#Hunter spits out a tooth

[letsplaythermalnuclearwar]

I think every toh fan deserves to have a "there's absolutely no way grimwalkers work like this, but wouldn't it be cool if they did???" headcanon

mine is that grimwalkers have eight sets of teeth over their life

[evilminji]

For your SVSSS OCs

What better way to make Binge willingly give up that horrible, corrupting sword than to just. Make him a better sword.

Of course it isn't that easy as its a Legendary blade. But if its been done once it can be done again.

(I totally remember the sword's name, trust me)

Xin Mo! And? I totally did that *holds up finger* *starts to say something* *finds they... actually have less of an argument then they thought* 🤔

Cause like? What IS a legendary sword? If not just... Really Famous™.

It's not inherently STRONGER or indeed THE strongest of all possible swords. There is every possibility some master sword maker creater a BETTER sword and just, like, kept his mouth shut about it. Because he wasn't a fool. And bragging gets sword hunters.

Who tend to kill you for your swords.

Xin Mo is just deep,y, DEEPLY cursed. A WMD class Sword. It ain't special! There are others! Fuck, you could MAKE others! You just need the skill (which is incredible rare), the materials (which are rare and hard to obtain), and the tools to do it with (which are specialized and would have to be specificly made by a DIFFERENT master crafter).

Not... impossible, per say, just? Really, REALLY tough!

Cause Crafters are kinda sparse on the ground. For obvious "Cultivators are treasure stealing murder hobos" type reasons! *cough pointed cough* So like? I imagine ever Crafter graduation goes basicly:

"I am so proud of you!" "Aw, thank you, Shizun!" *does a lil cermony*

*they all look at each other, smiling benignly*

*SLAMS DOWN SMOKE BOMB* "FUCKING SKATTER! Run, children! RUN IF YOU WANT TO LIIIIIIVE!" *everyone bolts in different directions, never to cross paths again*

#You'll-Never-Take-Us-Alive

After all! You can't rat out your fellow Crafters... if you DONT KNOW WHERE THEY ARE! You'll get NOTHING out of me! You STAB HAPPY, FREAKS! *spits blood* (it's a time honored tradition! Find a bolt hole! Make a hidden realm! Maybe steal some slave kids or unwanted orphans and train the next generation! Then you abandon the OLD hidden realm and go make a new one! Hide there forever or until you're either murdered/ascend!)

(It's the ciiiircle of liiiiiife~)

There is a REASON you can't find SHIT. Why you'll CONTINUE to not find shit. Demons, demonic cultivators, general bastards. People are AWFUL out there! And they want your shit! Have swords! Are willing to kill you about it!! Are YOU gonna trust assholes like the old Palace master? Fuck no!

But like... Sects? Great for pooling resources. Meeting up. (NO I will not show you where I live! Mind your business! But we CAN meet at-) Teaching kids. Teaching idiots! Taking on a side hustle. Maybe finding a hook up. Crafter for Crafter, looking to share cozy Hidden Realm? Anyone want to... collab~? 👀

Still! There is a whole ass SWORD PEAK. Their whole THING is making treasure swords. Studying Swords. Rare, refined, and obscure! I bet there is a better sword then Xin Mo SITTING in that pile! Just politely shooing away baby cultivators going "mmm, sry bby. We do not vibe." And not reacting.

Plus? Not all spiritual weapons? Are swords? Xin Mo could very well get it's SHIT rocked by some legendary shield. Or staff. Dagger, ribbon, chain, glaive, etc.

Fuck, there could be a carved tooth out there. Some ancient Primordial spear. A first go of things, made by the master weapon maker/spiritual leader of the tribe. Just sitting in the Heavens vaults. So powerful it would break mountain ranges and boil oceans at this point. TOO powerful for even gods to touch.

And we KNOW that things can cultivate sentence. Human form.

Where's your human form, Xin Mo? Huh? If your so POWERFUL, why you still need a weilder? Why not do it yourself?? Bet you OTHER weapons have! They've walked off with themselves! Became farmers or monks! Ascended to godhood.

There are many paths, after all.

Xin Mo clouds the vision. It makes you THINK it's stronger then it is. But it's fuckin NOT. Mobei-jun, were he just as old, with a FRACTION of the same level of power available to Xin Mo, could do INFINITLY more and with far greater nuance. But Xin Mo? A nuke powered sledgehammer. With shitty wires.

That said?

................... there is no way in HELL anyone giving that man a sword. For one, he got them "Shizun, LOVE ME!" crazy eyes. Which is concerning. But also? Why the FUCK would we ARM the heavenly demon? That sound like the exact OPPOSITE of what we should do! Let's NOT do that!

Unfortunately, I suspect? If anyone ever pointed it out to him? Binghe would fucking bloodhound his way through hidden realms like a terrifying loot gobin storm. STARTING with "hey, aren't Heavenly Demons both realy old and absurdly strong? They probably had swords built for themselves, right? Possibly even some of the ones they had ON THEM when the original Heavenly Demons were cast out. From, you know, THE HEAVENS. Where they WERE GODS."

Which is a terrifying prospect.

Better the Xin Mo. Because it is a shit sword and should feel bad. But like.... 😬

Oh... Oh No™

@babbling-babull @legitimatesatanspawn @mayfay @hdgnj @leftnotright

[papathe5th]

What if… Perpetua X (newly-turned) vampire Reader in a “meet cute” scenario? They’re both feral to begin with, but Reader has much less experience. They both grow to love hunting together.

Ghestie, I’ll be honest. I crammed a season’s worth of a horror romance into a single episode with this one.

Anyway, I hope you have fun reading it!

Pairing: Vampetua x Fledgling GN!Reader

Words: 1400

Rating: E (explicit)

You may not know what you’ve become, but you do know that you’re hungry.

The night you awoke in the morgue, you were so starved, you ate the cold innards of the corpse on the autopsy table. And, though it was congealed, the blood went down as easily as any refreshing drink on a summer’s day.

Tonight, covered in nothing but white scrubs, you stalked a deer hunter in the woods. You’ve eaten nothing but decomposing things, so you were going to try fresh kill, and venison, for the very first time.

The hunter seemed to you not all that skilled, but, then again, neither were you. Covered in foliage, the two of you were waiting impatiently for something, or some being, to take the bait. You were perched up in the trees while he was on his belly in the bushes. And you both perked up when a twig snapped in the dark distance.

The man was surprised to see his trap go off without it being touched, but you were shocked to see a human move at the speed of moonlight. It seemed to you like they were a shadow, black and weightless, yet they had stepped in the trap and escaped it in a blink of the hunter’s eye. Before either of you could figure out what just happened, the shadow fell on the man and you watched him being dragged back into the dirt, deep into the bushes.

The screams that filled the night were loud in your ears. Your drums were beating inside your skull as if you were sitting next to a speaker. You used to, when you were alive. In fact, you had been the night you drew your last breath. Tonight, you heard the hunter’s heart giving out.

When the screams stopped, you uncovered your ears only to hear the decadent sound of slurping. The shadow was feeding. Saliva flooded your mouth and your stomach growled a little too loud.

The shadow heard you.

“You can come down now,” a voice beckoned you into the bushes. “If you want it while it’s still warm.”

Tonight, you met another of your kind. He was more menacing than the woods, more gracious than a deer and deadlier than any predator.

He wore stage make-up like war paint, a fitted black suit under a leather trench coat and a wild head of dark hair. He combed the curls out of his face with his long black claws as he took your trembling hand to his black lipstick smeared lips. To reach it, he bent in half and you swore a bone snapped. None of it worried you as much as the look he gave you. His eyes were mismatched, one as warm as a green pond and other, as cold as the pale moon.

“Papa V Perpetua,” he smiled so wide, you would see every sharp blood-stained tooth and the gums they were sticking out of.“You’ve never fed before, have you, little bat?”

Tonight, you fed from a living being for the first time. The hunter had become the hunted and Papa V Perpetua had offered you his heart.

You stilled yourself and sunk your newly sharpened teeth into the warm wounds he inflicted with his own set into the chest. The death keel that the prey let out turned your stomach, punched you in the gut and broke your heart all at once.

Papa recognized the agony you were in, and latched his mouth back into the flesh, took a long sip and beckoned you back at his side.Snatching your chin, he squeezed your jaw until it was slack and spit blood into your mouth. Before you could pull away, he pressed his lips down on yours and fed you his soaking tongue. He made you drink it like a baby bird. No, not like a bird. Like a bat. A vampire bat.

“Vampire bats kiss with mouthfuls of blood to strengthen bonds,” you read aloud the paragraph.

The light of the laptop was nothing compared to the glow of Papa’s left eye. He rose from the pillow, propping himself up on his below. And he studied you while you were researching the being you were becoming. “I’m a…vampire bat?”

You work the words on your tongue. It had an aftertaste of blood. And of him.

It turned out that whatever-you-were-supposed-to-be is ruled by both blood lust and Lust with a capital L. After he fed you his dinner, french kissing you until you were full, he decided that you were dessert. Papa V Perpetua wrapped you in his leather coat - or wings - and fled with you to a penthouse at the edge of the word you once knew. He needed to taste you and you needed him between your thighs, so you let him bite, drink and suckle the flesh that you would have to rub against flesh once you were able to walk again. Because he also had to penetrate you, press you into the old spring mattress and break the headboard while spreading your legs and stretching your walls.

“You are blessed.” His claws combed through the small hairs at the back of your neck. “Our Lord Lucifer has bestowed upon you the gift of immortality.”

Tonight, you looked Death in the face and asked. “Did you kill me?”

You have no recollection of the time the Devil himself gifted you with an insatiable desire to kill your fellow humans, but your heart remembered your loved ones and your feet fled from them. You couldn’t risk hurting them. And you couldn’t accept not being welcomed into their arms. So you ran off into the woods like the animal you felt you had become. Like the vampire bat you were becoming.

“A drunk driver killed you,” Papa stroked your cheek with his thumb. And, even as you tried to turn down his cold comfort, the claws in your hair kept you there. “The deadliest predators on earth are irresponsible drivers. Look it up.”

Looking at him, seeing nothing out of place on his face save for the curls that stuck to the little paint lining his eyes and shaping his cheeks, you couldn’t believe how cool he was about all of this. As cool as a snake. Or a corpse. You were two walking corpses after all.

“And Lucifer just happened to be at the scene of the crime?”

“Oh, my little bat,” he smiled, all jagged, sharp, deadly teeth. “He led me to you.” His other hand rounded your throat like a rope. “The emergency services couldn't make it all the way out here, and they had just reached the city limits when I…” His mouth breathed against your closed one, his tongue licking your lips. “I tasted your blood for the first time. And fed you my own.”

You gasped then and let his tongue slither in. The hand around your neck was tightening like a noose while the one at the back of your head sunk into the wound from which you bleed to death.

“You’re welcome,” he chuckled between kisses so deep, you felt them in your chest, in your cold heart. And in your burning loins.

“That’s why I…I’m hot for you?”

“Vampire bats form bonds by sharing their prey, don’t they?” Papa V Perpetua pushed the laptop of your lap and dragged you atop his own. “I’ll share every one of my dinners with you,” His fingers forced your head back, snatching a fist of hair. The rest of them rested on the small of your back, holding you up. “I’ll share every drop of blood with you. Forever.”

Tonight, you died for the second time. Papa V Perpetua guided you through it as he had during your first feeding. He kissed the length of your jaw until you whimpered . He smashed your ass cheek until you squeeked. And he nibbled on your neck until you begged him to drink from you again

His cock was hardened with every delicious sound that dripped out of your mouth. And it was harder to take, but you were soon bouncing in his lap with nothing but the saliva he drizzled on top to make the slide smoother. He had more spit to share which you welcomed with your tongue rolled out of your mouth. And you tasted your own blood when he fed it to you tonight.

And your little death came to you as it came to him. You came together.

[nanivinsmoke]

✩ Black Hearted.

when the heart wants what it wants, someone’s bound to get hurt.

✩ roronoa zoro x f!reader

✩ warnings & tags : smut & angst, thick, black coded reader. established affair, no happy ending, degrading names (slut).

you held your finger up to shush the green haired, muscular swordsman that knet before you, his hair cock in your other hand, your eyes traveling down as you sucked on the swollen mushroom head.

the two of you were in the sunny’s observatory, keeping watch while the rest of the crew rested. which was a perfect opportunity for you to finally relieve your desires, the deep want to have the pirate hunter’s fat dick in your mouth.

your throat burned when you pushed him further into your mouth, but hearing his low moans and grunts only encouraged you to take him deeper. slobber pooled down the sides of your once-glossed mouth and ran down his veiny shaft. a mixture of your spit and gloss dribbled onto his deep brown balls.

you slurped, gagged, and sucked his eight inches until he finally released his warm seed into your mouth—which you happily swallowed before pulling him into a kiss. he welcomed your tongue into his mouth, tasting the remnants of himself, while your tongues danced with each other.

you could feel his dick jump against your clothed bottom, your arousal grew. “can i ride you, baby?” you purred into zoro’s ear, kissing and sucking on his broad neck, worshipping the exposed skin; while you grinded against him.

“only if you can keep quiet, you know how loud you can be while you take me” he chuckled, in between a groan; while you stimulated his sensitive cock.

“just so he could hear us. you know i love the thrill,” you bit his ear lobe, while he pulled your panties to the side underneath your skirt and pushed his sticky tip into your sopping wet entrance; earning a stifled moan from you.

your pussy clung to his cock with each stroke, squelching, and creaming around him; while he held onto your waist—ass clapping against his tan legs. and just like he predicted, your mewls and moans were loud—but you couldn’t help it, he knew exactly how you wanted to be fucked. just hearing you moan into his ear was enough for him to plunge even deeper inside of you, making your cling to his shoulder; biting his green shirt, with your eyes rolled back into your head.

soon, his very own eyes clamped shut; while the two of your bodies moved in sync with each other—orgasms both brimming at its peak, until reaching its end. your walls clamped down around his hard middle, riding out your orgasm at a fast pace; while he released his thick warm load inside of you.

you stayed like this for a while, catching your breaths; before he pulled out of you, with a small dribble of his nut following.

“it’s almost sunrise. he’s going to be up soon~”

“more reason for me to stay like this,” you sighed, basking in the moment once more before you got up and pulled your panties back to its right side, before leaving the swordsman in the observatory.

while the sun rose and morning finally shined in, you hopped in the ship’s bathhouse before everyone else, to wash off the scent of zoro; hiding your sickening secret once again. walking into the dining hall for breakfast, you were greeted by your crew and your loving boyfriend; sanji. he kissed your cheek and you swallowed your guilt like it was nothing, before sitting down to wait for your meal.

“hey luffy, we are we off to next?” chopper squeaked, jumping with excitement about their next adventure.

“some island, hopefully with lots of food. hey! has anybody seen zoro?” your ears perked up at the mention of him and the remnants of this morning flowed into your mind, causing you to press your thighs together. you must’ve had a weird expression on your face because sanji noticed it and asked if you were alright.

“oh im fi—“ your words were cut short as zoro walked in. he was shirtless, with a towel draped over his shoulders and his tooth brush hanging in his mouth. just like usual sanji and zoro picked a fight with each other about something so simple, but you tuned it out like usual; too turned on by the tan swordsman.

this affair wasn’t intentional. at least, that’s how it started off. you honestly don’t remember how it initially started, but you know you couldn’t stop fucking him. and you weren’t trying to hurt the blonde cook, you liked him and he loved you. something’s just happen. at least that’s what you told yourself.

the ship finally docked on an unknown island and most of the crew went together to explore; except for you, zoro, franky and sanji. the cyborg and chef decided to stay near the shore to fish for lunch and look after the ship, while you and zoro snuck off deep into the woods, to get off a quickie.

you lips were like glue the way they were stuck to one another, neither of you wanted to break it. he had you pressed against a tree, dominating you with his lips. after seeing him this morning and watching his muscles flex and protrude; you had to have more of him. you body needed him.

he was the first one to pull away, pressing his forehead against yours; while his fingers found their way underneath your flowy green dress—playing with your wet folds.

“so fucking wet. i turn you on like this, baby?” his panty wetting voice was deep, making you drip even more onto his fingers. your pussy began to squelch, driving the five foot ten male insane. he pushed his khaki pants down, along with his black briefs; freeing his slick coated penis.

“lift that leg up for me, momma~” you did as you were told, letting him hold you up by your legs—making it easier for him to enter you. he didn’t even let you adjust to him, pounding your cunt silly with his cock; your smooth walls clamping around him with each stroke.

you loved his dick. you craved his dick every second of every day. he was made for you and you for him.

“f-f-fuck….zo-zo-” you stuttered, too fucked out to even formulate a sentence. every time you were in his arms and filled with him, you were practically cockdrunk. he always made you feel drunk from his cock the way he would dig your guts out with each stroke and hitting your g-spot at the same time; was a skill no other man could posses; especially sanji.

“this my pussy? huh? this my fucking pussy?!” he groaned, gripping your ass while pounding harder and deeper inside of you.

“yes! yes! fuck~” you moaned into his ear, nibbling on it softly. the feeling of an orgasm creeped up on you and you closed your eyes; anticipating the feeling of it exploding inside of you.

“i love you. shit, cumming deep in this pussy.”

“i love you t—“ the sound of someone’s throat clearing scared you, forcing your eyes open to a face you did not expect to see. a few feet away from you was the male who’s heart you just broke, standing there with a tray of drinks and a cigarette in his mouth. you pushed zoro away, fixing yourself before you approached sanji, but before you even could; he turned away.

“lunch is finished, we’re about to board the ship too.” he was cold, his tone calculated as he walked away before you could even call him. you felt zoro’s hand touch your shoulder, which you shrugged away. you weren’t in the mood for him right now, especially after what just transpired.

“sanji! please, let me explain!” you yelled out, jogging to catch up to the cook; leaving zoro with blue balls.

for the rest of the day, sanji ignored you. he wasn’t trying to hear your apologies and if he needed to speak with you, he would do it indirectly so the rest of the crew couldn’t question what was going on between you two. zoro on the other hand was his usual self, sitting back and observing while he napped. from time to time he would check on you, watching how you handled the situation.

and then nightfall hit, and you were scheduled to keep watch with sanji. perfect, it was the perfect time to talk to him and he couldn’t get out of it either. when he climbed the ladder to the observatory and saw you sitting on the plush blue sofa, he sucked his teeth and pulled out a cigarette. he stood on the far end side of the room and stared at you, piercing your skin with his soulless eyes.

“sanji, look…I never meant to—“ as the lie flew out of your mouth, sanji couldn’t help but laugh at you, making you frown. you weren’t even going to continue with it, you were going to downright admit everything.

“look, i was never in love with you. not like you were with me. i accidentally fell in love with zoro, it wasn’t supposed to be this way, but it did.“

“it did? that’s all you have to say? you did the worst thing possible, but what can I expect from a slut?” you craned your head to the side and it felt like slow motion; they way you walked in front of sanji and slapped him—hard. tears brimmed your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them fall, he didn’t deserve them.

“im the slut?! you don’t think i notice you coming in and out of nami’s room when you thought everyone was sleep? sniffing her panties like some perverted creep? the moans coming from her room almost every night? didn’t think I knew that, did you?” there no more trying to be the bad guy anymore, he was just as wrong as you were.

he couldn’t say anything, not after his secret affair has been put out in the open. “i don’t know why i was so okay with me being the bad guy, when you’re just as guilty as i am. hurts don’t it, slut.” you couldn’t stay in the room with him any longer, those tears started to make way down you face as you climbed down the widow’s peak—mind racing with everything that transpired.

he was the reason why you cheated in the first place, he couldn’t keep it in his pants—making it easy for you not to fall in love with him. he did this, you just played his game better.

and when you finally reached the bottom, your one eyed love stood there waiting for you. but, you couldn’t face him—not today, or tomorrow. you had to leave. he followed you all the way to your room, but was met with the door slamming in his face. you ignored his calls, fighting the urge to open up the door—until he finally went away.

as night fell, you ignored your crew knocking on your door trying to see if you were alright; but you all gave them the same answer. nothing. you spent the whole day packing your things and writing a letter; before you finally escaped your room and tip toed across the deck. you snatched a compass from the ship, and dropped a boat at the edge of the ship—jumping on it and sailing away.

and when the crew finally awoke and found your door wide open with nothing it; they had began to panick—until zoro found the note you had left for the crew and read it out loud. you apologized to them for leaving and not finishing your journey with them, but telling them that this was for your own good. you ordered them not to come after you, no matter how much luffy wanted to.

the crew were upset and saddened, wondering what caused you to leave. they started to question sanji, but he said nothing and lit his cigarette; leaving the room afterwards. they left your room not too long after, to come up with a plan to find you—leaving zoro alone in your room. he had found another note you had left with his name on it and as he read it, his heart panged in his chest.

you told him how you were pregnant and positive it was his. you had known for some time now and didn’t have the guts to tell him. you told him that you loved him and apologized for how things turned out, but you would always love him. and would tell your child about him everyday.

maybe this was just another thing you were guilty of.

[pricescancerstickk]

Platonic! Simon Ghost Riley x Young! Child reader

(Took a tiny break, this idea is a bit tw) *edited*

**[TW AND WARNINGS : MENTIONS OF CHILD SEXUAL ASSAULT, ABUSE, PHYSICAL AND VERBAL ABUSE, READER IS 7 YEARS OLD]

Your parents were never available or present ever since you were as young as a baby, it was very cruel and unfair and you were forced to grow up too fast for someone your size, Screaming yelling, bottles breaking and things falling over piercing and deafening your ears, the shouts from your father when you didn’t bring beer fast enough. The sound of the slap and your moms hand connecting to your little cheek after you didn’t clean the dishes. It was a dark world and you knew it all. It didn’t matter where you went Via school or home there was never a safe place for you except for Your Neighbors Home. Simon knew your parents as the three were childhood friends. Seperating in high school, Your dad was simons best friend. Your father was a hunter when he was in his youth and it was why he had a shotgun on display in his home, Simon was a lieutenant. Serving in military. A remarkable soldier of the SAS. Why was simons home a possible safe home? Sure he had only seen you once when you were 3 years old. A delicate cute baby. He missed rubbing your chubby red cheeks, he missed you secretly. Still having those pictures of you and him. Simon holding you in his arms, a Polaroid picture.

But when going back to the thought of school and your parents was unfair. They never bought you toys, never provided any comfort whatsoever and doing as much as looking or acknowledging you in their presence. Looking at you like a bystander examining a bug. The way they beat you after you made one little mistake…Awful. Your other relatives weren’t any better. You tried telling any staff or calling the police on how you got harassed and groped even by your older relatives. Nobody believe a word from you? Why? They just assumed you were spoiled or lying to get something that you wanted..You really weren’t, but alas. They couldn’t see that. Despite your little body all battered and bruised, coming into school in a weak state and all bandaged. Nobody batted one singular eye!

Eyes fluttering open as the alarm clock rang. Waking you out of your dazed and sleepy state, you rubbed your eyes and slipped your feet into the slippers. Walking to the bathroom, Grumbling softly. “I don’t wanna go to school today…” your hand rested atop the sink. Turning on the water. Washing your face, spreading toothpaste onto the tooth brush before brushing your teeth. Tilting your head making sure to clean thoroughly. Spitting out afterwards and washing up. You changed into your clothes and brushed your hair. Taking the pink flowery school bag with you. It was cheap. Small. But enough for you and it fit your school books and all that was necessary and important for you to bring to school. You tried to ignore your parents arguing, as always. Both drunk and hung over. Sparing you a glare as you walked to the school.

(A little of the pictures I found to describe what it’s like for little reader to be playing alone)

You opened up your locker and set some of your stuff inside. Taking a book but a foot connected to your back and you fell to the floor wincing. But catching a flash of your reflection on the metal handle of the lockers. Red puffy eyes, you’d been crying the entire night, forced to suck it up and bear with it while you can. You couldn’t understand why life was so cruel. You were only in the first grade. You heard laughing. But didn’t realize it’d been going on for a while as you zoned out. They chanted cry baby as witnessing the sight of those round eyes filling up the brim like a river with all those big round clear, Tears. “It’s not funny! Stop it!” They kept kicking you over and over as you cried. They couldn’t get anymore childish than hanging that ‘kick me’ sign onto your back. Snagging it off and grunting. Crying softly wanting the day to end already but hearing the bell ring after so many hours your eyes widened in relief. You left the class as fast as you could. Snatching the bag onto your back and rushing outside. Shaking in fear knowing coming back home wouldn’t be good either..What could you really do though? You couldn’t run away. You didn’t know where to go.

“Sweetheart?’ A voice called out shaking you and snapping you back to reality, turning around and seeing it was Simon. What was he doing here? “Daddy will be mad at me I-if he saw you with me si” you gently spoke up, voice shaky. Eyes about to tear up, His blue eyes filled with concern. His hair blonde and short. He gently took a knee. Kneeling infront of you and taking that flowery bag of your back and hoisting it over his shoulder. Taking you into his arm. Careful not to trigger anything, “How do you carry that bag darling? It’s a bit heavy ain’t it” Gently he murmured as you clung onto him like your entire life depend solely on Simon. “Can we go to your home?..” whispering caught him off guard but he recently found out what had been happening at home, he loved you too much to let it happen longer. He nodded along and his long legs moved around the floor. Walking you to his home. Hand in hand, seeing your outfit. It was childlike and innocent, matching your personality exactly, Blue hoodie with those pink like suspender pants it seemed, (idk how to describe but it’s gonna be similar to the picture idk???)

Setting you down gently on his couch as he sat beside you and wrapped you in a warm blanket easing all of your worries. Slowly wrapping you in a blanket burrito before putting you on his lap. Watching your eyes look into his pale-like ones, They softened further he looked at you. Long finger tracing your cheek, touching the scar on it with a gentle touch like a baby’s caress. A light graze “they’re monsters. You’re never going back to them, your staying with me. Sweetie” he reassured as you couldn’t hold back tears anymore and your tears stained his shirt. Hands clutching on the dark shirt. Eyes wide and sad. “T-thank you” crying sweetly and heart easing as his hand went to the back of your small head. Pushing it into his broad chest and stroking your hair back. Pushing the bangs away from your eyes. The height difference was massive. You couldn’t grow up fast. Never eating well and being starved and at the age of 7 you were really short, about 4 foot something. But Simon was one of those blokes. His British accent gruff. Phlegmy like but soft and stern. He was on the phone as he ordered the pizza later after letting you decide what you wanted to eat. He took it and set the box on the table. Offering a slice to you, you took it and gently stuffed it to your mouth. His finger wiping off the cheese that sprinkled onto your face. A light giggle emitting from you. “It tickles..” you murmured softly and ate. As you watched the cartoons on tv in pure bliss it wouldn’t be long before those shitty parents came to haunt you

Ring

Simon placed down the slice of pizza. Standing up and pulling his phone out his pocket. Seeing it was your dad calling and his heart sank tiny his stomach as he answered it he argued with your father on the phone violently. There was no way in hell Simon was giving you to those so-called ‘parents’. He hung up and sat next to you again, seeing you already finished eating surprised him. You were sitting there a second ago. You must’ve been really hungry. He panicked, as he didn’t see you? “Y/N sweetheart? Where did you go?” His voice raised lightly, startling you,

“I’m over here si!” You answered back softly. But he found you on the floor next to the table with the colorful plates and toy kitchen. Sitting on the floor. Eyes looking into his, and that he forgot to mention he bought you toys before you came here. He had thought this through and planned thsi without knowing. He kneeled next to you on the floor “Don’t scare me like that again Y/N” he ruffled your hair a bit, Simon’s blue eyes were sincere. His face was chiseled and you always called the jawline ‘lines on his face’ because you didn’t know the word ‘chiseled’, you yawned soflty after a while of playing, tired. He was on his phone checking the time, he looked up and saw you laying on your side. Asleep, throughout the day after he picked you up from school. “Will mommy be mad at me?” Those words echoed in his head. Reading him of mid day when he gave you a little bubble bath to wash the wounds and dirt off your body. You were really skinny and he took note to feed you more than you need to at times. In a good, healthy way. He hated how you shied away from his touch, how your eyes filled with fear if he almost walked to you too fast. He didn’t want to hurt you in any way. He’d feel like a monster. The way you flinched or shied away broke his heart and shattered it like no other. Despite his entire family dead and haunting Simon, he could cope with you. He had a terrible past aswell. And you were a ball of sunshine in his life. The ray of light and the little angel that saved him after his heart was too dark to let anyone in to love. He shed tears for you. A sign how much he cared for you. Your tiny peck on his cheek and your hands wiping away the tears and your compliments to him were sweet gestures showed how you were comfortable and safe with him melted his heart like no other. He was a giant teddy bear to you,

Not a while after you fell asleep in his arms. His chin resting atop your head and listening to the soft snores and head buried in his chest. Wrapped in the blanket. On his lap. Resting like a baby, finding the empty pizza box you both ate together laying on the floor. The tv playing cartoons you were watching earlier. He carried you to his bed. Laying you next to him, snuggling you and planting a kiss on your head before shutting his eyes. Falling asleep with you, making sure you were safe before he slept next to you, both nuzzled up.

[headbaengers]

★ —— ﹙ MEET HUNTER BENOIT, THE BABY FACE OF THE PENALTY BOX. ﹚ by: stevie ramos, long beach pulse (march 2005)

if you’ve caught a long beach krakens game lately, you’ve probably seen number 82 flying down the left wing like he’s late for something important —— and if not, you’ve definitely seen him in the penalty box... hopefully not spitting out another tooth.

hunter benoit, 21, is in his rookie season with the krakens, but you wouldn’t know it by the way he plays: loud, fast, and with enough confidence to rattle the toughest goalie. listed at 5’11”, benoit is one of the smaller guys on the roster —— and one of the scrappiest.

"release the krakens." — unofficial fan slogan spray painted outside the locker room

the long beach krakens are a professional minor league ice hockey team based in long beach, california, competing in the echl’s pacific division. founded in 2000, the krakens play their home games at the shoreline arena, a converted events center just off ocean boulevard. their home jersey's are a black base with red and white trim, while their away jersey's are a red base with black and white trim, and they have a white alternate jersey. despite a rocky start as one of the first teams established during the echl's westward expansion, the team has gained a passionate following for their gritty, unpredictable play style, high penalty minutes, and love for their tentacle laden mascot— krako. their rivalries include the bakersfield scorchers, san diego seals, and california's weather as a whole.

hunter is the embodiment of "2000s older brother who taught you how to skateboard and then laughed when you fell, but also carried you home." other than his dad, who works as a head youth coach, he grew up in a girls world; he was just living in it. he has two younger sisters who he learned how to braid for... except he only learned a french plait. he's not even entirely aware that there's different types. but he can do it in approximately 90 seconds, while wearing the beaded charm bracelet the youngest made for him.

benoit is a product of youth hockey starting from the age of six and a house full of sisters. “i grew up braiding hair and dodging barbie dolls,” he says with a laugh. “you learn pretty early how to be tough without being mean.”

he's currently renting a mancave of an apartment with his teammate, marco "the brick" delvecchio (who once was suspended for beating up a mascot), eating off a paper plate over the sink, and driving a red 1997 jeep wrangler with hockey sticks poking out of the backseat.

he works at the local video store 2-3 weekdays post practice, and an occasional sunday afternoon. this schedule becomes a bit more unreliable during the season when he's doing back to back games with travel, and he's lucky he has a boss that's a hockey fan. his staff pick shelf is a chaotic mix of slap shot, coyote ugly, and i know what you did last summer. but the girls love him, and he gives a free bag of caramel corn to the ones he thinks are super cute or look like they just broke up with their boyfriend. regulars in general know him well. the kids love him, moms think he's sweet, and cinephiles hate him.

👤 puckbunnyxoxo69 ➤ ok so. i saw him at the video store and he recommended bring it on and then said “it’s like hockey but with more hair pulling.” ➤ he was chewing bubblegum. had a missing tooth. he wore a backwards hat. ➤ why did that do something to me.

👤 penaltyprincess88 ➤ i want to be his flipper. ➤ that’s all.

hunter is, overall, a fan favorite. captain marcus shields calls him "the most chaotic player on the roster, and somehow also the most beloved." this is a man that smells like axe, coughs like a toddler, says "sick" as a full sentence, and could get away with murder if the jury was 90% women and one golden retriever, by the way. the team affectionately calls him "beno". he knows the bar staff at his favorite joint, is friends with the bartender, flirts with the server, and owes the bouncer $20.

his favorite drink is cherry coke (maybe with a splash of rum), is bold enough to say he knows how to cook for someone who is constantly eating fast or gas station food, and guzzles light blue gatorade like he gets paid for it. he doesn't ever forget to say "ma'am" or "sir", and his music taste is all over the place. from outkast to metallica to eminem to sublime.. his mix cds are an adhd's wet dream. going from "stacy's mom" to "aerials" makes for an interesting drive.

he's a speed demon on the ice and his stature makes him more agile. yeah, he gets chirped for his size, but that's really the only thing they can trash him for. he never backs down from a fight (out of, perhaps, dumb bravery) and will 100% start one if he sees something he doesn't like.

a total softie outside of the rink. he'll help you move, hold your hand if you're scared, and give you a ride at any time of the day or night. not necessarily a jerk, but can accidentally hurt feelings by being too blunt, too aloof, or too honest. the media gets the brunt of it.. especially if he's just finished a game. he doesn't give a shit when talking to them. he's either leading the pack of the sassy man apocalypse or it sounds like it's his first time talking. it's either "yeah we got whacked, so last thing we wanna do is stand here talking to you guys" or, "yeah i mean uh... i dunno i mean—" unfortunately he will never be able to be media trained.

but he's a little more self aware than he lets on. there's a deep confliction about "making it", he has dreams of the nhl just like most guys in the sport. and he worries he might peak here, though he won't say it.

when asked what he wants out of his career and the future, benoit shrugs. “i mean, nhl would be sick, yeah. but if all i do is play my guts out, talk to some girls, and keep the fans happy? that’s not the worst life.”

[fairytales-and-folklore]

Birds Of A Feather

The Owl House » Huntlow

Title: Birds Of A Feather

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: The Owl House (Masterlist)

Relationship: Hunter | The Golden Guard x Willow Park

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: In which Darius settles into his new role as a parent and Hunter makes a garishly floral Grom suit.

The following Saturday night, Hunter comes waltzing into the living room dressed in a hand-stitched '80's era shoulder pad bedecked orange and yellow floral patterned suit jacket, complete with a comically large bright yellow bowtie, and Darius nearly spits tea all over his gratuitously overpriced purple silk pajamas. "So…what do you think?" Hunter asks, spinning on the heel of his matching red sneakers to give Darius the full effect. Of course, Darius's first instinct (after cringing hard enough to risk permanent injury to his face muscles) is to offer to take Hunter on an emergency shopping trip…but the look on Hunter's face, so excited for his first-ever Grom, so proud of this thing he made with his own two hands, eyes sparkling with anticipation as he eagerly awaits Darius's approval, makes him bite his tongue. Darius relaxes his features, lips curving into a fond smile as he replies, "You look very handsome, Little Prince," and Hunter beams back at him with one of those gap-toothed grins that's been growing less and less rare by the day.

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Ever since the little plant witch asked him to Grom, Hunter has done nothing but talk about the subject for weeks. Not that Darius minds. It's nice seeing the little prince so happy (especially after what Camila told him happened at the graveyard when he pulled her aside and asked her about Hunter's new scars — oh how he would have relished getting in that final stomp on the tyrannical old bastard) and Darius, newly minted parental figure, wants to do everything he can to be supportive.

Even after months of apologies and I should've known betters, long after Hunter forgave him and the others for not paying closer attention to the way Belos was treating him, for assuming he was safe and well cared for, even pampered, protected under the guise of being the Emperor's nephew, there's still a part of him that feels guilty, that feels like he needs to make up for it.

Eager to participate, Darius offers to take Hunter out shopping for his big date, pulling up a link to his favorite boutique on his scroll, and swiping through a selection of photos featuring a model similar to Hunter's stature, decked out in an expensive sleek black and gray suit with a golden belt buckle and a little red pocket square.

Hunter's eyes widen in shock at the price.

"Oh wow," he says, still getting used to the idea of people (especially Darius of all people, snarky sarcastic asshole that he is) going out of their way to be so kind to him. He's only just started getting used to calling Darius's place his place. "That's really cool of you, Darius. Like, I really appreciate that…but I've actually already got something in the works."

"Oh?" Darius asks curiously, vanishing his scroll with a lazy flick of his fingers and trying his damnedest not to feel jilted. "Well, if there's anything you need, please let me know," he adds.

"Actually…" Hunter perks up, running his hands through his fluffy mess of light blond hair and wincing a little as that signature stubborn forelock of his snaps back and hits him in the eye. "Do you think you could help me with my hair? It's gotten a little long since the last time Willow cut it, and seeing as it's a special occasion, I'd like to go at least one night without Luz calling it my hair noodle," Hunter huffs, rolling his eyes like it vexes him, but the fond smile that accompanies it gives him away.

Darius chuckles, and a memory, visceral and bittersweet, sparks across his mind. That same face, riddled with just as many scars in different places, scowling in the mirror of a club they'd snuck into late one night while they were supposed to be on guard duty, tugging on the end his 'hair noodle' as Hunter had put it, trying in vain to get it to lay flat.

A younger Darius, snorting with laughter as he plucks a jar of hair product out of his bag and tells him to hold still, slicking up his hands and running them through the other man's light blond hair.

"There," he says with a snarky grin. "Now you won't look like such an idiot when you inevitably get drunk and ask her to dance."

The man grins back at him with a gap between his two front teeth, dark red eyes rolling in fond amusement.

Jasper. The previous Golden Guard.

In truth, he wasn't all that surprised when Hunter confided in him about being a grimwalker. Fucked up origins and intentions aside, it was honestly a relief to find out that he wasn't going crazy — he always found it odd that the boy looked so very like his old mentor.

So alike, yet so entirely different. Sometimes, it almost feels like he's raising his best friend's son.

"There's a special pomade I can pick up for you in Latissa," Darius says, lips twisting into a wistful smile.

"Cool," Hunter says brightly. "Thanks, Darius."

"You're very welcome," he replies. "And I'm sure whatever you've got planned for your outfit will look great."

"Here's hoping," Hunter says with a nervous chuckle. 

"Speaking of which, do you mind if I—" he adds, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the staircase.

"Of course. Go, have fun," Darius says, waving him off. "Just remember to take breaks and actually eat something. Dinner'll be ready at 7."

"Thanks!" Hunter calls out, already halfway up the stairs to his bedroom, eager to get back to work.

• • •

The following Saturday night, Hunter comes waltzing into the living room dressed in a hand-stitched 80's era shoulder pad bedecked orange and yellow floral patterned suit jacket, complete with a comically large bright yellow bowtie, and Darius nearly spits tea all over his gratuitously overpriced purple silk pajamas.

"So…what do you think?" Hunter asks, spinning on the heel of his matching red sneakers to give Darius the full effect.

Of course, Darius's first instinct (after cringing hard enough to risk permanent injury to his face muscles) is to offer to take Hunter on an emergency shopping trip, or at the very least, tailor something for him to wear from his own closet…but the look on Hunter's face, so excited for his first-ever Grom, so proud of this thing he made with his own two hands, eyes sparkling with anticipation as he eagerly awaits Darius's approval, makes him bite his tongue.

Darius relaxes his features, lips curving into a fond smile as he replies, "You look very handsome, Little Prince," and Hunter beams back at him with one of those gap-toothed grins that's been growing less and less rare by the day.

"Let me just fix one thing," he adds, because old habits die hard, setting aside his teacup and strolling over to readjust that silly yellow bowtie.

"Oh," Hunter lets out a sheepish laugh. "Yeah, I had a little trouble with that. Funny, I can sew a bowtie no problem, but actually tying one…"

"It remains a great mystery to many of us," Darius chuckles. "Luckily, I've had some practice over the years." (He won't mention that it's because he had a lot of experience loosening them on Grom dates when he was Hunter's age.)

"There you go," he says, securing the final knot, careful not to make it too tight. "That should hold just fine through even the wildest of dance moves," he laughs, remembering how crazy and stupid he and his friends used to get whenever their favorite songs came on. To this day, Darius still maintains he should've beaten Alador in that dance battle. Perhaps they should schedule a rematch…

"Thanks," Hunter huffs out a laugh, catching sight of himself in the mirror above the mantle and admiring Darius's handiwork. He reaches up to card a hand through his hair, desperately trying to smooth back that one stubborn lock.

"It's not too much, is it?" he asks, lips pulling into a pensive frown. Hair product? Yes. Darius watched him dump out half the jar onto his head not ten minutes prior. "D'you think Willow will like it? I picked out the pattern just for her."

Ah. The floral fashion disaster.

Once again, it's a struggle for Darius not to tell him what he really thinks, blunt honesty and snarky remarks second nature to him. (He's still very new to this whole dad thing, but hey, he's trying.)

"I think, for Willow, it's less about what you wear and more about the guy wearing the floral suit," he says, choosing his words carefully. "I think she'll appreciate all the effort you put into making something so meaningful. So, go out there tonight and be confident, let your pride in your work shine through."

Hunter's eyes crinkle around the corners when he smiles, and Darius breathes a sigh of relief that he managed to say the right thing.

"Thanks, dad— uh, Darius," he says, a hint of pink tinging the tips of his ears as he catches himself.

"Any time, Little Prince," Darius replies, affection flooding his chest at that hopeful little almost.

Just then, the doorbell rings, and Hunter is so eager to answer it, he accidentally zooms past the front door in a flash of golden light.

"Whoops," he chuckles from the coat closet. "Over-shot it a little."

He pauses briefly to re-fluff his hair and readjust his shoulder pads in the closet mirror, takes a deep steadying breath, and opens the door.

Standing on the other side, forest green ballet flats clicking against the front porch as she bounces excitedly on the balls of her feet, is none other than the Little Prince's girlfriend, dressed in an elegant high-cut gown the color of a jade gemstone, and holding a bouquet of flowers that's a near-perfect match for the colors of his floral suit.

Oh, they're perfect for each other, Darius muses with a fond smile as he watches their adorable little interaction unfold.

"Hunter, you look…wow," she says, pale green eyes half-lidded behind her gold-framed glasses as she gazes at him with a soft, smitten smile — like he's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen and that suit of his is the height of fashion.

"Now that is a look," she says, not a trace of disingenuity in her appraising smile. "Did you make it yourself?"

Clearly Hunter shares the sentiment, staring dreamily at her with a dopey, besotted smile on his face. 

"Wha—?" he blurts out, eyes sliding back into focus. "Oh, uh. Yeah! I mean—" he pauses, putting on what he probably imagines is a cool, carefree expression, stretching up to lean his arm along the doorframe in an oh-so-casual move to show off a little more of his handmade suit. "This old thing? I whipped it up in like, an hour, tops."

Darius suppresses a snort of laughter. An hour his ass. He remembers hearing that damnable sewing machine rattling the walls at all hours of the night every day for the past week.

"Amazing," Willow coos, reaching up to tuck one of the little yellow flowers from her bouquet into the front pocket of his already loudly floral suit. Hunter sucks in a sharp breath, cheeks flushing pink at the contact.

"Not as amazing as you," he says, a little breathless. "Look at you! You're so…well, I mean, you're always beautiful, but I've never seen you like this before." 

His eyes rove her figure, taking in the full effect, adam's apple straining against the column of his throat when he notices how well that pretty green dress hugs her curves. 

His eyes snap back up to her face, blush deepening.

"I like your headband!" he blurts out, gazed fixed resolutely on the matching silk ribbon taming some of the wilder waves of her pixie cut. "It goes really well with your new hair."

"Thanks, Hunter," she whispers, leveling him with a flirtatious wink before leaning up onto her tiptoes to press a kiss against his cheek, sending Hunter's face careening all the way into burgundy territory.

"I'll have him home by midnight," she tells Darius, grabbing an utterly spellbound Hunter by the wrist and gently tugging him out the front door.

"Have a good time, you two!" Darius calls after them, shaking his head in fond amusement as he catches a glimpse of the positively euphoric grin on Hunter's very red face, turning around to give Darius an enthusiastic thumbs up before the door closes in a blur of lurid orange and yellow.

[bendycxmet]

Longing—Vash the Stampede

Summary: As a bounty hunter, you've lived a lonely life. That is, until you met Vash.

Word Count: ~2.3k

Pairing: gn!reader x Vash the Stampede

Content: kinda angsty, fluff

Solo traveling the world of Gunsmoke was familiar to you. As a bounty hunter, it was a known lifestyle. A preferred one. Chasing criminals for the monetary prospect meant you had to be ready to up and leave at a moment's notice, especially if you acquired a hot lead from the locals. 

This meant you had to live and travel alone. It made things easier. But still, there were cons to it. You had no one to talk with, laugh with, hell, even share a bed with if you were thinking romantically. You had gotten used to holding a pillow or blanket in your sleep, mimicking what it would feel like to hold someone to make a night’s rest pass easily. 

As you rested your feet atop a chair at your table, you swept your eyes over the rim of your drink, attempting to be discrete as you looked for your current bounty: Wild Rick. A filthy scumbag known for upselling stolen alcohol to thirsty locals. He had the chance to be a hero with his slick skills, instead opting to bargain for the highest price with a desperate citizen. Your lip curled at the thought.

The baker in town had tipped you off about the scoundrel you had been after, alleging that he saw Wild Rick head into the local bar. No doubt looking to steal some fresh bottles of liquor.

“Do you have any good alcohol in this joint? I can tell you diluted this gin!” You turned to look towards an angry man causing a scene at the bar, a disgruntled bartender staring right back at him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about bud,” the barhop said. The man reached across the countertop to grab the bartender’s collar, pulling him in. 

Now, you know the alcohol was diluted, but you couldn’t be bothered. Everyone in town was trying to make a living somehow, especially with the town’s plant going through some trouble. The water wasn’t coming out clean anymore, the town resorting to shipments from a town far away, the shipment often taking weeks at a time. Everyone was on edge, angry, and desperate for some relief. The room had gone quiet, customers looking on with bored expressions, nobody making a move to stop the altercation. As the man kept yelling in the bartender’s face, you spotted a shiny gold tooth peeking past his curled lip, the same tooth that’s been described to you by the military police. Bingo.

“Let me back there so I can find some real alc-” you had crept up behind the man, silent,  grabbing his hair and slamming his head down onto the countertop, effectively stunning him. 

“Think you should let go now, bud. I know who you are. Everyone knows you as Wild Rick, famous for being a petty thief and vendor. This is it for you.”

Rick coughed a laugh, spitting out his gold tooth onto the counter, blood pooling out the corner of his mouth. 

“Is this all you do? You think this bounty hunter life makes you hot shit? Running after lowly criminals like me? I bet you have nothing waiting for you back home, or wherever you stay. That’s why you have this life–to add some spice to your life. No one can love you, goody-two-shoes. You always go with the wind, slipping through towns that won’t remember you, faces and people that you won’t remember and that won’t remember you. I can smell it on your ass.”

He grinned up at you, acting as if he won this fight. Maybe so, with the way you stiffen at the thief’s words, clenching your jaw as he hit the nail on the head. You barely stay a night in the towns you come across, finding it easier to forget the sights of families and couples laughing in restaurants and bars, leaning against each other as they indulge in their daily habits. 

What you would kill for to have that comfortable life. To forgo your career as a bounty hunter. But you still have nothing waiting for you back home. No one to welcome you home.

You reach for the gun strapped to your hip, lifting the butt of it into the air and striking it against his temple. He gasps out, slumping more into the counter before you haul him up by his elbow, pulling him out the door to head to the police station.

“You won’t be laughing when you’re thrown in a cell. Say all you want, Rick, but count your days under the sun over. It would be easier to get rid of scum like you-”

In the moment your thoughts were becoming venomous, you caught sight of something red out of the corner of your eye. You immediately turned to look that way but saw nothing. 

That lovely shade of red pulled at something in the corner of your mind. You felt displaced in that moment, as if you weren’t in the present. You could feel simmering memories conjured up from that one glimpse, blurred, hidden from you. You felt warm suddenly, not a warmth you often felt as you walked under the suns. A warmth that bloomed from a feeling you couldn’t quite place, a feeling you had not experienced. This warmth was something you could only imagine people felt as you observed the happy families and couples in town. 

You stopped, your eyes becoming blurry. Reaching up with your free hand, you wiped at the wetness, staring down at your fingertips as the feeling only intensified. You gasped for air, grabbing at your shirt, trying to will this feeling away.

The material you were clutching seemed to breathe, the actual warmth of it seeping into your bones. You startle awake when you feel something wet touch your forehead. You open your eyes to a dimly lit room, the only light coming through the windows from the two moons. Your breathing is fast, uneven, as you come to terms with your nightmare. You clutch your eyes shut, hoping to bring yourself back to the present. You hadn’t felt loneliness like that in a long time, forgetting how empty you felt in your daily life.

“Mayfly…what’s got you so frightened?” Vash whispers, barely audible as if he was afraid that asking any louder would scare you back into your nightmare. His fingers pet your head, lips coming to kiss the crown of your head again.

Your arms hug Vash closer to you, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. Those lonely nights were past you, you tried to remind yourself. Vash was here, holding you back nearly as tightly as you were. One of your legs is thrown over his hip, the other trapped between his own. You curl your body further around his, then peer back up at him, wetness hugging your bottom eyelid.

“It’s nothing now,” you smile wistfully. You bury your head back into his neck, breathing in his natural scent. You feel his heart pulse beneath your lips, beneath your chest, and allow that beat to will your own heart to stability. 

Images flash through your mind. The day that you met Vash. 

On a particularly hot day, you found shelter in the local bar. Three drinks in, you definitely could tell this bar did not dilute their liquor. You chuckle darkly, that thought reminding you of the past week’s struggle with Rick, bitterness filling your body as you remember his speech.

“No one can love you.”

To spite him, you decided to extend your stay, trying to prove to yourself and him that you can stay in one place longer than a day or two.

You gulp down your drink in one go, your world swaying as your eyes follow one figure donned in a black turtleneck, bobbing about the bar as he laughed with the locals, checking in with everyone with flushed cheeks. You could tell he had indulged in a couple of drinks as well.

You felt drawn to him for several reasons. You could tell from your short time in the bar that he was kind, well-mannered, and always willing to help others and ease angry bar-goers from fighting one another. There was another reason, but your mind was too slow at the moment to think of what it was. The blonde met your eyes from a table in the corner, you quickly averting your eyes, feeling caught red-handed from following him around the room. 

You felt his presence over his shoulder before he spoke. “Hey there stranger. Drinking all by yourself? Why don’t you come join us over there? We’re gonna play some cards.”

You chuckled before glancing up at him. Your breath caught in your throat. He was prettier up close, and those damn orange glasses did him dirty in hiding those bright blue eyes that tracked your every move. 

“Uh, no that’s alright. Just came in to hide from the suns, yanno…” you trailed off, feeling shy from his unwavering gaze. He sighed. 

Nice going. He’s probably going to walk away now. You just lost your chance at getting to know the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

A loud scraping interrupts your train of thought, looking over in time to see him pulling out the stool next to you.

“Ok! Mind if I join you for another drink?” He waved down the bartender, ordering another round for you both. 

With that, you got to know the kind stranger, laughing loudly at his stories until you had tears in your eyes, the rounds of drinks you two flew through affecting you both. With each round, you two got touchier, a hand on his knee while his prosthetic arm was wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you from falling off the bar stool. You two were caught up in your own world, his fingers from his other hand twiddling with your own, interlacing your hands together. 

“Yanno, I feel like I’ve known you forever! But you still haven’t given me your name. I feel like I should know now, especially with the way you’re holding me,” you clutched at his hand, giving him your best pleading eyes, pouting and begging him for this little piece of information.

“Hmm, let’s just keep that a secret for now,” Vash winked at you, feeling a rush of heat to your face. A loud commotion behind him draws your attention, two men cackling as they tussle near the front wall. Their movements lead you to stare at the bulletin board behind them that hosts all the current bounties. One catches your attention… one that displays the same dazzling expression that’s in front of you right now, the same face that’s attached to the man holding your hand. You feel yourself sober instantly, smile falling as you stare at him.

“Vash… the Stampede…” you manage to whisper, seeing Vash’s blue eyes widen before seeing the red of his signature coat fly over your head and block your line of vision. 

“Hey! Wait!” you shout, hands swiping until your vision returns as you see his coat whip out the door. You feel your feet moving before you register what’s happening, lungs heaving with the effort to keep up with the $$60 billion double-dollar man. You have never ran after a criminal this hard, not just because Vash is slippery, but because you feel that if you lost him, you would never feel the same way with someone the way you felt back in the bar. You had felt light, carefree. Warm.

“Vash, please wait!” you cry out, desperation cracking your voice. You hear a stumble, a crash, and a groan from around a corner. You come whipping around it, finding Vash’s feet sticking out of a pile of trash bins.

“...are you ok?”

“You’re not gonna turn me in?” comes Vash’s muffled response, before his head pops out, orange glasses atop his blonde hair, no longer obscuring his eyes. You see the sadness, the exhaustion clear in them. You sigh at him.

“As much as I would like to get that amount of money in my pocket, I don’t feel like it. Today, at least. Now come on, get up.” You extend a hand out to him. It is way too early to clarify why exactly you don’t want to give him up. You want to let yourself be selfish for once. To keep something for yourself. Isn’t it time you let yourself have something good? Vash may have a bounty over his head for crimes that are unforgivable to most, but after spending the day with him inside that bar, you began to separate him from those rumors. No way can the man in front of you commit crimes like that.

His face lights up, sliding his hand into yours. You feel jittery from your shared skin contact. 

“Let me properly introduce myself.” He doesn’t let go of your hand, only lifting it up to his lips as he places a soft kiss against your knuckles. “My name is Vash.”

You indulge in the softness of his lips against your hand, heart fluttering gently in your chest before answering him.

“Y/N.”

-

You close your eyes at the memories of your first meeting, smiling to yourself. Those nights spent alone, cold and unforgiving as you grasp at your pillows, hugging them closer. They all led to this moment where you can hug Vash, a living, breathing being, closer to you.

No one can love me, huh Wild Rick?

You feel Vash’s lips press against your cheek, nose, and then lips, reminding you of his concern. You kiss him back slowly, indulging in the open affection he always shows you. Separating from him, you move back to your previous position, nuzzling his neck again.

You exhale slowly, dispelling the old longing from the innermost part of your being out into the night air.

“It’s nothing now that I have you.”

A/N: and it was all a dream... lol kinda but not really. thanks for reading y'all hope you enjoyed this one. went the angsty route a bit but wanted to lead up to Vash being a bright light in the reader's life... as he is for all of us i bet

masterlist

divider by saradika

[conceptual-fic-sics]

Remember Rui? How he just... makes his own demons??? (And Lady Tamayo, yes, but regardless)

So

So what if we could turn demons back into humans? What if human bites could turn demons like demons can turn humans?

Hear me out: Teeth Hunters (aka The Vampires)

They’re immune to the effects of a demon bite and don’t taste very good to demons. This is mostly due to the fact demon flesh is a staple in their diet.

They have blades of human teeth made from leftover demon victims and coated with spit, like poison.

They probably encountered Genya before he went to the Slayers. You know, the right method and all that.

And they can have their own community! Their own culture!

There are families! Children! Clans!

They have longer life spans. Instead of "kill the demons! While killing / destroying myself! I expect to die!" it's instead "well they're there... so...!"

The babies provide extra saliva and the kids provide their shed baby teeth. When the adults are old enough to start losing teeth, add those into the community reserves!

There is no tooth fairy. Instead, the kid collect all their baby teeth together so they can be used in the forging of the kid's first real blade! (All subsequent repairs are done with teeth from the community reserves. If a kid breaks their blade completely, pieces recovered of the original blade are used in the forging of the new blade.

Demons don’t like Hunters. Slayers don’t like Hunters. Nobody likes Hunters. It’s kind of because they’re crazy, kind of because of how they kill demons. It’s mostly because the teeth and the biting works.

[spectralarchers]

𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗿 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝗔𝗨 // Soap & Ghost

A quiet & hiding ghost meets a blazing & confident bounty hunter in a bar. Something sparks.

590 words //

______

The lively music is too much. There's too many people, there's too much going on, it's too loud.

Pressing index and middle fingers to his temple, he pulls his hood a little further over his eyes and mask. The bright lights of the city are always a nightmare.

There's a kerfuffle at the bar and he briefly lifts his gaze. Golden bronze eyes scan the area and he immediately senses a power imbalance in the fight that's evolved.

The Zabrak that's been kicked down isn't afraid - he's 𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 confidence. It's a charade.

Saimon lifts his glass and takes a sip. It doesn't take long before the fight is over, the Ithorian is groaning on the floor.

The Zabrak has disappeared from Saimon's perceptive field and he frowns, until the chair in front of him is pulled back and the man himself sits down.

"Mind if I join ya'?" the man asks and Saimon avoids his eyes.

"I do not want company," he says, lifting his fingers off his glass as he sets it to the table to try and get the Zabrak to leave. Little Force trick that comes in handy.

The Zabrak snorts.

"That will not work on me," comes the reply, and Saimon frowns, looking up at the man's features. The two horns on either side of his forehead frame an unkempt mohawk, which he wipes backwards, carding his fingers through the black, sweaty hair.

"Name's Jorn MacTavik," he adds.

Saimon clutches the glass a little tighter, retreating his face back under the hood covering his face, even in spite of the mask.

"Been looking for ya'," the Zabrak - Jorn - says with a gleeful smile. He's rugged, looks to have seen battle recently. Grease covered fingers.

"I doubt you were," Saimon finds himself answering.

Bright blue eyes meet his in a display of not aggression but incredulity.

"You're hard to find, Ghost, but I am one of the best bounty hunters out there."

Fingers tighten around the glass.

"Captain Prixes is looking for you," Jorn adds, looking nonchalantly to the side as he wipes his mouth.

Saimon frowns under the mask. That's a name he hasn't heard in a 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 time. Not since before-

"What makes you think I'll come with you?" is what he says instead.

Jorn chortles, adjusting the disheveled shirt he's wearing, wiping a bloody knuckle against the fabric.

"Says he remembers the name Ry'leigh and that it should mean something to you too."

Saimon feels his heart stop at the name. He hasn't heard that in years.

Not since he was taken by his family as a child to be trained. Not since he'd realized he was connected to the Force.

He blinks. Sets down the glass.

One of the bar patrons is yelling in Jorn's vague direction now and Saimon recognizes it as a cue to leave.

"I'll wait for you for a quarter of an hour. Good luck," he says, getting up and narrowingly avoiding the fist meant for Jorn as he skips to the side, slinking into the shadows.

It'll be a proper bar brawl now, and he has no interest in participating.

---

It takes exactly 17 minutes before Jorn steps out of the bar with a missing tooth but a victorious grin on his face.

What difference did it make that he waited 17 minutes instead of 15?

"Let's go fince Prixes," Jorn exclaims, spitting blood onto the ground.

[hobeemin]

dangerous pairing ~ (pt. vii)

🌙 genre: supernatural, fantasy, drama, angst, e2l, soulmates, forbidden romance, hybrid au

🌙 pairing(s): werewolf!kim namjoon x vampire!(f) oc; vampire!min yoongi x werewolf!jung hoseok; vampire!lee jaehwan x vampire!(f) oc; werewolf!kim namjoon x werewolf!ahn hyejin

🌙 summary: they were never meant to be together somehow, their lives intertwined, setting in motion a chain of events that would forever change the course of their lives and the people connected to them.

🌙 rating: 18+

🌙 warning(s): swearing, violence, torture, drinking blood, threats, jealousy, exhibitionism, penetration, fingering, scratching, biting

🌙 word count: 3.1k

🌙 inspiration: MB & Playlist

🌙 a/n: credit and many thanks to​💜💜 and @jeonggukingdom for the banner 💜💜 and to the lovely summer @beomcoups for beta reading 💛💛

*-*

🌙 < 🌙 m.list 🌙 > 🌙

“I won’t ask you again,” he said, circling the chair under the dim lights. “Where are the hunters?”

Muffled sounds came from the person tied to the chair. Namjoon motioned to Jungkook to remove the gag from his mouth.

Matthew spit out the blood as a tooth followed. Namjoon stepped back, shaking his head. “Matthew, Matthew. You can do this the easy way or the hard way,” He squatted down, meeting his gaze. The man’s eyes were swollen, but he could see Namjoon’s form before him. His throat dried; he could barely form the words to speak.

“I-I d-don’t know anything.”

Namjoon dropped his head with a deep sigh. “I thought you were smarter than that, Kim. I’m very disappointed.”

He snapped his fingers as Jungkook and Hoseok stepped up to untie Matthew. The man struggled, trying to break free. Namjoon walked over to a tray of instruments, carefully running her fingers along each.

“Most would think I like to leave the dirty work to my pack, but I always felt it showed leadership and initiative to do things myself.”

The serrated blade reflected across Matthew’s face as Namjoon picked it up. 

“Last chance, Kim,” he replied.

Just as it got close to his side, Matthew jerked away with a yell. “J-Jackson!”

“Speak up, leech,” Hoseok snarled.

“The hunter’s name is Jackson.”

Namjoon put the blade down and wiped his hands with a towel. He gave Jungkook and Hoseok a curt nod, and they dropped Matthew to the floor. 

His gaze landed on Hoseok. “Find them.”

Hoseok gave a hum of understanding. “How you want them?”

“Alive for now. Get him cleaned up and back to whatever hole you found him in,” he instructed.

They picked up Matthew and dragged him out of the cellar. “Oh, and Matthew,” Namjoon called. “If I find you warned them, I’ll make a house call to your family. Are we clear?”

“U-Understood,” he whispered.

---

“–And so I didn’t even try to tell my father about it.”

Hwasa’s laugh seemed to echo as she turned to Namjoon. Her smile wavered slightly as she watched his facial expression. He seemed so far away.

“Namjoon?”

No response. 

Hwasa smiled at the people around them as she stepped closer, interlocking her fingers with his. He blinked a few times, feeling the warmth. Glancing at her and the people around him, he gave them a slight grin.

“Sorry. My mind seemed to wander off. Enjoy your evening, everyone.”

Hwasa wiggled her fingers in farewell as they walked away to mingle more. They stopped by the bar, waiting to order drinks. Namjoon raised his hand, giving his order to the bartender.

“Are you alright? You’ve been distracted since we arrived,” she murmured as she grabbed the champagne glass off the counter.

“I’m fine,” he replied curtly, sipping the amber liquid in his glass.

“Then act like it,” she said sweetly, her smile not reaching her eyes.

“I’ll hold my end; you do the same,” he answered, his eyes flashing gold in warning.

Hwasa clinked her glass to his with a giggle. “Cheers.”

---

Eva sipped her champagne as classical music played softly in the background. She handled this gala effortlessly.

Ken stayed by her side as soon as they arrived, ensuring every photograph taken had them together. Reluctantly, she played the part. After all, this was all a rouse to get everyone to see she was a severe threat. Jimin and Yoongi watched around the room with careful eyes. 

Though they had the best security detail money could buy, Jin felt it was better to keep a close eye on Eva. Anything could happen at a moment’s notice. 

Ken introduced Eva to a group of hospital board members working to pass a motion for Ken’s company regarding a new drug on the market. She smiled demurely, leading Ken into a false sense of security.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this exquisite woman from us, Ken. When’s the wedding?” one of the doctors teased. 

His grip tightened around her waist, pulling her closer. He bent down, kissing her cheek lightly. It almost made her recoil. Smiling, he winked at the doctors.

“If I have my way, she’ll have my last name before the year ends.”

Her smile strained before she gulped down the rest of her champagne. “Time for a refill. Excuse me.” Eva eyed Ken with disdain as she walked back to the bar. The bartender greeted her and placed a napkin in front of her.

“Another glass of champagne miss?”

“No, I require something a little stronger. Let’s go with the Macallan, double, on the rocks.”

She nodded once the highball was placed before her and brought it to her lips. Just as the liquid passed her lips, Eva froze. Her eyes widened, and goosebumps formed along her skin. Where did this come from? Her eyes darted around, searching for Jin, Yoongi, or Jimin.

Are you okay?

I don’t know. Something feels strange.

Would you like to leave Countess?

She sighed, shaking her head and taking another sip of her drink.

No, no, Jimin, I’ll be alright.

Jimin looked over at her with concern but stopped prying. If she stated she was alright, then she was until further notice.

She wanted to kick herself. When had she ever seemed this weak?

Get it together, girl, she scolded herself.

She sniffed, swallowed the rest of her drink, and wiped the corners of her mouth. This was her stage, and she wouldn’t be caught slipping. 

The irony.

Dark brown eyes met her own. Namjoon seemed to bore into her very being. Her grip tightened around the highball as it almost slipped. Ken was at her side immediately, a look of worry on his face. 

“Bella?”

She stared at him for a moment with a blank expression. A frown appeared on his face.

“Eva?”

She blinked once. Then, twice before letting him take the drink out of her hand.

“I’m fine.”

“We can–”

“I said I was fucking alright, Ken,” she hissed.

He straightened his posture and cleared his throat. “Very well. Let’s continue greeting these donors.”

“Whatever. Fix your tie; it’s crooked,” she said through a smile as they resumed their rounds. Much to her dismay, they walked up to Namjoon and his group. Eva grabbed another flute off a tray as Ken made introductions. 

“Evanglelina Romanus, this is Ahn Hyejin. Her family are patrons of the arts. And this is her escort, er-“

“Kim Namjoon,” he answered, giving Ken a side-eye. 

“Ah, Kim Namjoon. I think I’ve heard of you. Your company deals in construction, I believe?”

“Entertainment mostly. I own Club Lux. Have you been there?”

Ken shook his head with a smirk. “Can’t say that I have.”

“Stop by some time. I’ll give you a good deal,” Namjoon replied.

The tension grew between the two men. Eva cleared her throat, stepping between them.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Kim and Ms. Ahn. I hope you enjoy yourselves tonight.”

Hwasa noticed the way Namjoon’s expression shifted slightly when looking at Evangelina. It was subtle but enough for the wolf to see, and maybe it was just plain old female intuition. Either way, she didn’t like it. This woman was a threat. And what did Hwasa do to threats?

Annihilate them.

Ken looked Namjoon up and down, trying to mask his distaste. Something was off about this man. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but the aura permeating off of him seemed dangerous. In his mind, Ken wanted him gone and away from him and Eva.

The Countess may have tried to seem icy, but internally she was suffering. She realized her hand had a slight shake to it. Placing the flute down, she gripped Ken’s arm. He glanced at her in concern.

“Are you alright, Bella?”

She ignored the inquiry.

Something about the way Ken said that made Namjoon’s wolf stir. Why was he touching her like that? Calling her names like they were involved? Who was this man to Eva?

Whatever power seemed to roll off Namjoon had some effect on Eva. Her knees buckled as she almost fell into one of the pillars. Ken quickly caught her as Jin, Yoongi, and Jimin appeared at her side.

“Eva?”

She let out a small laugh, pushing away from Ken. It was time to put on an act.

”Goodness, I believe that champagne had more of a punch than I anticipated. I guess I got overheated, if you’ll excuse me.”

She waved them away and headed to the restroom. Namjoon watched her retreating form as Hwasa’s eyes narrowed.

Jin glanced at Ken. “Maybe I should check on her.”

Hwasa stepped up as a smile spread on her face. “Nonsense. I’ll pop in to see if she’s doing okay. It will be better for her to see another lady and all that. Be back in an instant.”

Yoongi nodded as the trio dispersed, returning to his position near the museum's second level. He sighed, drumming his fingers on the railing. His thoughts wandered to Eva, hoping she was recovering.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

A smirk appeared on Yoongi’s face. If his heart functioned, it would have beat erratically. Hoseok oozed charisma from the top of his head to his feet. His regular dark brown locks had been cut short and dyed platinum blonde. It suited him well and contrasted with his black suit. Yoongi appreciated the view before him.

“Likewise.”

Hoseok closed the distance between them, wanting to be closer, but too many eyes were around.

“Miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Yoongi murmured.

“Will you be able to slip away after this?”

“Maybe. I’ll send a message if I can.”

Hoseok smiled with a wink. “The usual meeting place?”

“Always.”

“Hoseok.”

Hoseok’s face paled, giving Yoongi a look before turning back to face Taehyung. The younger wolf raised a brow at Yoongi before directing his attention at Hoseok. 

“So this is where you ran off, too.”

“The view was better from here,” Hoseok lied easily. “Is everything alright down there?”

“It’s fine. Jungkook has it taken care of for now,” he answered, stepping closer. “Who’s this?” he nudged his chin towards Yoongi.

Hoseok glanced from Yoongi to Taehyung, racking his brain for an answer. Yoongi stepped between them, extending his hand. 

“Min Yoongi. I’m head of security for the event. Hoseok had some questions about the entrance and exits in an emergency. I assured him my team had it under control.”

Taehyung paused before taking his hand. Besides being a bit cool to the touch, he couldn’t get a read on Yoongi. He didn’t like it, but the explanation seemed to soothe his curiosity. 

“I’m impressed with it. Hoseok, I’ll be downstairs with Jungkook. See you in a few?”

He gave a curt nod. “Yes.”

Satisfied, Taehyung headed back down the stairs. Hoseok waited until he was well out of earshot to let the breath he’d been holding pass his lips.

“That was too close for comfort,” he said, calm.

Yoongi shook his head. “It was fine. You kept a cool head. There was nothing suspicious about it.”

Hoseok’s lips thinned as he stared at Yoongi. “Even still. Taehyung has found it hard to move up in rank. I don’t need a reason for him to doubt my position.”

“It will work out, Hobi,” Yoongi reassured.

Hoseok sighed, shaking his head. “I have a lot to think about. We might have to postpone a bit more. Is that okay with you?”

Disappointment passed Yoongi’s face, but he held it in as he nodded. “No choice but to at this point. You better get back down there before he suspects anything else.”

“Thanks, babe. I appreciate it,” Hoseok winked before walking away.

Yoongi stared back out at the guests. His mood was much darker than before.

---

Eva stepped out of the stall and walked up to the sink, letting the water run momentarily before washing her hands. She wiped her hands with the towels laid out and adjusted her dress. As she fixed her hair, the door swung open as Hwasa entered. Eva paid her no mind as she approached the sink, washing her hands and fussing with her hair.

The tension crawled slowly between the two until Hwasa turned to Eva with a smile.

“It seems you look much better than before,” Hwasa observed.

“Mhmm, much better,” Eva replied, pulling lipstick from her mini clutch.

“I offered to come in here to see how you were.”

“Aren’t you thoughtful,” Eva answered dryly.

Annoyance flashed on Hwasa’s face, but she smiled wide. This woman was not going to get under her skin.

“You know something?”

Eva snapped her clutch close, feeling her temper rise. “I don’t, but I feel you will tell me.”

Hwasa giggled, aggravating Eva more as she leaned against the counter. “It seems you knew Namjoon before this event.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“I’m pretty observant, and the way he stared made it seem like you two are familiar.”

Eva shrugged. “Wow, you got me there, Ms. Ahn. But if you have any insecurities about it, maybe you should talk to Namjoon about it and not some random woman.”

All pretenses dropped as Hwasa’s wolf let out a snarl. Her voice dropped low. “Listen here bitch. Namjoon is mine. I don’t think I can see through that act you’re giving. You better watch your back.”

Eva let out a laugh that didn’t reach her eyes as she closed the distance between them. “And just so you know, for future reference, when you’re kissing Namjoon, that’s me on his lips. You’re in the big leagues now, so watch your back, dear.”

Hwasa felt her lip twitch as Eva turned on her heel and exited the bathroom without another word. She glared at the mirror before growling as her fist smashed the glass.

“She’ll regret crossing me,” she whispered as the glass shattered.

Eva looked around and saw Ken leaning against the bar, talking with Jin. His eyes met hers, and she nodded, heading towards the botanical gardens. As the chilled air of spring filled her lungs, she gripped the side of the fountain. 

What was happening to her?

I have it under control!

No, you don’t.

Eva spun around to see Namjoon standing there. Her eyes narrowed her body on the defense.

“What do you want? Was Ms. Ahn too much to handle?”

Namjoon snorted, placing his hands in his pockets. “Hardly that. I came to get some air myself. I guess we had the same idea.”

She rolled her eyes, taking a seat on the fountain's edge. “I see.”

“I’m surprised your pet didn’t follow you out here,” he sneered.

Eva ran her hand through her curls, letting out a scoff. “Look at the pot calling the kettle black.” She sniffed distastefully, looking him up and down. “Lay off the cologne, you reek of canine.”

Namjoon felt his wolf paw to the surface as he lunged forward, gripping her arm and bringing Eva against his chest. 

“Still with the insults, Eva.”

She gave him an emotionless stare. “I merely speak the truth.”

“Bullshit," he spat. He glanced down at her hungrily. “He better not touch you again.”

She hissed as her eyes glowed. “Who do you think are to tell me who can or can’t touch me?!”

His eyes glowed back in response as he smirked. “You know Eva. You’ve always known.”

“I don’t have the slightest clue what you mean.”

“Don’t play coy. I saw the look in your eyes. With him, there was no passion, no desire, no love. You’re fooling yourself if you can’t see what I can.”

His lips touched her pulse point, making her squirm in his arms. Every touch he made sent her closer and closer to the edge. She didn’t want to admit it, but Eva was slowly losing this battle with him.

And she loved every minute of it.

“A-And what is that?”

Namjoon nuzzled against her with a low growl. “You want me just as much as I want you.”

“I’ll rip your throat out,” she warned.

“I dare you,” he taunted.

It was as if time itself had stopped. No pretenses. Just a veil seemed to cover the pair as their lips collided. It felt as if a band snapped. No more pretending. They were in their own world. The kiss broke the rules of nature. Each was fighting the other for dominance. Nothing was gentle in that kiss, only the desire for each other.

Namjoon wasted no time picking her up, moving to a corner away from prying eyes. He pulled away from the kiss, making her whimper in disappointment. He grinned, staring into her eyes with utmost devotion.

“I’ve waited so long for this Eva.”

“Stop talking and fuck me,” she ordered, licking her lips at him.

The gold sparked in his eyes as he chuckled darkly. “Gladly.”

The sound of the belt unbuckling excited her more as he ripped her dress open for better access. Lifting her leg and wrapping it around his waist, she giggled. “You owe me a new gown.”

“Fuck that gown,” he laughed as he adjusted himself. Moaning, his fingers brushed her clit, groaning at how aroused she was. He pressed his fingers as she pulsed in his hand. Lifting his fingers, he tasted her essence, trembling with lust. “Delicious.”

Chest rising, she sought out his lips. “J-Just do it, Namjoon. Now!”

He whimpered as he slid between her folds, hugging him just right. Breathing hard through his nostrils, he willed himself to be in control. No way was he going to end this too soon. Who knew when the next time they’d meet?

She wanted him to devour her. Take her for all to see. As his hips snapped, her nails dug into his back, shivering in his arms. This was what was missing, as much as she denied it all these months. It was him. He was her equal.

The grunts and moans filled the garden in shadows under a waning moon. 

Hwasa ran out into the gardens in search of Namjoon. A passerby mentioned seeing him in that direction. She walked out holding onto her champagne flute, wondering why he’d be out there. She paused as she heard noises towards the center of the garden. Picking up her train, she walked in the direction.

There it was. Two bodies writhing in the throes of passion. Hips snapping to an unknown rhythm. And then silver eyes locked with hers.

Eva.

Hwasa felt her lip twitch as the woman gave her a wink as her fangs slid into view. Still staring, she pulled down Namjoon’s collar and sank her fangs into his neck. He let out a howl as he sped up his movements. The flute dropped from Hwasa’s fingers, crashing into the ground. The two lovers paid it no mind. She turned on her heel and ran back inside the museum, quickly vowing her revenge. She didn’t notice Ken standing behind a tree, watching their every move. His eyes narrowed as his fist formed, nails digging into his palms as blood dripped down.

Yes. Kim Namjoon had to die.

[indragonsaur]

Rathalaugust 2023 Day 23: Barioth

Barioth is a Flying Wyvern introduced in Monster Hunter 3.

Barioth is a quadrupedal Flying Wyvern, with a head that resembles a saber-toothed cat. Its body is mostly covered with icy white plates and spikes along its neck, spine, and tail. Its face features two massive, curved tusks of an amber coloration. Its forelegs are longer and more powerful than its back legs, with deadly spikes along its wings, as well as three large claws. Barioth's tail is forked and ridged with spikes

Barioth is highly aggressive and territorial. It will attack any hunter that enters its domain. It will eat Popo or Anteka when fatigued. When in rage, Barioth's eyes will turn red.

Barioth can move quickly and attack wildly, presenting a challenge even to experienced hunters. Barioth uses its fangs and claws to slide around on the ice making it hard to keep up with. It is able to slide its tail to its side and wield it in a club-like fashion, which can cause the Iceblight status. It can use its claws and wings for a homing glide attack from the sky on unsuspecting prey. It is capable of producing a wind blast; Barioth will spit out an icy ball that will create a powerful tornado. If caught in this tornado, the hunter will be inflicted with the Snowman Status effect. However, this wind blast will not work while Barioth is fatigued. Barioth can and will perform side jumps and dodges, similar to other Pseudo wyverns.

Barioth inhabits icy areas such as the Tundra or the Snowy Mountains, where the roaming herbivores on which it preys are large and plentiful.

[fissions-chips]

shriek

(day 7: can't scream- eldritch au, winged jon. tw for broken bones and injury)

   Fuck. Fuck. Fuck-

   Chest heaving for breath, Jon flung himself forwards, talons only just reaching the branch before him and snagging- sharp pain shivered up the joint of each finger as he hauled himself up to press against the smooth black bark of its trunk, struggling not to slip and fall into the waiting water below. 

   Pressing one hand to his chest, Jon’s wings hung behind him, shaking with strain- surrounded on all sides by closely-woven branches and vines and lush, dizzying greenery, there was no room for full flight. He wasn’t built for the stop-and-start of fluttering from tree to tree, he was built to dive, but the closely-packed canopy above was too dense to break through, little light reaching beneath the leaves to guide his way. Legs trembling, he clung to the branch beneath him and tried to catch his breath, ears pricked for the sounds of creaking wood and rustling, smooth scales- 

   Snap. 

   The breaking of a branch, somewhere above him. 

   Shit. 

   Jon leapt from the tree just as a massive hand slammed down where he had perched just moments before, sending him hurtling forward. 

   The chase was on again. 

   He hadn’t met many other gods before- Artemis didn’t allow it. Jon wasn’t built for combat the way his soldiers or the Butlers were, strong of tooth and talon. He was… a priest. A servant. One to perch on the Hunt’s shoulder and oversee his dark dealings, his cult organized and efficient under Jon’s watchful eye- one to bend under his hand and murmur his praises, keeping his god well-fed and well-worshipped, feathers straightened (and pulled, when Artemis was in one of his moods) by clever fingers. He’d been gifted wings of his own for it, soft and warm things, but it wasn’t for Jon to swoop down on prey from above alone- it was a symbol. Artemis, the Hunter, and his trusted hunting hawk. 

    Artemis had told him to stay with the others. This was uncharted territory, the hallowed grounds of some other great creature- a vast, verdant jungle of green, growing things, the air heavy with the scent of flowers and faint, sugary smoke. It was a beautiful place, Jon had admitted, even if they had been told simply to wait and stay put while Artemis investigated the rumors of another god’s presence. The sole member of Foxworth’s coven chosen to accompany them had warned them not to touch anything but the grass beneath their feet, for fear of something toxic- and it seems he had been right. Everything here, pollen and petal and sap and stream, was poison, the danger only evident when the first of Artemis’s men to drink from the water had keeled over. 

   He was the only one to pass so peacefully- Valentine, velveteen and venomous ruler of this jungle, had found them first.

   The ground blurred below him as Jon darted left, a loud snarl of rage shaking the air behind him as the serpentine creature collided teeth-first with the trunk of a massive cypress, massive claws flailing about blindly as his body hurriedly curled around the trunk to steady himself. Shaking his head and spitting out a needle-like tooth, the god let out a chilling shriek of rage as Jon shot past him in a blur of black-barred feathers. 

   “You fucking cunt!” 

   Valentine was a massive, massive creature- bigger than Artemis, even. Built like a snake, finned and frilled, flytrap-like, his black scales had blended in perfectly with the dappled ground when he had darted down from the trees to snatch the first man from the dirt, pulling him screaming into the branches above. Not even Butler had noticed he was there. 

   I hope he’s alright.

   The cult’s finest soldier had darted into the undergrowth as soon as the other god had arrived, and Jon didn’t have time to look for him- he needed to find Artemis, warn him, beg him for help, something. Hide beneath his wings and wait for his god to drive the other away. They were not meant to be here- he could feel it, down to the tip of each feather. Everything, the swamp below him and the black-barked trees and the bones he had seen, scattered among the branches, warned him that this was an evil, evil place, far from the warm garden they had stumbled into. Butler would have to look after himself.

   A twinge of pain rattled up his ribs, lungs aching, and he hurriedly spiraled down, landing hard on a tangled mass of roots and bending over, gasping for breath. A quick glance around him revealed that, for the moment, he seemed to have lost the serpent- Jon leaned against the wood behind him and tried to catch his breath. 

   He was being driven… somewhere. Further from where they had first arrived, deeper into the jungle- Jon tilted his head back to find the canopy above a tangled mass of knotted wood and vines. There was no breaking through that- he’d break his wings trying. Pulling them tighter around him, Jon swallowed, fighting back a shiver as he continued to pant, eyes darting left and right and praying not to find the flash of teeth or scales. 

   He was being hunted. 

   Fuck.

   Crouching down, Jon peered into the swampy waters below- dark and thick with mud, they bubbled strangely, the air heavy and reeking of sulfur and fumes His face twisted into one of disgust. Nasty. He shook his head, feathers bristling at his back. Fucking nasty.

   He was trapped from above and below, then. Wincing, Jon let his wings fall behind him for a moment, careful to keep his feathers brushing only the bark below. He didn’t want to know what would happen if they became waterlogged with that muck. The muscles at his shoulders were trembling, and for a moment Jon focused on trying to stretch them out, as carefully as he could. He couldn’t afford for them to fail him, and he was already exhausted- but he couldn’t afford to stay here much longer either. Already, the shadows around him were growing longer as the sun slowly began to dip beyond the leaves. Jon could see in the dark better than most, as a servant of Artemis, but he didn’t trust himself not to crash in such closely-packed conditions- 

   “Helloooo…” 

   Jon froze, paling as a soft, lilting voice echoed among the trees- he flattened himself against the trunk behind him, eyes screwing shut as cold fear snatched the breath from his chest. 

   “Little bird… come out, come out, wherever you are…” 

   Valentine’s words dripped, hissing, sticky and saccharine as sap- the distant creak of wood and tree limbs and scales brushing bark met Jon’s ears as the serpent slowly wove himself among the branches, golden-green eyes glittering as they roamed the understory around him. “Come out and say hello, little sparrow,” he purred, forked tongue flickering from between his teeth. “I won’t bite.” 

   Jon forced one eye open, slowly looking upwards as massive, hooked claws curled around the branches far above him, Valentine slowly moving to coil himself around the tree he was hiding under. His shadow shifted over Jon, and the man found himself beginning to shiver, unable to stop himself. His feathers flattened against his back completely, one hand grabbing at the edge of his wing as Jon pressed his back to the bark and prayed that the creature didn’t look down. 

   Up close, he could make out scattered green and sundew-pink scales across the god’s back and down his spine, fins flattening down the sides of his slithering body as he lazily leaned against a nearby trunk, lifting a hand to his mouth and calling, voice still sweetened and soft. 

   “I’ll find you eventually, little winged thing- you serve Artemis, don’t you? I thought I felt another god’s presence nearby, that prowling creature… won’t you fetch him for me? I’d love to meet him…” 

   The claws above him dug deep into the trunk, chips of bark and splintered wood falling against Jon’s feathers as something sinister bled into the tone of his voice. 

   “I can’t wait to taste his feathers between my teeth. Who do you think will find him first- me, or you?” 

   Jon paled- he clapped his hands over his mouth to bite back a shriek of fear. He wants to hurt Artemis- he couldn’t, could he? Artemis had always seemed untouchable, immortal, even surrounded by his kin- but Jon knew gods could bleed. Looking up at the massive serpent, terror sank its teeth into the pit of his stomach as Jon pictured his god slashed and bitten, sinking to the ground and lying still. Artemis wasn’t immune to poison, and he wasn’t immune to venom. 

   “Do you think he’s hiding?” Valentine continued, taunting- he suddenly stooped, beginning to peer at the swampy waters below. “Is he afraid of me like you are? I can smell it- where are you? I won’t hurt you, if you come out. I just want you to fetch him. That’s not too hard, is it?” 

   Jon watched as the serpent paused for a moment, eyes narrowed as he took in a deep breath. He opened his mouth, and suddenly blew a long jet of thick, black smoke into the air- it began to fall across the swamp like fog, thick and choking and reeking of fumes.

   “Come out,” the serpent hissed- he leaned back and turned, the tree trunk shuddering against Jon’s back as he settled against it, waiting. “Or I’ll smoke you out. You can come up here and say hello, or choke... I’ll wait.”

   Jon lifted a foot and flinched as he felt it brush his skin, stinking like melting plastic- he covered his face, eyes stinging as he felt his chest seize tightly. Shaking, he held his breath and screwed his eyes shut, heart pounding. 

   He couldn’t stay here- his wings were trembling, still overworked and sore, but his head was spinning and his skin itched, the taste of fumes bathing his tongue even with his hands shielding his mouth and nose. His lungs ached for breath and the urge to cough, and Jon felt his ribs tighten in his chest, unbidden. Don’t, he begged himself, wings slowly stretching wide as his talons dug into the bark below his feet. 

   Don’t cough. Don’t scream. Just fly.

   His body failed him just as Jon pushed himself forward, wings snapping downwards to send him hurtling skyward as he choked on air, one arm covering his mouth as he frantically dodged branches and climbed higher. Half-blinded and shaking, he struggled not to crash into Valentine himself as he pulled free from the smoke.

   Valentine’s head whipped around, eyes widening as Jon darted past, just out of arm’s reach. Baring his teeth, the serpent arched his back and grinned, reaching out and beginning to race after the other, tail lashing. “There you are!” He crowed, lip curling as Jon barely dodged another trunk, gasping for breath.  

   He couldn’t see. He could hardly breathe. Jon’s feathers brushed bark and he flinched, nearly tumbling from the air entirely as he smacked into a branch and dragged past it. Shit. Turning his head, he saw a blurred shape swipe at him, Valentine’s claws barely clipping the edge of one wing, nearly slicing through his feathers as Jon let out a shriek and lashed out- the god snarled and ducked away, eyes narrowed to shield them from a slash of Jon’s talons. 

   Diving, Jon ducked beneath his outstretched arm and wheeled around, flying as fast as he could back the way he had come. His shoulders screamed with pain, and his vision refused to clear completely, shapes blurring and darkening as he fluttered a frantic, crazed path beneath the trees. Behind him, he could hear crashing and the snap of teeth, Valentine weaving among the branches with expert skill, claws leaving deep gouges in the wood as he surged forward. Jon couldn’t tell if he was gaining or falling behind, but he could see the shape of his sinister, sneered smile, amused. Not hurried. Not annoyed.

   He’s playing. This is a game- just a game. 

   Horror struck him and turned his blood cold, the irony not lost on Jon as he fled. He was being toyed with, like a cat with a mouse- like Artemis did with his prey, pinning it and rolling it beneath his talons to feel it shriek and squirm. Jon was utterly lost in this jungle. For all he knew, he was only flying further into the swamp- 

   CRACK. 

   Jon hit the tree full-force, his shoulder taking the brunt of the blow and sending a shock down his body- something caved, wing grinding against its joint as Jon dropped like a stone, flailing and clawing at the bark to try to slow his fall. He hit a branch stomach-first, all the air punched from his chest- he hooked an arm around it, only for pain to suddenly seize him completely, so sharp and blinding that he barely felt himself slip loose. 

   When Jon came to a second later, he was upside-down- his wings hung limp and uneven, stretched out above his head. The tips of his feathers were dragging in the swampy water below. Jon blinked, shuddering as a white-hot, dizzying pain spiraled up his shoulder and down his body. His vision refused to clear, but he forced himself to lift his head. 

   One leg was held tightly, wrapped in the tip of the serpent’s tail- Jon let his head fall back down, half-stunned and falling limp in fear. His body wouldn’t obey him. He stared down at the swamp below him, bubbling- a quiet whine slipped from his throat, the stench of burnt feathers nearly lost to him as he was slowly pulled up into the trees. 

   “Poor birdy,” Valentine cooed, appearing from between the branches as he caught up with the rest of his body, curling himself over a particularly thick branch and blinking down at the small, shivering man, dropping him into his open palms. “Hit your head? Ohh, your poor little wing-“ His claws curled around his feathers, Jon’s eyes widening as he realized they were blackened, flaking away between the god’s fingers. Suddenly, Valentine pulled, and Jon screamed as it was nearly pulled from the joint, broken bone grinding at the point closest to his shoulder. 

   “Oops.”

   Jon shrank away, Valentine releasing his feathers only to brush the tip of one claw against Jon’s scalp, like one would pet a bird. “I told you not to run,” he muttered, the god’s voice taking on a petulant note, dripping with shallow, false sympathy. “I didn’t want to hurt you- you’re so cute. Where’s Artemis? …Maybe he can fix you…” 

   Wincing, Jon shook his head- the sharp edge against his throat pressed deeper, blood welling beneath as the serpent’s voice turned coaxing. 

   “Come on, pet… don’t make me hurt you. Call your god- he’ll come running, right? You must be so special to have earned such a pretty little gift as these feathers…” Leaning close, his eyes narrowed as his hand was suddenly joined by the other, curling around Jon to trap him between them. The man screamed as his broken wing was forced against his back at an awkward angle, feather breaking between the god’s fingers as Valentine hissed, voice no longer quite so pleasant. 

   “Call for Artemis.”

   A whine slipped between his teeth- Jon shook his head again stubbornly, Valentine’s lip curling as his fingers squeezed tighter. He shook him slightly. “I can mend you, little one… I’ll fix your broken wing, keep you safe in my gardens while it heals…” he coaxed, scratching at Jon’s chin gently with a claw. “I’d hate for your bones to rot here- you’d look so pretty perched at my arm. Wouldn’t you like that?” 

   Trembling, Jon turned his head away, his eyes screwing shut- cold fear had caught him completely, his teeth chattering, but he forced himself to bite his tongue, even as tears dotted his eyes. 

   Valentine’s eyes narrowed, glittering cruelly- then, he sighed. “Last warning.” He muttered, brows lifting when Jon only remained as he was, turned away and shivering. Rolling his shoulders, the serpent shrugged, Jon lifted further between his hands as his shadow fell across him. 

   “Suit yourself…” 

   Jon blinked open his eyes to find Valentine looming over him, forked tongue flickering- he froze as the god’s mouth parted to reveal rows of razor-edged needle teeth and a dark, dripping mouth, the man left staring up into the serpent’s throat as smoke curled around him. For a moment, neither moved- then, he was lifted upwards, Valentine slowly beginning to bite down. Teeth sank into Jon’s back, brushed against his chest, the man flinching away with a shrill, choked scream as the serpent’s tongue brushed his face. Venom dripped to trace down his shoulders, and it burned, eating away at flesh and feather to mingle with sudden, spilt blood. 

  Jon’s vision darkened, every sense filled with needling teeth and smoke and the stench of burning feathers and blood. Overwhelmed with terror, his nerve failed him, and Valentine paused as he felt the man begin to thrash and struggle and squirm, gasping for air as he suddenly, violently screamed.

   “ARTEMIS!” 

   Jon screamed. He screamed and screamed and screamed, sobbing and begging for his god to appear until his voice broke completely- he didn’t know when the serpent pulled away, or when he was held aloft by his tattered wing, shuddering with pain. All he knew was that when he couldn’t scream anymore, he sobbed, wreathed by smoke and blinded by terror, tucked beneath the god’s hand to wait for Artemis, eventually, to arrive.

[nightmaremp]

Weremayhem: Song of Beasts. Ch 20: Phases of the Feline

  “Why?” asked Dr. Teeth as he lay his head on his keyboard. His voice is sad. The keyboard plays a sad tune each time the good doctor plays a note. He kept repeating “Why?” over and over. 

“Huh,” said Zoot, who was next to him. “Maybe the next line is Z.” he added. 

“After the phase of malaise, comes musical self-doubt” said Janice. Her, Floyd, Nora, and Moog were in the recording part of the basement. They were watching the doc and Zoot through the glass. 

“Yeah, who am I kidding? I’m no ivory tickler” said the ginger haired male. 

“I can’t even ding the dang triangle” he added as he pulled out the triangle and tried to play it. No sound was made from the metal triangle. 

“What?” asked the dark blue haired male. 

“See? Doesn’t sound good” replied Teeth, his voice sounding so upset and stressed. “See?” he added. 

“And after he dings the dang, then comes explosive rebellion” said Floyd. 

“Enough! I don’t need you!” snapped the good doctor as he slammed his hand on the keyboard. His fingers had some long sharp nails on them. He points at the saxophonist. 

“I don’t need my parents! I don’t need triangles!” he added with a hiss of a cat. 

“In fact, I rejectify shapes of all kinds. Even the rhombus” said the doc as he moved his hand in a sassy, bossy way. 

“Then comes explosive regret,” said the blonde female. The red haired male nods his head. 

“Oh, I am so sorry,” said Dr. Teeth as he brought Zoot into a bear hug but it felt like a snake was squeezing him to death. He groans as his lover hugs him so tight. “I’m so sorry” said the ginger haired male as he hugs his short lover to death. 

“And this is nothing compared to the next phase, which is a very abrupt flashbac-” Floyd Pepper started to say before the flashback cut him off. 

The flashback starts. Pomp and circumstance was playing in front of a dental school for dentists. Teeth was probably 20 or in his early 20s. He had graduated from the school to be a dentist like his mother wanted him to be. The ginger haired male was wearing his graduating outfit which was a black robe with some purple on it. His hair had grown out where now it was in a small man bun under his hat. He was now up to his father’s shoulder in his height. 

Tina was filled with so much joy, she was proud of her son.  She was wearing a pink and orange dress suit with a gold necklace with a gold tooth on it. Her earrings were white fangs of wolves, they were real. Her sleeve of her dress suit was short which revealed a huge scar on her right arm. A wereanimal hunter cause the wound when Teeth and his siblings were three weeks old kittens. 

“Oh, my baby boy is a certified tooth doctor,” said Tina with a smile as she gently pitched his cheek. 

“Like your late great granddaddy said, “May your spit cups always overflow with good fortune” she added. 

“Ain’t that right, Gerald?” asked the ginger haired female. 

“Yep,” replied her husband. He was wearing a baby blue suit with a red bow tie. The dark brown hair male had his camera with him and was smiling with happiness for his son. 

“Aww, thanks for all those wonderful words, mama” replied Teeth. His voice had the deep growl to it now but is ain’t loud like his present self. “And that nice one from you, too, Daddy,” he added. 

“Well, it is about to get nicer,” replied his mother as she revealed a solid gold floss case. Tina chuckles as she sees her son’s eyes go wide in shock. 

He gently took it out of his mother’s hand. “Great Granddaddy’s solid floss case?” asked Junior. 

“Indeed” replied the ginger haired female. 

“Now, you go say bye to your dental friends while we go get the Molar Express” she added. 

“Come one, Gerald” said Tina as she and her husband leaves. 

“Thank you, mama. Thank you, daddy” replied their son. 

“Move your little tushy, Gerald” said Tina to her dark brown haired lover. 

“Hey” said Luna, one of Teeth’s sisters. She was holding Flora, his younger sister. Luna has long dark brown hair that was in a bun. She had a pink nose like their mother. Luna was chubby like Junior. She had on was a light purple dress with some dark purple high heels. 

“Hey” replied the doc. 

“Great job on becoming a dentist” she replied with a smile. 

“Brother!” said Flora as she reached for her older brother. He chuckles as he picks her up. Flora had long hair that had dark brown at the roots and the bottom of her hair while the middle was ginger color. Her nose is pink like Luna’s nose. She was wearing a light blue dress that had some flowers on it, she also had some black dress shoes with white socks under it. 

“Hey Flora, happy to see your big brother become a dentist?” asked Teeth with a smile. 

“Yeah!” replied his little sister with a smile. The moment was cut short when Liam, Teeth’s other brother came running and hid behind him. They look to see what scares Liam and it was Xavier, Teeth’s little brother who was holding a full on rat. 

Xavier is Flora’s twin brother. They were both six years old. He has ginger hair with brown fluffy eyebrows like their father. His nose was pink like his sisters’ noses. He had a shitty grin on his face as he tried to get Liam to scream like a girl. “How the hell did he catch a rat?” Junior asked himself. 

“Xavier! Stop!” whimper Laim as he hides behind the doc. He had long dark brown hair that was put in a ponytail, also brown fluffy eyebrows like their father. He had an orange nose like the good doctor. People get confused between Liam and Gerald because they look like clones of each other except for their heights. Their father was the tallest one out of their family. 

“Xavier! Leave Liam alone!” hissed Luna as she picked up the small boy with her free hand. She groans as their little brother starts to throw a tantrum. 

“We’re going to catch up with mama and daddy” she said to Teeth before leaving. 

“Thank you” said Liam to Junior. 

“Of course, no problem,” he replied with a chuckle. 

“See you” he said before following their other siblings. 

After they leave, Teeth suddenly hears a guitar strumming nearby. He looks over to see Floyd who look so different now, on a bench. He was playing his guitar. 

The red haired male had a full mustache that he has in the present. He isn’t wearing any glasses. Floyd Pepper was wearing a green army jacket with a gray t-shirt under it.  Also had some blue jeans on with some brown boots. The red haired male had his long red hair in a ponytail like Liam and was wearing a dark green hat. 

Floyd was vocalizing as the good doctor walked over. He suddenly stopped while he noticed Teeth. “Oh! Hey there! I know you. Future Doctor Man, right?” said the red haired male. Junior looked around before he realized he was talking to him. “Or should I say, Present Doctor Man? Remember me from the music shop?” asked Floyd Pepper with a smile. 

“Oh, yeah” replied Teeth. “I barely recognize you with the mustache and no glasses,” he added. 

“Yeah, well, I grew them out and threw them out,” replied Floyd. The ginger haired male chuckles. 

“Do I walk into walls sometimes? You bet” he added with a chuckle. 

“But now, I just let the music be my guide,” said the red haired male. 

“Well, I salute that, Sarge.” replied Junior. 

“Actually, I got dishonorably discharged from West Point for turning Taps into a jazz odyssey.” replied Floyd. They both laugh. 

“And now I’m just following my dreams. Kinda like you?” he added. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I suppose so” replied the doc. 

“Yeah” replied the red haired male. He mess up a note on the guitar which causes the note to be discordant. 

“I still can’t get the hang of that last string” said Floyd Pepper. 

“Say, have you ever thought about playing the bass guitar?” asked the ginger haired male. 

“Mmm. Less strings, less fingers. You are smart, Doc” replied Floyd with a soft smile. They both chuckle. 

“Hey, that reminds me. I’ve been holding on to something for you” he added as he reached to get something out of his guitar case. It was the harmonica that Teeth played at the music shop when he was 16. The good doctor’s eyes got wide. He couldn’t believe that he kept it for him. 

“Here you go” said Floyd as he held it out to the other male. 

“Come on!” replied Junior in shock. “I can’t believe you have that” he added as he gently take the harmonica from the red haired male. 

“Well, I always wanted to thank you for that bridge you gave me,” replied Floyd Pepper. 

“You know…” he started to say before he played it. “How about taking it for another spin?” asked the red haired male with a smile on his face. 

“Oh, no, thanks. No, no, I’m no musician. I don’t even know how to…” Junior started to say before he started playing the harmonica. 

“That’s it,” said Floyd. Teeth chuckles. “Come on, now” added the red haired male. 

Suddenly, the sound of the Molar Express’s horn filled the air. Teeth’s parents were back with the bus. Teeth’s siblings look at their brother who was with Floyd Pepper. Luna couldn't believe her brother was that good at music. 

“All aboard, Junior” said Tina as she opened the door to the express. Junior stops and looks at his mother in fear. She gasped when she saw the red haired male again.

 “Are you fraternizing with that music hooligan again?” asked the ginger haired female with venom in her tone. 

“Well, your father won’t allow it. Ain’t that right, Gerald?” she added. 

“Yep” replied Gerald. 

Teeth look at the solid gold floss case then the harmonica. He hands the harmonica back to Floyd. “Thanks again, but you best keep that. And good luck with your dream, Sarge” said Junior. 

“You, too, Doc. You, too” replied Floyd. 

The flash back ends, Teeth’s fingers move quickly across the keyboard. He was playing frenetically. “Nothing like a fantabulous little flashback to get those fingerlings aflying!” said the doc. “Whoo!” he added. 

“Whoo is right!” replied Nora with a smile. “Does it mean this whole process is done?” she asked. 

“No, no,” replied Janice. “This is just, like, his phase of manic prosperity” she added. 

“You know what? I’ll take it” replied the black haired female. “I mean, look at him go!” Label Lady added. 

“Moog, please tell me” she started to say before he cut her off. 

“Recording every note” replied Moog. 

“Dude, I could kiss you right now,” she replied. The black haired male blushes. 

“Yeah, I’m just doing my job,” he replied. 

“Nora,” said Animal. 

“Oh!” replied Moog. “Yep” he replied. 

“We all know you dig Nora” said the black haired male. The drummer was breathing heavily. He slowly put his hand on Moog’s chest. 

“Nora” replied the wild man.

“Oh, wow. Your hand on my heart now” replied Moog in a nervous tone. 

“Nora,” replied Animal. 

“Okay” the black haired male replied. 

“Hey, look, I got work to do here, buddy. All right? So maybe no more Nora-ing?” he added. 

“Okay” replied the drummer before leaving. 

“All right,” he replied with some nervous chuckles. The wild man start repeating “Nora” over and over again. 

[firefly-lemons]

"Bow before me or you shall bear the brunt of my wrath" He spits out, towering above me. I sigh, wipe some blood of my cheek and spit a jagged fragment of a tooth out, laying on the floor. Waiting.

"Did you hear me?" He screams, the words tear through my ears, wringing in my skull. I yawn a little.

Everyone told me you fight your hardest when you have nothing to lose. When the chips are down, Cards on the table. Unfortunately, I must have gambled away too much. I lost my job because I kept showing up late after waking up late because-He starts giving me a few experimental kicks, I squeeze my eyes shut, flinching a little (But ain't nobody going to interrupt my inner monologue) Anywho as I was saying. lost my job, house, boyfriend, friends, best friend, morals. Yeah, I really left it all out there. Revenge really does that to you. It started off all right, I found his lair. It's usually a pivotal moment in the superhero-nemisis relationship, him inviting me home and all (aww I'm blushing). He monologued, I started thwarting, there was some minions I had to deal with, the world was about to end. (I guess still is about to end?). Anywho it was a great fight-is a great fight-was a great fight. It's not over, but it's probably about to be. (I'm sort of braced for the inevitable blow that will swiftly end my rather miserable life right now, anyyyy second now)

I open my eyes a little squinting through blood drips. My eyes overexpose, taking a second to adjust and he seems... he seems.... surprisingly absent from the scene spread out before me?

There's the dead minions over there. I always feel so bad, but they all keep following him. (Maybe the pay is good, or the benefits? Maybe I should work for him "after" this-not that there will be an "after"). There's the living minions, looking just as confused. But notably not attacking me. I drag my mess of limbs and blood into something that at least resembled sitting up. The minions all looked startled. Notably only one of them drew their weapon before, one of the others shoved it down and shook their head. I don't know how long I sat in this strange stalemate. The hunters watching the wounded slowly bleed until I eventually died. (Hopefully soon)

-------------------------------------------- He fucking remembered. He brought it. Now I'm in a-with a-and him? (Sorry it was a lot for me too, lemme catch up a bit). He came back, scooped me up (Oh my gosh literally swooning. And yes I'm being sarcastic, near death experiences do that to you.) Anywho scooped me up and now. Now we're having tea, and not just any tea. He remembered. He remembered my favorite tea. I mentioned it once, A quick quip on battle. Now I'm talking my problems over, with my worst enemy (the guy that was going to kill me) with my favourite tea? This must be a dream, of a nightmare. Maybe a deathbed hallucination? I've heard sometimes those happen. (Unfortunately, I don't see any inverted lamps here). Anywaysz this is kind of nice, the cushions, the weighted blanket, the tea at the perfect temperature, having a person care about me, the cosy cushions. It was strange, but it was nice.

Turns out, he's been going through a bit of a rough patch too. I take another sip of delicious tea. Seeing me was apparently the highlight of his weeks. Apperently, sometimes the only reason he tried to take over the world was.... me?

When the villain demanded that you submit or be destroyed you just apathetically shrugged and braced yourself for death. You were surprised when the villain did not kill you and instead offered you a nice, comfortable room and an appointment with their personal therapist.

[ladyanaconda]

Dorcean Headcanon: Poachers

In Dorcean culture, a poacher isn't only a hunter who truly kills just for sport and money. They're hunters who broke the Hunter's Code and were banished from their tribes. As such, they're not held back by the Dorcean honor codes and will do as they please.

They hunt endangered species and do not respect hunting seasons, killing all year long indiscriminately.

They stick together in groups because strength is in the numbers. However, their rules differ from that of a normal Dorcean tribe and revolve more around money. EG: food is distributed according to who contributes more. A poacher who sells more gets more food.

Hyaena, a cruel huntress who was a rival of Vamphyr's in their youth, leads the biggest group of poachers. Said rivalry has carried on to the next generation, as her son Quggai is a long-time rival of Besteel's.

They've been trying to capture Broken Tooth for decades, as her rare coloration makes her very valuable.

They kill the offspring of endangered species to make sure it stays rare and valuable.

All the forest tribes are openly hostile toward poachers. They will spit whenever a poacher's name is mentioned in their presence, and if they catch a poacher in the act, they'll kill them if possible. As far as they're concerned, a poacher is not a true Dorcean.

From the above, legitimate hunters, such as Besteel and Vamphyr, will lash out if they're called or compared to poachers.

Poachers are the main reason Dorceans hunters face prejudice, as poachers not only kill wild animals. They'll even kill/steal cattle from non-Dorcean peoples. The victims of said thefts, of course, do not differentiate between a poacher and a legitimate hunter, and so came to see Dorceans in general as poachers.

Throughout her life, Cassiora was a pain in the ass for poachers, as she'd free their catches whenever possible.

After the war, poacher activity came to a peak when the humans, in collaboration with the Ojo family, began reintroducing some of Earth's original fauna to the environments restored by the Vitae Virus. They were particularly interested in the animals with 'intriguing patterns', such as jaguars, tigers, etc.

Irkana became a poacher the moment she broke the Code's first rule, despite not being a huntress. After her banishment, she joined Hyaena's group. However, because of her lack of skill at anything due to her pampered upbringing, she's practically a maid to them. The only reason they keep her around is because Quggai 'likes' her.

Eva's telepathic connection to the Orbonian wildlife has made her a priority target to the poachers; Hyaena intends to use her 'power' to make their catches easier, or eliminate her before she becomes a threat if the first option fails.

Eva reluctantly had to join forces with Besteel to deal with the poachers' threat, but from this experience she finally came to understand Dorceans after seeing their darker side, realizing that legitimate hunters are not evil.

They use longruns stolen from the Ventav'ir tribe to further their hunts, as they're more subtle and deadlier than gliders—the latter are only used to transport merchandise to their buyers.