#cw blade violence

[madness-in-the-flesh]

I really like your blog. Can I have Auditor (if your okay with doing him if not Hank) with prompt 14? Have a great day!

Slowly realizing I STILL haven't written any Auditor??? Which is disgraceful?? Thank you for requesting him anon. I adore evil flame man. I believe in employer supremacy

This one is pretty short which I apologize for but I've got one bigger request coming up soon so hopefully that'll make up for it <3 <3

Auditor Prompt Drabble

GENRE - Romantic / Platonic

PROMPT - “ Darling why are you crying? I took care of the problem!” [ From this prompt list ]

TRIGGER WARNINGS - Physical Violence, Tongue injury, Kidnapping implied , Blades, Blade violence, Blood, gore descriptions, murder, possible suicide implied

“ Darling, Why are you crying? I took care of the problem!” He told you, Slowly placing a hand on your shoulder but you couldn't say a word. In reality there was no problem, The Auditor was just delusional. You flinched away, holding your mouth in horror which made him pause. His hand stayed in the position but fingers slightly outstretched. You cowered away from him. The blood dripping from the blade didn't make it any easier to even attempt to hold eye contact.

" I see " he spoke, audible displeasure draining from his tongue with every word. Just the drip, drip, dripping down, similarly to the puddle of crimson under the two of you. A new stain to remind you just exactly why you could not fight back nor just leave. Wherever you'd try to go, He would follow, find you and drag you back kicking and screaming. Personal experience had taught you that much so you'd defy him in every single way possible. He had given you rules but you could not obey. The agreement was that if you were allowed to roam, However he was the only one you could look at. Only be caught staring at him, talking to no one but him except that just made you feel horrid. He was supposed to be your one and only in his mind, ergo: you only needed him.

There wasn't a problem with you talking to other people: Socializing with others was a normal part of being a grunt. The species as a whole were a social species - genetically inclined to group together. Living in a community, or in this case: The organization of the A.A.H.W. You needed to talk to people to get around. It started small, simply with asking directions. You were testing the waters. How much could you get away with? The barrier would be broken soon enough as you soon began to get chummy with one of the agents. It was the one guarding you, Shades as red as the Auditor's own eyes. He was a nice enough guy, Never gave too much away about himself. This was most likely at the auditor's request, although on the other hand, he was a pleasant conversationalist. Never refusing you anything, again at the Auditor's request so when he saw the look on your face. The smile you gave that agent while he remained stone faced infuriated him.

He was just doing his job only to be killed by his employer. Right in front of you. Nevertheless, You continued onto the next one and the next one, until the bodies were built up high. You cared about each and every one of them. You weren't heartless and had spent nights mourning them.

You refused to let them die in vein.

He was cruel, but you were stubborn. Continuing to defy him at every turn, nothing ever went his way no matter how much he tried to be " nice ". Until he had enough. Enough of giving you chances, physically killing all those who he assumed had been the ones tricking you into talking with them. Living in the delusion that they were the problem. Up until it finally shattered. He realized the common denominator in these situations. It had to be you. When he did, Instead of someone else meeting his blade with a swift clean cut to the neck. He gripped your own tongue and sliced it from your own body. You barely registered what was happening before it was too late.

The muscle spasmed in a pool of your own blood. No matter how hard you tried to cover your mouth, the bleeding wouldn't stop. It poured out your mouth along with your own throat. You couldn't taste it anymore though but the smell of iron was overwhelming. Enough to make you throw up. The Auditor just stood there, watching with an annoyed expression. As if cutting off your tongue was simply a minor set back.

" I gave you enough chances. I will not be reattaching the limb until you have proven yourself " He said and walked away, leaving your own blood to pool around you. Finally falling to your knees. For the first time you cried for yourself, before you'd cried for others but you were so sure that you'd get away in the end. That you'd be the victor in the horrific situation fate had placed you in but maybe you wouldn't be. Maybe you had been the delusional one all this time. Had you have just been resigned to your fate, perhaps things wouldn't have ended up like this.... Or you could take a new approach and try drowning yourself in your own blood, as one final act of defiance.

[aarontveit]

[rainbowsky]

This nomination is such a big honor, I couldn't possibly be prouder of DD. The nomination alone will have a big impact on his career. It will open up doors for him and help to build credibility among the broader public who are either unfamiliar with him or dismiss him as an idol.

It's the equivalent of DD getting an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor. This is a big deal.

I'm totally losing my mind waiting to see if he won. PLEASE. I think he really earned it. His performance in Hidden Blade was outstanding, and has had an impact on the success of the film.

If you haven't yet seen it, here's how.

[cicada-candy]

I had to redraw this From Scratch like 4 times and I'm still not super happy with it but I like the idea too much so ✨️sketchy version it is✨️

vvv Alt ver bcs I thought it was Slightly Too Busy Looking vvv

[ueberdemnebelmeer]

无名 / HIDDEN BLADE 2022 | dir. Cheng Er

[gins-stim-emporium]

WARNING : this board contains unsafe stims, creepy and body horror elements! the character this board is for is horror related!

scaryo (scary mario, oc) stimboard (with cursed and unsafe stims) for @candycoated-rage !!

chainsaw pineapple / melting clown / eyeball

hot cheetos / 👹⭐️ / ankle biter

arranging teeth / panda / cutting steak

[seventh-district]

and it tastes so bittersweet

“You never answered my question, you know?”

Your words are more of a gentle nudge than an accusatory statement, hoping that maybe you can coax another secret out of the crypt of a man sitting before you.

You watch a small smile surface on his features, and he bites it back before it can grow into a full-fledged embarrassed grin.

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy if I tell you.”

The sincere hesitance in his voice pulls a surprised laugh out of you.

“Matthew, I already know you’re crazy.”

Your words are dripping with affection, no malice to be found behind them, and you watch as his shoulders begin to shake with poorly hidden laughter.

You spend a dark evening in bed with your effectively immortal partner (in crime). The two of you open up to one another, eventually getting a taste of each other in a way that you hadn't anticipated.

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat - Minors DNI

Pairing: Matt x Reader

Word Count: 7,446

Content Warnings: [spoilers for The Malenkee Saga] [SH / NSSI] [blood] [blood consumption] [death] [watching someone get shot] [bleeding] [violence] [vague & foggy traumatic memories] [scars] [DIY heart transplants] [implied murder] [sensual/sexual(?) desire that is hinted at but never acted upon aside from a few little kisses] [you and Matt are both wanted criminals, mentally unwell, and so, so in love with each other <3]

There isn't any explicit sexual content in this fic, but due to its dark and graphic nature, it's still NSFW. I wrote this from the same perspective with which I watched the entire Malenkee Saga - that of an adult. I've recently become aware that some people view Malenkee/Viewer as being a child. While I don't know why, given that Matt literally confesses his romantic interest in them at one point, and Jim clearly states that his videos aren't for kids, I still feel the need to clarify this.

This fic is not intended for anyone under the age of 18.

The small bead of blood trailing a thin line down along your forearm is darker than it used to be.

There’s plenty of things you’re sure you’ve forgotten in this life, numerous aspects of your past that you can no longer recall with any amount of certainty. After enough years pass, any particular memory you think back on could have just as easily been a vivid dream. But you’re quite certain that your blood used to be red.

It looked green, blue, violet even, as it coursed through your veins, thinly veiled by the skin of your wrist. But whenever that skin was opened and the liquid took the path of least resistance, flowing out in a slow, steady stream across your skin, it was always a deep, vivid red.

The liquid that’s now pooled in the crease of your elbow and is quickly congealing into a sticky, tacky puddle is solid black, though.

It’s not the lighting. Yes, the room is fairly dark, but even when you set your blade aside in favor of palming around in the sheets and find your phone, it’s flashlight shining a spotlight on your arm, it’s still black. You straighten your arm out, twisting it under the light, inspecting it with a dull sense of curiosity. This is far from the most unsettling thing you’ve ever witnessed, but still, it is a bit odd.

Why is it like that?

When you tilt your arm, you half-expect the little puddle of semi-liquid to follow gravity’s pull and slide downward, but it stays put, practically having adhered itself to your skin already. It hasn’t fully dried yet, refusing to spread out and tinge your skin a shade darker like it used to. It just clings to you, growing more viscous by the second.

After staring at your arm in dumb silence for a minute, trying to think of any reasonable explanation for this anomaly, your mind suddenly offers up an unpleasant yet helpful memory.

This is the same viscous black liquid that you watched escape from the bullet hole that one of those bastards put in Matt’s neck.

You felt it before you saw it, hot and wet, spraying across your face as your eyes snapped closed. It was the only sensation you could process aside from the deafening ring in your ears.

As the ringing faded out, it was replaced with the sound of Matt’s heartbeat growing ever weaker, ever slower. You blinked your eyes open to see him sprawled back on the floor in front of you, all but lifeless. The bottom of his mask had ridden up his neck, allowing you to clearly see the entry wound, slowly weeping a thick, black liquid.

Every following aspect of that memory remains as much of a blur to you as it felt when you experienced it firsthand.

Two pulses, yours rapid and his slowing, their alternating beats a pulsing pressure in your ears, your arms, your fingers.

The pressure on your wrists increasing exponentially before vanishing altogether as the chain holding your handcuffs together snapped, its links unable to withstand the newfound force you exerted upon them.

The floor falling away from you as your body rapidly stood, moving of its own accord, acting upon long-forgotten instincts to summon strength you didn’t know you could possess.

As the seconds passed in slow motion, you began to feel less like an onlooker and more… like a commander.

Your body the puppet, your mind the puppeteer.

Now, you’d been making attempts at reconnecting yourself with your unique set of abilities ever since Dimi had made you aware of them. You hadn’t managed to get very far with them, though. The fact that no one was entirely sure of the scope or extent of your abilities didn’t help matters either. How do you train a muscle that you can’t feel anymore?

Dimi had suspected that you may have been capable of more than just telepathy, suggesting that your mind very well might be capable of transferring more than thought. Perhaps it could transfer energy. Perhaps it could transfer force. Perhaps it could… manipulate your environment. Bend it to your will.

So, he’d worked with you to the best of his ability during the time you spent together, to try and help you find that power again. To your genuine shock, his suspicions had been correct.

Though, you never got farther than lifting so much as a paperclip by the time that he…

By the time that Matt…

By the time…

You hadn’t gotten very far with your telekinetic efforts.

For some strange reason that up until that point you had yet to understand, every subsequent encounter you had with Matt left you feeling… more like yourself. Or, maybe… more like some version of yourself that you used to be. For the life of you, you couldn’t describe why, but the more time he spent around you the more you found yourself capable of.

While you laid in the hospital recovering from your… memorable encounter with that man behind the white mask, you filled your free time with practice. Any time you were alone in your room, you’d put all of your energy and focus into lifting the heaviest objects you could see.

Anything to keep your mind off of whether or not you’d ever see Matt again.

The chair beside your bed was too heavy. As was any of the other actual furniture or equipment in the room. So you set your goal a bit lower. Working your way down from heaviest to lightest, you tried at every object in the room until you were able to move something.

You ended up spending a lot of time opening and closing drawers, as well as misplacing all manner of small objects that week, much to your nurse’s growing confusion, and Dr. Roberts’ subtle amusement.

After being released from the hospital, you were finally able to test your abilities on a wider range of objects, and from there your days consisted entirely of keeping yourself alive, honing your abilities, and finding Matt.

You hadn’t gotten much more adept by the time you found yourself in his company once again.

The events that played out that day gave you confirmation of what you’d already suspected, though.

He definitely made you stronger.

Simply being in close proximity had been enough for you to feel the effects, but you had no idea how much potential power he truly held until he literally pulled it out and handed it to you.

Looking back, you’re still not sure if it was the life he gave you or simply the traumatizing experience of having him shot point blank in front of you that spurred you on.

It was probably both.

You’re quite sure that he had no clue what he was doing when he offered you part of himself. Hell, you’re fairly certain that he doesn’t even know what he is, let alone what you are or what you’d be capable of if given access to whatever kind of power he holds.

He was genuinely just trying to give you one more chance at life.

There was no way in hell that you were just gonna take it and run. He’d saved your life, so it was only fair that you return the favor.

The two poor men they sent to execute Matt and take you in never stood a chance. Their guns flew out of their hands before they could even take proper aim at you, and the fight was over before it even began.

Bits and pieces of that day flash in your mind, blurry and out of order. You do your best to sort them.

You remember your nails tearing into skin.

You remember screaming. Begging. Prayer.

You remember muscle tearing, blood flowing, bones cracking.

You remember the weight of a human heart, cradled in your hands.

You remember the brush of your bloodied knuckles against Matt’s skin as your trembling hands lifted the tail of his shirt.

Even now, trying to parse through it all threatens to send you into another migraine, so you just let the memory settle back into the haze of your foggy mind.

The only thing that matters is that the two of you walked out of that room alive, with two hearts beating in each of your chests.

-

The bathroom door leading into your bedroom swings open slowly, allowing light and steam to flood in. The widening fraction of light spreading across your floor and the smell of soap on hot steam is enough to snap you out of your thoughts, and you realize you’re still sitting there pointing your phone’s light at your bloody wrist. You quickly turn it off, your pulse rapidly increasing at the realization that you’re about to be found out.

You snap your head around to face the motion in your periphery as Matt steps out of the bathroom, looking down as he ties a cloth rope around his waist, cinching his robe closed. As he does so, he speaks to you, meandering his way a few paces over towards the bed.

“You were right, doll! This extra robe of yours fits me quite well, don’t you think?”

His hands land on his hips as he raises his head in a proud display, gracing you with that unabashed grin of his that he has such a penchant for hiding.

This might be the first time that you regret being able to see his facial expressions, though.

You watch as his eyes dart from your face down to your lap, to the blood staining your exposed skin, to the way the light from the bathroom bounces off of the sharp, shining blade resting on your knee. You watch his expression shift from one of relaxed joy to one of panic in about two seconds flat.

He’s sat himself down on the mattress in front of you before he even speaks, his hands anxiously hovering over you, not sure what to do but needing to do something.

“Love, what happened? Why… what…”

His voice is soft and sincere when his eyes look back up and meet yours.

“Did you do this to yourself on purpose again?”

You didn’t have the decency to try and hide this from him, but you do have enough of it to at least look guilty at having been caught. Your head drops in a nod of confirmation, and you mutter a small “yeah… I’m sorry…”

You don’t see the slow shake of his head, but you hear the sadness in his voice when he speaks.

“No… no, you don’t need to be sorry, love.”

Your eyes catch the movement as his hand draws closer to your face, hesitating and hovering a few inches away.

“May I… touch you?”

You nod again slowly.

“Of course.”

You feel the pads of his fingers gently come to rest along your jaw, still soft and warm from his shower. He carefully angles your head up to face him.

“I just want to know why… Are you hurting? What’s… what’s upset you? What drove you to do this tonight?”

You close your eyes and shake your head slowly, contemplative. This side of your self injury is something you hadn’t really explained to him yet, so it’s understandable that he thinks it’s because something’s upset you.

How the fuck are you gonna explain that you were just doing it tonight because it feels good?

“I’m not upset, Matt. Honestly! I just…”

You dare to meet his gaze again and he’s still eyeing you with a level of concern that is far too sincere, far too unconditional, far too gentle.

You wouldn’t think a man that has taken as many lives as he has could ever look at you with such innocence in his eyes.

The saddest part is that you really don’t think it’s an act. He really is just… an enigma.

Well, it’s not like it’ll be the craziest thing he’s ever heard, right? Maybe… maybe he’ll understand.

“I’m not sure how I can explain this to you, honey…”

You glance away from his face, and your eyes catch on the way the sleeve of his robe has slid up his arm, exposing the skin there. Countless raised black lines litter his forearms, and you figure you’ll start out with a question for him.

“So, uhm… you’ve cut yourself many times, right?”

His eyes dart down to his exposed wrist, quickly flicking over towards yours, and then back up to meet your gaze again. He nods as he hums a questioning agreement.

“Mhm?”

“And… like we spoke about before, it’s usually because you’re trying to relieve some sort of pain that’s inside your mind, yeah?”

He nods again, brows furrowing in concern.

“Well, uhm, have you ever just… felt the urge to do it even when you weren’t in any pain? Maybe even when you felt good? Have you ever just… wanted to cut because it feels nice?”

He seems to take in your words for a moment, his gentle grip on your jaw loosening entirely as his hand lowers down to find your wrist instead. He carefully cups the back of your forearm, bringing it further up towards him to get a better look at the rapidly healing lines.

“Is that why you did this tonight? Because it feels good?”

There’s none of the mocking or confusion you feared would be in his tone.

“Yes. I just… it’s been a while since I’ve even done it, what with… everything that’s been going on lately. I’ve scarcely had the time! And- and it’s not like something happened today that upset me, I just… I don’t know. Sometimes something will happen that reminds me of how nice it feels to get hurt, and… I get that urge again.”

His fingers tap rhythmically against your skin as he hums in contemplation, eventually responding with another question.

“So… what happened? What reminded you of how good it feels?”

Oh, yeah. That’s a good question, actually.

Hah.

“Well…” you huff a small laugh at the memory.

“You remember how I was trying to cut that strip of hard plastic yesterday?”

His head nods curtly as he recalls your attempt, realization already seeming to dawn on his features before you can finish explaining.

You can’t help but smile at him a little.

Smart boy.

“And you remember how I gave up and tried snapping it in half with sheer force?”

It’s his turn to smile a bit, his lips quirking up to the side in a knowing smirk before he parts them and finishes your explanation for you.

“And it snapped, broke into several small, sharp pieces, which flew in all manner of directions.”

You nod your head in silence, letting him tell the rest of the story.

“One piece flew up and scratched you… right…”

He reaches up, carefully grazing the pad of his thumb across the apple of your cheek.

“…here.”

You can’t help but sigh and lean into his gentle touch, recalling the way he worriedly sat you down on the bathroom counter yesterday afternoon. You could feel his fingers trembling, muttering about your reckless behavior as he applied ointment to the very minor wound.

“That’s all it was, honestly. That’s all it took to make me crave this feeling.”

You both glance back down at your wrist, still cradled gently in one of his strong hands. Silence lingers for a moment, and you eventually break it with a scoff.

“That sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

He pulls in a deep breath, his thumb grazing over a patch of your skin littered with old white scars. His voice is oddly calm, almost… resigned when he speaks.

“…no. I don’t think it does.”

Your gaze flicks back up to meet his eyes at his unexpected acceptance.

“You don’t?”

His eyes meet yours for a moment before he slowly releases his grip on your wrist. You lower it back down to rest on your lap as his focus shifts to his own arms, rolling one sleeve up to better showcase his scars.

“I don’t. I guess… I can understand it, in a way.”

It’s only now that you realize he never answered your question earlier.

“Yeah?”

“…yeah, but… it’s not exactly the same for me.”

You wait for a moment, expecting him to elaborate, but his silence remains. You can’t imagine what could possibly be so different about it for him that has him reluctant to tell you.

“You never answered my question, you know?”

Your words are more of a gentle nudge than an accusatory statement, hoping that maybe you can coax another secret out of the crypt of a man sitting before you.

You watch a small smile surface on his features, and he bites it back before it can grow into a full-fledged embarrassed grin.

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy if I tell you.”

The sincere hesitance in his voice pulls a surprised laugh out of you.

“Matthew, I already know you’re crazy.”

Your words are dripping with affection, no malice to be found behind them, and you watch as his shoulders begin to shake with poorly hidden laughter.

You add onto your response with a little more reassurance.

“And I’m right there with you, you know? I’ll be impressed if you’ve got some reason for doing this that genuinely shocks me. So, just hit me with it.”

He glances up at you again, his laughter fading as he composes himself, and you still see a trace of hesitance in his gaze.

“Do you really think there’s anything I could learn about you at this point that would make me shy away from you, Matt?”

His shoulders shrug, and he mumbles his response through his teeth as they chew nervously at his bottom lip.

“…maybe?”

You reach out to grab at his hand before catching yourself, pulling back a bit.

“May I touch you?”

Consent goes both ways, after all.

He nods his head in a definitive “yes” and you take his hand in yours with all of the same gentleness that he graces you with. You idly play with his fingers a bit as you lean forward, ignoring your own injury in favor of focusing on him.

“You don’t scare me, Matt. I know you’re different. Very different. But… so am I, you know? We may be two different kinds of strange, two different kinds of crazy, but… I think we compliment each other’s differences. Uhm… besides, I think we may be more similar at this point than either of us really know.”

His expression shifts to one of confusion at that, and you’re quick to divert the topic back to his confession.

“I promise you’re not gonna freak me out, regardless of your reason for cutting. You can tell me. I want to know.”

He pulls in a deep breath, steeling himself before he speaks.

“Well… it’s true that a lot of the time I do it to… relieve the pain… inside me.”

You nod your head, silently urging him to continue.

“That’s not the only reason, though.”

One of your hands leaves his, trailing your fingertips softly down the heavily scarred skin of his inner arm.

He looks away from you when he finally says it.

“I like the way it tastes.”

Your motions come to a halt at his words, and you sit there just blinking and breathing for a moment as it sinks in. His muscles begin to tense as his fear spikes, and he’s about to apologize, get up and run out of the room in embarrassment when you finally start laughing.

He doesn’t know if he wants the floor to swallow him whole or if he wants to sit here a little longer, taking in the sound of your beautiful laughter. Even if it’s at his expense.

You crane your neck around to look up at him from where you’ve nearly doubled over yourself in your laughter, and finally speak.

“Is that all? Is that what you were so afraid to tell me, Matt?”

His confusion is written all over his features as you lean back up, one hand coming to rest on your chest as you compose yourself. The poor thing sounds so confused when he answers you.

“Uhm, yes?”

You smile, shaking your head at him fondly, as you’re quick to put his fears to rest.

“That’s nothing, sweetheart! I promise you.”

The tension in his muscles visibly relaxes, and he manages to hold your gaze as he speaks this time.

“Really? It doesn’t… turn you off?”

You watch his eyes widen at his sudden realization of what he said, and he’s quick to clarify what he meant as a furious blush dusts his cheeks.

“Not- not like that! That’s not what I- oh, bloody hell…”

You bite back your knowing grin, maybe a bit too eager to watch him fluster himself like this.

“You know what I meant, don’t you?”

You decide to relieve him of his growing embarrassment, nodding as you reassure him.

“It’s okay, love, I know what you meant. And no, it doesn’t freak me out. Nothing like that, honestly. I actually… it’s… hm.”

His brow furrows a bit as you search for the right words.

“It’s curious.”

You think for a moment, before a silly question pops up in your mind. You’re teasing him with it before you can stop yourself.

“You’re not… a vampire, are you?”

Your lighthearted tone works in accomplishing your goal of getting him to relax a bit, and you watch him laugh a little as he shakes his head in denial.

“No, I don’t think so, pumpkin. It’s… not like I crave it, and I certainly don’t need it to live, I just… enjoy it?”

You hum in acknowledgement, failing to keep your mind from offering up a mental image of him making such a discovery. You picture him cutting his skin open just to bring his wrist to his open mouth, tongue lapping at the pitch black liquid that escapes the broken skin.

The… pitch black liquid…

He watches your smile fall as you lose yourself in your thoughts, a look of intense curiosity replacing it. Your head snaps up to look at him, stating the obvious like you’ve just had a revelation.

“You have black blood.”

He blinks at you for a moment, before slowly nodding his head in agreement.

“I do.”

“Has it always been black?”

He glances away from you, his eyes landing on nothing in particular as he gazes into the distance behind you, trying to recall.

“As far back as I can remember, yes.”

You hum as you think, knowing that you likely won’t be getting any solid answers as to the man’s true origins tonight.

No matter. Even if neither of you ever manage to figure out why he is… the way he is, that’s not something you’ll lose sleep over.

Looking down at your own wrist, and the now dried blood adhered to your skin, another question comes to you.

“What does it taste like?”

He seems a bit thrown off by your shift in question, but recovers quickly enough, trying to find a way to describe it.

“It’s… uhm… hm. I don’t know! It doesn’t really taste like any food I've ever eaten, so I don’t know how to compare it.”

Well, that answer is coming from a man who’s genuine favorite food is sopping wet bread, so, you’d be taking his description with a pinch of salt anyways.

With your curiosity now peaked, and with a newfound solid excuse to indulge yourself once again, you allow your impulsive nature to take over. Quickly picking the blade up again, you bring it to the soft skin of your inner arm, near your elbow where the veins are better hidden, and make one fast, shallow swipe across. Just enough to draw blood.

Matt nearly shouts your name in horror as he reaches for your hand holding the blade, keeping a firm yet gentle hold on your wrist.

“What was that for?!”

The panic in his voice is enough to make you wince in regret, and he catches your reaction, misinterpreting it as fear. He lowers his voice significantly, doing his best to keep it level.

“I’m… I’m not mad at you. I’m not going to hurt you. I just… what was that? Why’d you do it again?”

Your eyes stay locked on the fresh cut, watching the blood slowly leak from it. You note how it moves slower than usual, far quicker to congeal and coagulate, moving more like a quick-drying glue than normal human blood.

You act quickly, before it can dry any further, bringing your arm up to your mouth and pressing your tongue flat against your skin. Dragging it upwards, you chase the short trail it made all the way back to the source, sliding the tip of your tongue across the cut a few times before pulling away.

You close your eyes, taking a moment to focus on the taste.

…

He was right. It doesn’t taste like anything you’ve had before.

If you had to compare it to something, the closest you could get would be…

“Bittersweet.”

Your eyes snap open as you utter the word, and you meet Matt’s gaze again.

You couldn’t decipher the mix of emotions currently written on his features if your life depended on it. His tone is nothing short of bewildered when he finally speaks.

“What?”

You crack a smile at him.

“It tastes bittersweet! But- you’re right. I’ve never tasted anything quite like it either.”

At an obvious loss for words, his mouth opens and closes a few times in silence, reminiscent of a fish.

Cute.

You give a light tug on the hand of yours he’s still holding, and his grip tightens slightly. You huff a small sigh, understanding his reluctance to let you go. You offer him a compromise.

“You can take the blade if you’ll give me my hand back, love.”

He reaches up with his other hand and carefully plucks the sliver of stainless steel from between your fingers, reluctantly loosening his grip on your wrist.

You shoot him a grateful smile, immediately reaching down and dipping the pad of your index finger into the little puddle of blood that’s since formed atop the cut. Pulling your hand back, you eye the way it clings to your skin before your eyes flick over to Matt, watching you with what you can only identify as horrified curiosity.

You bring your finger up towards his lips, and to your slight surprise, he doesn’t back away. Attempting to appeal to his recent confession, you offer him a soft-spoken question.

“Aren’t you curious what I taste like?”

You watch his eyes flick back and forth between yours and your blood-soaked fingertip, and you prepare yourself to pull back. You ready yourself to apologize for being so forward, and for scaring him the way that you did. As soon as you make the first move to pull away, though, he parts his lips and finally speaks.

His confession is nothing more than a soft whisper.

“Yes. Please.”

There’s an immediate shift in the air as he speaks, and you watch a sudden, desperate hunger make itself visible in his gaze. He reaches out, fingers slowly closing around your wrist once again as he brings your hand further towards him.

You watch in rapt fascination as his eyes close, he parts his lips, and the pad of your finger is gently pressed down against his waiting tongue. His lips close tightly around your fingertip, and slowly, reluctantly, he pulls your hand away.

No traces of blood remain as you glance at your finger, and you watch as he swallows, his eyes blinking back open a moment later.

You suspect that you shouldn’t feel as much pride as you do when you notice his blush having returned in full force.

Your eyebrows raise as you cock your head to the side in question.

“So? What do I taste like?”

Finding his voice, he clears his throat as his gaze wanders from your eyes, to your smile, and finally down to your blood-stained wrist.

“Better than I do, poppet…”

He can’t help himself as he reaches out a hand, moving towards your wrist before stopping and glancing up at you, wordlessly requesting your permission. You nod, a loving smile gracing your features, and in the back of his mind he wonders what he ever did right in this life to deserve someone like you.

He swipes two fingers through the small puddle of blood that’s yet to finish drying, his touch feather light and obviously trembling. Bringing his fingers back to his lips, he cleans them of your blood quickly, like a man starved.

“A damn sight better than I do, that’s certain.”

You ignore the heat you feel rising to your own cheeks, and counter his compliment with a little playful banter. Taking on a flirtatious tone, you bat your eyelashes at him and wave away his words.

“Why, Matthew, you flatter me!”

That seems to work in breaking the tension a bit, and he chuckles at your theatrics before he speaks.

“I’m serious though, doll. Your blood really does taste better than mine.”

You glance down at the dried blood and quickly healed cuts adorning your wrist, the previously open wounds now sealed off, replaced with thin black raised lines. Just like…

Just like the ones on Matt’s arms.

It’s at this moment that you realize that you never showed him the discovery you made while he was in the shower.

“You know what? That’s… actually a bit odd. I figured mine would taste pretty similar to yours…”

You trail off in thought, and Matt cuts in, his own curiosity now peaked.

“Why’s that?”

You reach out for your phone once again, turning its flashlight back on.

“Well, because… uh…”

You point the light at your wrist, clearly displaying the dried bloodstains on your skin. They’re solid black, and so are your new scars.

“It seems that my blood is black now, too.”

Matt’s eyes widen at the realization, looking back up at you in genuine confusion.

“Wait- but- why? It used to be red! I know it did! It- it got all over my hands when I was pulling all those safety pins out of you…”

You nod in agreement.

“You’re right, it was red then. But I think… something happened since then that caused my blood to take on the same properties that yours has.”

You turn the flashlight back off, placing your phone aside.

“What do you mean?”

There’s that soft, innocent tone of his again. He truly has no idea how giving you one of his literal hearts may have also passed along part of his… DNA, parasites, black magic… whatever the hell he’s got coursing through his veins.

Maybe those bullets to the head really did do a bit of damage to his cognitive skills.

Or, maybe being alive for 160-something years just begins to erode your mind at some point.

Looking up to respond to him, you let your eyes wander across Matt’s features.

His long brown hair is still messy and damp from his shower. A few shorter pieces cling to his temples, framing two small round scars from his past unfortunate run-ins with the cops. You know there’s a third one, from another, older, more… traumatizing entry wound hidden by the hair above his left ear. You felt it one night before you saw it, when you’d been carding your fingertips through his hair. As the two of you laid together, one of your nails had caught on the raised textured skin while you idly scratched them along his scalp.

You’ll never forget the way he sobbed into the sheets, holding onto you for dear life as he shakily recounted the events that gave him that specific scar.

You’d never wanted to kill someone as badly as you did that night, when Matt told you bits and pieces of what that horrible man had done to him.

Hard to kill someone that’s already dead, though.

None of the scars from his various bullet entries have a matching exit wound. So, since you can’t very well take him to a medical facility to have him studied, you really have no idea how his body handles getting shot. It could be anything from simply adapting to living with multiple bullets in his brain, to something more far-fetched like his body managing to dissolve any foreign objects that enter it, and mending itself like nothing ever happened at all.

It’s not like that’s any more far-fetched than his body’s ability to store, remove, and receive hearts like they’re some sort of accessory to be swapped out whenever the situation calls for it.

An ability that has been gifted to you as well, apparently.

Your eyes follow the trails of wet hair that cling to his neck, snaking their way down to his collarbones and disappearing beneath the plush fabric of the robe you’ve gifted him.

Reaching out, you glance at him for permission to touch, and once granted, you gently tease the ends of his hair out from beneath his robe. Laying it out across the cloth covering his shoulders, you nod in approval. That must be more comfortable than wet hair clinging to his skin.

As you move to draw your hand back, you stop as your fingertips trail over his most recent scar. Yet another black, raised circle with little tear lines running out from the center in all directions, reminiscent of a star.

A permanent reminder of the time you witnessed a man blow a bullet hole in your beloved’s neck.

You run the pad of your thumb across it, feather light, and resist the urge to lean in slowly and press your lips to the mark. Shaking yourself out of your contemplation, you struggle to remind yourself of what you were just talking to him about.

Lord, maybe he transferred some of his memory issues over to you as well.

You think hard for a moment, and it eventually comes back to you.

“Do you remember when you gave me your heart?”

You watch him blink back into the present moment himself, and can’t help but notice the way his gaze had been lingering on your lips.

“Of course I do, poppet.”

Pulling back, you allow your hand to drop from his neck, trailing downward along the curve of his shoulder and following the length of his arm until you’re once again holding his hand.

“Well, as you know… I got a whole lot stronger that day.”

He nods, smiling as he recalls the events of that day in his own mind.

His unusual reaction to the memory draws a question out of you.

“What was it about that day that’s got you smiling, huh?”

Your tone is teasing, but the question is genuine.

His answer is immediate.

“You saved me.”

Oh.

“Why wouldn’t I smile at the memory of that?”

You quickly shift yourself forward a bit on the bed, and hold your arms out in an obvious request for a hug. He happily leans in, allowing you to wrap your arms around his torso and bury your face in his neck. Your voice is muffled by the fabric of his robe when you speak, but he hears you all the same.

“And I’d do it again. You know that, right?”

You feel him nod against you, as well as the vibrations that emit from him as he hums an affirmative against your shoulder.

“As many times as it takes. I’ll do it again.”

He pulls you closer, holding you a bit tighter as he breathes his response.

“I would too.”

After a long moment just spent holding him, you pull back, still needing to finish your explanation. You stay close to him though, and lace the fingers of your hands together as you speak.

“Well, I think you gave me more than just your heart that day. I think along with it, I also gained your regenerative abilities, and as a byproduct of that- your black blood.”

He lets out a little contemplative “huh” as his mind connects the dots you laid out before him, and he smiles again.

“That’s a good thing, then, isn’t it? I mean, it’ll just help keep you safer if anything… bad… happens to you in the future!”

His ever-positive outlook shines through in his response, and for once, you fully agree with him. This is a good thing.

“You’re right! I think this is really good. Although, hopefully I won’t have to actually fall back on it, but it’s a good thing to have. I mean… it’s not like I plan on either of us running out into the face of danger any time soon. I think we’ve had about enough unfortunate confrontations for a while, don’t you?”

He nods emphatically, his smile fading to a small frown as he sighs, recalling everything the two of you have been through together.

“I agree, doll. All I’ve wanted to do is go home with you from the first time I met you, and now that we’re finally here… I don’t really want to leave.”

He follows his words with a hint of embarrassed laughter, as if there’s anything else you’d rather be doing either.

“Matthew, you know I’d happily lay in this bed with you until the sun burns out.”

He fixes you with a strange, worried look.

“When’s that gonna happen?”

It takes everything you’ve got not to laugh at the sincere worry in his voice. You try to keep a straight face when you answer him, and you feel yourself failing. So instead, you lean forward, planting your forehead into the soft cloth covering his chest in the way a cat headbutts their owner in a show of affection.

“Oh, you sweet thing. Don’t you worry about it, I was just joking.”

If the two of you somehow manage to still be alive when that star eventually dies… well, you’ll just have to burn that bridge when you get to it.

He seems satisfied with your answer, and brings a hand up to cradle the back of your head as you lean into him.

As you sit there for a moment, breathing in the scent of his soap mixed with the detergent you washed his robe in, your mind wanders to yet another unanswered question.

Pulling back, you look up into his eyes as you tell him.

“I still don’t know what your blood tastes like.”

He huffs a small laugh.

“I mean… like I said, doll, I can’t really describe it.”

He thinks for a moment, continuing.

“Besides, I really don’t think it’s as good as yours. Yours is… sweeter, I guess.”

Well now you’re more curious than ever.

“Well I think mine tastes kinda bitter, so… maybe it’s a thing where you like mine better but I prefer yours?”

He hums as he mulls the suggestion over, shrugging.

“Maybe!”

You nearly shove your face back into his chest at the realization that he isn’t gonna get the hint if you keep approaching it like this. You love him to death, but this fool couldn’t catch a hint if it hit him in the hands.

“Do you… think there’s any way that… maybe… I could taste yours sometime?”

You give him your best puppy-dog eyes, pushing aside the embarrassment you feel for requesting something so… intimate… from him.

You watch the realization dawn on his features, and you await his answer with baited breath.

“Oh! You really want to taste mine?”

You nod your head eagerly, giving him a small, shy smile.

“Well, I mean- of course you can! You can have some right now if you want it!”

You watch him lean back from you a bit, re-rolling his sleeve from where it’d fallen back down to cover his arm. You try to not be shocked at his eagerness and willingness to give you what you request. He’d probably cut off his whole arm and give it to you if you asked him for it. Especially if he thought it’d do anything to make up for the whole finger-removal scenario.

His willingness is a gift, and you swear to yourself that you’ll never abuse it.

You watch him reach over to where he’d placed the blade, noticeably out of your reach, and as he picks it up you suddenly remember your manners.

“T-thank you, Matt. You don’t have to do this for me.”

He smiles at you fondly.

“No need to thank me, doll. I’m more than happy to satisfy my poppet’s curiosity.”

He continues talking as he brings the blade to his wrist.

“Besides, I’m a bit curious myself…”

He quickly makes a small, shallow cut, mirroring the way you made yours, and you watch the blood rise to the surface of his skin. He places the blade aside once again, and immediately reaches out a finger, dipping it in his blood and offering it up towards your waiting lips.

Now that the shoe’s on the other foot, you fully understand why he turned red as a tomato when you did this for him.

It’s terribly intimate.

Taking the tip of his finger between your lips, your eyes close and you lose all focus as the taste of him hits your tongue.

This is genuinely the best thing you’ve ever tasted in your entire life. Holy shit. If yours tasted anything close to this good to him, then you need to applaud his restraint, because good god do you wanna latch onto his arm and drain him dry.

You refrain though, allowing him to take his hand back. When you open your eyes again, he’s eyeing you with hesitance.

“Is it okay? I mean- like I said- I don’t think it’s nearly as good as yours-”

You accidentally cut him off in your eagerness to assure him that it’s incredible.

“Are you joking? You taste amazing, Matt!”

That familiar heat rises to his cheeks as you unabashedly compliment him.

“Way better than mine, honestly.”

His response sounds unconvinced.

“Really?”

You reach out a hand towards the half-healed cut on his wrist, asking him the same silent question that he asked you. He nods, and you swipe two fingers through the remaining blood, bringing it to your lips and savoring the saccharine taste of him.

After another brief moment of losing yourself in the experience, you bring your attention back to Matt. You catch the way he must have been staring at you the whole time, and you give him a warm smile, leaning forward once more to ghost a kiss across the warm skin of his left cheek.

“Thank you.”

He flushes even darker than he already was at your combined proximity and display of affection, and he stutters out a blissed-out, lovestruck response.

“O-of course, doll. Any- ahaha… anytime…”

Your own smile can’t help but grow as you admire him, with his half-lidded gaze locked on your lips. You’d almost go so far as to venture a guess that the act of consuming each other’s blood imparts a slight sedative effect, given the way you feel and the way he looks.

Glancing back down to his wrist, you watch the cut finish closing up, now fully replaced with another little black line. With any lingering hesitancy having flown out the window by now, you bend down, placing a tiny little kiss over the freshly-healed cut. You revel in the way you hear his breath hitch as you do so.

Looking back towards Matt, you blink sleepily up at him.

“You ready for bed, love?”

He subtly nods in enraptured agreement, and the both of you move to rearrange yourselves on the bed. You settle into your respective positions, with you on his left and him on your right.

Draping the sheets over both of your bodies, you pull him close to you, and breathe deep as you feel him fully relax in your arms. You gently rest your head on his chest, and reach down, searching for his hand to hold. Tangling your bodies together, you begin to take notice of the quiet beat of your hearts, gradually falling into sync with one another.

As your eyes close, you feel his lips press a gentle kiss to your forehead, followed by his soft voice, whispering quietly into the night.

“G’night, poppet. I love you.”

You smile in your half-asleep state, mumbling your response as you softly squeeze his hand.

“Love you more, Matt.”

A/N: If you'd like to read my thoughts in regards to the process of writing this fic, as well as the musical inspiration behind it, you can find all of that over here, in the end-notes on Ao3! Header Image Sources: x - x - x Lastly, of course, here's the link to The Malenkee Saga, and here's a link to Matt's videos if you're just looking for him.

[sunlightfeeling]

Blade of the Immortal (2017)

dir. Takashi Miike

[deathdxnces]

They are never far from her mind or heart. Father perhaps most of all.

It was his forgiveness she asked for whenever her blades — the fractured pieces of their family crest — were stained with their people's blood. With how frequent it had become, the gesture was almost ritualistic; the cleansing of the blades, before sitting on her knees for prayer, an admission of her sins and request for absolution after blemishing their family's honor once again.

Always had her ancestors strived to follow Karma's teachings, but it had been father who first taught her about them. Never inflict harm on anyone, regardless of circumstance. It had been in the little things (the spider has as much right to life as any of us, he had told her once, offering his palm for the creature to climb after she had tried to kill it; Lito simply led it outside, where it could weave its web in a different part of the woodwoven house), soft teaching that sought to ensure she would grow to respect all life. And the bigger ones, too, shaped like reprimands whenever Irelia and Ohn were at each other's throats for something utterly irrelevant and soon to be forgotten (violence is never the answer, regardless of what Ohn did; your anger may be valid, but hurting another never is, much less your own brother). She used to be so pressed about it whenever lashing out felt justified; and yet, stern or gentle, father had always tried to make her understand.

At twenty-four, she had lived exactly as many years without him as she had with father in her life, and not one in which he had not been deeply missed. Next year would tip the scales (a lump in her throat at the thought, vision blurred by the tears she does not attempt to hold back). Kneeling in front of his grave, there is no one to witness it, even as silent tears turn to quiet sobs.

Everyone expects the grief to end, but no understanding of the cycle of life and its ebb and flow would ever be enough to mend those wounds. Irelia wishes only the little girl she had been with her father around had grown to be someone he would be proud of. Someone other than who she was.

[e-m-p-error]

[ @nebula-gaster || Continued From Here || Flora ]

[ Velvette ]

"Huh...?"

Glancing behind her as she fiddled with one of the big, thick plastic safety pins that were her earrings today, she tipped her head before kicking up one foot. She let herself fall back as she turned around, but never quite off her feet. Grinning, she waved excitedly beside her head, lifting the bat and placing it and her hand behind her back. She could feel the bloody blades lightly pressed into the back of her head.

"Heeeeeeey, Puddin' Pop~ What up?" She chirped in her regular voice, giggling behind her free hand, "Oh, these lamers? Nah, not really." With one foot lifted, she kicked it behind her and extended her foot to point with it, "That one knocked my Voxstar out of my hand when he walked past me," She then brought her foot forward to the last one to die, kicking his shoulder, "And this one laughed about it."

Sha glanced to the side at the other one, second to die, last to be mentioned.

"That one's just like. Riiiiiiiiiiight on the gnarly side of too ugly to live, you know? I did him a favor." They were imps, too, Hellborn. They wouldn't be coming back from this.

"But it's like, totes done. Dead and buried, sort of. Well. Dead. The burial isn't gonna be a casket thing. If I don't eat it, my plants will."

[madness-in-the-flesh]

Well now that I've seen that MAG/Go3lm post, it has invoked my affection for Go3lms. Go3lms are just neat and adorable. They talk so politely and whenever they make a remark I just want to give them headpats. -insert headpat meme with regular Go3lm-

While this has been just been me talking about Go3lms, I do have a request in mind. Would you be alright with doing something for the tower guards? They may be annoying to fight, but I respect the dedication to their medival gimmick. God they're such dorks, love these lads. (I really enjoyed the stories with the rowdy duo, Church and Jorge, and the ever passionate burger mascot, Gil. Just wanted to see if I could get some spotlight on some other Go3lms.) You're free to choose which guard to do, to just generalize how they'd all act, or however you'd like to go about it.

So here's a scenario, the reader works for Nexus Core as one of its many combatitive units. They interact with the tower guard now and then due to their patrol routes occasionally intersection. However, they notice it happening more often, bumping into eachother despite being stationed on different floors or in sections that they are quite sure aren't important enough to warrant the attention of the tower guard.

hjfbsdsedf I have to agree with you. They're all just. Funky and i love me some funky big guys +) Also head pats. They deserve ALLL OF THEM!!!

Oh shit! I never actually thought I'd be writing for these guys. but yeah, I'm happy too!! Wouldn't be surprised if they all played d&d together either... ( fuheyusf thank you!!! means a lot to hearrr <3 <3 ) Also hope it's cool but decided to go with the whole idea they are your fan club and went " we like this one. " and now you're being followed by them.

Beautiful scenario tho anon. I adore it. I'm gonna have LOTS of fun with this >+))) !!!!!! But genuinely this is super creative and cool??? You've got a big brain anon !!! <3 <3

I also can't tell if this is longer than my usual writing but it feels like it. nuihu

Tower Guards - The Point where it went wrong

Trigger Warnings - Manipulation, Intimidation, Abduction, Murder, Gore, Violence, Injury, Character death ( oc ), possible reader death. kinda.

Note - This one has the inclusion of two ocs of mine as your co-workers, Just kinda for the plot to feel more solid. Just really place holders but I promise both of them have a lot more depth than discussed in this story here lmao.

Many people in your situation would be asking " How did it get to this point ?" and frankly, not even you knew the answer. Maybe you could at least pin point the beginning. Something simple and from then on, they'd stuck with you. It had been a joke: Nothing too serious. You thought the way they talked, resembling that of the medieval ages, was kinda funny. Most were intimidated by them, sure they were skilled but you didn't seem to process that fear. You should have been terrified, And with what has happening now: You are.

" I think I'd make a great tower guard " you joked, puffing out your chest as the other shook their head, clearly unamused by your antics.

" Please don't do anything stupid around those G0l3ms. They will not hesitate to crush you " Theseus spoke, Rubbing the temple in irritation. The two of you were similar in some ways while opposite in others. While Theseus took a more serious approach. He just wanted to get the job done and head home. Most would have sighted this as a horrid combination seeing as you were light hearted. Possibly as juvenile as it gets which caused them immense stress but you two had gone back for years now. It was just... natural. Your shenanigans were unmatched while they balanced you out with their serious tone. To finish it off, Here you both were, working under the same branch in the science tower.

" By my troth, I shall try " You hummed out, elbowing your co-worker as you motioned a hand over your heart. A promise that now come to accidentally break. It caused them to groan but oddly enough, this caught the attention of the black guard, turning and staring back. The two of you jolted as the voice boomed through the room.

" Honourable! What is your name small one? " The blue guard questioned, hunching down to meet your size more. Cracking your head up, you blinked. Taken aback by the fact your simple choice of words had gotten you this much attention, face heating up at the newfound attention.

" Um... I'm (Y/n) " You spoke, rubbing the back of your neck as he let out a cheery laugh. Perhaps he was amused by your antics as much as you were.

" (Y/n)... I shall remember it well. " He hummed your name before letting the two of you go on your way. Youi hadn't paid too much attention to it, instead just snickering about it. While Theseus' eyes hadn't left the figure of the blackguard. It puzzled you, Making you raise a brow.

" You good? " You asked, genuinely concerned but he was clearly pondering his next set of words, choosing them carefully. He turned to face you as he shrugged.

" Dunno. Just got a bad feeling about those things. " he responded as you headed back. From then on, that bad feeling in them would grow and grow for him and no matter how much he protested, You didn't take him seriously. Even so, You never really took it seriously, sighting Theseus as just plain paranoid or just his usual overreacting. There was no away these G0l3m's would dream of harming some of the important Nexus scientists such as yourselves. right? You'd hoped that much. Maybe it was to cover your own tracks, trying to calm your friend down because if you weren't scared, perhaps he wouldn't be either. Perchance, if you had listened to him, things wouldn't have turned so sour.

From then on the guards would pop up at different intervals. It started out small, Just simple route changes you hadn't really payed attention towards since, like everyone else here, you had a job to do. It started happening more frequently though, Guards would stop by your station and ask how you were doing, simple things that... were nice to hear honestly but maybe not during working hours. After all, if you were caught, who knows what punishment you'd face. You weren't sure what to do about them either but soon chalked it up to them seemingly wanting to become acquainted with you after expressing interest, probably.

Some notable incidents were when a red guard had accidentally tripped and crushed what you were working on. You almost had a fit, Months of work down the drain but part of you didn't want to cause a scene with the large guard. You just laughed if off. It meant staying over hours. Apparently the guard had felt so bad, he started to hang around you during those hours on his rounds. Always stopping to check in on your which you found sweet. You were actually happy to have some new dedicated friends, even if it meant Theseus was less than thrilled. One comment made by him was " They planned that shit so you could be around more? " You had just chalked it up to them being clumsy but he still refused: Sighting it strange that the guards, who were already extremely agile, would make such a clumsy mistake. It didn't matter if it was on purpose or not though, You still had to come in to catch up more.

Another involved a yellow guard. You hadn't even properly picked up on it happening until another co-worker, Achilleas had told you. Apparently someone was talking about you behind your back about the red guard. How you had technically put the project on hold until it could be all redone: The guard that overheard this was NOT happy and apparently killed the. However the real reason was according to the report that was handed out to you and your co-workers: He was a spy. Planning on sharing information with others and leaking what you were doing to the public and with that, The yellow guard had taken him out. Theseus remained ambient it was a cover-up, With what you know now. He was most likely right. On the other hand, Achilleas was just glad he was gone: apparently he was a right asshole around the work place. Not that you knew the guy personally.

The worst out of them was meeting the Blackguard. He had an air of authority, more so than the others and he definitely didn't like your friends. You only ever saw it once though, He was so happy with you. As many of the guards were, polite, caring and a good time. A rare combination in Nevada but you were pleasantly surprised to find it home in the leader of the tower guard. Shame it didn't stay that way. He would hardly say anything when your companions were around. The three of you would talk, just minding your own business and he'd show up. Towering over all three of you in size and you knew it intimidated them, no matter how many times you tried to reassure them that it was fine. he'd be so pleasant with you, but when either Achilleas and Theseus tried to talk with him, The tone felt forced... You thought it was nerves maybe. That he wanted to perhaps get in with your little trio and didn't know the way about it. On the other hand. You knew the truth now. Although maybe it was obvious from the start as sometimes he'd drag you away to get you to talk to him alone until the alarm for your break being over sounded off. It soon developed into not just the blackguard doing so, but any guard that saw you chatting with the three in the breakroom. Sometimes they'd then be there, waiting for you. occasionally they'd escort you there and keep you away from the two but again: Maybe they were just shy. Neither of your friends liked this but Achilleas wasn't as bothered, going along with what you said because he trusted you - If you said they were harmless, then they were to him.

The last vague incident you could recall was noted with a blue guard. The same who you had encountered. He insisted that he escort you back to your office while you were on break. Previously, You were talking in the break room with some of your two closest work friends: Theseus and Achilleas. The three of you were talking about how your own individual lives outside your job were going, which relatively uninteresting apart from Achilleas story about a particularly amusing mattress salesmen. Just casual conversations. Only for the guard to stalk up behind the three of you. At first, you payed no mind to it. Only giving them a small wave before you heard the alarm, signalling breaktime was over and began to head back to your designated areas.

" I am here to escort you back to your workplace! " he spoke, filled with pride as the other two stared at the guard then each other. Achilleas looked slightly confused while Theseus' face was riddled with concern.

" Oh yeah sure. See you guys after work? " You replied before turning to the other two. They both nodded before beginning to head away. Theseus kept looking back: Clearly concerned for you but again. He's just a paranoid little man, or so now you wished it had just been his paranoia. You and the guard walked back, heading to the elevator. It was a journey filled with small talk. Nothing too special outside the usual talk you had with the respective guards. A question made you pause though.

" What are those two to you? Are they... Your protectors? " he prompted, tilting his head lightly. This made you laugh lightly, Deciding to play along with that you used to think was just some sort of medieval humour thing.

" Nahhhh. Theseus is like my champion. Achilleas is just one of those...uh, what you call it " You paused to think, looking away as you gathered your thoughts. Turning back when you remembered

" He's like my leech collector. Slimy little fuck sits there and collects them for me " you mused, snickering lightly at the small joke you had made. You wanted to keep up with them, humour and have fun with the whole medieval aesthetic but now. You wished you hadn't. The blue guard let out a small ' ahh ' in acknowledgement before going deadly silent. This... was new. While you were used to small talk, complete silence was unfamiliar.

You couldn't think about it long though as the elevator stopped and you got to your floor. Heading out the blue guard waved goodbye, saying something about a meeting he needed to attend. You brushed it off and just got back to work as usual and for a while. Things were normal besides the guards patrolling around your area getting more and more frequent but you weren't in charge of them. So it was none of your business

Then it came down to the day it all went wrong. Remembering the day in the breakroom once again, gathered with your usual buddies and talking about whatever came to mind at the current moment. Soon it trailed into the tower guards and the usual insistence with Theseus began. You were pretty much tired of it at this point, day in day out: Insisting they were no good. You'd become quite friendly with them so... You saw no problem with them.

" Oh shut up. " You huffed, taking a sip of your drink of choice. Not an office favourite, but it was yours. Theseus seemed to sigh, shaking his head.

" I'm serious, (Y/n). Somethings fucking up with them. They're following you around like a pack of lost puppies " He spoke up, causing Achilleas to gawk. Not at anything in particular. Theseus' eyes followed his, only for him to freeze up: Staring at whatever was behind you. The stare didn't stop, even as you took a quick look behind you, although the shadow that loomed over the three of you should have been very telling. You brushed it off, already accustomed to it only to double turn when you realized it was one of the G0l3m's that Theseus had been complaining about to your group mere moments ago.

This would not end well.

Something about the way the Blackguard loomed spoke volumes. The silence that spread through your group only made the air thicker. he G0l3m stared at your friend, Presumably if looks could kill: He'd be nothing but paste between his fingers.

" I challenge you, For (y/n)'s hand. " The Blackguard spoke up, The cold tone in their voice showed he was extremely serious with every single drop of venom spilling out of the sentence. Theseus stared in horror, just preparing to back up and out of the break room. Clearly intimidated by the larger thing. You didn't blame him because for the first time, The fear Theseus had felt: Infected you. The understanding of your friend's apprehension, made everything spin. Vomit threatened to rise out from your lips still you caught yourself, Swallowing it with your anxiety.

"I'm um. Busy " Theseus called, quickly darting out the room: Leaving the breakroom. It left both you and Achilleas staring up at the G0l3m who only turned to your other friend.

" Coward. What about thou? " You and Achilleas made eye contact, holding it for a moment before he turned to the now empty cup, holding the silence again while spinning his head to gawk at the large figure behind you.

" With all do respect, No thanks chief. " and he began rushing out of there: Not failing to toss his cup into the sink with a clash. Before leaving: A quick ' I'm so sorry ' was mouthed at you and your co-worker vanished beyond the same door as Theseus. The tension rose further, Making you laugh nervously. You had no idea how you were supposed to react, Staring up at the guard made you feel small. A lot smaller than every other time you had encountered the guard previously. The tension made everything just feel generally bigger. While it wasn't outright panic, the anxiety was lingering. He must be... messing around. After all how could someone you considered a friend, along with the other guards who had been nothing short of pleasant, hurt other people you considered friends.

I mean: You hated a few of your co workers but you wouldn't resort to cutting their lives short. You.... weren't like that. While you wanted to believe they wouldn't do the same, The way he looked down at you; No visible emotion, reminded you just what they were made to be. Killing machines that would slaughter anyone who not only defied Phobos, but got caught in places they shouldn't. You nervously played with your cup, looking away from him but you could still feel those eyes burning into the top of your head.

You had been saved by the alarm, signalling that your break was over and you once again laughed nervously. You tried to speak but the words were caught in your throat, Silently opening your mouth for nothing to come out. While you didn't want to believe you were scared, You were shaking now. The liquid in your cup jittering along with you and there was nothing you could do about it. Uncomfortably shifting as you decided instead to just wave: Almost dropping your cup in the process.

He came with you, practically talking to himself as you tried your best to respond but you just felt sick. You weren't sure where to pin point why but you couldn't shake the ever growing feeling that something bad would happen. Like a six sense. Maybe it was because you knew the guards so well, that they wouldn't stand for what Theseus was telling you. He disappeared once you got back to your work space. You remember placing the cup on the desk, no longer interested in it's contents. You weren't thirsty anymore. You thought that would have been the end of it. The strangest thing that happened that day and at this point - You were considering resigning. That look he gave Theseus unsettled you and now you felt like you were catching onto what he meant.

Hours passed, Up until it was the end of you shift. Excited to head home as you and Theseus had promised to spend the evening together watching the latest slaughter time re-run. Both you and he had agreed that the newer episodes lacked that little bit of pizazz the older ones had. So you waited outside for a while. 5 minutes turned into 10 minutes, which soon became half an hour and you were now suspicious. Theseus was never one to not let you know he'd be late. He just wasn't like that. If anything he had to be on time since he acted like being late was enough to get you executed. then again, Maybe you would since you were working for the Director. Wandering the halls once more to his office, Passing every clearance badge scan up until you walked into his small office. You weren't ready for what you saw. You don't think any amount of preparation would have though. For all the horrors you had seen in your time here: This one truly broke your heart.

Your friend Theseus had been alive earlier. You and Achilleas had been in the breakroom only a couple hours ago, trying to push past the incident with the blackguard as much as possible while you worked - A ping of guilt as you briefly remembered that the last words you heard from him were in fear of the blackguard - You should have done something to stop it sooner. However, here his body remained. Soaked in his own plasma. His head was detached from his body, having rolled across the floor at your feet. A plethora of blood having shot upwards out his neck and across the pale white walls. The knees of the body had buckled a while ago, no longer having the brain to hold itself up.

There his killer stood over the body. Holding himself as if he hadn't just killed your best friend of many years. The large G0l3m turned, facing you and laughing. You hadn't realized the trio gathering behind you either.

" I have bested your champion in battle! Thou shall now join our order! " The Blackguard pointed towards you, Causing you to cower away. No. no no no, You turned to run but a group of them lined the hallway. Your heart skipped a beat as you met the faces of more tower guards.

You screamed and kicked as they picked you up, struggling in the larger ones grip. The red guard was relentless and didn't let you go. The Blackguard leading the rest, along with you. Down the hallways with eager strides. At first confused, what did they plan on doing with you? Locking you up in some dingy dungeon? Were you going to become some sort of glorified house pet? The thoughts made you shiver and fight against him all the more. You quickly picked up on their plan though, once you saw the familiar look of the magnification chambers to which you silently screamed in terror. They wouldn't...

" They have volunteered for the process " one spoke, holding you up almost like a cat would a kitten. You didn't stop kicking and yelling: Finally realizing the genuine danger you were in. You knew what entailed you if you were to enter it. You'd be kept in the place for days, possibly weeks. If your body couldn't handle it: You'd die. If you did, then you wouldn't be yourself. You'd only be a shell, Left to fill with whatever the scientists or environment deemed fit - They'd stitch your skin and stretch it over your flesh to make it adapt to your new size. You shook your head " no " hopping that one of your fellow scientists would understand. No empathy was spared as they nodded and gave the guard the go ahead.

You continued to struggle up until you were thrown into the corner, Slamming into the wall with a thud as you slid down. Your eyes already droopy from the ongoing pain in the back of your head. The last glance you got was that of the Blackguard. The same way he was positioned during your first meeting.

" Small one, good luck on your quest. If thou does not make it. We will honour your memory. "

And all light faded as the doors slammed shut. Your body began to subtly ache. It left you to go over the moments that had lead up to this as you tried to figure out, through tears, where did it all go wrong?

[stilinskiderek]

sonya blade, a most formidable warrior

[aarontveit]

[yuri-hell-world]

KILLY AND ROSE

[all-my-friends-were-glorious]

[ @xrainbowxmusesx LIKED For A Starter || Terrance ]

[ Ris ]

“Ahh...” 

It took an awful lot to get Ris to feel pain of any kind. Sure, his kind had their weaknesses, but exploiting them for this almost felt disingenuous. 

Which lead him to this.

It had taken the better part of an hour, but he was finally breaking skin. The leather straps woven carefully with small iron chains barely burnt, but sizzled and smoked the more his flesh wore out. Blades secured against the leather with barbed wire bit into the skin eventually, and the thick, dark blood sluggishly drooling down his exposed back almost looked like oil. There weren’t hardly enough chunks for it to be fully coagulated, but it did look rather gnarly.

Another gasp left him as the cat o’ nine tails dug in once more, and he grit his teeth. Finally the pain was setting in, and his head fell back as he sniffed a little, before bowing again.

Quietly, he began to pray, the words formed on his lips and barely enough air breathed into them to make them audible. His breaths were as carefully measured as he could get them, but they were coming in more and more haggardly.

Footsteps in the snow near the cemetery gate had his head tipping up again, but his eyes remained closed. He listened, scented the air, and his nose scrunched up. That was certainly a scent, but one he recognized. One hand rested on the wall of the church, where the walls for the cemetery started, and the other held the whip still, now, against his chest.

“Mmm, I thought you were a man of science. Out for a stroll, or looking for me?”

[yalikejazz9]

//cw, alien blood, violence, death, etc

Anyway, handalite couldn't be an animorphs oc if she wasn't atleast a Little bit scary.

She did go to Sector 5 RG-21578-4 for a reason, and it wasn't to look cute.