#and original fiction snippets

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

I was going to make a poll to ask if I should resume WIP Wednesdays despite whatever I’m working on, and then answered my own damn question. Because I’m an adult and this is a multi-fandom blog and I’m writing things that make me happy and I want to share with my followers so... it’s that simple, right?

Right.

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

Day 31: Bonus Day

Cape

“Your suit must include a cape,” cut the Designer dryly. “If you’re a Hero, you have to wear a cape.”

Hero squirmed uncomfortably:

“But- didn’t the Edna Mode School of Thought say-”

The end of this sentence died on their lips as Designer glared at them, waving dangerously with their scissors gliding in their hand:

“I know what they say. Do you fly?”

“N-no?”

“Then most of the risks are averted. All clothes have dangers, if you put it like that. You can trip on a scarf or on new shoes too.”

“But capes do nothing.”

“Excuse me? The propaganda has come too far!”

Designer rubbed their forehead:

“Look, if you’re cut from help and backup, trust me, you’ll be grateful for the extra fabric. You can carry things or a person with it. You can rip it apart for bandages. It can be used as a shock blanket or a way to protect anonymity. ”

“I-I didn’t think about that-”

“Exactly.”

Designer stepped forward and poked at their forehead:

“So you’re gonna walk out to the world with your shiny new suit, you’re going to heroically cover a citizen in need with your crazy useful cape, and you’re going to look damn good doing it. Understood?”

“Y-Yes, Designer.”

"Don't be ungrateful to the Cape and its wonders. Or it will end you."

*

Aaand that makes 10 snippets. Thanks for the event @augusnippets, it's been fun !

Back to the Hero x Villain Masterlist

Whump/Horror Masterlist

[poemswithouthomes]

Now and again, I’ll catch myself amid my paranoia, peering around a door or corner multiple times to ensure absence. And I think of Elisa Lam. And I think of women. I also think- I cannot believe how easy it's become to turn women into ghosts- and women’s experiences into ghost stories.

[bodhrancomedy]

Every Friday I do a snippet. This is next Friday’s choice!

Last Friday’s Winner!

A Doomed Company of Squires

The dust choked her in the aftermath of the hail of ice and stone, cobweb-threads of grass tangling in her eyelashes.

Ezrah raised her hand as if she could bat away the remains of a mountain by will alone, blinking away the emerald aftershock of her master’s spell.

The sun had returned, and the monsters were dead.

But, as her vision sharpened and she pushed herself up on shaking limbs, Ezrah saw that the last screamed warning from her fellow squire had been terribly, horrible prophetic.

“It ’s too unstable!”

Nobody had moved, but she was now alone.

[unforgivenn]

hii y'all. Soo this idea has been in my mind for like so fucking long aaanddd I can't just let it be. >.<

So basically when people turn a certain age depending on their social status they're classified either as humans or livestock. The system is pretty fucked up. Those labelled as livestock lose all their human rights because, apparently, they don't deserve them.

Parents disown their kids not able to fully believe that they'd just been rearing livestock this whole time. It's heartbreaking for their children to hear this. They're still the same person!! Their life can't change just because of a single document!!

These people or if you can even call them that anymore, are classified into many different categories like workers, pets and experimental subjects by going through a test. Or if they deem out too useless, they're turned to meat. (haha yes, I'm being serious T_T)

People with high social status live in luxury, while those at the bottom suffer terribly. Since these people are no longer considered human, it doesn't matter what happens to them. They can be tortured, raped, or killed, and no one would care. They still have feelings, but in this society, that doesn't matter at all. It's a world where the rich have all the power.

Should I turn this into a story? ^^

LINK TO THE STORY

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Mind Games

New story who diiisss. Anyway, thank you to @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 for the whole idea of this story! Hero x detective for a twist.

TW: Blood, stabbing, knife, mentioned murder, kidnapping, restraints, blindfold, mentioned drugging, male whump

Waking up blindfolded and bound to a chair wasn't exactly a novelty for the hero, but that didn't make it any less irritating. There was something about the forced ignorance a blindfold subjected you to that got on the hero's nerves and blew fuses in his brain.

The patter of footsteps on a parquet floor rang in the hero's ears, and he could already sense his mystery assailant get near him and flick him on the head like a disobedient child.

"You up, sunshine?" Detective's sharp voice called out.

The rough grunt he gave seemed to be enough of a response, and the detective removed the blindfold from around his head.

The light seemed to assault his eyes, too bright and cold and violent, and the hero let out a soft cuss. "Do you make a habit out of kidnapping people and tying them up in your basement, detective?" he questioned irritably, his eyes half-screwed shut.

The detective, immaculate as ever, wearing a goddamn three-piece suit in his own house, gave out a soft, but unsettling laugh, leaving his lips in a tight smile that was all teeth. "No, Hero. But you already know why you're here, don't you? Because I know you think playing dumb might save you, but I'm here to tell you it won't," he growled, baring his teeth.

The detective was never a particularly pleasant human being, dryer than a desert more often than not, but he was always calm, like no problem in the world could even sour his mood. So to see him already lash out, even this slightly told the hero that even with him tied up and possibly drugged with how groggy he was feeling, the detective probably saw him as a threat.

Shame he'd have to play another set of cards to win the game.

"Alright," the hero said calmly, fixing the other man with a piercing look, "if we're agreeing neither of us is here to screw around, then how about you cut to the chase. You don't seem like the 'pace and around the room and monologue' type of guy," he reasoned, an easy smile on his face.

Maybe he wasn't feigning oblivion anymore, but he wasn't giving the detective the satisfaction of feeling like he was scaring him.

The detective made a scoffing noise, reaching into his pocket to pull out a switchblade. "Maybe you'll learn to smile less at the wrong times, asshole," he spat as he unfurled the blade, looking eerily calm, nothing behind the whirpools of black that were his eyes.

"You're going to talk. Answer all my questions properly. And if you don't, I think even you are not dumb enough to not be able to guess what's going to happen."

The knife really didn't faze the hero the way it should. Sure, it left him uneasy, sharp and disturbingly pristine. But he'd been roughed up before one too many times, so he knew to some extent how this stuff worked.

The hardest part was selling his act.

"How did you find out it was me?" the detective started, pulling up another chair and carelessly throwing one leg over the other.

"I'm good at what I do," the hero shrugged, his face blank. But he couldn't help wincing as the detective grazed his thigh with the knife, his body already tormented enough with his ridiculously cramped muscles.

Nothing he couldn't handle, anyway.

"The evidence. What lead you to me?" Detective tried again, the blade still in his hand with Hero's fresh blood snaking down it.

"Does it matter? I figured you out anyways," the hero supplied listlessly, his gaze languid and half-lidded.

The detective stabbed harder this time, twisting the knife in the hero's shoulder and forcing a snarl out of him. He truly wasn't sure for how long he could keep playing the defiant card, the pain blooming across his shoulder and even down to his arm as the detective snatched the knife out just as fast as he'd put it in.

If he could incinerate the detective by staring at him wrong, he seriously would've. Instead he grit his teeth and tried to ignore his throbbing shoulder, looking up at the detective, irritated.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't slit your throat right now." The detective's voice seemed a little too relaxed for comfort, the dirty switchblade now resting on the hero's jugular. The hero was no longer even slightly surprised the other man was a criminal.

It took an insurmountable amount of self-restraint to keep his lips from curving into a self-satisfied grin. Sure, it wasn't very believable if an agency-trained hero crumbled under a few stabs, but death was a reasonable enough fear for even someone as formidable as him. Nevermind that the wide eyes and the harsh bite of the lips were actually fake.

"W-wait. There's no point of you killing me. Not without finding out what you need to know. And do you really need anymore blood on your hands?" the hero breathed out, a little desperation sprinkled into his tone.

The detective looked almost lost in thought, until something wicked burned a fire in his eyes for just a moment. "You only get one chance, Hero. Don't waste it," he drawled lazily, pulling the knife away and twirling it elegantly with one hand.

The hero nodded gratefully, readying himself to lie through his teeth. "When you said the victim had died of asphyxiation, even before you were granted access to the autopsy report."

The detective's brow furrowed and his lips were pulled into a tight frown. "I never said he died of asphyxiation, he died of mercury poisoning."

"Bingo," the hero, his hands now free of their bonds, crooned, as he used the detective's momentary surprise as a distraction, pulling the knife out of his hand and using it to cut through the ropes around his legs.

Say something wrong about a subject and your target will rush to correct you. A surprisingly effective trick as the hero had come to learn.

The detective's face twisted into an expression of pure, unbridled fury as he tried to wrench the knife out of the hero's hand, but he dodged, quick on his feet much to the other man's chagrin.

Hero had to give him credit, the man was almost nearly impossible to stab, parrying the crime-fighter's attacks with calm, stable, maybe even clever moves, so much so that all he'd managed to do was lightly nick him with the blade.

But with all his focus on blocking, he hadn't even noticed that all the hero's fighting had backed him into a corner until too late, until thr crime-stopper's leg had slammed him into the wall with a painful kick, and the knife's cold edge had bit into his skin.

"Don't. Move."

The detective was breathing hard, practically paralysed by the knife and the glint of warning in his enemy's eyes. His face burned with the shame and humiliation of being frozen in place, his own weapon at his neck.

"How d-did. . .you find out it was me?" the detective panted, voice desperate.

It was the hero's turn to smile wickedly. "On the day of the victim's death, he got a visit from his doctor. I searched the trash and found a broken thermometer. It was pretty clear from the bruising on the poor bastard's face the killer was left-handed. The doctor you paid off that I interviewed was right-handed. To test out my theory, I told the doctor I was taking him to prison for the murder, and his tongue might've just slipped too much for your hush money to fix it."

And with that, the hero knocked him out with a punch to the jaw, dragging the other's body and praying desperately the adrenaline would keep the pain in his shoulder at bay until he got out of here at least.

Some trails are shadowy and unclear, obscuring the vision and playing tricks on the mind. But the smallest amount of resilience can very well go a long way, if only you learn to time your moves right. Because even if you only get a short string, you can still sew a mark on the tapestry of your fate.

Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @a-fucking-simp-00 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @adamswrongchild @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @m3rakii @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername @pendarling @avloki-pal @kaiwewi @those-damn-snippets @genuinelythioehat-is-whump @ghostofnorth @dragonmine-24 @detectivepetrichor @orangeduckweed @red-is-the-reputation4444 @alexii117 @prophecies-bestowed-upon-ye @alphabet-egg

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

[ink-flavored]

Pride & Justice: A Wary Truce

warnings: teenage bullying, teenage hooligans doing vandalism, bullying, yelling Banner art by @auroblaze P&J Taglist (Check out my Google form to get added): @elegant-paper-collection @auroblaze @zeenimf @vacantgodling @foxys-fantasy-tales @stesierra @noblebs @thelaughingstag @ceph-the-ghost-writer @damageinkorporated @wyked-ao3 @alesseia

Tips are appreciated!

Pride swung his tail over the side of the bench, stretched out on his back. It was bumpy and uncomfortable, but he’d take it over laying in the dirt. The clouds of smoke swirling from his horns put a gray haze over his view of the starry night sky. It didn’t bother him—stars didn’t hold all that much charm for him.

The one thing Pride definitely held was boredom. He never thought he’d get tired of pushing humans souls along the precipice of damnation, but the impossible inched close to becoming reality. He wanted to do something else—to go somewhere else. His options were annoyingly limited.

Earth sucked, he didn’t want to stay here anymore. If he never had to set foot in Hell again, it would be too soon. Trying to sneak into Heaven again was a recipe for getting dissolved to ashes before he reached the gates—there was no way they’d let their guard down so soon. Pride wasn’t sure he believed it, but even if Justice kept his promise and told everyone he was dead, the holy realm was nothing if not paranoid. So what was left? Purgatory?

Pride raked his hands down his face, pulling at his eyelids and stretching his cheeks. Making that contract was the stupidest thing he’d ever done.

A sweet-sour sting on his tongue interrupted his frustrated thoughts. There was a human around, maybe even a few, who had more than a little pent-up sin. Curious, Pride sat up to survey the park that had become his little domain.

The dim streetlamps that washed the park in gray light shadowed an entire group of humans. Young ones, by the looks of it, rolling toward the playground with excited confidence. They shoved each other, hooted, and cackled—all except one. A meek looking one hung far back in the group, arms crossed over a bulky sweatshirt. Pride folded his arms on the back of the bench, trying to figure out which one of them called his name.

“—gonna do it,” the leader of the group said, a duffel bag hanging off one shoulder.

“You don’t think so?” another taunted.

“No way, man, he’s too much of a pussy.”

One by one, the main group turned around to sneer at their straggler. He balled his fists up, and Pride quirked an eyebrow at the flavor that flooded over his tongue. Icy-hot wrath and tart pride at once.

“I’m not a pussy,” the straggler insisted.

“Then prove it,” demanded the leader. He shoved the bag into the meek one’s chest. “Pussy.”

There came the wave again. Every human in this posse tasted a little like sin—mostly pride, with wrath and envy sprinkled unevenly among them—but the clearly-marked outcast reeked of it. A deep-seated, suppressed anger bubbled under his skin, kept at bay by a sliver of willpower. Pride could help with that.

He slunk off the bench, prowling through the darkness to meet his target. The kid was on his knees in the grass, digging through the bag forced into his arms. All the others in his group watched, arms folded and sneering. Invisible to their eyes, Pride crouched down and peeked over his shoulder to see what all the fuss was about. A metal bat, a few switchblades, lighter fluid, and clunky tools heavy enough to do blunt damage. Even through the darkness, Pride saw the kid’s hands shaking as he sorted through it all.

“Hurry the fuck up,” the leader ordered.

“I’m going,” the kid said, and hastily grabbed the bat from the trove. He stood up, and Pride stood with him. “Now what?”

“Do the honors.” The leader stepped back, gesturing at the playground behind them. “Unless you’re gonna chicken out.”

The kid flushed with sin again, staring down all the expectant onlookers, but didn’t move. His face screwed up in determination, full of potential, but nothing came of it. All that beautiful sin would go to waste. Pride took the opportunity.

He slunk an arm around the kid’s shoulders, leaning in to murmur into his ear. “You’re really going to let him talk to you like that?” he asked. “You’re going to act like a coward in front of them all?”

“Fine,” the kid spat at his leader. He stalked past the group, bouncing the bat in his shaking hand, with Pride hot on his heels. The rest of them followed, closing in so there was no escape. Pride felt the string of his influence waver with every step they took.

“You can’t back down now,” he insisted, feeding the impulse he’d tasted mere seconds ago. “Not unless you want to prove them all right.”

“I won’t,” the kid muttered. He stopped at one of the plastic slides and reeled back with the bat. He stopped at the peak of his swing. The hesitation threatened to snap the thread altogether. Pride went for the kill.

“What would she think, if she found out how much of a pansy you are?”

The cord of his influence tightened to steel. The kid flared his nostrils, spurred to action, and swung the bat down—

“Excuse me, but I don’t think you’re supposed to be here.”

Pride’s ichor turned to ice. He and the humans whipped around at the same time, bearing witness to the most ridiculous thing that could have possibly happened that night.

“And I don’t think,” that stupid, fucking Angel of Justice said, duffel bag dangling from the strap in his hand, “that you’re supposed to have these either.”

“Scram!” the leader hissed.

“What?” asked the outcast, but it was too late.

All the humans scattered like frightened ants. Pride snapped his influence and ducked under the slide. Trying to avoid another dose of dumbass righteous fury, he circled around until he came under the shade of a tree, preparing for a fight. Justice hadn’t moved, though. He zipped up the bag, threw the strap over his shoulder, and only then did he approach the single shaking human.

The abandoned kid whipped his head side to side, trying to find where the rest of the humans had gone. Justice got closer, walking with purpose. He dropped the bat—Pride rolled his eyes—and tried to make a break for it.

“Hey,” Justice said. He barely grasped the kid’s shoulder, which was enough to make him freeze in fear. “Come on, you’re not in trouble.”

“Y-yeah! Good!” the kid stuttered, putting on the weakest show of defiance Pride had ever witnessed. “Because my friends would bail me out, you know.” Pride snorted.

“Your friends? The ones that just ran off to let you take the fall?” The kid flapped his jaw indignantly for a few seconds. Justice crouched down to his level, a sad smile on his face. “I think we both know they’re not really your friends.”

“They are! I’m just—They’re just teaching me how to be cool.”

“Real friends don’t try to change you.” He took the metal bat off the ground and laid it flat in his hands. “Or make you do things you don’t want to do.”

Pride seethed, lashing his tail, smoke gushing from his horns, as all potential sin bled out of his target. The tart flavor slipped off his tongue as the pointless angelic advice took hold.

“I think,” Justice continued, “you should find some people who already think you’re cool.”

“But what about… girls?” the kid asked, so meek Pride almost couldn’t parse what to snicker at.

Justice didn’t find it as funny. “If there’s a girl who wants you to act like someone you’re not, she doesn’t really like you at all.”

Sobered, the kid hung his head in defeat. Justice put the bat down and ruffled his hair, and they giggled together. Pride wished he had organs to throw up with.

“You’re kind,” Justice said. “Don’t let anyone take that from you.”

“Okay,” the kid agreed, hands deep in his pockets. “Thanks.”

The kid shuffled off into the night, not a drop of sin left in the air. Justice was the only thing left in the park, zipping the metal bat back up with all the other unused tools. And Pride’s promise of an interesting evening. He stomped out from behind his tree, hands on his hips.

“That was my catch, you know,” he snapped.

Justice stood and revealed his wings as he turned around, stark white feathers cutting through the night. Pride grimaced as the pinprick headache of an angel’s power hit. Justice made a similar face back.

“You’re going after children?” he asked.

Pride rolled his eyes at such a base accusation. “Oh come on, all humans are children. Your people said it yourself.”

“That’s—” Justice put his palms out to stop himself. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“Yeah, you want to explain that?”

“Gladly. What are you doing here?”

“Uh, what does it look like?”

“I told you to go back to Hell!”

Pride laughed openly at the rage on his face. “You’re kidding me, that’s why you’re here?”

“This place reeks of sin! Do you know how idiotic it is that you stayed on Earth?”

Suddenly it wasn’t funny. Pride set his jaw, tail twitching. “What, like you’re any smarter?”

“Do you really think this—” Justice threw his arms out, gesturing to the park at large, “—is the safest place you can possibly be?”

“You’re the one who left me here, dumbass.”

“And I told you to leave!”

“Yeah, so fucking what? Why should I listen to you?”

“Because this place reeks, like I said.” He jabbed a finger up to the dark sky. “We can sense it from Heaven, and if anyone else catches on to why, we’re both. Dead.”

Pride folded his arms, unimpressed. “Not my problem.”

Justice stared at him like he’d grown an extra set of horns. “Your life is in danger. How is that not your problem?”

“If angels don’t have anything better to do than chase one demon around, that sounds like a you problem.”

Baffled was the only word that could accurately describe Justice’s reaction. He worked his jaw up and down and vaguely circled his arms. His wings half-flapped, like they couldn’t decide if it was better to fly away. Pride watched him struggle with cool disinterest.

“Are you serious?” Justice finally said.

Pride shrugged. “Yeah.”

“I saved your life.”

“Your decision.”

“I’m trying to help you!”

“Not a great choice, to be honest.”

He made a tortured noise, balling his hands into fists by his head. “We’re this close to being caught by Heaven’s entire garrison, and you can’t even accept a warning? Are you dense on purpose?”

Pride flared his nostrils, horns spewing dark clouds of smoke. “Hey, you’re the one who got me thrown behind bars in the first place, remember that?”

“And I defended you in your trial! I’m the only reason you got to tell your story at all! I helped you escape!”

“I didn’t ask for any of your fucking charity!”

Justice stalked up to him in two long strides. “But you got it! Does that mean anything to you?”

“Not a fucking thing, buddy!”

“The life of the only person in Heaven on your side doesn’t mean anything to you? Your own life doesn’t mean anything to you?” He scoffed and took a step back. “No, of course it doesn’t. All you had to do was go back to Hell, and we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. But no, your ego is more important than accepting my freely offered help.”

“You know what, maybe it fucking is!” Pride stuck a finger in his face. “Maybe you’re not half as smart as you fucking think, Justice, because I’m as good as dead if I go back to Hell anyway!”

Pride only realized what came out of his mouth when Justice raised his brows. He clamped his jaw shut, too late to keep any more secrets.

“What do you mean?” Justice asked, less accusatory and more sympathetic. It made Pride’s skin crawl.

Pride chewed on his cheek for a long moment. “I have… enemies,” he finally said. “Having a contract left hanging makes you weak. And even if no one knows you helped me get out, the news that you defended me in that stupid trial has got to be spreading by now. Failing to complete the contract and needing an angel’s help would—” He bit the sentence short, not wanting to imagine it. “I wouldn’t be greeted with acceptance and understanding.”

Justice nodded seriously, but wouldn’t meet his eye. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well. Whatever you think Heaven’s going to do to me, Hell would be ten times worse.”

It was eerily quiet. All of Justice’s righteous anger was gone, replaced with pensive silence. Pride took the opportunity to sulk. He shouldn’t have let an angel get him so worked up. After revealing this much, letting slip that he had no choice, Justice would be free to do whatever he wanted. Take him anywhere he wanted—because he’d be dead either way.

“Most angels,” Justice suddenly said, “don’t like me all that much.”

“Like who?” Pride asked. “Honesty?”

He breathed a weary sigh. “Yes, like Honesty. She thinks I’m too soft for my work, too sympathetic. She’s been trying to get rid of me for ages, and it’s… not an unpopular opinion.”

After seeing Honesty’s entire face twitch during his trial, Pride couldn’t say he was surprised she didn’t like him. But most other angels too?

“Weren’t people defending you earlier?” Pride asked.

“A few,” Justice admitted. “Not enough of them can actually made decisions, though. And plenty of others already suspect I’m—” He closed his eyes, and looked pained. “They think I’m a traitor.”

“I mean technically—”

“I know, yes, by helping you I am.” He took a breath. “That’s not the point. The point is I’m already being treated suspiciously. It’s not long before Honesty and everyone else who already disliked me start blaming me outright for letting you escape.”

“Okay…?”

“Okay, so.” Justice stuck out a hand. “Truce?”

Pride stared at him. “What?”

“We stay down here on Earth, together. We lay low as humans, get everyone off our trails, and figure out how to complete your contract. Everybody wins.”

“How is this going to convince everyone you’re not a traitor?”

Justice swirled his hand, annoyed. “We can come up with excuses for that too, come on.”

That was the dumbest idea Pride had ever heard proposed. It sounded like the idea of someone desperate to stay alive, or someone too stupid to consider the consequences. Pride would be the biggest idiot in Hell, Heaven, and on Earth to agree to it.

But was he really any less desperate? No doubt he’d start getting chased around for refusing to cooperate with… whoever came to collect him. And having an unfulfilled contract was a ticking clock on his soul, too. He’d be an even bigger idiot to ignore that.

“Fine,” Pride agreed. He cautiously slid his hand forward to shake. “Truce.”

Justice grinned unreasonably wide and shook hard. “Okay! I guess we’re doing this.”

“I guess we are.”

We’re gonna die, Pride thought. But at least I convinced an angel to defect from Heaven.

And what better victory could he ever hope to get?

[space-writes]

nine lines, nine people

tagged by @thegreatobsesso, thank you! more from draft two of Renegade Prince, ft Sorrow’s updated introduction~

[ID - a green and black decorative divider]

“It’s our only choice,” [Vancis] said. “It’s Lucian’s only chance.” “But to meet out here, it’s so—” “Discreet,” said a smooth, amused voice. Anneth jumped, manicured claws digging into Vancis’ arm. From the shadow of one of the towering crimson blazewood trees sauntered the man they had risked their reputation to meet. Taller than either of them in heeled boots Anneth could’ve sworn she’d seen on an Orcherial Prince last week, he glittered with jewellery at wrist and ear and throat, and had butchered a perfectly good shirt into some horrible Zashi vest, patterned in the same brash colours as the skirt that swung about his calves. He halted a few feet away to deliver an elaborate bow, giving them ample time to take in the jagged, gold-capped ends of the broken horns that curved mere inches back over his long, dark hair. “Lord and Lady Everent,” Prince Sorrow said. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance at last.”

[ID - a green and black decorative divider]

(tags & taglist under the cut)

no pressure tagging @loopyhoopywrites @chauceryfairytales @kaylinalexanderbooks @hagscribes @foxboyclit

@sarandipitywrites @mjjune @memento-morri-writes and @zmwrites

Valloroth taglist: @cherrybombfangirlwrites @reininginthefirewriting @memento-morri-writes @foxboyclit @lawful-evil-novelist

@at-thezenith @morganwriteblr @fayeiswriting @serenanymph

@sam-glade @viscerawrites @thegreatobsesso (ask to be +/-)

[davycoquette]

piteous and perpetual moan

A teenage Appalachian runs away from home after getting into trouble.

Aren’t you a sad sight?

You don’t have anyplace to go, so you ride the shuttle into Asheville, where you’ll get on a real bus then head someplace else. There’s a folded map in your pocket and a bruise around your right eye. Your skinny arms fold across your belly because it hurts, and your elbows and knees and the joints in your fingers do, too.

By your estimation, you don’t have much time left.

An intermittent fever kept you longer in Clyde than you wanted, then you started pissing sweet tea amber. There’s no question where it came from, whatever it is, but it’s not like there’s money to see a doctor. Sure, you could go home, but your momma can’t afford it, either, and what if it comes out how you got sick in the first place? And what you did about it? The only option is to run off and die. This is what old dogs do. This must be how they guard their dignity, because dying is an awful vulnerable thing.

Reverend Brown would say you oughta repent before the mighty angels in flaming fire take vengeance on you. Then you won’t burn in hell after this body dies. You don’t, though, because even though you figure you’re dying, mortality is still incomprehensible to a fourteen year old boy. It was your brother who always seemed he was at death’s door. If your momma would’ve said one morning, “Oh, look, Ryan’s died in his sleep,” probably nobody would be surprised. He sure had it rough, bless his heart. Funny how he’s gonna grow up, and you won’t. You never thought you’d be the one jealous of him.

The shuttle’s not the place for redemption, anyway.

A few bills burn a hole in your pocket and your resolve. You never wanted to spend so bad in your life. His blood’s seeped into the corner of the ten. It’s seeped into the cracks in the concrete and into the drainage ditch and deep in the earth where it can permeate all things that walk or dig or grow.

How are you supposed to sleep at night?

You figure you’re not.

@saturnine-saturneight coyotebackstabby taggy! & everything taggy for @fortunatetragedy

[girlfromthecrypt]

We keep on chatting as we make our way outside to grab the bag of charcoal from Basil’s truck. The unfinished dock is wobbling on the now twilit lake. The wind has picked up, carrying the sound of rustling leaves and placid waves. Some early-riser frogs are croaking in the bulrushes. 

(This is just a little sneak peek of Chapter 2. I wrote this bit of atmosphere earlier and I liked it, so I figured I'd show it to you lovely people!)

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

VH - Locked & out

“I’m sure,” simpered Villain to the chained Vampire Hero between two bodyguards, “that you’d love to know what happened to the last Hero who went against me.”

“Well, now that you mention it -”

“You’re here to rescue them, aren’t you ? You’ve nicely played the part of the naive newcomer, but I know who you are, vampire. I’m sorry to say that you’ve been betrayed. The other Hero was very cooperative.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sure you’ve realized that you can’t hypnotize my guards. They all have charms around their necks.”

“I noticed.”

“You’re trapped for good.”

“All right.”

“I’m sure you’d love to meet the one who betrayed you.”

“I do.”

“Perfect. You will be in the same prison.”

Without further commentary, the henchmen threw Vampire Hero in a small cell. Another person was already there, curled up in a corner. They were not in a good state. Even the blood stains around them looked unappealing. The smell was bland, characteristic of a lack of nutriments.

“Can you talk ?” asked Vampire Hero after a moment.

“It’s all my fault”, whispered the other.

Vampire Hero scratched his head and looked around, a little embarrassed. His job was dealing with villains. He was good at that. He only had to hold back a little. Dealing with Not-Evil People was another matter altogether. He was making progress – he had pinned to his fridge the Geneva Convention to be sure not to forget it during his job, it seemed like a good starting point – but still, he wasn’t the best person to deal with this situation. He was vaguely aware that threats or mocking wouldn’t do much good, so he awkwardly shrugged, his hands in the pockets of his tattered jeans. The other hero ignored him. Their eyes were glued on the ground, the iris wide.

“I tried. I tried not to crack. But – they broke me. They really, really broke me. And I – if they told you I’ve betrayed you, it’s true. I’ve told them everything they wanted to know.”

“Well yeah. Torture is torture and you only have one body. Seems logical to me.”

“You don’t understand. They know who you are.”

“I’m in a cell, buddy. I understand fine.”

Hero burst in tears.

“I’m a failure. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You can – you can do whatever you want to me. I’ll understand.”

Once again, the vampire was at a loss. He knew of a hundred ways to make things worse and one of them was the silent treatment, but he didn’t want to do it. He’d read somewhere that physical contact could help, but Hero was covered with undressed wounds.

So he booped them on the nose.

“Chill. You look like you’ve been scorched alive and you can still lament about your situation. You’re fine. You’ve succeeded the most important thing. Crucial, really.”

“What ?”

“You’re still breathing. Keep doing that. I don’t have to, so I’ll get us out of here. All right ?”

“You’re not angry with me?”

“I don’t see why. ”

He crouched to examine the bars of the cell:

“And the sooner the better, I don’t want to be late for tonight.”

“What’s happening tonight ?”

Vampire Hero grinned from pointed teeth to pointed teeth, grabbing a bar that broke under the pressure of his fingers:

“ I am a creature of decadence and debauch. Every night, I have a meeting with a pure maiden, a cunning damsel, a fierce lady and a cruel temptress in my room.”

“All of them ? You must have a big bed.”

“All of them what ? I’m talking about my wife. I love my wife.”

“Oh, the evil one!”

Hero stopped themself, horrified by the words that just had come out from their mouth. You do not insult your colleague's spouse – especially if said colleague is currently ripping off metal bars from your own cell and is known for his dubious ethics. That is rude and unwise. The vampire stopped himself and glanced at them.

“I’m so sorry”, they squeaked. “I’ve been tortured and I’m confused and -”

Vampire Hero shrugged:

“No offense taken, mate. She was evil all right, and so was I. We were both a little cringe during our first centuries, like the youth say these days. To be fair, she was really sexy.”

“I’m - I’m sure of it.”

“And now she’s really sexy while dozing off while we watch TV. She’s really sexy when she drinks blood from a plastic bag. She’s really sexy all the time, really. Everything she does is delightful.”

He neglectfully threw a bar behind his back.

“Couldn’t you just destroy the lock ?” shyly asked Hero.

“No, I like doing it that way. It’s like bubble wrap.”

Vampire Hero joyfully kicked another bar that creaked and bent under his knee.

“You know what,” he said, “She’s feeling a little down because she can’t rip off heads as much as before. You should hear her complaining ! “I barely have strength to decapitate a human in a single stroke anymore !” and such. But what do I care ? She’d stay amazing even if she was too weak to pull the guts out of someone, but I keep telling her that and she still doesn’t believe it.”

“That’s really nice” assured Hero, whose smile was very strained. “I’m glad for you.”

The vampire stopped again – although maybe it was because half the bars had been taken off.

“Oh”, he said.

“What ? Have I said something wrong ? I’m sorry ! I didn’t -”

“No, it’s just – I don’t think a human has ever said that to me. I was... surprised.”

He held his hand out:

“Time to go. Thanks for the new experience, I guess.”

This time, Hero’s smile was a lot more genuine. They took the offered arm and painfully stood up:

“You’re very welcome.”

*

Vampire Hero is now a recurring character. His job is to troll current villains. Check the Vampire Hero Masterlist or Tag for more snippets with him.

You can meet his wife here.

Back to Hero x Villain Masterlist

[poemswithouthomes]

He never felt the pain until after it was over; maybe that had always been the problem. 

[the-broken-pen]

“Hey,” the hero panted. “At least I’ll make a pretty dead body?”

The villain hissed at them beneath their breath.

“I don’t want this. You know that, right?”

The hero stilled. The chanting of the crowd grew louder.

“I know.”

The villain looked down over the edge of the stage, eyes cold and calculating as ever.

Their eyes caught on something.

When they turned to the hero, they smiled.

“Hold your breath.”

The square erupted in smoke, and everything was lost to the blur of unconsciousness.

“You’re an idiot.”

The hero blinked, half asleep.

“What?”

The villain made a low noise of irritation, and behind them, someone laughed.

“I told you not to breathe.”

The hero half smiled, vision blurry.

“Next time, say something sooner.”

“God, why did I save you—“

The hero shifted to laugh, and felt bandages wrapping around their wrists. They frowned, pulling it up to their face.

The villain watched them, carefully.

“Bandages?”

The villain nodded.

“You were bleeding.”

“I don’t remember—“

“Suppressants affect the ability to feel pain. A mercy, if you were to be executed, but a curse if you get wounded.”

The hero made to unwrap one, see the damage, and the villains cool fingers closed around their wrist.

“Stop it.”

“You didn’t tell me they were reckless,” the same laughing voice as before said, and the hero snapped their gaze to them.

They grinned.

“Hello, there.”

The hero’s power sputtered to life, as if pushing past the final dregs of the suppressors, and slammed out into the room, exploring every nook and cranny. It slid along the skin of the newcomer, testing, as if figuring out what power they held.

A moment later, the hero gagged, retching.

The villain simply watched them, unconcerned, hand still on their wrist, but the newcomer frowned.

“Are you—“

“I hate fire wielders,” the hero gasped, covering their mouth. “You taste like smoke and feel like suffocation.”

The newcomer stilled, and their power told them with no shortage of glee that their name was Alex, and it the hero wanted the flames wreathed within their skin, they could have them.

Alex glanced to the villain. “How did they…”

The villain examined the hero’s hand, before pressing a nail into their skin.

The hero’s power practically purred, sliding back into their skin. When the villain smiled, it was feral.

“Their power is a loathsome little thing. Just too far on this side of sentient. A curious thief and magic rolled into one.”

The hero made to yank their hand away, and their power protested.

The hero left their wrist in the villains grasp.

Alex’s eyebrows pinched. “So why aren’t you affecting them?”

The villain’s smile, if anything, grew sharper.

“Could be the gas, from when we saved their life,” With their free hand, the tipped the hero’s chin up to examine their eyes. “Or, could be that they like me, and their power likes me too.”

The hero flushed.

“It does not—“

The villain swiped a finger on their forearm, and the hero’s power glowed at the contact.

They didn’t even realize they’d copied the villain’s powers until they tasted the stardust and wind that came with telepathy and teleportation.

Right. Suppressors.

If the hero hadn’t been so hopped up on suppressors earlier, teleportation would have gotten them out much easier than gas. From the look on the villain’s face, they knew that too.

People had learned the hard way not to teleport those who have been suppressed. Magic didn’t like it.

The villain snorted.

“You’re an asshole,” the hero bit out, and their power curled around their newfound toy like a baby dragon, hoarding it in their chest. Alex’s thoughts were unimaginably load.

“God, how can you be around anyone, ever?”

The villain cocked their head. It wasn’t the first time the hero had asked that question.

Behind them, Alex left. Blessedly, it got quiet.

“Practice,” the villain admitted. “A lot of it.”

The hero wanted to shove the telepathy out of them, but their power simply held on tighter.

“It won’t let go.”

“Mm. Quite the noxious creature.”

“I’m the one living with it.”

The villain hummed, hand tracing along the edges of the bandages.

“I would never have let you die.”

The hero simply thought, I know.

The villain smiled.

I love you, the villain’s eyes bore into them, thought flung across the void between their brain and the hero’s.

The hero took their hand. The villain let them. “I know.”

In their chest, their power finally, finally settled, as if it had been waiting for this all along.

[bamber344]

why is it so hard to write about a character simply walking across a room, but when i have to write about a character vividly dreaming about being burned alive in gruesome detail, it all comes naturally?

snippet of just that scene below the cut if you wanna read it btw >:)

CW for exactly what it says on the tin. vivid, probably inaccurate description of POV character burning alive, ect ect.

She charged forward and leapt onto the man, wrapping her arm around his neck in a tight, well-practised chokehold, aiming to cut off the blood flow to his brain. The heat from the flame coming off of him was already agonising, but her efforts distracted him from the remaining civilians, giving them a chance to run. Charred bodies laid smoking all around them; Addison wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to make any more.

He reached up and grabbed the arm around his neck. Superheated fire spilled from his hands and caught on Addison’s arm hair, setting the whole limb alight. The pain was indescribable, and only got worse as he poured more and more energy into it, but she held fast. Only a few more seconds, and he would pass out. A shrill, torn scream rang in her ears. Blackness pooled at the edges of her vision. The disgustingly appetising smell of her own cooking flesh filled her nostrils. Addison held fast.

Miraculously, the pain in her arm was dimming. The numbness spread from her hand, up her forearm and past her elbow, taking any sensation with it. He was beginning to stumble, to buckle under her weight. She was going to win!

Then her arm went limp against her will. It took a second to process what had happened as she fell backwards, no longer being held against the man’s back. He turned around, and she saw his face for the first time. She saw his sharp-toothed snarl, tusks jutting out of his lower lip. She saw his long, curled horns, growing from a forest of wavy black hair like terrible trees. She saw those sulphuric yellow eyes, glaring down at her and searing themselves in her soul forever.

He stepped on her wrist. She couldn’t even feel it. Then he shot fire at her upper arm, where the earlier burns hadn’t quite sunk their teeth in. She certainly felt that. Flame licked up her shoulder and neck, catching her hair alight. It spread down her side via her clothes, heading dangerously close to her vitals.

It was when the side of her face began to melt that she was supposed to pass out from the pain. That was when Ellie was supposed to take over and blind her attacker. Instead, he continued to slowly move his never-ending wave of fire up her arm and onto her torso proper, and she remained all too aware. The flames engulfed her entirely. Her skin charred and cracked, subcutaneous fat liquifying and seeping out of her. Her eyeballs popped, leaking fluid down her bubbling cheeks like morbid tears. Her muscles softened and turned tender, sloughing off of her bones like she was a slow-cooked lamb shank, and-

Addison woke up.

concrit is welcome!

[cherrybombfangirlwrites]

Blood Red, Lavender's Blue

Thank you for the prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial ! I worked on General Cinderella with Tris and Kaye because I really need to work on them more, and this prompt helped me finally write out the scene I've been daydreaming for them. The Princess Tournament for the prince's hand in marriage is well under way, with it being down to the last few fighters, and Kaye's parents (the King and Queen) along with the rest of the kingdom are eager for blood and death. Tris's fight in the arena doesn't go the way the crowd and Kaye's parents want it to. Violets will be involved towards the end of the snippet, don't worry ;)

Wordcount: 948

Warnings: mentions of blood, fantasy typical violence, Kaye's parents being terrible

Fractured Stars Falling, Book 1: General Cinderella - Character, Dynamic, and Plot Exploration - Kaye's POV

The opponent struck first, swinging the heavy, spiked iron ball in a wide arc. It missed Tris by a mere hair, one of the iron spikes grazing her armor and sending sparks flying.

Tris rolled out of the way, adjusting her grip on her sword as the crowd roared excitedly. She charged at her opponent before the spiked iron ball could come back around, swinging her sword in a gleaming arc.

Her opponent jumped back to avoid the sword, the movement briefly stopping the movement of the spiked iron ball as it dropped to the dirt. They rolled, attempting to kick Tris’s foot out from under her, as they yanked on the chain and brought the spiked iron ball closer to them.

Tris charged with her sword raised, dropping to the dirt and sliding under the chain.

The crowd was loving this, cheering gleefully and chanting for blood and death. Kaye’s parents were also enjoying this, leaning back in their thrones and watching Tris with great interest.

Kaye wished he could snatch the wine goblets out of both their hands and pour it all over them.

Tris dodged under the chain again as her opponent swung the spiked iron ball around, but was just a little too late for the second time the ball came around, and it smashed into her shoulder, throwing Tris back into the wall with a crash.

She rolled out of the way before her opponent could close the gap, shortening the length of the chain so they could use the weapon at a closer range.

Tris dodged under the next pass of the chain, charging with her sword raised. She managed to land a hit, the blade drawing blood as a clean slice was taken out of her opponent’s leg.

The crowd roared, chanting for more as terrible and violent thoughts filled his head- of stabbing both his siblings and spraying the blood everywhere, pushing his parents out of their box seats high over the arena and watching their bodies splatter on the ground, using a sword to slit Tris’s throat-

Kaye’s breath hitched as he quickly looked away, hugging himself and rubbing his arms in a specific pattern in an attempt to make the thoughts go away. Finally, the thoughts relented as he looked back down into the arena to see if Tris was alright.

Tris attempted to attack again, and was a second too late in evading as the spiked iron ball smashed into her and the chain wrapped around her sword arm. Her opponent yanked the chain towards them, sending Tris to the ground, and dragging her towards them as the crowd chanted for death and blood.

Tris dug her heels into the dirt, grabbing the chain with her free hand and pulling back. Taken by surprise, her opponent was pulled down towards her into the dirt as well. Tris yanked the chain again, and her armored knee connected with her opponent’s gut.

Her frosted glass, enchanted armor and matching sword gleamed in the weak sunlight as Tris rose to her feet and her opponent doubled over, gasping for air.

The crowd went wild, everyone in the stands chanting for blood as her opponent tried and failed to get back up, chanting for Tris to ‘finish the fight’ and kill her opponent like all the other fights in the arena had ended.

Tris stood there for a moment, not moving with her sword clutched in her hand.

The crowd fell silent, excitedly waiting for the blood and death.

She turned and looked up at Kaye in the box seats, having eyes only for him. Despite all the awful things around them and what had just happened, Kaye thought she looked absolutely beautiful- her huge curves complimented perfectly by the armor, her gorgeous dark brown skin having a sweaty sheen from the fight, a few tight coils of her hair peeking out from under her helmet as she lifted the visor.

The crowd and arena fell away for a brief moment, and it was just the two of them looking at each other.

Then Tris lifted her sword

and sheathed it at her side, stepping back away from her opponent.

The crowd gasped in shock, the thousands of seats around them falling silent in dumbfounded silence.

Then the thousands of the crowd erupted in outrage, demanding blood, death, and glory.

Kaye’s parents sat back in their thrones with sighs. “How disappointing…” His mother mused with fake concern, “I thought she would make it farther than this.”

His father said, directing the words at Kaye, “We thought she could be one of us.”

Kaye couldn’t stop himself from snapping back, snarling, “She will never be like you.”

His parents glared at him in disappointment and barely contained rage at his disobedience. Kaye glared back at them defiantly, before standing from his seat, and walking to the edge of the royal family box seats, leaning over the edge into the arena a little bit as he reached into his tunic for what he’d carefully hidden there.

Tris turned to Kaye, and walked over to him as the crowd continued their outraged cries and mockery, and she bowed to him with a soft smile.

His heart melted and he forgot his parents' furious glares behind him as he gently pulled the frost violets out of his tunic, and gently tossed them into the arena below.

The beautiful purple flowers with the frost-like sheen on them gently fell down, into Tris’s hands as the crowd screamed in outrage at their own prince approving of this.

He ignored them, smiling softly down at Tris as she softly smiled back, holding the violets close to her heart.

FSF Taglist: @rose-bookblood @chalcid @evethenovicewriter @writing-is-a-martial-art 

@mjjune @fiercely-raging-writer @wildswrites @corishadowfang 

@surroundedbypearls @serenanymph (send me a message to be +/- from the taglist <3)

General Taglist: @enchanted-lightning-aes @thatprolificauthor @wip-nook @writeblrsupport 

@outpost51 @dustylovelyrun @thelaughingstag @jacqueswriteblrlibrary (send me a message to be +/- from the taglist <3)

[ink-flavored]

Pride & Justice: Corner Store Rejection

warnings: making-out, semi-public displays of horny, transphobia Banner art by @auroblaze P&J Taglist (Check out my Google form to get added): @elegant-paper-collection @auroblaze @zeenimf @vacantgodling @foxys-fantasy-tales @stesierra @noblebs @thelaughingstag

It was their standard shoplifting procedure.

Pride shouldered the door of the convenience store open, ancient hinges squeaking in protest. The cashier near the wall glanced at him briefly, but offered nothing by way of greeting. He didn’t blame her—the lukewarm air would have made anyone indifferent. Besides, he wasn’t here for pleasantries.

Turning down a random aisle, Pride walked up and down between the rows of packaged and canned human foods to keep up the illusion of a shopper. In reality, he scanned for other customers, cameras, and strained for any sin he could exploit.

They chose the right time to hit this place—as Pride glanced around, he was the only one in the store. He idled to the back near the fridges and pulled out his phone.

nobody else in here, he told Ollie. no cams. cashier bored as hell, should be an easy one.

k, she replied. Business as usual.

Pride opened a random fridge and grabbed the first drink his hand brushed. He still hadn’t picked up a sin from the cashier, which would make this a little tricky. There was always the chance she could be goaded into one, but there was no guarantee. Only one way he could find out.

Decoy purchase in hand, Pride swung back to the front of the store. On his way there, the entrance squealed again, with Ollie, Sofía, and Dante entering soon after. They didn’t acknowledge him, and Pride kept his beeline for the cashier, treating them like normal human strangers. But still no sin. He grabbed a bag of chips to stall for time. Nothing.

He was ready to call his mission futile until the very last second before he stepped up to the counter. A faint tingle wormed its way onto his tongue, the subtle flavor of roses and red wine heralding lust. Weird, but whatever. He could work with that.

“Hey,” he said, stacking his drink on the counter.

“Hi,” the cashier said. She took his drink first, swiping it across the scanner.

“Slow day…” Pride glanced quickly at the nametag pinned to her shirt. “Trinity?”

An unhappy smile twisted her lip. “It definitely isn’t a fast one.”

“I believe it.” He put his elbows on the counter, leaning in. “I don’t think anyone would blame you if you took a nice, long break.”

Smoke poured out of his horns, now perched at the top of his hairline. His tail swished back and forth above the floor. Trinity stopped and stared, eyes mimicking his scarlet glow.

“Take a break?” she repeated.

“Take a long break,” he corrected. “It’s what you deserve.”

“Like I don’t know it.”

“Exactly. You don’t want to stand here all day, do you? In fact, I bet you… want some more satisfying things.”

The tingle of lust bloomed, flooding his mouth. Trinity scratched the counter with chipped nails, gazing across the store at a door marked Employees Only.

“If you’re thinking what I’m thinking,” Pride urged, “you should disappear for a while.”

“It’ll be fast,” she agreed, but it was almost a question. She glanced at him, and he gladly stepped up to answer.

“Why bother? After all, the only thing that matters”—he leaned forward on his palms, close enough to see himself reflected in her eyes—“is whatever you want.”

Without any further prompting, Trinity abandoned the counter. Pride released his influence and plopped back down on his heels, satisfied with a job well done. Another sin for the counter, and Ollie and the rest would be able to grab whatever they wanted. Being the distraction was the best.

But when Trinity circled the counter, she didn’t go across the store like he expected. She came up to him.

“Hey,” she said, smiling coyly. “I just decided I’m on break, and you should come with me.”

“Me?” he asked.

“Yes, you.” Trinity took his hand, lacing their fingers together. “Do you see any other cute guys around here?”

His eyebrows may as well have shot all the way to Heaven. Little did she know, Pride knew exactly what she was proposing, and had quite a hard time believing it. He’d never once considered humans for sex—they were all weird animals, not worth thinking about. But now that this one wanted him, a Rube Goldberg machine of decision making fired off in his mind.

Sure, Trinity was a human, but she wanted to have sex with him. She wanted it enough to sin. Pride couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept with someone this excited. And he had convinced her to do it in the first place, so it would only be fair.

“Sure,” Pride agreed, returning her grip on his hand. “Let’s go.”

Eagerly, she dragged him off toward the marked door. He was only too happy to follow, head held high in pre-mature satisfaction. On the way, they passed his friends crouched at a low shelf. Trinity paid them no mind, but Pride caught Dante’s baffled eye. They mouthed What? as he passed. Pride could only grin and shrug in response before Trinity hauled him out of view. They stopped at the Employees Only door a second later, and she fumbled for a key on her lanyard.

“Hope nobody hears us,” she muttered, a thrill in her voice.

Pride snuck his arms around her waist, mouth pressed against her ear. “I hope they do.”

She turned the door handle with one hand and dragged him by the collar of his shirt with the other. By the time Pride pulled the door closed, she had her arms around his neck, and practically pounced on him for a kiss. He returned it was as much fervor as he could muster through his shock—were all humans like this? Because if they were, he’d have to adjust a few plans for his stay on Earth.

The door turned out to lead to a room not much bigger than a closet, stuffed with cluttered shelves and things crowding the floor. In the dark, Trinity kicked some aside until there was room to shuffle. Pride took the opportunity to push her against the nearest empty wall and give what he was getting.

All that sin-talking must have worked wonders because Trinity flooded his mouth with lust. Knowing it was for him made Pride groan, pressing the kiss deeper. She accepted it with a high, eager noise, mouth dropping open to invite him inside. Surprised again at her openness, Pride tasted the inside of her mouth, drawing his tongue across hers. Her hips jerked and Pride his own forward to pin her, and had to laugh when she whined.

“You really want it, huh?” he teased, bending down to nip her jaw.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “But, uh—” She pushed at his shoulder until he separated. “Do you have a condom on you? I don’t think I have one.”

“I don’t need one.”

She raised her brows. “Yes, you absolutely do.”

Pride rolled his eyes a little. “No,” he reiterated, and popped his fly open. He took her hand and stuck it down his pants until it rested against his crotch. No bulge, but her fingers were long enough to press against the folds of his cunt through his trunks. “I really don’t.”

“Oh.”

Her lust disappeared. Like it had never been there, Pride couldn’t taste a single fleeting thought. Once again baffled, he didn’t notice Trinity slipping her hand free of his.

“I changed my mind actually,” she said, voice clipped.

“What do you mean?” Pride asked.

“I mean, I don’t want this anymore, so.” She flicked her wrists, trying to shoo him away.

“Why?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation. Just—leave.”

Pride took a step back, eyes narrowed, but didn’t leave. “You’re the one who dragged me back here, I feel like you do owe me an explanation actually.”

She huffed, and suddenly what Pride tasted was a cold snap of wrath. “Leave me the fuck alone, or I’m calling the cops.”

“For what?”

She didn’t answer, but dug her phone out of her pocket to menace him with it. Pride threw up his hands and marched out of the closet. He didn’t bother closing it behind him, yanking his fly back together as he stomped across the store. On the way past the check-out, he swiped his decoy purchases off the counter and out the door.

Out on the street, Ollie, Sofía, and Dante were standing around waiting, their theft apparently successful. Pride didn’t bother explaining before stalking down the street toward the train.

“Whoa, hey,” Dante called, jogging to catch up. “That was fast.”

“Did something happen?” Ollie asked, also catching up, with Sofía on her arm.

“Nothing happened,” Pride spat, face twisted up sourly. He didn’t know why he was so pissed. He hadn’t cared about fucking that human, or any human, until she brought it up.

“Why not?”

“I don’t fucking know! Apparently not having a dick is a dealbreaker.” All three of them made noises of disgust at that.

“Then she wasn’t worth it anyway,” Sofía declared.

“Too fucking true,” Dante agreed.

“I hate those people,” Ollie said, and put an arm around his shoulder. “Listen, I can hook you up with some people who are into pretty much anything if you want.”

Pride waved her off. “It’s not a big deal, I’m fine.”

There was a beat of awkward silence, filled in by the cars rushing down the street. “On the bright side,” Dante said, “we got a lot of stuff.”

A conversation began about the ease of their haul, but Pride tuned them out, stewing in his frustration. They all commiserated with him, agreed how ridiculous it was, but none of them were surprised. Ollie confirmed there were more people like Trinity out there. People who would want him one minute, and hate him the next. Were humans like this? The thought stung more than he expected.

More so because he was having fun, at least for a little while. It might have turned his idea of humanity around. There was a human who was willing to fuck him without even knowing his name, and he wanted to fuck her too—a human! He would have laughed at the idea mere hours ago.

The idea rolled over and over in his mind. If there was at least one human who wanted him, surely there had to be others. Surely some of them wouldn’t have ridiculous, unspoken caveats like Trinity. And what would it be like, to be with someone who wanted him? To be with a human, who had no idea what they were getting into bed with?

Pride nudged Ollie with his elbow. “Hey,”

“Hey.”

“So those people who are into ‘anything’… how much of ‘anything’ are we talking?”