance that I will have to suffer the pain that arises from the infectious soil of disappointment. And if I were a little more naive, then I would believe that there is real concern in his voice. "Because if you're too dangerous, you won't be of any use to them."

And I feel how this one sentence sinks into my consciousness like a poison-soaked knife that stealthily pumps away the deadly disease sitting on the blade with every centimeter it spends immersed in the throbbing tissues. The image that flashes on the canvas of my memories is involuntary, as the insidious meaning traveling in his voice crawls into my mind, because it almost immediately sends me back to the neon-lit hole of the interrogating room. And now that the vehemence of my revenge has not settled in my head like a suffocating fog, I can recall the startled look on MacTavish's face when he saw how willingly cruelty spills out of me. And the realistic side of my brain tries to reassure me that they were aware of all the horrible details of my evil when fate first threw me in front of them, yet it takes agonizing seconds before the screams of rationalism can drown out the doubts. Because I'm also well aware of what I have to do to enjoy the warm care of my team, and I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty for it, since it fits in with the blood that sticks to me. And no matter how sharp-eyed this terrible man is, he doesn't know nearly enough about my deadly little friends and me for his words to be heard as real truth instead of provocation. This is still the “whose dick is bigger” competition, and like a real asshole, he wants to take revenge on someone who attracted his unwanted attention with her charming skills, but he was unable to bring her under his spell. How fucking sad.

"You have quite a lot of concern towards a stranger." I taunt, deliberately letting the cynical edge, which is trying to burst out of my mouth with such maddened enthusiasm, into my voice. This one small mistake appears as a glaring error with his intentions, wrapped in innocence. As much as he tries to play the bleeding-heart saint, we both know that his empathy stands on shaky ground when he has to direct it toward a wild stranger. Because I know that this man doesn't have an iota of compassion in him, which would make his concern real, since I saw with my own eyes the kind of bloodlust that hides in his eyes when he has the opportunity to take the reins from his restrained instincts. He is a monster like me, and beasts recognize their kind, no matter what form they take.

But no matter how much I manage to regain control over my coolness, I'm unprepared for the intimate movement with which he smooths his large hand on my bare shoulder for a fleeting moment. And I feel the menacing, volatile tenderness with which his long fingers release the strands of hair stuck in the dried blood that emerged from my wound, because the rough material of his glove presses against the sensitive skin just a breath harder for me to know what unspoken warning is hidden in the seemingly innocent gesture. And now, for the first time, I see something horrible flicker in his eyes, which makes me stare up at him, frozen in immobility, because I'm overcome by unconscious fear. Like when one looks into a bottomless pit, from whose endless mouth escapes nothing but the stench of death and decay.

"Because I'm mesmerized by danger." He murmurs softly, and I press my lips together to try to suppress the quivering that moves into them, because I feel what kind of terrible promise is sitting in the hum of his voice. And I don't want to give him a reason to make it come true. "And I want to be the one to take you in when you're discarded."

And as suddenly as he came, his thumb circling over the throbbing wound disappears as quickly, as he steps away from me to march out of the alley into the darkness of the night street with a carefree calm, and I wish he had dipped his claws into the gaping flesh, because that would have been a more bearable pain than the doubt that opens like a festering wound inside me. And although the liquid fire of rage seething under the surface breaks through my astonishment in the next moment, even the anger spreading in my veins cannot silence the barely audible whisper that is born in my skull. No matter how much my mind convinces me again, that this is nothing more than just a bastard with complexes trying to rile me up, I can't shake the nagging question of what if he is right?

And the thought that I might lose the warmth to which my starving heart has just begun to get used to, squeezes my insides with such agony, as if a cruel iron fist were trying to tear me in two. But I know what I have to do. And no matter what the cost is, I won't let that happen because that would kill me.

[mikeyy-angelo2]

Dandys world Server !!

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

DANDYS WORLD SERVER ! 13+

♡ what we do ♡

In the server we mostly talk in character (though you dont have to ALL the time) and also join calls and play dandys world together (arent forced to join call)

Everyone has their own roles in the server, theres still alot open ! (Im Shrimpo)

Some that arent open atm are Vee, Glisten, Razzle and dazzle, Shrimpo, Toodles, and Boxten.

Headcanons and OC's are allowed !! You can be your OC in the server if you want !

Ships are allowed just respect others as well !! (No shipping anyone with Toodles ew wtf..We will find you)

RULES TO JOINING THE SERVER !

Obviously dont be homophobic or racist

We accept people who are IRLS and systems !

No eating Shrimpo.

If you are poppy you will be torn to shreds /half silly its a joke thing in the server dont worry LOL

Everyones pretty chill and nice so dont worry and just have fun !! 💪💪💪

MY DISCORD IS

number1_pizza_lover

Add me and tell me what role you want and ill happily give it to you if the role is open !!

[bugisbonkerz]

What are your ocs favorite colors???

And what do they do for a "job" if they have something that can be considered that?

oh wowie what a great question…... i will ask all the guyz in the apartment right meow..... (also eliza too. for fun)

Auggie! She used to work at the Star-Fire Arcade for a short time before razzle started following her around and having them become roommates. over time, razz felt bad for his buddies back at the abandoned arcade under Eliza's control, so they started their own secret business of helping the robots and finding them jobs. but it's not easy with that computer gal always roaming around the arcade (plus selling the robots to a job of their choice helps her pay rent. yay!) but honestly. she should find herself a normal job too.

razzle dazzle was the host (or the star, if you will) of the Star-Fire Arcade! he mostly worked in the actual video game areas, and entertained folks when she could. But nowadays he and auggie take animatronics from the now-abandoned arcade and help them find a new purpose.

Otis Oasis- when the place was open he worked at the wild west themed area, mostly in the play place with the kiddies. It's a lot quieter in the apartment (though not completely), which he prefers. Not a very optimistic fella, but he cares about his friends a lot.

Floria spent most of her time in the child care area. she has multiple lullabies and nursery rhymes in her system, and children would often put magnets and drawings on her metal petals. she wishes to work at a daycare someday again. but in the meantime, she's living with auggie and helping out with the Robot Living business.

Eliza…. don’t be fooled by her charm! i’m not really sure what i’d call her job.. she does all the work behind the scenes , so possibly something like upper management. she is an invention of the arcade’s founder, secretly posing as him through paperwork since he mysteriously disappeared. she had to shutdown the arcade due to suspicion among other things, and now she wants to keep all the robots at the abandoned arcade for herself- forever! (truly i think she needs to go outside for once in her life) she’s very obsessed with control and is constantly trying to find new ways to stop auggie and razzle from taking all her bots. 

[claw-45]

Some Fun Facts About Emilene & Vera! (My Star Wars OCs)

Just for reference, I will sometimes refer to Emilene and Vera collectively by their ship name, emera [:

First Meetings

These two were originally introduced when Vera was assigned to be Emilene’s personal bodyguard on her first visit to Coruscant. They got along so well that Vera kept the position for some time, only leaving after she was assigned a padawan.

Dynamics

As much as I love a good sun/moon dynamic in a ship, I love thunder/lighting even more, and emera captures that beautifully.

Vera is the thunder character. She’s calm, calculating, and powerful, but in a way that she still manages to keep her low profile. People often find her threatening or off-putting(Which she can be), but most of the time it’s just her RBF, she’s only ever a true danger to those who deserve it.

That makes Emilene the lightning character. She’s dazzling, dramatic, and impulsive, but not necessarily dangerous. What she lacks in physical strength, however, she more than makes up for in influence(I mean it, she can absolutely destroy someone’s social life).

Some other ships with a similar dynamic as them include: Wolfstar, destiel, jemily, jayvik, and potentially newtmas as well

Rapid Fire!

Adrianne Lenker’s music very much reminds me of them(Especially ingydar)

Vera and Anakin are narrative foils

Emilene loves organizing picnic dates whenever they’re in her home system

In lieu of rings, they have complementary flower tattoos on their ring fingers(Emilene has a forget-me-not and Vera has a white orchid)

Had a very complicated enemies-to-lovers arc before they got together(But I’ll get into that another time)

[thetonethetollandthethunder]

Scythe chapter 11-15

You know the drill!! Cmon!!!

—

Chapter 11!!

-I always forget the conclave’s have names,,,

-The thing is, you can never blame these people for fighting back, it’s human nature, but OUGH the consequences of human nature are so devastating

-But just imagine the guilt you’d feel, your husband got killed and you get immune from the same fate for a whole year. That’s just prime for survivors guilt

-Also the fact that Faraday told the family the man didn’t resist is just testament to his kindness and compassion

-“The sanctity of the law…And the wisdom to know when it must be broken.” *Stares at Goddard*

-MILK SCENE, I unironically love this scene even tho I think it’s really funny

-Also I genuinely don’t know how ppl drink milk b4 bed, is that even a real thing? How does that make you sleepy??

-Also good on Faraday!! Don’t waste shit!!!

-Apparently all the Scythe Rings are white but I refuse to acknowledge that, they’re all multicolored and each color relates to the scythe in some way <3

-That ring security system Faraday has going on is sick as fuck tho ngl

-“Now let’s see how long it takes Rowan to go for the ring.” I love himmmm, he’s fun!!! He can be fun!!

-Tonist mention!! I love the Tonists <33

-Nice chapter!! Gives more depth to Faraday!!

—

Chapter 12!!

-Rowan and Citra’s test are approaching!!!

-The idea of having to hold yourself back in life because you’re afraid of being killed is actually terrifying—

-Also same Rowan, I hate studying too

-“Rowan concluded that not knowing was more terrifying than knowing.” If I remember correctly what the consequence is then that is CERTAIN true

-I LOVE Citra and Rowan’s banter here!! You can see their chemistry early on!!

-UGH I WONT LIST OUT ALL THE MOMENT BUT THEYRE SO CUTE!!!

-Cute chapter! Lots of Citran moments!

—

Chapter 13!!

-“I’m a human being, not a mole.” Faraday is soooo fun sometimes like so fun and endearing???

-“Destroyed back in the age of mortality by something called ‘terrorism’.” OKAY SO YES THIS DOES GIVE US A LOT TO THINK ABOUT IN TERMS OF WHAT PEOPLE HERE KNOW ABOUT THE AGE OF MORTALITY BUT ALSO THAT IS RLLY FUCKING FUNNY SOOO

-I too hate walking at 6:30 am (I go to public school in America)

-“I have found that with the Scythedom, it is better to ask for forgiveness than permission,” He is iconic yall

-“What’s the worst they could do?” Things said before disasters—

-“Running the gauntlet” Like walking the red carpet!

-“Scythes wished to be seen as the many faces of light, not of darkness.” And soon they will be! Yk, just right after the plague—

-SCYTHE CURIE OMG OMG!!

-OO now they’re seeing scythe goddard ohoho I LOVE HAVING FORESIGHT

-Citra would cringe at the fact she at one point dazzled by goddard

-Rowan don’t be fatphobic /j

-I like that the conclave’s are pretty boring for the most part, makes it feel more realistic

-I love how only when Citra becomes a Scythe does she begin to understand these rituals, shows how much she grows

-OHOHO we got goddards fuckin note bullshit! Citra is gonna hear allll about that when she becomes a scythe

-Love how Chomsky is basically described as “as white as anyone could be” lmaoo token white man

-also gun lobby, nothing to say about it just…Gun lobby

-Rowan starting to talk like faraday is GOLD

-Again I love Citra and Rowan’s banter

-SCYTHE CURIE

-The idea of the weaponsmaster being a infomercial salesman is SOO funny i need to use that in my scythe oc shit

-Also that digital poison sounds fucking TERRIFYING

-The Scythes not liking the term ‘victim’ is rlly interesting to me, shows they really think of themselves as these faces of light

-Neal I don’t think you know what feminine hygiene products sound like—

-Hand of midas shit but even MORE horrifying!!

-I am terrible with names I saw Scythe Mandela and thought he was Scythe Possuelo and I have no idea why

-Who names their child Ransom??

-VERY good and long chapter!! Two more to go!!

—

Chapter 14!!

-OOO the test scene!! One of my favorites!!

-SCYTHE CURIE

-Again what is with the shit names??? Jacory??

-OHH you do NOT interrupt scythe curie girl you are FUCKED

-Oh Citra you’re gonna revisit the worst thing you’ve ever done REALLL soon

-ROWAN LOSING ON PURPOSE FOR CITRA IS SOOOO!!!

-GODDAMN IT RAND I LOVE YOU BUT STOP

-AND THE TENSION THICKENS WITH THE ADDED RULE OF THEM HAVING TO KILL THE OTHER OH MY GOD ITS STILL GOOD MAN!!

-We all want a relationship with the thunderhead Curie

-Very good chapter that adds to the stakes of the story!! One more to go!!!

—

Chapter 15!!!

-God the shock and confusion and how upset they all are really captivates this conversation

-And you see that eventually Rowan is very willing to die at the hands of Citra, that’s how much he loves her like UGHH

-“Scythes were supposed to be above the petty,” oh citra you have no idea bby girl,,

-Hash pales!!!

-THE KISS SCENE

-Ive already went in depth about why I love this scene in my Citran analysis post but UGH I LOVE ITT

-Liar!! You are totally in love rowan!!

-GODDARD THE BASTARD

-God he is such a fucking dick i hate himmm

-Very good chapter :)

—

AND THATS THE NEXT 5!!! Next time we’ll do chapters 16-20!

[splinteredthoughts]

YAY OC RAMBLES!

Aight, ya asked for it!

Currently in the process of reworking an old sona to be a full-on oc of their own. It wasn’t really a ‘me’ anymore, so I wanted to give her her own shine and dazzle.

Here she is! Originally, the only thing I had for her was that she was a shark-themed villain version of a self-insert named Nora. She had little to no story as a villain, and no exceptional powers except for enhanced strength and breathing underwater.

Now, I have thoughts about her! Her new name is Frenzy. She lives in Deluge, a city protected by a few big heros, and some smaller heros, but fought over constantly by villains. Instead of being one of the big fish, Frenzy is more on the rogues side of the villains, stirring up trouble and doing small crime on more of a for fun basis than anything else. Her powers mostly lie in her enhanced speed and strength, but she also has some control over water. Not enough to be on the level of ATLA’s waterbenders, but just enough to bring in a thick fog or to make it rain. It works as a cover for her misdeeds. Frenzy also occasionally works as extra muscle for the bigger villains if they need more manpower on bigger jobs, or just to use her for scary dog privileges.

Between the bigger jobs and being paid by other villains, Frenzy gets on pretty well. Her tail and fin make it hard to blend in with the civilian population, so she doesn’t have a lot of freedom to roam about during the daylight hours. Luckily, she doesn’t need to. Frenzy had a young villain that she had taken under her wing/was training. His name was Phoenix (I’ll whip up a doodle of him later, he’s ✨new✨). Unsurprisingly, his powers are speed and pyrokinesis. Phoenix stayed under Frenzy‘s protection for years, until he made a sudden switch to being a hero and has started to fight her, just because he realized how much more profitable it would be if he had the people of Deluge behind him instead of against him. That ambition is going to get him killed.

Phoenix is the reason that Frenzy is getting reworked at all. I honestly hadn’t thought of her in years, but then Phoenix popped into my head and took it hostage for Frenzy. She barely had a personality beforehand, but now I know that she’s an action first, think later kinda woman. She stays as one of the more unpredictable rogues because people won’t mess with her as much, and she loves the way that her reputation and appearance frighten others. Frenzy will not hesitate to destroy months or even years of hard work if it starts to become a problem for her. If she has soft spots, she’s hidden them well.

I haven’t quite worked out the power system of this world yet, but when I do I’ll have a better explanation of the shark tail than ‘I think it looks cool’, but that’s all I have for now!

[skelezen]

Bleeding Of Berlin - 1st Draft (OCS)

The case of the missing cat, a fascinatingly boring case I never ran out of with most my reports being how well I can stalk feline creatures with stealth and the ability to disguise my intention. One day I’d wake up to a gravestone dazzled in shriveled flowers, the name, “Magnus E Bryant, finder of cats 1889-1942” written messily like the author of my story just wanted to get rid of me; my ghost would wonder the underworld alone and miserable as if nothing changed.

Tired of searching for cats, desperately craving the dangerous thrills of a murder case. Not even my father or mother could prevent me from reaching that promising adventure I seek! Which is why when that single piece of slightly discolored paper popped onto my desk alerting me of something new I realized just how lucky I had became.

My coffee gone a cold bitter taste as I continued to sip it not bothered enough to get a new one. Fingers smothered the paper in sweat as the adrenaline invaded my system like a bite to the neck. It was what I wanted, a case known as, “Blutsauger” a series of single young men being devoured from the necks not a single drip of blood able to be found.

“Sweet mother of Mary… this is..my break through!?” I yelled the entire room glared at me my loud voice bellowing across the exhausted room reeking of human rot and despair. No one was happy with me. I knew they were upset by my constant muttering of adventure but they didn’t understand, my life was miserable with just the cats to keep me company.

No one but him glanced my way with a pleasant expression. A menacingly cherry smile plopped onto his rose cheeks and caressed my ego, “I see you got the bleeding of Berlin case dear Magnus.” He chuckled his seemingly innocent tone hiding his bloody red gaze.

[rozetheeuwu]

Ordell theme teams:

Nightclub theme teams for my boy Ordell.

Normally I avoid putting oc stuff in the main tag if canon characters/story beats aren't referenced in it but there are some references to some of the characters in there lol.

Aloha to the Alola:

Ashen Beach, singles

Primarina Nickname: Star (Torrent, Bold, Choice Specs, Surf, Moonblast, Psychic, Hidden Power)

Incineroar Nickname: Belt (Intimidate, Brave, Leftovers, Fake Out, Flare Blitz, Darkest Lariat, U-Turn)

Decidueye Nickname: Step (Shiny, Long Reach, Brave, Leftovers, Nature Power, Shadow Sneak, Sucker Punch, Leaf Blade)

Lycanroc (Dusk) Nickname: Rocker (Tough Claws, Adamant, Life Orb, Rock Slide, Brick Break, Crunch, Stomping Tantrum)

Alolan-Raichu Nickname: Pancake (Surge Surfer, Timid, Life Orb, Thunderbolt, Psychic, Calm Mind, Dazzling Gleam)

Dusk Mane Necrozma Nickname: Lightshow (Prism Armor, Jolly, Ultranecrozium Z, Sword Dance, Photon Geyser, Sunsteel Strike, Outrage)

Blast from the past:

Holy Field, doubles

Eevee Nickname: Pearl (Shiny, Anticipation, Timid, Eevium-Z, Last Resort, Baton Pass, Substitue, Stored Power)

Ribombee Nickname: Polaris (Shield Dust, Modest, Magical Seed, Pollen Puff, Dazzling Gleam, Nature Power)

Minior Nickname: Fallenstar (Shiny, Shields Down, Jolly, White herb, Shell Smash, Rock Slide, Acrobatics, Self Destruct)

Garchomp Nickname: Bark (Shiny, Rough Skin, Jolly, Leftovers, Dragon Claw, Earthquake, Stone Edge, Iron head)

Aegislash Nickname: Hero (Stance Change, Adamant, Leftovers, Iron Head, Sacred Sword, Shadow Sneak, Sword Dance)

Salamance Nickname: Skyspectre (Intimidate, Modest, Salamencite, Dragon Pulse. Hyper Voice, Heat Wave, Hidden Power Steel)

One Step At A Time 1:

New World Field, Singles

Delphox Nickname: Fluff (Shiny, Magician, Modest, Magical Seed, Mystical Fire, Psychic, Dazzling Gleam, Wish)

Chatot Nickname: Forgiveness (Keen Eye, Timid, Magical Seed, Boomburst, Heat Wave, Nasty Plot, Encore)

Walrein Nickname: Big Boy (Thick Fat, Modest, Leftovers, Rest, Sleep Talk, Toxic, Aurora Beam)

Umbreon Nickname: Brotherhood (Shiny, Synchronize, Impish, Leftovers, Wish Toxic, Throat Chop, Protect)

Absol Nickname: Dreamer (Pressure, Jolly, Absolite, Sucker Punch, Sword Dance, Mega Horn, Play Rough

Silvally Nickname: Redemption (RKS System, Quirky, Magical Seed, Multi Attack, Dark Pulse, Flash Cannon, Rest)

One Step At A Time 2:

Holy Field, singles:

Audino Nickname: Healer (Regenerator, Bold, Audinite, Dazzling Gleam, Hyper Voice, Wish, Flamethrower)

Sylveon Nickname: Gemstone (Pixilate, Bold, Magical Seed, Wish, Swift, Heal Bell, Psyshock)

Ditto Nickname: Funky (Importer, Quirky, Choice Scarf, Transform, Transform, Transform, Transform)

Garchomp Nickname: Bark (Shiny, Rough Skin, Jolly, Leftovers, Dragon Claw, Earthquake, Stone Edge, Iron head)

Toxicroak Nickname: Spike (Dry Skin, Jolly, Life Orb, Gunk Shot, Drain Punch, Sucker Punch, Swords Dance)

Arceus Nickname: Puppy (Multitype, Modest, Magical Seed, Judgement, Fire Blast, Earth Power, Recover)

New Game+:

Rainbow Field, Singles

Magmotar Nickname: FlameDra (Flame Body, Timid, Magical Seed, Flamethower, Solar Beam, Hidden Power (Ice), Thunderbolt)

Hawlucha Nickname: Halse (Mold Breaker, Adamant, Flying Gem, Acrobatics, High Jump Kick, Sword Dance, Poison Jab)

Yanmega Nickname: Raidra (Speed Boost, Modest, Magical Seed, Air Slash, Silver Wind, Hidden Power (Water), Protect)

Clefable Nickname: Pegasus (Shiny, Magic Guard, Quiet, Leftovers, Moon Blast, Hidden Power (Ground), Wish, Cosmic Power)

Jirachi Nickname: Nerferti (Shiny, Serene Grace, Jolly , Leftovers, Zen Headbutt, Iron Head, Rest, Sleep Talk)

Mimikyu Nickname: Magna (Disguise, Jolly, Mimikium-Z, Sword Dance, Shadow Sneak, Play Rough, Drain Punch)

Hi Hungry, I'm Dad:

Glitch Field, Singles

Tentacruel Nickname: Familiar (Clear Body, Bold, Black Sludge, Surf, Toxic, Toxic Spikes, Rapid Spin)

Ditto Nickname: Funky (Importer, , Quirky, Choice Scarf, Transform, Transform, Transform, Transform)

Garchomp Nickname: Bark (Shiny, Rough Skin, Rash, Leftovers, Dragon Claw, Earthquake, Stone Edge, Flamethrower)

Audino Nickname: Healer (Regenerator, Impish, Audinite, Last Resort, Wish)

Toxicroak Nickname: Spike (Dry Skin, Jolly, Life Orb, Gunk Shot, Drain Punch, Sucker Punch, Swords Dance)

Gardevoir Nickname: Stargaze (Shiny, Synthetic Seed, Stored Power, Focus Blast, Calm Mind, Wish)

References/trivias:

Aloha to the Alola:

Theme Name

Blast from the past:

Holy field in reference to his past in the Sanctum.

Eevee in reference to him owning an Eevee before fleeing to Alola.

Ribombee in reference to and honor of Taube.

Minior in reference of team Meteor.

Garchomp in reference to Solaris.

Aegislash in reference to Mirage Tower.

Salamance in reference to and honor Elena.

One Step At A Time 1:

One step at a time 1 involves all the characters of his past who he is rebuilding bridges with as well as Lin.

New World Field in reference to new beginnings.

Delphox in reference to Ace.

Chatot in reference to Taka.

Umbreon in reference to Zero.

Absol in reference to Luna

Walrein in reference to Blake

Silvally in reference to Lin.

One Step At A Time 2:

One step at a time 2 involves all the characters of his past who he is rebuilding bridges, but specifically the ones that have to do with hiss religious background and dealing with loss/the death of someone.

Holy field in reference to his past regarding religion.

Audino in reference to his father, Hiram.

Sylveon in reference to his twin, Divers.

Ditto in reference to his uncle, Elias.

Garchomp in reference to Solaris.

Toxicroak in reference to Corey.

Arceus in reference to his past with religion.

New Game+:

The name is a play on him restarting his adventure in Reborn who he had left behind and beginning anew. The team references the most important people he met in his journey. (Specifically those who helped shape his journey and those who he is very closest with)

Rainbow field because haha gay joke.

Magmotar in reference to his boyfriend, Cal.

Hawlucha in reference to his girlfriend, Alistasia.

Yanmega in reference to Shelly.

Clefable in reference to Noel.

Jirachi in reference to Anna.

Mimikyu in reference to Shade.

The names of the pokemon are a reference to this from my favorite media.

Hi Hungry, I'm Dad:

This team is a dad joke.

The Glitch Field is used because it's using the older gens stuff.

Tentacruel in reference to his adoptive father, Hal

Ditto in reference to his uncle, El.

Garchomp in reference to Solaris

Audino in reference to his father, Hiram

Toxicroak in reference to Corey.

Gardevoir in reference to Radomus.

[eikooowie]

Here's a backstory for your Bottleman DX OC, Kazumi Lemonade, including her love interest Kota Koka Colamaru DX, and the "burst splash" bonus!

Kazumi Lemonade DX: The Zesty Strategist with a Splash of Red

Name: Kazumi Lemonade DX (叶純 レモネード DX - Kazumi Remonēdo DX)

Bottle Animal: Lemonade (a sleek, agile lemon-themed bird, perhaps a kingfisher, that emphasizes precision and speed)

Core Bottle: Clear yellow, with a subtle red tint swirling within, especially noticeable when light hits it.

Hair: Bright, sunny yellow hair, usually styled in a neat, practical bob or a high ponytail. A single, striking streak of vibrant red hair often falls across her right eye or is braided into her side.

Personality: Analytical, highly intelligent, and a master strategist. Kazumi approaches Bottleman battles like a complex puzzle, always looking for the optimal angle and the most efficient way to achieve victory. She's generally calm and composed, but beneath her cool exterior lies a passionate competitive spirit. She can be a bit reserved at first, but once she trusts you, she's fiercely loyal and surprisingly witty. Her "zest" comes from her quick thinking and ability to adapt.

Burst Splash DX: This refers to her signature move, the "Crimson Cascade." When activated, Kazumi's Bottleman rapidly fires a concentrated burst of water that creates a dazzling, almost artistic splash of water, tinged with a reddish hue, which disrupts opponents' aim and creates openings for her follow-up attacks. It's not just about power; it's about control and precision.

Backstory: The Path of the Precision Striker

Kazumi grew up in a family of traditional tea masters, known for their meticulous attention to detail and unwavering discipline. While she appreciated the elegance of the tea ceremony, her true passion lay in the fast-paced, strategic world of Bottleman. From a young age, she was fascinated by the intricate mechanisms of the Bottlemen and the endless possibilities of battle strategy.

Her first Bottleman was a hand-me-down from an older cousin, a basic model that she painstakingly customized and fine-tuned. She spent countless hours studying attack patterns, trajectory calculations, and the optimal angles for breaking targets. Her bright yellow hair was a natural fit for her chosen Bottle Animal, the Lemonade, reflecting its crisp, refreshing nature and her clear-headed approach to battle. The single red streak in her hair, however, was a rebellious touch – a small nod to the fiery passion she secretly harbored for the game, a contrast to her outwardly calm demeanor.

She quickly gained a reputation in local Bottleman circuits for her unorthodox strategies and surprising precision. While many focused on raw power, Kazumi's strength lay in her ability to anticipate her opponents' moves and exploit their weaknesses with surgical strikes. This often led to her winning matches in unexpected ways, earning her the nickname "The Zesty Strategist."

The "Burst Splash DX" wasn't something she immediately developed. It was born out of a frustrating defeat against an opponent who relied purely on overwhelming force. Realizing that raw power wasn't her natural advantage, Kazumi began experimenting with ways to control the battlefield. She spent weeks modifying her Bottleman's water pressure system, aiming for a technique that could disrupt rather than just destroy. The first successful execution of what she would later perfect as the "Crimson Cascade" was accidental; a sudden surge of water, unexpectedly vibrant with a reddish tint from a specific additive she was experimenting with, momentarily blinded her opponent and allowed her to land a winning shot. She refined this into her signature move, learning to control the "red tint" effect through specific water pressure and a unique core bottle material she sourced. It became a visual representation of her hidden passion erupting in a controlled, strategic manner.

Love Interest: Kota Koka Colamaru DX - The Spirited Rival

Name: Kota Koka Colamaru DX (コウタ コカ コーラマル DX - Kōta Koka Kōramaru DX)

Bottle Animal: Cola (a powerful, direct-hitting bear or bull-themed Bottleman, emphasizing raw force and impact)

Core Bottle: Deep, opaque red, almost black, signifying immense power.

Personality: Boisterous, energetic, and incredibly passionate. Kota is the antithesis of Kazumi in many ways; he relies on brute force and overwhelming attacks. He's got a big heart, though, and an infectious enthusiasm for Bottleman. He can be a bit impulsive but is fiercely loyal to his friends and always strives to be the strongest.

How They Met:

Kazumi and Kota's first encounter was, naturally, in a Bottleman battle. It was a heated match between Kazumi's precise strikes and Kota's explosive power. The battle was a whirlwind of strategic dodges and powerful charges, pushing both of them to their limits. Despite their vastly different styles, they found a mutual respect for each other's dedication and skill.

At first, their relationship was one of intense rivalry. Kota found Kazumi's calculated approach frustratingly elusive, while Kazumi found Kota's raw power sometimes overwhelming but also surprisingly captivating. They would often practice together, constantly pushing each other to improve. Kazumi learned to appreciate the raw force of a direct hit from Kota, and Kota, in turn, began to see the value in Kazumi's strategic planning.

Over time, their rivalry softened into a genuine friendship. Kota was often the one to pull Kazumi out of her analytical shell, encouraging her to enjoy the thrill of the battle more. Kazumi, in turn, would help Kota refine his aim and develop more nuanced attack patterns.

The Spark:

The romantic spark between them ignited during a particularly challenging team battle. They were paired together against two formidable opponents. During a critical moment, Kazumi's "Crimson Cascade" created a perfect opening, but it required an immediate, powerful follow-up. Without a word, Kota intuitively understood and unleashed a devastating "Cola Crush" attack, perfectly timed with Kazumi's splash. They won the match with a synergistic display of their combined strengths.

After the match, flushed with victory and adrenaline, they shared a look that was more than just teammate appreciation. Kota, in his usual direct manner, simply grinned and said, "You make a pretty good team, Lemonade." Kazumi, usually reserved, found herself smiling widely, a genuine, unburdened smile. "You too, Colamaru," she replied, a hint of something more in her tone.

Since then, their relationship has blossomed. They continue to be fierce rivals in individual matches, but their bond off the battlefield is undeniable. Kota admires Kazumi's intelligence and calm demeanor, finding it a refreshing contrast to his own fiery nature. Kazumi is drawn to Kota's unwavering passion, his honest enthusiasm, and the surprisingly comforting strength he radiates. They balance each other perfectly: the strategic mind and the powerful heart, both united by their love for Bottleman DX. Their dynamic is a beautiful blend of competitive spirit and unwavering support, creating a powerful duo both in and out of the arena.