#just imagine him hanging out with some cows or something

[madootles]

cowboy ed just makes sense to me

[i-want-men-i-cant-have]

✮ imagine kisaki dating you just to be closer to hina, your best friend. you knew her since you could remember and kisaki since cram school. you didn't have a real opinion on him and just thought he was the shy, studious type- nothing really special to write home about.

✮ but you were surprised when he confessed a little after hina started talking about a boy named takemichi and how he saved her. you don’t know why he confessed at all. you couldn't even think of a single reason. you never spoke; it was just you standing behind hina, waiting for her to finish complimenting him so you could go get popsicles at the park.

✮ the confession seemed fake- even something a little you could pick up on. it was like a robot, and not in the way he was confessing to himself in the mirror so many times; it was just dry. the confession had no heart to it. he wasn't even blushing and looking down, flickering his eye to you and the ground and spilling out, “i like like you!” it was just bland. so bland, in fact, you forgot every single word of it even while listening to it.

✮ but you were also young and thought a boyfriend would make you cooler, so you accepted it. also because you didn’t want to be left behind from hina and her ever-growing relationship with takemichi.

✮ when you asked him why he liked you a few weeks into the relationship, he said something about how you were like a plant and didn't get on his nerves. you didn't talk to him for a week after that.

✮ but when middle school started is when you were questioning the relationship. sure, it was weird to date someone and then move into middle school. the new personalities and new friend groups would naturally cause conflicts, but you were determined to keep on dating the guy. so determined it clouded your thoughts on the real underlying reason he even wanted to date you. you also didn't want to question if he liked you just to have a repeat of the plant comment.

✮ you were still friends with hina in middle school, going from a friend to a best friend if takemichi didn't already fit that role with a boyfriend. you were jealous of him, spending so much time with her after school. you didn’t know if that was the real reason or maybe jealous of their relationship. kisaki looked at you and spent time with you, yes, but it all seemed so artificial. like some alien trying to blend into the real world disguised as a cow with purple spots in a field of grass.

✮ it all changed, or spiraled when he met some guy, oniinii, osanii, osanai? he said you have your friends and he can have his, so you shouldn't judge, so you didn’t. you let him be. after all, relationships are built on trust and understanding.

✮ now the only time he wants to hang out is when you make an offside comment about how hina was going to be there or you were hanging out with hina. you thought it was just a way for him to be less awkward around you- a third person to brighten up the mood and keep the conversation from coming to an awkward pause. still, when you mentioned other names, he just hummed and continued to study for an upcoming test while you sat on his bed staring at the tv.

✮ after about a month of this, you were a little more than mad. you wanted to stay in the relationship for a reason you couldn’t pin down. you wanted to think it was because you liked him and his calming presence. you shoved down the feeling of being stubborn; a year plus relationship with someone wasn't a lot, but to you, it was. you’ve stuck with him for a year; he’s the first and only guy to confess to you. then you pushed down the feeling of not wanting to be alone, just having friends- nothing special like a boyfriend in sight.

✮ so you started shoving more and more dates in his face if one date a week was bombarding. you just wanted a simple lunch date with him on the weekend, drink something nice, and maybe eat a sweet with him and talk about your week.

✮ but he would slowly start to ditch it more and more as the weeks passed. the first and second week were the best because he actually showed up and stayed. you would carry the conversation, assuming he was awkward, but it was overall a nice time- calm and comfortable.

✮ but he would slowly slip farther and farther from your date plans. you didn’t want to question it the first few times he left as he said osanai needed him and you assumed he was just tutoring the poor guy. you didn't want to judge people based on their appearance, an appearance you had yet to see but from the sound of it he could be a delinquent. besides, kisaki was leaving money to pay for his and maybe your meal if you didn’t talk a lot. yet as the weeks passed, your thoughts of the tutoring switched to your boyfriend getting bullied by the gang member you only know the name of.

✮ kisaki did catch onto your worry and he told you not to worry. he had told you osanai was his friend. he had told you osanai needed some help with homework. he had told you him and osanai needed to finish a last-minute project. excuses, excuses and more excuses.

✮ now the only dates you even get are the spur-of-the-moment ones which you force him to go on. even then, he leaves early, leaving more and more cash on the table each time to cover the bill.

✮ and then came hanma. you remembered that man's name the first time you heard it. you hated the way he looked at you. he had this look as if to tell you he knew so much more than you. like he knew something you didn't. not to mention his laugh whenever you left the room. your room. they would talk and discuss whatever teenagers talk about in your room, food crumbs on your bed left by the new boy.

✮ your boyfriend and his new replacement for osanai even used kisaki's room. you know this from kisaki telling you randomly, as if to diffuse your anger after a long day. but then hanma said he liked the vibe of yours so they used it more. you had a feeling he was just making up excuses so he could get a mini maid, you.

✮ you were afraid of the new replacement of osanai. you don’t even think kisaki remembers him, which pisses you off more than you’d like to admit because he spent more time with him than you.

✮ hanma got under your skin in more ways than one. he never got mad at you, never even raising a hand to hit you. it was that look he gave you that made you hate him so much, not the amount of time he spent with your boyfriend.

✮ when you yelled at the tall boy for smoking in your room, he laughed and told you not to worry about it so much because he did it out the window. you were on the verge of shoving him out the window if he kept up being himself.

✮ but the reason you probably hated hanma so much was that you had more of a relationship with him than the boy you were in a relationship with.

✮ now, you remember those dates kisaki left you for with osanai? now he was leaving with hanma every time he apologized quicker and quicker. each time he left, he would leave a wad of cash greater and greater than the last. you didn’t want to question the money; it was his life after all. it also would mostly cover the tab and sometimes leave you some extra money. one of these times you had enough left over to buy him a present, and with your anniversary coming up, you wanted to buy him something- it was his money after all.

✮ you liked the present having thought about it for a while now. you had decided on a mini pig phone charm, remembering how they were one of the smartest animals in that one documentary you watched a few years ago. you also remembered he didn’t like dumb people, something he brought up when you asked what the amount of money the tip would be. it was the perfect anniversary gift! so perfect in fact you bought a matching one so you could even remember you had a boyfriend!

✮ and a week after your anniversary when you walked into your room, you saw hanma sitting on your bed, looking at his phone while something played in the background. that little pig charm was dangling from his phone, almost taunting you. even that stupid pig was giving you the pitting look hanma would always give you, only this time hanma had a smile on his face watching as your eyes followed the animal sway side to side. side to side on your boyfriends best friends phone.

✮ when you ran to the bathroom to call hina, kisaki was knocking on the door a few minutes after you burst out of your own room. he sounded so… dissatisfied. so unfazed. like he was forced to do it, but you knew better than to believe it was hanma who did it. could it be? your boyfriend was actually trying to care for you? did he actually appreciate all that time you spent trying to love and care for him? did he love your date ideas? did he love you?

✮ no.

✮ no.

✮ no.

“can you stop crying? it’s annoying and i can’t focus.”

✮ tetta kisaki must die.

you slam opened the door to his face, watching as he stumbled back into the wall, paying no attention to the prying eyes and ears of hanma from down the hall. “shut up! just shut up already! why is it the one time i need you to not talk you finally open your mouth?! you’re always so quiet around me! i’m the person you're supposed to open up around, and you don't! the one time you should say something- anything nice to cheer me up, you tell me I'm annoying!”

“are you… breaking up with me?”

“what else do you expect?! i can’t call you by your first name! i get you something for our anniversary and you give it to your best friend! you never spend any time with me! you only want to spend time with hina, who has a boyfriend! i mean seriously, what’s wrong with you? have you just liked her this whole time!?” and with hanma's annoying laugh, it was solidified. he never even liked you in the first place. hanma knew. osanai probably knew. everyone knew but you.

“i hope you and hanma have a great life together kisaki.” you finally try and relax, keeping a steady breath looking down on your ex-boyfriend. “now get out. now.”

[cursedhaglette]

Shoutout Sunday

it is so freaking kind of @littlejuicebox and @tallymonster to tag my work in their shoutout posts, so i wanted to add my own recs of fics i am currently wishing I could leave 1000 kudos on.

also fair warning, i'm a long fic girl. give me an OC to be obsessed, someone i can imagine my own hanging out with, and hopefully one that their author is also obsessed with. i wanna feel that through the writing. and with these, you can.

Pieces Left Stuck in Your Teeth by @howlsmovinglibrary / @wetcatspellcaster - i couldn't put this down when i started it, to the point i was reading it in the car when i should have been grocery shopping. i couldn't stop. it is witty always, devastating at times, and this version of Astarion is just terrible and hilarious in all the best ways

Not Your Sweetheart by @kittenintheden - the most natural dialogue I've ever read, and also the most hilarious. kitten also has such a talent for writing every character in a way that has me laughing each time anyone in her fic speaks. unless it hurts, in which case, it's gonna hurt a LOT

I Want to be Better; Let's Make Each Other Worse by @redrook - my frequent writing bud who's ideas outdo my own more often that not, Jack is an absolute genius and their fic shows it with every word written. the strange ox like you've never seen him before, dolphin riding, ceiling sex - you name it, it's in here AND it makes sense

Pour One Out by the absolutely delicious mind of @aevallare - auristarion supremacy for always. we all know kindred but if you aren't also reading Pour One Out you are, unfortunately, a fool

Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal by @brain-rot-central - neech is doing something truly different with this devastating and delicious A!A piece. and for it to be her first long fic??! the talent is insane

Made for This by @olivedrop - Olive's fic brings me so much joy, not just because Olive herself is an absolute delight, but because her writing is so real and the way she captures the companions feels like it was cut dialogue it's so good

now you want some SMUT? OKAY lets talk - take these and call me in the morning

Think of Me by @scaryanneee is the smut fic of all time for me. i've recced this an unhealthy number of times, probably bordering on it being obsessive

inevitable by @aevallare the smut fic i rec the second most because it's just so easy to place myself in the moment alex writes and as always, i love when the tadpole gets thrown in while folks get nasty

Where were you when I was new? by @kittenintheden - just shut the fuck up and read this and you'll get it. also i'll never stop thinking about how kitten writes dialogue in smut because holy cow

Pent Up by @underdark-dreams - this isn't even Astarion I'm sorry. it's Rolan. i don't even know if i like Rolan. BUT I LOVE THIS FIC. it is so fucking good oh my god.

Careless Whisper by @tallymonster - okay i might be biased because Tally offered to mention Halia here and made her the goddamn prima ballerina, but this is also just So Good and such a fun read. modern AUs don't usually work for me, but this one is that charming

and of course, though i doubt you need my rec to know her by now, anything written by miss @fangswbenefits will make your toes curl. and i mean anything.

[weebsinstash]

*strums guitar* you know who would be a total piece of shit, to be stuck up in Heaven fuckin FOREVER with

This douchebag! Gotta get some Adam content out before the finale drops and then I'm sure I'll be back for more then too!

I was listening to "You Didn't Know" again and I HATE this man, and because I hate him and he's an asshole, I can then see his wretched character doing shitty and debauched things

Which then means he's conceptually fuckable and we must discuss

I was sitting and thinking about. Ok in the most dramatic fucking way possible can you imagine being in the courtroom with Charlie as a Sinner Representative because you're dope like that, and Adam just starts fucking beefing with you on sight and you give it right back to him because HOMIE BASICALLY INVENTED MISOGYNY, you're standing in HEAVEN while an ANGEL looks you dead in the eye and calls you a CUNT like I wouldn't fucking tolerate it I'd be screaming at him like a feral beast, "why don't you look at your FEMALE BOSS and say that again, you dickless loser?!"

But can you imagine just having this insane BEEF, you guys are having MUSICAL DIAGETIC SINGING BEEF, and then, like. Either there in court or later on in the plot, hey, everything is good now, Sinners/you can ascend or we can go from heaven and hell and visit our families and everything is good now, yaaay! Or your name was mispelled on a form and it's like oh shit you were supposed to be in Heaven all along our bad and ONLY you are cool to "go upstairs"

And you can't even be happy about it because it's literally "oh cool I DO belong in Heaven!">wait but my friends are in Hell > oh fuck THAT ANGEL THAT HATES ME IS HERE, and sure enough he's standing there at the pearly gates to personally welcome you into Heaven, grinning like the cat that ate the canary, making it EXTREMELY CLEAR that he's basically gonna be stalking you because he wants to personally witness you fuck up and get sent back to Hell where he can kill you himself

Homie is back at base posting photos of you all over the walls like an insane person, "look at this tricky fucking bitch, fucking scheming, fucking planning something, fucking bitch" and even Lute is standing there, ".... that's a photo of them eating a sandwich, sir" and she's like TRYING to see where he's coming from but these are photos of you like SLEEPING and the suspicion that you might act out becomes an excuse to stalk you as he gets progressively more unhinged and perverted and frustrated (in more ways than one)

Let's also just discuss some baseline ideas! Abso fucking lutely do I see him as some, frat boy piece of shit who is always at least vaguely hostile to women so we're discussing female Reader specific ideas. Like imagine he's trying to actually be friendly and be cool with you or maybe you guys even hang out on good terms or whatever, maybe you both play guitar and he likes how you can shred it, and, he's the kinda guy to invite you to hang out and not specify other people are gonna be there so you get there and he's with his buddies and they're all talking about, gross shit like the size of the tits on the girl they last fucked, "oh hey did you sleep with Stacey" "fuck yeah I slept with Stacey you know that slut takes anyone", like, Adam deadass expects you to stand next to him with your red solo cup as they all talk about "the massive cow tits on that bitch" and if you even mildly imply this isn't entertaining "you're just bein a prude babe!"

Like Adam has no self awareness, he'll be saying horrid shit about women and then one of his buddies makes the most MILD of comments about you, "yeah your friend is kinda fuckable" and Adam is like in a RAGE, "hey man, that's not fucking cool! Let's go, outside NOW, fuckin step up, bro!" and he's brawling dudes for shit he's said about their conquests PLENTY of times

Just picturing the idea of like idk Saint Peter or even Emily flying around and they see you sitting on a bench outside far far away from where other people are and they fly down to greet you with the biggest smile, "hiya, how are you?" and you um look at them with such a genuinely dead, depressed, empty expression that they like cannot even fathom it. You're??? Unhappy??? In HEAVEN??? they cannot even comprehend it.

The real kicker is if you started to CRY and look this angel or seraph directly in the eyes as you ask, "can i... go back to Hell? I'm allowed to leave, right?" and THAT'S what raises massive red flags and sends that angel straight to their fucking boss. Sera would be over here, "oh she's having problems with Adam oh that's unfortunate but they'll sort them out -- WAIT WHAT DO YOU M E A N SHE WANTS TO LEAVE????" And,, oh, NOW they suddenly care about how happy you are, NOW they're suddenly willing to help maybe mildly keep Adam away from you. Because why? Because now you're potentially going to damage Heaven's perfect track record, and, geez they can't have you running around DEPRESSED, with your face looking all... ICKY and SAD! What if you made the other darlin-- I mean other residents of heaven sad and they maybe wanted to leave their precious angel protectors too? Huh? Ever think of that?

I love how I was sitting over here "what if like the entire Spider Society was yandere for the Reader" and ever since then my brain is like a puppy chasing treats, "what if I made this entire community mentally unhinged"

Also. Carmilla Carmine and her family + Zestial protecting Reader from Adam or any other angels because 👏 we can have as many mommies or daddies or fake family members as we want down here and that's the facts on that 👏

[love-and-monsters]

The Pit and the Serpent

M Naga X GN reader, 11047 words

Content warning: discussions of rape/sexual coercion, sexual coercion described with minimal detail, descriptions of a cult.

You have been sentenced to death. You are going to be fed to the beast in the pit. Unless, of course, the beast does not eat the ones given to it.

Sweat beaded on the back of your neck as you took another trembling step forward. A knife sat against the small of your back. The threat wasn’t that they would kill you- they didn’t have to. A quick slice to the small of your back would have your legs useless. They could leave you to die, limp and pathetic, at the claws of the creature in the pen. The only reason they hadn’t done it at all was that it was a lot less work to have you walk than to drag your limp body in.

The pen loomed in front of you. It wasn’t much of a pen, to be honest. It was more of a pit, with barbed wire fence surrounding it. People didn’t approach it- in fact, there isn’t anyone within a hundred feet. Just you and the soldier nudging you ever closer.

As soon as you were past the gate, the soldier slammed it shut and stepped back, almost a scramble. There was no reason for him to be near you anymore. There was only a tiny strip of land surrounding the dropoff of the pit, and you couldn’t climb back out over the fence thanks to the barbed wire. You probably couldn’t even if there wasn’t barbed wire. You’d never been athletic.

You hunched down on the little area you had, knees tucked close to your chest to avoid the drop. No limbs dangling. The image of letting an arm or leg hang over the opening and something grabbing you, like a monster under the bed, rose in your mind.

You sat on the edge of the pit all throughout the scorching afternoon, dripping sweat into a small puddle in the dirt below you. The sun set and the chill of night against your sweaty skin made you shiver. The thing in the pit hadn’t moved. Was it nocturnal? You’d never seen a feeding before. Maybe you should have. Maybe that would have discouraged you from-

The thing in the pit moved. You heard it shifting before you saw it, the great shadow twisting and slinking until a tendril of it was lifting out of the pit and stretching slowly toward you. You scrambled back until the barbed wire dug into your skin, uncaring of exactly how rusty it was. Of course it didn’t matter. You were going to die, right now, and a little tetanus hardly compared to exactly how this thing was going to rip you to shreds.

Its head dropped into your line of sight, close enough that you could make out some features despite the lack of light. You stared. You had been expecting a mouth- they called it a feeding, after all. Not strange at all to imagine you were about to be eaten. And there was a mouth. It was just attached to a human face. Which was attached to a human head. Which was attached to a human torso. Which was not attached to human hips, but to the body of an enormous snake. Like, a huge snake. Like, at-least-40-feet-long snake.

It yawned. Fangs, long and thin, just where canines would be in a human mouth, glinted in the faint moonlight. Then it slumped downward, flopping to rest its torso on the edge of the pit right next to you.

It blinked at you. The light was dim enough that you couldn’t see the color of its eyes, but the white gleaming in the moonlight told you it was staring right at you. “Hello there.”

You stared back. He didn’t seem like he was going to eat you. He didn’t seem big enough to eat you. You’d been expecting an enormous snake mouth, something appropriate for the enormous thing, something that could swallow you whole. But this was… well, the person-part of the snake was bigger thana typical human, but not by that much. Its mouth was far too small to eat you effectively. Then again, you were smaller than a cow, and you ate those, so perhaps the creature was simply going to drag you into its pit and eat you little by little. You hoped it killed you quickly, at least- getting slowly eaten seemed like the worst possible way to die.

“You aren’t much of a talker, are you,” the serpent groused. His mass of coils shifted slowly, undulating in the pit beneath. You couldn’t make out the individual coils with the distance and the darkness- it just looked like a shifting, twisting mass. The serpent moved closer, practically hovering in front of you, using his muscular trunk as support. “Ain’t much to look at, are ya?” He spoke in a drawling, lazy tone. “Can’t imagine ya did anything impressive to get stuck in here. Are they finally chucking the dissidents down here instead of shoving them into the reeducation work prison?”

“Thievery.” You forced the word up through your dry throat and mouth. The serpent fixed his gaze back on you. “I- I took something that wasn’t mine to take.”

“Huh.” He slumped back to the ground next to you, propping his chin up on his fist. “Why?”

You ground your teeth. “He… took something from me, first. So, I wanted to take something from him. But I got caught.”

The serpent nodded. “A little thief, then? I suppose they would throw you in here for that.”

You eyed him as he stretched. The question was stupid, but you couldn’t help yourself from asking it. “Aren’t you going to eat me?”

He was mid-yawn when you asked, and blinked one eye open to look at you. “Am I supposed to?”

You paused. Everyone called it a ‘feeding’ when people were put in the pit. People who went for feedings were never seen again. What else was happening expect for them being eaten? “I think so.”

“Perhaps,” he said, “I’m not hungry today.” He slumped back toward the pit, slinking down and vanishing in the mass of his own coils.

You stared. And shivered. Your sweat was still drying on your skin in the chilly night air and the hot terror was fading. The creature had emerged from the pit, you’d had a pleasant (if you stretched the definition of the word) chat, and then it had left.

That was… not what was supposed to happen. You’d seen people be taken away to the pit- you’d never seen them actually go in, of course, the pit was nearly three hours away from the town by walking, and you’d never had reason to go in a car until today. Yesterday. Was it past midnight? They never came back. Did the creature ever eat anyone? It must, or they wouldn’t have bothered with the pit at all. They could just shoot people. Or stab them, if wasted bullets were a concern. Why go through the whole rigamarole of taking people out here and then leaving them alive for the creature if it didn’t eat them?

But if it did eat them, why hadn’t it eaten you?

It got late for a while, and then it was so late that it looped around to being early. The sun started to stretch thin tendrils of light over the horizon. Your stomach growled. You had to pee. Your legs were cramping from being in the same position for so long. Were the guards going to come back? Did they come back for the prisoners, if only to see if there were any bones or limbs left? Or were you just trapped out here until you died of thirst or the creature decided it was hungry after all and ate you?

(It had better hurry the hell up, you decided. If it waited until you died of natural causes, t would probably have a tough, unpleasant meal. Your somewhat-delirious mind found that idea funny.)

It was less funny when a hand wrapped around your ankle and hauled you bodily toward the pit.

The entire thing was fast. One second you were registering the warm hand on your skin, and the next you were being dragged down a slope. You caught a glimpse of your captor’s face, too dark to make out expressions, before you were hauled under a mass of coils.

They weren’t cold to the touch, though they weren’t warm, either. You could feel the ridges of the scales, each one nearly the size of your palm. It was heavy, a weight that nearly knocked the breath out of you, though their constant shifting helped lessen that impact. It wasn’t crushing, though, and you could feel the hard-packed dirt under your back. Strange. You would have thought they’d be coiling around you to crush you. Even just being underneath them, you could tell they were powerful enough to do it. You could feel the power of the muscles just from minute movements alone.

“Stop panicking!” The voice came a lot closer to your ear than you’d expected and you struck out. Maybe he’d been expecting it, because your first hit a wall of scaly flesh.’ “I ain’t gonna hurt ya, if you don’t try to hurt me again.”

You stopped moving. The serpent huffed out a breath, and you felt the edges of it against your… temple, on your right side. He was partially concealed by one of his own coils, but he was there. “Sorry for the delay, sweetcheeks. Woulda taken you down here right away, but we’ve had some problems recently. Delays. You’ll find out soon, anyway.”

You didn’t understand, but bemoaning that lack of understanding seemed like the worst possible move at the moment. Instead, you flipped onto your stomach and started army crawling back toward the wall of the pit. The coils were heavy, but not crushing, at least not at the moment. You were going to crawl and get out of the pit, and what you were going to do then could be decided after you got out.

“Woah.” The hand was on your back now, having gotten a fistful of your shirt. Well, it was more of a dress-tunic than a shirt, one of the ones that was both oversized and stretched, and made more out of patches than material. They could have made you go into the pit naked, but you suspected that this made a convenient excuse to get rid of something no one really wanted. You thrashed against the grip and, sure enough, the tunic ripped with ease. Before you could continue your mad crawl, the hand managed to lock around your calf. “Woah, woah! Where do ya think you’re going?”

You try to continue forward at the pace of a determined slug. The hand on your leg is doing a good job of hindering that, though. “Quit freaking out! Sorry I scared ya, but I said before, I ain’t gonna hurt ya, so stop it!”

In fairness, he wasn’t hurting you at that moment. He could have, certainly- his coils could have crushed you by weight alone, if he’d dropped them on you, but he just lay them across your path, effectively blocking your way unless you wanted to crawl over him. The hand around your calf remained firm, a grip tight enough to almost bruise, but not vicious. More like he was just desperate to keep you from squirming away.

Surrounded by coils of snake and held fast by the grip on your leg, you finally went still. You were flat on your stomach, so the dust, of course, immediately went up your nose and you snorted out an awkward sneeze. The serpent’s human part moved forward, almost hovering over you, suspended by its muscular trunk. He folded his arms over his chest, no longer holding onto you. “Didn’t mean to scare ya that bad. S’pose I should’ve been more forthcoming, but ya don’t get much fun out here, y’know?” He shrugged. “Sorry. Kinda a fighter, aren’t ya, though? Most people just curl into a ball and scream.”

You stared at him. He was silhouetted by moonlight, so you could make out his long, somewhat tangled black hair and his dark brown skin. There were a few patches of scales on his belly, creeping up from where his snake body ended. “I thought,” you said, after a moment of thought, “that you were going to eat me.”

He shrugged. “I’m not.”

That had become pretty clear. Unless this was a game, though you couldn’t see the point of it, if it was. “Then what are you going to do?”

He grinned, at that. His canines were still too long and sharp, more like a snake’s than a human’s- though still not totally like either. “Look.”

He turned his body to point at a spot beyond the shifting weight of his coils. In the wall of the pit, there was… a hole.

It wasn’t a big hole. Large enough for a person to fit through, provided they were crawling and not standing up straight. It sloped a little, down into the ground. The idea of it made you shudder. Perhaps the serpent didn’t pick up on that, because he said, “You’re going to go in there.”

“I’m not,” you insisted. The serpent considered you for a moment, not quite irritated, but certainly not pleased.

“Ya are,” he said. “Unless you’re plannin’ on staying here and dyin’ when they come back and find ya completely uneaten.”

You glared. “Fine.” The serpent nodded, clearly believing you meant ‘fine, I’ll go in there.’ His expression changed to plain annoyance when you, through lack of motion, convinced him that you meant ‘fine, I’ll stay here and die.”

“You’re claustrophobic,” he reasoned. You glared. It was true, but you didn’t like it. The idea of close earth, pressing in on you- unbearable. The idea of having nowhere to run, nowhere to go or flee to, no open space within which to seek safety-

“Alright, alright! Don’t- don’t do that, just- Damn, this makes it much harder than I thought it was gonna be.” The serpent patted awkwardly at your shoulder. You squirmed away from his touch and he held his hands up. Your breathing, which had spun wildly out of control for a moment, dropped back to a steady (or at least steadier) rhythm. “Look. The only way out of here is through the tunnel. It’s only twenty feet of tunnel, and once you’re through that, it’s not so tight.”

“I can’t get through the twenty feet,” you ground out. Even three feet, less than your body length, would be close to intolerable. As long as your head and arms were trapped, there was panic.

The serpent heaved a sigh. “Erg… You’re gonna have to.”

“I can’t.” Clearly, he was slow. Otherwise, he would be getting that it was physically impossible for you to do so. You could not, unless under immediate threat of death, force yourself through it. And maybe not even that.

The serpent rubbed his face. “Sonova- If you get caught, I’m gonna be fucked too, y’know?” His coils shifted, lifting and writhing. Above you, through the gaps in his coils, you could see the sky lightening. It was going to be day soon. That seemed to be agitating him. “Okay. You’re not gonna like this, but we’re doing it anyway.”

You stiffened. “We’re not going to-”

The serpent seized you by hooking an arm under your armpits and hauled. You were half lifted off the ground and pulled toward the hole in the wall. Panic seized you and you started to kick your legs. The serpent wholly ignored you. For a moment, you wondered about how he was going to manage to pull you through- there wasn’t enough space for both of you to fit going through at the same time.

It was a question that was quickly answered. As you got within a foot of the hole, he dropped you and plunged in himself.

Within seconds, his human part was gone, leaving only his snake portion, It flowed in and in and in, an endless-seeming mass of scaled flesh moving into the tunnel. It was almost hypnotic. So hypnotic, in fact, that you didn’t register it when the last foot or so of his tail wrapped around your legs and hauled you into the tunnel after him.

It happened fast- one second you were just registering the fact that you were moving, the next you were in the tunnel with the walls pressing close in on you. The press of the walls, combined with the warm squeeze of the serpent’s tail around you was- was- your brain scrambled, sheer terror blotting out every thought you could have summoned up.

And then the walls lessened. Not a lot, but their squeeze was reduced. The tail wrapped around you, so tight you couldn’t move your arms or legs, was still bad, but the walls weren’t so tight. Lifting your head didn’t whack it on the ceiling anymore, and you couldn’t feel your shoulders rubbing against the walls. You felt the movement of air on your legs first, and then you were pulled into a bright, open room.

The made your eyes tear up. You squeezed them shut against it. The tail around your body relaxed, drawing away. The sheer relief was incredible, so much that you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You lay there, gasping and shivering on the floor, eyes squeezed shut. Your brain was so utterly scrambled that you didn’t even question why there were bright lights underground for a few minutes.

People talking, though, that got your attention.

“I’m gonna need to be back out there in a couple minutes, just in case they come lookin’,” the serpent was saying.

“Of course. Though you really couldn’t have thought of a better solution? Or explained more?” The second voice was female, probably older by the sound of it. Kind of weary, too. You blinked your eyes open. The serpent was coiled as tight as he was able, and was bending to speak to an older woman, brown hair shot through with gray, in something like a lab coat.

“You were the ones delayin’ everything.”

“Well, you could have told her in the meantime. You didn’t have to wait for us to be ready.”

The serpent grimaced. “Sure, if I wasn’t so busy prepping the tunnel. It’s not easy to dig that shit back out every time you guys want to-”

“Who are you?” Your voice wasn’t a yell, but it wasn’t quiet. The conversation stopped. Both of them looked at you.

The woman straightened out her lab coat. It was a bit stained and yellowed in some places, and there was a button missing. “My name is Elise Markov. This-” She gestured to the massive serpent-person beside her. “-Is Hana. I apologize for… well, for him.” He clucked his tongue. “Hush. You should be kinder to our new arrivals.”

“Perhaps.” Hana flexed his tail. “It’s not like I get much practice with people, trapped up there without-”

“Speaking of,” Elise said, cutting him off. He fell silent, sulky. “You should go back up. You were saying they might be back soon.”

Hana grimaced but he obediently slipped toward the tunnel. After a few moments, his tail was vanishing into the tunnel. Elise watched him go, then headed over to you. “Come along. I will explain on the way.”

Getting up gave you a chance to look a little more around the room. It wasn’t terribly big, maybe about the size of a single room in a house, and lit entirely by floodlights. Another tunnel, this one much larger than the one you had entered through, allowed you to exit the room. You could stand up in it, and almost extend your arms before hitting the wall while inside, it, so the terror was only a minor scream in the back of your mind.

As you walked, Elise explained. “We have been out here since the, well, apocalypse, for lack of a better term, recruiting as we can. Sometimes we take in runaways, sometimes strays, sometimes people like you- people who have been set to death by the various collectives and compounds that now litter the world. You will stay here now, and work with us. There will be a task you can do, I assure you, be it caring for the assets or cooking food or cleaning.”

You trotted along after her. “I don’t underst-”

“I’m aware. You will.” Elise’s tone was clipped. “For now, just know that you are safe and you will remain safe for the foreseeable future. We have an organization, relative protection, and, the basic necessities of life.”

Well. Good enough for you. It was significantly better to have a place that didn’t want to kill you. At least, not immediately.

The tunnel went on for what must have been at least a few miles. Your legs ached and you felt dizzy. It had been some time since you’d had proper food. You swayed, exhausted, even as Elise kept up her ruthless pace. Eventually, the tunnel opened up into a tall, illuminated room. You hurried toward it, ready for your journey to end, and-

There were people. Many of them wore lab coats, like Elise, though they were all about as dirty as Elise’s as well. But there were also many… things. Creatures. Beasts you couldn’t understand. One of them, a creature with the torso of a human, but the lower body of a massive, pale spider approached. “Ah, Thierry. If you could-”

You were taken to a room and told it was yours. It was a tiny room, big enough for a bed and a hanging rack of clothes. But it was at least nicer than the communal bunks you’d had previously. You didn’t feel comfortable sleeping with other people.

After a full day of resting, and a fairly simple meal of vegetables and a biscuit, you were given the beginnings of orientation. It was fairly extensive, starting at the exact moment the world fell apart, about ten years ago.

The end of the world was something you remembered, though not in any great detail. It hadn’t been an abrupt thing, like it always was in dystopian fiction. It had just been, over the course of a few years, a gradual downturn of things getting worse until you were in a barrack with a couple dozen other people and you realized you had no hope of anything ever getting better. The world had just seemed to get more and more frightened of everything going on, more desperate and sad and clawing until everything had been torn to shreds.

Apparently, that hadn’t quite been an accident.

The details were vague- you weren’t sure if that was because the details were unknown, or if the people in charge just didn’t want you to know them. But the government (or several governments- again, the details were unclear) had been running experiments on fear. Fear was, after all, one of the most effective motivators ad weapons ever known. Enough fear could kill, could make a person commit atrocities. And so, it needed to be studied, understood, and potentially weaponized.

After years of research, they had managed to create… something. Tapped into some collective unconscious, some extra-physical resource, and created, from humans, creatures that embodied the fears of the world.

The outpouring of fear from their initial creation spread the world over. It wasn’t strong, but it lingered, like background radiation in the minds of everyone on the planet. And that fear drove everyone to the brink of madness and destruction. Even after the initial burst of it settled, everyone had already settled into their new lives and routines too thoroughly to go back.

This particular organization had been created by a small group of the scientists who’d escaped the panic-induced deaths of everyone who’d worked on the initial project. They’d managed to gather a small group of the fear-creatures, who worked with them, as much as they could.

You even got to meet a few of them. All of them seemed to embody a specific type of fear, usually a phobia. Thierry, the spider-person you’d met initially was the embodiment of arachnophobia. There was a person who seemed to be entirely made of water that represented thassolophobia, though you saw her pretty infrequently. Her proper body took up a massive swimming pool that had needed to be dug out special. The only time you saw her was when she sent out a segment of her body that was roughly person sized and shaped, something that was apparently difficult and uncomfortable to do. Another person, a hulking figure of dirt with a hole in their middle that seemed to constantly draw your eyes and body, represented claustrophobia. You didn’t go near him often.

Of course, your Hana was representative of a fear of snakes. Never a fear you’d had, but you could see how he would be horrific for someone who was afraid of scaly ropes.

He was apparently a recruiter, of some description. His capture by your old compound was an accident, but given that he was regularly fed a stream of dissenters, he could smuggle people they determined to be relatively safe out of the pit. Apparently your thievery was determined to be a non-harmful pastime that earned you a free ticket out.

You were told all this by the person you were supposed to be shadowing, a middle-aged woman who had been in this little group since just after its founding. You followed her around while she showed you how to do a variety of tasks. Mostly cleaning or fetching things for other people. A day after you’d arrived, she handed you a massive tray of raw meat and gestured for your to follow her.

“This will likely be one of your tasks on a daily basis,” she said. “Along with general cleaning. I assume you’re willing to complete janitorial tasks.”

Her tone said ‘you don’t think you’re too good for this, right?’ with an undertone of ‘because if you do, we’re going to have problems.’ “I’m fine with it,” you said. You legitimately didn’t have a problem with it. It wasn’t any different from the shit you’d been doing at the compound.

You walked through a familiar hall that opened into a familiar, cavernous room. You had to switch the floodlights on. Obviously you didn’t have the power to run them all the time.

“Mind warning me before you do that?” Hana groused, half covering his face with his hand. “Oh, it’s you!”

You nodded. “It’s… good to see you again?”

“Sure. Glad you’re doin’ all right,” Hana said. “Ya gonna give me the food or what?”

Your supervisor left at that moment, telling you to bring the tray back to the kitchens when you were done, since she needed to take care of something. Everyone seemed busy all the time. Probably took a lot of work to run the place. You’d probably be busy too, once you were more settled in.

Hana didn’t really chew his food. He just swallowed big chunks at once, like- well, like a snake. It was impressive, but also kind of gross to watch. “Guess you’ve decided to stay,” he said between huge mouthfuls.

“What other options do I have?” you asked back, complete rhetorical.

He decided to answer it anyway, though. “Out there.” He gestured vaguely toward the ceiling with an expansive motion. “Y’know. Anywhere out there.”

“I’d die,” you said. Society might have collapsed when you were a teen, but the past ten years or so, you’d been hopping from little settlement to little settlement. You didn’t have the skills or the tools to survive on your own in the wilderness.

“You might live,” he said. “It’s a lot of scrubland, but I ‘member people saying there’s root vegetables and stuff growin’ out there. You could eat those.”

“Not without cooking them. I can’t actually identify any of them, either. I’d probably eat something toxic by accident. Or get caught by marauders. Or the wild dog packs.” A lot of people had dogs before the apocalypse. A lot of those dogs didn’t have people anymore by the time things settled. And, well, dogs are descended from wolves. In times of necessity, a lot of them just remembered what they used to be. Packs of larger dogs could be a real issue, especially because no one was giving out rabies vaccines anymore.

“Maybe,” Hana allowed. “Maybe not.” He swallowed another chunk of meat. “Maybe ya could befriend a dog and get it to bring ya meat. They can hunt, right? And they’re stupid loyal?”

You laughed a little. “Have you never met a dog before?”

“Nah. Where would I have seen one, huh?” Hana paused, tapping a finger on his chin. There’s a thin line of meat-juice running along it. “Hm. Though I guess I could have seen one and not realized it, ‘cause I don’t really know what they look like.”

“You’ve never even seen a dog?” you asked. “Not even before you were changed into-” You skittered to a stop, not quite managing to pause the words before they’re almost all out. Oops. You didn’t mean to do that. It was probably a rather touchy subject for him.

He shrugged, still eating. “Nah. Don’t remember a thing before I got all scaly.” He gestures to his waist. A majority of his body is still stretching up through the tunnel and out into the pit, but there’s enough there to see his dark scales. “Probably good, though, huh? Can’t imagine turnin’ into this was a fun time for me.”             “You don’t remember what it was like to be human at all?” you asked. He fixed you with an irritated look.

“I just said I didn’t. Open your ears. I remember some stuff, clearly. Like, I woke up knowin’ English and what the sky and grass was an’ all that.”

“But not dogs,” you mused. He gave you a wry, somewhat irritated expression.

“No. Not dogs.”

Hm. That was interesting. You mulled that over while he finished his meal. Once he was done, you gathered up the dishes. “See ya around,” he said, waving.

As if turned out, you did see him after that quite often. Your initial tasks seemed to be focused on delivering food to the ‘phobic assets.’ Not all of them were still human enough to eat, but the ones who had fused with animals definitely needed to. Thierry was your favorite. He was typically quite polite, and you’d never had any issue with spiders before, so his spider half was a source of fascination rather than disgust.

Hana was always waiting for you when you brought food to him, and he always stuck around to chat for as long as you wanted. Maybe he was lonely, or maybe he was just bored. But he always listened attentively, and given that everyone else was rushing around all the time, speaking to him was nearly the highlight of your day.

“I mean, it’s nicer being here than it was being there, obviously. I just wish people weren’t so…” You waved a hand. “I don’t know. Rushed? At least I felt like I was a part of a community over there. We all had meals together and we talked and worked together. Here, it’s just different. I don’t think I’ve had a conversation with anyone except a couple people for more than two minutes.”

“Everyone’s trying to save the world. Makes ‘em busy. Plus, you’re kinda an outsider. It’ll take a while to get you on their radar. Or into their precious schedules.” Hana shrugged, gulping down his meal with reckless abandon. “Who’s the second?”

“Huh?” He had a habit of jumping topics like that. It was hard to keep up.

“Ya said there were two people ya could have conversations longer than two minutes. One’s me. Who’s the other?”

“Oh. Thierry.” To your surprise, Hana’s face contorted into a sulky expression.

“Thierry? Really? That pompous spider prick?” He shifted and you could hear distant thumping, like he was slapping the end of his tail against the ground.

“What’s wrong with Thierry?” you asked, creeping back a little. He didn’t seem overly pissed, but it was probably best to get out of the way. Just in case.

“He’s stuck up. Thinks he’s so good ‘cause he’s the embodiment of some massive fear and he’s the one who works the closest with all the scientists.” Hana rolled his eyes so aggressively you were surprised he didn’t strain something.

“He’s nice to me,” you said. Hana grumbled incoherently, tail thumping. One of his hands dug furrows in the dirt. You watched his fingers as they made the scraping motions over and over. Something in your brain itched, drawing up the image of those strong fingers seizing you and squeezing until it hurt as you kicked against it-

The room was large. But the walls felt too much like they were pressing in on you.

The tray was empty and you hurried forward to grab it before jolting back to the door. Hana looked up from his sulking, alarm and maybe concern crossing his face. “Wh- Ya doin’ okay?”

“Yes.” The word came out steady, but mechanical in its steadiness. It almost hissed past your lips. Hana started to lift himself up, pulling more of his massive serpent’s tail in through the hole in order to support himself. You scrambled back from his rapidly more imposing form.

“Woah, easy there. I didn’t mean to startle ya.” He held his hands up, but that made him look even more imposing. “Uh. Maybe you should sit down? Ya don’t look so-”

You turned and fled down the hallway that led back to the relative safety of the entrance room. Hana yelled after you to wait, but his voice was distorted and echoing down the tunnel and you didn’t bother to listen. You just fled.

Perhaps your room was the safest place to go, but you couldn’t bring yourself to spend time there, given its small size. It was fine normally, but you couldn’t manage it while already keyed up. Fortunately, the lab techs could use someone to help them wipe down their equipment, so you stayed in there. There were too many people bustling around for your liking, but it was, on the whole, a good distraction.

For the next couple of days, you didn’t see Hana. It wasn’t terribly hard to pawn your task off onto someone else, as long as you agreed to pick up whatever they were working on. You learned a lot of simple tasks- cleaning, a lot about cleaning, as well as how to operate their computer system, and even a few mechanical skills from repairing things. That had been completely disallowed in the compound you’d spent you life in- at least, for someone as low-ranking as you.

Hana sent you messages a couple of times. Some of the people who did your job of delivering meals came back and told you he’d asked them to tell you that he wanted to talk. You ignored it. There was a part of you that felt bad about it. Then you remembered him getting all pissy about you talking to Thierry and those bad feelings went right back out the window. What had been his problem about all that anyway?

The answer had come to you midway through washing out a series of trays in the cafeteria- he was jealous.

That thought gave you pause. You hadn’t even really been thinking about it, just kind of turning things over idly in your mind. But it made sense, didn’t it? He’d gotten sulky right after finding out that you were spending time with someone else, and that matched up with jealousy. He’d gotten annoyed about Thierry, specifically. Was he just pissed that he wasn’t the oh-so-special fear monster that you were picking to spend all of your time with?             Or maybe he was upset because you visited him at mealtimes, when you had to, and you could see Thierry whenever you wanted. People didn’t visit him very often, did they? Even Thierry, who lived in the main compound, seemed surprised to get visitors. Maybe he was jealous because he was lonely.

That idea didn’t make you feel very good. Not that it was an excuse for him getting all annoyed, but… it was understandable. And maybe you’d overreacted a little bit. You had your own reasons for that, of course. But looking back on it, you probably could have handled the whole thing better.

You grimaced, placing all the dishes into their rack and sliding it onto a shelf above your head. Fine. You would go back to him. Apologize. It would be swallowing your pride, but… You remembered him calling after you. His reaching out. The idea of you ignoring him out of some petty hurt feelings? It made you feel awful.

The next day, you went to gather his food from the kitchen and found no tray waiting for you. After a bit of looking around, to make sure you hadn’t missed something, you approached the kitchen head. “Hey. When are we feeding Hana?”

He glanced back at you. “Thought you didn’t want to feed him anymore.”

A nervous prickle wound its way down your spine. “Uh. I’ve been wanting to try out some other jobs, but I am still interested in helping- look, did you give the food to someone else or not?”

He sighed. He was older, and clearly didn’t like you talking back to him and ruining his quiet kitchen. “No. He’s getting a later feeding. We’re inviting someone new in today.”

“What? Seriously?” You leaned over the serving window. “Who is it?”

He glared at you. “You’ll have to ask someone else for that information.”

You headed out, looking for… someone who knew what was going on, you guessed. Fortunately, you only needed to go down a couple halls before running into the very woman who had welcomed you to this place.

“Hello,” she said. “I’m glad to see you. You’ve been settling in well?”

Her voice had that tone to it, the tone of someone asking perfunctory questions out of politeness without really caring about the answers they were getting. “Yes, it’s fine,” you said, another response out of obligated politeness. “You’re going to see the new person?”

“Yes. You’re wanting to come with?” she asked, barely slowing in her step. You continued alongside her.

“Am I allowed to?”

She shrugged. “Certainly. They’ll be from your compound. It may help them to see a friendly face.”

There was a solid chance it would be a face you didn’t know, and even if you did know them, they may not have been friendly. But it got you closer to Hana, and maybe you could stay behind for a bit to talk to him. You tagged along after her, drawing closer to the entrance to the tunnel with every step.

The woman was quick and sure and it took a little time to emerge into the open room lit with floodlights. There was no one there. No one continued to be there for several minutes. You were about to sarcastically ask if you got the time wrong when a small avalanche of pebbles fell down the tunnel.

There was another small avalanche of pebbles, then another, then a scraping noise. Then a head and shoulders emerged into the room. It was a person, pale-skinned, with curly blonde hair. She was quite skinny and smeared with dirt, teeth gritted. As soon as she was partially freed from the tunnel, she struggled forward, fingers clawing at the ground. The woman stepped forward, pulling the newcomer out of the hole. A moment later, Hana slithered out, groaning and stretching.

“Cuttin’ it close there, aren’t y-” His eyes fell on you and a look of clear surprise flitted across his face. He blinked a couple times. You felt a bit sheepish under his gaze.

The newcomer coughed as she stood up. “Son of a bitch, that’s rough. You need to have a better greeting system for people arriving here, because getting grabbed by a massive snake is not it, seriously.” She stared around the room, taking it all in, and her gaze fell on you. Her face twisted. “You!”             It came back in a rush- she was a familiar face. Not a friendly one, though. One of the ones who’d seen- she knew you. She’d helped get you thrown into the pit. What had led her here, you didn’t know, but she was clearly pissed that you were in the same place.

“What are you doing here?” she said.

“Same thing you are,” you snapped. “Shouldn’t be surprised that you’re here, to be honest. How long until you tattled on the wrong person and got yourself thrown away?”

“Tattled?” Her face grew splotched with red. “That’s what you call it? Because I told people you murdered someone?”

There was the cold shock of silence for a few moments. “Murder?” Hana said. His voice was faintly shocked. “Ya said ya stole something.”

“It’s technically stealing. Stole someone’s life,” you said. “But it- it wasn’t like that, I didn’t just- I didn’t want to, really, but it happened and-”

“While we are willing to accept those who’ve been driven out of the compound for multiple reasons, we are much more hesitant when it involves murder,” the woman said. “That you haven’t disclosed it until now gives us much more reason for concern.” She stepped forward, ushering the newcomer behind her. There was a glint of metal and there was a gun pointed at you. You hadn’t even seen where she was carrying it. “If you’ll come with me-”

“Wait, wait,” Hana said. He slithered forward, pulling more of himself into the room to go almost between you and the woman. “No need for a gun, yeah? S’not necessary. Nothin’s happened, right? No one’s done anything here. And livin’ in that compound- there’s gotta be a good reason for the murder, yeah?”

“Reasons can be determined later. For now- containment. For safety.”

“Containment?” The word made your skin crawl like it was trying to get off your body. It brings to mind the containment you were kept in when you were initially convicted in the compound. It was barely a room. Not enough space to lie down. Barely enough to sit, with your legs tucked against your chest and your arms tight against your sides. Not enough room to move, not even to eat. Not that it mattered. You were kept there for nearly two full days. They didn’t bother to feed you.

“C’mon,” Hana was speaking, his voice wheedling. “Someone just shows up here and you’re gonna take her word? Y’think this one’s gonna kill someone? Really?” He jerked a thumb back at you, and you couldn’t even be offended. “S’not exactly a tough lookin’ piece of work.”

The woman hesitated, lowering the pistol a little. “It wouldn’t be permanent. Just for a couple days, while we review work details and determine if there should be an escort. It’s for safety.”

Hana rolled his eyes, a great, overexaggerated movement. “Sure. Fine. Look, if ya want to do containment, do it here.”

The woman’s gun lowered a little more, out of sheer confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“Do the containment here.” Hana lifted his hands to gesture at the room around you. “Ya can shut the door that connects this place and the main facility, right? Do that and keep the little killer here.” He waved a hand toward you again.

“I’m not certain that’s a good idea,” the woman said.

“What d’ya think is gonna happen? Little killer can’t get through the door once it’s closed. Not without your permission.” He paused, likely for dramatic effect. “Unless ya think she’s gonna pull something on me.” And then he grinned, showing off his teeth, especially the ones that were too pointed to be a human.

The woman looked at you, then him. Then you, then him again. Then she sighed. “Fine. If you’re determined to keep an eye on her, then I’m not going to stop you.” She placed the gun back under her jacket in a holster you hadn’t noticed before, then grabbed the newcomer by the arm. They walked out together, the newcomer’s eyes locked on you until they vanished down the tunnel. A moment later, the door at the end of the hall shut and locked.

The tension vanished at once, and you sank to the ground. Your heart raced along in your chest, your breathing quick and trembling. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to calm yourself. Hana didn’t approach, but he didn’t leave either. He just studied a wall, waiting for you to pull yourself together.

You did, eventually. “Thanks,” you mumbled. Hana glanced at you. “I mean it. You didn’t have to do that.”

He hummed, turning away from the wall. “So. Ya kill someone?”             Straight to the point, huh? You took a deep breath. “Yeah.” You paused. “Have you ever, uh. Y’know.”

“Killed someone? Couple times, yeah.” He stretched. “Well. Actually. Probably a lot more than that, but I don’t know if they count.”

You stared at him, waiting for him to continue. He shrugged, plucking at some of his hair. It was in really good shape, considering that he’d been outside for ages. Actually, he was also rather clean. Did they give him access to a shower or something? How did he fit? Did he just get hosed down?

“This big ol’ thing,” he said gesturing to his body, “has been around for a bit longer than this.” He tapped a finger against his head. “We were all like that for a while.” You assumed he meant the other phobics. “‘Ventually we woke up, but I killed quite a few before I got there. Wasn’t really me doing the killing, though- didn’t have my sparkling personality.” He threw you a wink. You rolled your eyes. “Not like I remember what happened then, anyway.”

He fell silent after that until you piped up. “What about the other two people you killed?”

“Oh.” He finger-combed his hair, seeming very interested in picking out the knots. “One of ‘em tried to kill me. Came at me with a big ol’ knife. That was before I ended up here.”

“The other?” you prompted when he fell quiet again. He snorted, lips curling up over his fangs.

“The other was after I came here. Nasty piece of work. A criminal from your compound, though I dunno if he was a part of the compound itself. Didn’t seem like it. Asked him about what he did to get sent here.” Hana’s lips curled further. “Don’t think he was in his right mind. Said he was pickin’ off people from the farms, raping them, then chucking their bodies somewhere in the fields to rot.” Hana hissed. It was low, inhuman. It made your hair stand on end. “So I killed ‘im. Don’t think he appreciated being on the receiving end.”

Your chest clenched so hard you couldn’t get in a breath. You remembered that. It had happened a few years ago. You had been so grateful that you worked closer to the inner compound, so that something like that could never happen to you. You’d been so sure it would never happen. So, so sure.

“Woah there.” Hana reared up a little, looking at you with clear alarm. “Easy. I didn’t mean to freak ya out. Take a breath before you pass out, all right?”

The choking sobs eased enough for you to do just that. Hana came hesitantly closer, caution in his eyes. “S’okay. He’s dead now. Did you, uh. Know him or somethin’?”

Your voice was strange, strangled, but you got the words out. “Knew of him, more like. I thought- I thought it was so good when he was gone because- I would never- worry about it-” You kept having to pause to gasp for air. Hana winced.

“Maybe we should talk about somethin’ else now, yeah? Uh. Damn, they didn’t give us water, I think ya could use some…” He scrounged around. “Thought there was a spigot somewhere around here… not that it’d be super clean water, I guess.”

“I’m fine,” you said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say you’re sorry about things ya don’t need to be sorry for. It sets a bad precedent.” He finished fumbling his way along the wall and sighed. “Hmph. I don’t see it. Maybe I can bang on the door and make them-”

“Don’t bother. Like I said, I’m fine.” You took in a deep breath. Water would have been nice -your mouth was getting kind of tacky- but it wasn’t necessary. Hana gave you a skeptical look, but he didn’t bang on the door. That was probably for the best- the space was small enough that the sound would have echoed and that would have freaked you out more.

“Suppose it’s a bad time to ask and all,” Hana said. “But, uh. Y’ever gonna tell me why you killed someone? Just seems fair, is all.”

You took a deep breath, and then another. And then another and another. Hana waited, not really looking at you. His tail was still partially in the tunnel, but you could imagine his tail tip flicking idly, back and forth, while he waited.

“It’s not easy to talk about,” you said eventually.

Hana nodded, accepting. “I can see that.”

“I didn’t mean to- no.” You didn’t want to lie to him. “I did. I knew what was going to happen when I went there and I went anyway. I knew.”

Hana remained silent, his eyes flicking over to look at you. Another deep breath. “When I was there, I worked mostly in the town. It was a lot of stuff that I did. Repair work, maintenance, animal care, that kind of thing. Outside, but close to the center of the compound. That’s how you knew how important someone was. How close to the center they were. Eventually, I started getting called for other things. Maintenance on the hall itself, being a gopher for messages from the hall to the other workers or even bringing food into the officials. That was the first problem, I guess. The officials.

“There were a bunch of them, people who kind of ran things in the compound. I mean, I say a bunch. Probably around five or six. We never saw all of them. But Peter was one of the ones we saw, often. He was the… I don’t know. The charisma, maybe. His official job was something to do with assigning tasks and population management, but he really made people want to stay. He could talk to you and make you feel like the most important person in the world, or like the shit under his shoe. Peter could make you feel good about doing the most menial, backbreaking work every day because he could make you feel like you were doing something important.” You paused. You’d expected to feel upset or near tears, but you just felt oddly numb. “He made me feel important. About everything.”

Hana was a short distance away, watching with rapt attention. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to look at him, but you could tell he was paying attention. “He was nice to me, and I thought he was kind. I was so happy when he started getting me to work more in the hall. I thought it meant I was doing well. And eventually he started getting close. Asking me to take meals with just him. I thought it was strange, but I was happy. And then he started to ask for other things. And I thought… I can’t refuse him. Ever.

“The first time he tried to have sex with me, he was drunk. Like, pretty damn drunk. I let it happen because I wasn’t sure if he would remember it. I didn’t want to offend him if he did. I thought it was just a one-time thing. Except… the next time he was less drunk. And then the third time he wasn’t drunk at all. And every time I thought he wouldn’t do it again. By the time I realized it was going to keep happening, I had no idea how I was supposed to stop it. Refusing felt like I was suddenly kicking up a fuss over something that hadn’t been a big deal at first, but it had been a big deal all along!”

Your voice broke, rising in volume. Hana bristled, looking alarmed, but uncertain. Should he move closer? Back away? Comfort you? Seeing his panicked bewilderment, you took a deep breath and tried to relax. “It’s- I tried to stop it in small measures. Tried to tell him not now, or another time, or even tried to just cuddle.” You giggled, a little hysterically. “He wasn’t pleased. He got pushier. More demanding and more controlling. I started to get a little desperate. I talked about what was happening with some other people, but those who weren’t jealous or thought I was being ungrateful were scared of him. And then when he found out I was telling people, he was furious. Said I was trying to make other people jealous or get attention, even when I said that wasn’t what I was doing at all. He got more aggressive. Angrier with me. I couldn’t do anything right anymore, and every time I did something wrong, he threatened to send me away. I didn’t want to stay with him, but I didn’t want to leave, either. It was awful.

“I think I went crazy for a while. I was so stressed I couldn’t even think straight for ages. I just wanted him out of my life. I had access to a lot of things in the hall at that point, including the medicine storage. I thought if I slipped something into his wine when he was drunk enough, maybe I could pin it on his drinking, that he’d just had too much. It wasn’t like we could do autopsies. And that’s what I tried. Put a bunch of crushed-up sleeping pills into the wine and brought it too him when I thought he might already be too drunk to notice the taste. I’m not exactly sure what went wrong. Maybe he didn’t drink enough, or I put too little in, or maybe he was just in death throes. But he came at me, and I hit him. I think it killed him, or it was a combination of that and the medicine. So I panicked, tried to hide the body, and then, well. You know what happened after that.”

Hana was silent for a moment. He took in a deep breath, released it slowly. His eyes closed for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s really, really not,” Hana said. “It’s gross. And fucked. And horrible. I’m glad ya killed him.” He turned toward the door with a murderous look in his eyes. “And that bitch was going to-”

“She didn’t know. Why would she? It’s not like most people knew what happened. She knows what they told her. I murdered one of our leaders. Honestly, getting thrown into the pit was a mercy for me. I thought they might string me up and have a torture free for all.”

Hana shuddered. It traveled along his shoulders and all down his tail. It was sort of funny to watch. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.” You weren’t sure what else to say. You were just tired.

Hana moved a little closer to you, but stayed out of touching distance. “I’ll talk to ‘em. If you want. Tell them not to- not to have ya here anymore. Ya don’t deserve it.”

“It’s fine.”

“It ain’t fine! Ya don’t deserve it!” There was a thump from outside, Hana’s tail swinging wildly. “It’s about not lettin’ them punish people who shouldn’t be punished!”

“I did kill a man,” you observe mildly.

“Yeah, and ya should have gotten a medal for it,” Hana huffed.

“I don’t really mind being here. It’s not so bad. Company’s nice.” You smiled at him. He frowned back.

“Thought ya didn’t like me.” He wasn’t saying it accusingly. Just as an observation.

“Oh. No, I don’t not like you. I know I freaked out last time I saw you. I got… worried when you were upset about Thierry.”

Hana drooped. “Eh. Yeah. That wasn’t my best moment. I didn’t mean to scare ya. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Running wasn’t my best moment, either,” you said. “I thought about coming back soon after I ran, but I was kinda embarrassed. Sorry.”

Hana laughed. “We both fucked up then, huh? Maybe me more than you. Glad you’re here now, though. S’good to see ya.”

“It’s good to see you too,” you said. “Like I said before.” Hana grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Eventually, he departed back to the surface, but he spent much more of his time down in the cave with you. It was quietly peaceful. After what you estimated to be a few hours, the door banged and Hana perked up as food was slipped through the door. He managed to catch it before it closed completely and there were a few minutes of mumbled conversation. Hana retreated, letting the door close. He seemed smugly pleased with himself.

“I gave them a piece of my mind,” he said. “Not as much as I wanted to, but ya know. They wanted it to be all quick.” He shrugged. “They’re gonna let ya out soon. Didn’t tell ‘em too much, but I did say it was self-defense.”

“They believed you?” you asked, a bit skeptical.

“More or less. Honestly, I think they’d already gotten the idea that you killed someone high-ranking, and they’re more likely to call self-defense for that. When I told ‘em you’d killed someone in self-defense and they were a high-up, they seemed to be content.”

“It wasn’t really self-defense,” you said. “It was premeditated murder.”

Hana snorted. “He was raping ya. Ya stopped him. It was self-defense.”

It was such a simple sentence, but the way he’d said it, like it was obvious and clear, that you should have done it, that it was as simple as protecting yourself- it made you crumble. You dropped your head into your hands and whimpered. Hana froze, then slid closer. He seemed momentarily lost, until you slumped against him. You didn’t hold him back, but you allowed him to hold you while you shivered and whimpered. He was careful, keeping his touch light, but there. It wasn’t restrictive- just a reminder he was there for you.

Once you were done crying yourself out, you lay down and closed your eyes, exhausted. “I’m going to sleep,” you mumbled. “Let me know when they come to get me.”

Hana nodded. “Will do.” He lay down next to you, watching you lazily. “When ya get out of here… come back to visit me, yeah?”

You opened your eyes. Hana seemed… melancholy, tense. He was waiting for your answer. “Yeah,” you said. You slid your hand out over his. “You’re never going to get rid of me after this. Promise.”

Before you closed your eyes again, you saw Hana grinning.

True to his word, you were released from the cell and allowed to go back to your room. The newcomer still glared at you, but she never made any effort to do anything. In fact, a week later, she came up and gave a mumbled apology. You forgave her, at least enough to tolerate her presence.

And you were back on feeding duty for Hana. He was pleased every time you came by, always attentive and waiting. The feedings took longer now- sometimes so long that people had to come get you. It was just nice talking to Hana. The only issue was that it was uncomfortable for him to stay down for a long time. You hadn’t realized it before, as he never complained, but the tunnel was little tight around him, and his tail could cramp if he spent too long in there.

One day, as he was carefully retreating back through the tunnel, (he had to hold his arms out in front of him, lest they catch awkwardly on the uneven walls), you caught his attention. “I, uh. I couldn’t go up there with you, could I?”

He froze, arms still outstretched. “Ya want to?”

You huffed. “You don’t need to sound like it’s insane to want that.”             “No, no, s’not what I meant.” He wriggled a little ways back out. “I meant, ya never want to go through here. It’s too tight for ya.”

“It’s tight,” you agreed. “But I want to try anyway.” Your heart was thundering just thinking about it, but you liked the idea of the fresh air and sunlight on the other side.

Hana pursed his lips. “Are ya sure? Not to doubt ya, but if ya get in and decide ya don’t like it, it’s gonna be hard to get back out.”

“I got it. Trust me.” You gave him a pleading look. He squirmed, restless in his worry. Then he sighed.

“I can’t stop ya. Just be careful.” He retreated again, slower this time. You took a deep breath and pressed inward.

You were going forward, instead of in reverse, so your arms were pinned to your sides within a few moments. You couldn’t move them an inch, could barely lift your head. You could kick your legs and wriggle to force yourself forward.

There was panic from the moment the stone walls restricted your arms, but the moment when they pinched in so tight you couldn’t move without some scratches was when it really set in. You tried not to breathe in great, whooping gasps, because that make dust fly up your nose and mouth and only increased the terror that you couldn’t breathe, but it was hard. The walls were so tight. You could barely breathe enough to scream, but you could make little noises of terror. There was a pale light distantly above and in front of you, but you couldn’t reach it. You could see the sun, but you were in the dark and you couldn’t bring yourself to move forward.

The pale light wobbled, then a shape moved across it. A head and shoulders. “Hey!” Hana called out. His voice echoed faintly down the tunnel. “Ya stopped moving.”

You tried to speak, but it came out as a thin squeak. Hana went very still. Then he spoke again, in a soft, gentle voice. “Hey. S’okay. Ya got this. It’s scary, yeah? Being stuck in there. But if ya just move your legs a little, ya can keep moving forward. Ya can get out. Just a little further.”

You groaned. But you kicked. Your legs thrust you forward. And Hana’s shape, backlit by the sun, got clearer and clearer.

His hand reached in as soon as you were close enough and he pulled, gripping your collar until you had wriggled free.

“There ya go!” Hana sagged in relief as you scrambled onto the dirt floor. “Whoo! Was a little worried.” He lowered himself to look into your face. “You’re okay? Nothin’ hurt?”

“Nah. Fine.” You could steady your breathing. “It was tighter than I remembered. But I’m okay now.”

You rolled onto your back, letting the warm kiss of the sun land across your face. “It’s a nice day.”

“Yeah,” Hana said, staring down at you. “It is.” He curled his body closer in around you, surrounding you in snaky coils. He didn’t block out the sun, careful to keep his body to the sides, rather than directly overtop you.

You reached out and tentatively patted his side. The snake body shifted under your touch, the scales slightly warm. Hana watched indulgently as you traced the scales with a finger. Then, finally, he lowered his upper body to the ground next to you. You lay there together for a bit, basking in the sun.

Hana shifted next to you, a little restless. “Are ya goin’ to be up here long?”

“Trying to get rid of me,” you teased. You couldn’t see his face from your angle, but you knew he was rolling his eyes.

“No. ‘Course not. Just wonderin’ if they were missing ya down there.” He was quiet for a moment. “Just thought ya might want to stay up here a bit longer.”

“I’m not eager to go into the tunnel again,” you agreed. “And it’s nice up here. The sun’s nice. Haven’t seen it in a while.” Hana shifted, as if impatient. “And the company is nice.”

“Just nice?” Hana poked. “Faint praise, isn’t it?”

“Well, maybe I could think of someone else I might want to hang out with. Thierry cou-” Hana lifted himself so he was leaning over you, practically pouting. His tail moved, curling even tighter around you. It could have been threatening, but you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling.

“Hey. What did I ever do to ya?” he complained. “I’ve been nothin’ but cordial to ya and now you’re just-”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you huffed. You reached up and petted his face. He closed his eyes, instantly melting into your touch. You brushed your fingers along his cheekbones. He looked quite peaceful. Happy. You had a sudden impulse.

Before you could think better of it, you pulled his face in and gave him a kiss on his forehead.

Hana’s eyes flew open. He blinked once, twice, startled. You wanted to giggle, but a flicker of nervousness in your guts stifled it. His tail curled in close, a tight mass of muscle. Despite that, he kept it from tightening so much that it would make you uncomfortable. “Did ya mean to do that?” he asked. You nodded. A slow grin spread across his face. “Then I’m going to have to return the favor. If ya don’t mind…”

No sooner had you nodded than you were covered in enthusiastic kisses from a snake man. Giggling at the ticklish feeling and wrapped in coils and arms, you felt… surprisingly safe. And not even a little afraid.

[melodrama-ticcc]

— “ 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 ” ; 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕𝐈𝐈

𝐒𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐭 𝐌𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐲

𝘈 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴.

𝙃𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙩.

𝘈 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘛𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥.

𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫. 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧. 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧.

ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ: ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵐᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ. ⁱ.ᵉ. ᵈᵒᵐᵉˢᵗⁱᶜ ᵛⁱᵒˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᵇᵘˢᵉ, ᵍʳᵃᵖʰⁱᶜ ᵛⁱᵒˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗᵃˡ ⁱˡˡⁿᵉˢˢ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵘʳᵈᵉʳ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ʳᵃᵖᵉ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵘⁱᶜⁱᵈᵉ, ᵐⁱˡᵈ ᵍᵒʳᵉ, ʳᵉˡⁱᵍⁱᵒⁿ, ˢᵉˣᵘᵃˡ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢⁱᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ.

—

The bitter scent of cow dung and wet earth taints the air as they drive through the countryside with the windows of Johnny’s truck rolled down, the crisp air of fall frisking in and nipping at their pink-tinctured cheeks. The hazy sun that shines above them is shrouded in an onslaught of melancholy-looking clouds, gray and fluffy. As though God himself knew it was to be a day of foreboding and augury.

He is intoxicatingly respectful, a pleasant counterpart, his actions nothing short of chivalrous. Even with his right hand rested atop her left knee and his twilight eyes shifting hastily from the road to the low cut of her top and her complacent countenance.

He seems prideful, that was simply in his nature, she knew that. But still, the smug and pompous visage he wore was nothing short of self-congratulatory. He knew well and good what he’d set out to do all this time, and his accomplishments continued to fuel the fire that fueled his innermost desires.

At first sure, he imagined what it would be like to kill her, to have her delectable body parts hanging on display in the cold room with the rest of his favorites. He debated what she’d taste like; would she be savory, sweet, tangy? Perhaps her difficult temper made her somewhat sour. Though maybe she’d be tough, chewy, her stubbornness giving her a rough mouth feel. Or, she was tender and soft, perfectly meaty on account of that finely toned body of hers. But he settled on spicy, with just the faintest modicum of sweet, like honey. It suited her well, that difficult personality intertwined with her pleasing appearance.

Inevitably he’d decided against devouring her early on, had a change of heart one might call it. For there had always been something special about her, a certain uniqueness that shared likeness with no other. She was perfectly imperfect, a wonderful mess.

From the moment he’d laid eyes on Rebecca and her starlet veneer he was smitten by those big blonde curls and doll-like eyes. In them her crazy wrought, beckoning him like wailing red sirens. He knew, he always knew. It was her passion for carnage and the sanguine that possessed him to have such a desire to court her, for he saw the potential, the endless capabilities of what her savage fantasies could provide both him and the family. That had been the prime reason behind his efforts to expedite the process, get her to show her true colors before he’d indoctrinate her into the family tree. Of course, he’d never admit just how maddening she could be, how effortlessly heady. Just like he’d never be able to deduce how badly he’d needed companionship, someone to understand him. Or the way he dreamt about her so lewdly; her nude body drenched in someone else’s blood while he rutted into her and grazed over her skin with his blade. Her willingness to please and entice suited him perfectly, and all the while they’d live some kind of macabre and strangely ideal life. With her that perfect little trophy wife she wanted to be so much, and he the breadwinning man of the household. A perfect front to their hedonistic world of bloodshed and Slaughter.

He hadn’t always felt that way though. There was a trial period, so to speak. The times at which he stalked her attentively and sought out her short fused temper, the times he’d make her think she was going insane, and most especially the times he’d encourage her to embrace that erratic side she despises so much. All of it, it was all a test. A test that determined whether or not his suspicions were to be proven true, whether or not she was worthy of his salvation and attention. Once they had been, the rest would come with time.

Of course she’d piss him off just as much as any other member of his family would, when she’d get a lip and mouth off or strike him. It was disrespectful sure, but he found amusement in that, he liked it when his women fought back. Thrill of the hunt you could call it, he reveled in the adrenaline the chase gave him, it was a game and he loved playing it. That, and he was certain she’d become eager to cater to him in no time, this was only a part of the process.

And yet despite all that fussing she made, all the bold proclamations of hatred and detestation she’d voiced, she sat here in his passengers seat. Akin to the possessive hand rested over her knee and his sinful eye undressing her divine body in brief gazes of lust. He could’ve kept her in the cold room and toyed with her corpse whenever he pleased. Could have sex with it whenever he wanted. But that could have very well been a waste of potential. He’d said it before, she was different. Not like those adulterous girls he brought home for meat, no. She had the bad man in her like he did.

“I watched that movie you told me ‘bout, the one from the drive in, you ‘member?”

“You talkin’ ‘bout Psycho, darlin’?” He smiles.

“Yeah, I watched it.” Becca looks to her hands, watches as they fiddle with one another before she looks back up, then to him. “Liked it an awful lot, there’s just one thing about it, ya’ know, kinda rubs me the wrong way.”

“What’s that?” Johnny only chortles, glancing to her.

“Well, why’s it always gotta be the boys killin’ the girls.” She huffs, pausing only to be met with his intrigued attention. “I just, I hate it. Makin’ us out to be some helpless little thangs.”

“What you mean we?” Johnny shakes his head. “You ain’t a girl, you know that, surely.”

“What you gettin’ at?”

“Oh come on now pretty thing, you ain’t no girl. Girls are childish, immature, naive, girls ain’t able to hold the house together and make a home, a family, you know that. Girls ‘re what I bring home and use for meat. You’s smart, use that head of ya’s.” His statement is met with an image of both confusion and wonder, staring to him with curious eyes and a bewitched demeanor to her. Johnny only smiles, looking her over with those damn captivating eyes. “You a woman. Ain’t no girl, that’s what’s the difference.”

It must’ve clicked then, for the look on her face mirrored than of an epiphany. Her perspective shifting in that instance, eyes wide with adoration. He saw something in her. She knew it. No man had ever looked to her so seriously before, with so much reverence and praise.

“You right.” It’s matter-of-fact, a soft, gentle smile spreading over her features. She seems proud. “But why it’s got to be the girls gettin’ preyed on by those insignificant little boys, I can’t help but wonder, what if it were the other way around? What if the girls killed the boys, what if they were feared in the same regard boys were. I want that.”

“Darlin’, you have that.” Johnny laughs. “Not all girls are capable of such things, it’s too easy. Women, women are capable. It’s a rare thing ain’t it, you’s a rare thing. That’s what makes you so special. You gettin’ it now?”

Again his words of veneration are met with a proud smile, her chin tilting upwards in a prideful display. It feels good coming from him.

“Yeah, yeah.” Her voice is soft, mousy, a gentle nod as she stares out the windshield. “Yeah I am.” She grins. “Ya’ know, momma always wanted to be a movie star. Used to tell me I ruined that for her.”

“You look lots like a star, I think. Could be one if you really wanted to.”

“Daddy used to tell me that. Now I think he’d much rather keep me at home.” She lets out a mirthless laugh. “Think he’s scared of what I’d do, that I might turn into momma. Momma couldn’t do it though, she was never as good as me. She was a girl.” Johnny smiles a proud smile, cheeky even, unlike his typical, more ominous one.

There’s a long period of silence that follows, one fueled by the trepidation of their deep thoughts.

“Johnny, you ever dream ‘bout it?”

“All the time, why?”

“I reckon I always think ‘bout it,.”

“So why don’t you get on with it then?”

“Hm?”

“I mean actually doin’ it darlin’. Dreamin’ ain’t ever did anybody any good.”

“And just why should I tell you that?” Ah, there’s that difficult attitude he came to know. “You forget I still ain’t know what to think ‘bout you. I shared enough.”

“Ah, but you sit here with me ramblin’ on ‘bout how you’d kill a man, what is it, with that wood splitter of ya’s? Ya. You real good with that.”

“Why you.”

“Ya know, ain’t no use in stallin’. I reckon you get on with it. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little killin’, it’s just meat.”

“Quit it Johnny boy, easier said than done.”

“Then watch me do it.”

Doe eyes caught like a deer in headlights meet his stoic gaze, a clear indication of his gravitas. It might have seemed like the least daunting exchange between the two of them, only she would have never expected such a blatant counteroffer. In the meantime she isn’t certain what to make of it, earnestly considering it before her desire for autonomy provokes the demons in her.

“No. I can do it myself, thank you.” She speaks impertinently. She could, she would prove him wrong. She didn’t need a man to show her how to facilitate her dominance and sovereignty over those insignificant boys. This was yet another thing she could domineer control over. “We ain’t friends just yet, stay outta my business.” Well now he’s gone and got her all uppity.

“Suit ya’ self, but offers on the table.”

Downtown Newt holds a plethora of run down buildings, shabby edifices and rutty looking store fronts that appear to be downright unsuitable. Shrouded in overgrown greenery and uncut grass, the establishments scatter throughout the place on either side of the main road, and somewhere along that hauntingly abandoned strip is Lewis’. A small, albeit useful hardware store washed away in faded eggshell paint and a dingy old street sign. It’s exterior is beyond rotted, the warped wood of its structure flipping upwards against the bottom edges of the building and the ligneous textures strip and prod out at passerby’s. 7270 Hangs from rusted nails, the first seven drooping upside down and the zero missing it’s upper half. A silk web is weaved from the eves of the roof to the decaying wood of the wall, the widow that inhabits it intricately spinning it’s threads around a horse fly trapped in it’s web. It’s a shit house. At least from what Rebecca could tell.

As she steps out from the parked truck and slams shut the metal door, Becca shoves her hands into her trouser pockets and treads toward the front door of the establishment, Johnny quick on her heels before he takes the lead.

“We’ll be quick. Just need a few thing ‘fore we can head back home.”

The inside is just as dilapidated as the out, stained and chipped paint with rotted wood racks for aisles. For being a hardware store, the place hadn’t seen much attention in some time. Even the dim yellow lights struggle to do as their meant, flickering every so often and buzzing like the bumble bees that soar around the sunflower fields. As they enter, a bell chimes and the clerk glances up from the newspaper he reads at the derelict counter. His suspicious expression is a clear indicator of his cynicism. He drops the paper and raises one of those fluffy, gray brows. His eyes hold the tales of a thousand wise men, full of life and knowledge one could only begin to fathom. It’s as though he knows everything and everyone, looking in them as though he’d known them all his life. The top of his head is bald, the surrounding area covered in a short layer of gray hair. He’s a large man, rotund but not so big that it’s concerning. He looks to Johnny all most angrily, then to Becca with a knowing look.

“Welcome to Lewis’, ain’t seen you ‘round here before.” His thick mustache moves when he talks. The man rises from his chair, watching Johnny pluck some rope from the back aisles. “Must be new, I know everyone ‘round here.”

“You’ll have to excuse me, my daddy ‘n I moved here ‘bout a month ago from Tulsa. I’m Rebecca Payne, live in that old farmhouse up county road one seventy two.” There’s that southern hospitality and cheeky smile, a graceful charm about her as she steps to him and offers to shake his hand. “Pleasure to meet you sir. Perhaps you’ve met my father, Raymond Payne?”

The man only laughs, a hearty chuckle that both confuses and alarms her. She drops her hand back to her side, curious as to his reaction. It’s odd, she can’t tell whether or not she likes or dislikes the man. Normally it would have taken her a matter of seconds to deter whether or not she felt inclined to trust someone. But this man was morally ambiguous. Though she knows one thing for certain; he has a strong distaste for Johnny.

“Uh huh. So you’s the ones livin’ up there with the Slaughters huh?”

“Pardon, yes, the Sawyers.”

“Right.” He calms. “Names Willie. Willie Lewis. S’nice to see a pretty face in these parts. Reckon I ain’t met yer’ father just yet, have ‘em come by sometime.”

“Real nice to meet you mister Lewis, this your place?” Rebecca’s look is dazzling and charismatic, her cunning persona out in the face of the stranger. Even so she can feel the ominous glare of Johnny’s eyes on her, a perpetually familiar feeling that draws itself in intense hatred and disdain.

“Sure is.” As he responds, Johnny comes walking through the two of them, tossing some rope, electrical wire and yellow work gloves on the counter. He gives her a bewildered glance, as though he’s annoyed about something. Before exchanging a look with Mister Lewis, one she cannot see but can only imagine is deadly given the displeasure on the man’s face as Johnny heads out the door.

“Grabbin’ my change, I’ll be back in.”

Just as soon as he’s out the door Mister Lewis leans in close, motioning with the wave of his hand for her to come near.

“Now you listen here girl, well and good.” With the same delighted smile on her lips she steps near, confusion laced in her brows as they screw upwards ever so slightly.

“Pardon?”

“You best stay away from that boy and them Sawyers all together you understand? They’s dangerous, ain’t all there those ones. You aughtta be real careful, ‘specially bein’ a looker like you. I been here some time, I know a thing or two ‘bout the folks ‘round here and summin’ ain’t right there I can tell ya’ that much.”

“Right.” Becca’s grin only grows, giving him a knowing look as she moves toward the ice box sat up on the counter and grabs two bottles of pop. She wonders what he means by that, the Sawyers. He seemed to be a loony old man, driven skeptical with old age and changing times. The Sawyers had seemed strange sure, a peculiar type of people. Unlike anyone she’s become acquainted with before. And Johnny well, he was Johnny. The homicidal maniac she’d come to be rather tolerable of. Still, the thought of what he’d meant does not fall on deaf ears, she lingers on it for a time.

“You know why they call this place Muerto County, huh?” She meets his gaze with a puzzled look. “‘S what those Spanish speakin’ people call death or summin’, this place is cursed. There’s a reason for that. Now you best heed my words girl, s’for ya’ own good.” Mister Lewis points a finger to her, his visage one of concern and patronization. To which she only chuckles and nods her head, glancing towards Johnny as he swings the door back open and steps inside.

“I’ll be real sure to keep that in mind sir, thank you.”

The remainder of the exchange is tense and stiff. It’s abundantly clear to her that Johnny is peeved about something, his dastardly semblance the final component in this puzzling conclusion. As she links her arm in his and hands him the open bottle of pop, the bubbly drink still fizzing and bubbling as the cool air oozes from its small lip, she raises her brows. Watching when he swings open the truck’s door and guides her inside.

“What’d that bastard say to you?” It’s only confirmation that he’s seething with unbridled rage, she’d only ever witnessed his heinous temper once. That time she’d been on the receiving end of his lunacy.

His inquiry is met with skepticism and hesitancy, as she brings the cold glass bottle to her lips to take a swig from that crispy tasting liquid. She’s matter-of-fact, without care. Sure Mister Lewis’ warning was odd and vague, but it didn’t much bother her.

“You mad?” Becca shakes her head. “‘S nothin’ Johnny boy, goin’ on ‘bout how you ‘n yer folks are dangerous or summin’, didn’t much care for his warnin’.” Her eyes narrow to him like a Hawk it’s prey, leaning forward just to get a better look at the bitterness written in his handsome features. “Tch, what’s he mean by that anyhow? Y’all hidin’ somethin’, huh?”

“It’s nothin’ girl.” He pauses as if to ponder. “I’ll kill that bastard.” The animosity and feral hunger for blood that seethes through his words become abundantly more clear in the wake of his fiery hot madness. Instinctively she moves to grip the wrist of the hand that held the truck door open, crushing the rough skin tightly in her grasp as she looks to him with warning. Her skin is as cool as ice, on account of that cold drink she’d been holding. And his as hot as fire, heat radiating off of him in thick waves. His gaze shoots to her and he feels as though he should just rip her grasp right off of him there, but she holds tightly, squeezing in a death grip that draws him from those irritable thoughts.

“And what goods killin’ him now aught to do, huh?” Now she’s angry, her brows furrowing downwards in a telling scowl.

“Becca, he disrespected me, he disrespected us, ‘nd the family!” He speaks in disbelief, as though it were something she should have known. His body looms over her as he inches closer, a hand grasping at her silky soft golden locks as he presses his forehead to hers with an ardent stare. “Better if you find out now — I ain’t take too kindly to bein’ disrespected. Tsk. He think he can talk you up like that ‘n then talk mess on the family well I don’t think so. Tryna pin you ‘gainst me, that’s what he doin’.” He spits, eyes trailing to the dirt ground before they flicker back to hers. There’s an intensity to them like she’s never seen before, a fervent passion for vengeance and the unattainable. They’re wild and deranged, poisoned with his own turbulent mind and bloodlust. “I’ll kill ‘em. I’ll kill ‘em if you want me to you just say the words darlin’.” The grip on her hair tightens, pulling at those smooth strands as she plants a foot to his stomach and kicks him back. He stumbles a tad, his grip faltering as he instead ops to hold onto the frame of the truck to steady himself.

“Quit it, killin’ ‘em now ain’t gon’ do nobody any good. It’d be suspicious, think rationally and quit actin’ on impulse boy. Now stop talkin’ like that ‘n get yer ass in the truck how ‘bout that?” She’s bothered, flustered even. Angered by his irrationality and apparent inability to think in a way that doesn’t throw caution to the wind, yet flattered by his apparent adoration and call to action. He’s a fine man. That’s settled it.

Johnny appears perturbed, upset and distraught at her unwillingness to accept his offer and enact such a flagrant act of violence alongside him. Perhaps he’d expected her to be more understanding, more open to the idea. He’d wanted more from her, felt entitled to her unwavering devotion and respect. He only wishes to impress her, cultivate that which he craves most inside. So naturally he feels all most betrayed, vexed, his expression one of both fury and hurt. He glares something ugly, huffing as he slams shut the car door and marches his way around to the drivers side. The remainder of their “date” is silent and uneventful, even when he drops her off, Johnny helping her from her seat in his typical fashion and bidding her farewell without so much as a word. Gentlemanly, but not without fault.

Her days are somewhat quiet after that, presumably because Johnny needed time to cool off from the dissatisfaction he found at her interjection. She knew better than to foil a man’s plan, it was always best to follow suit of them. But still, she felt partially responsible for Johnny’s wellbeing, and therefore thought it best to think practically. Something she’d found Johnny failed at when it came to his temper and sadistic urges. Still, the faults seem insignificant in light of how fit of a man he seemed to me. Maybe, she thought, just maybe, she could see herself alongside him.

But what a humorous little thought that was.

Johnny’s absence only stirred the complicated pot of controversy within her, concocting some deviant idea of an ideal world. One where she would cultivate a family of her own, and with it came the rush of those adulate emotions and the never ending pendulum of bitter resentment and desperate romance. A feeling that had become a new custom in her newfound self, though she had yet to adjust or counteract that insufferable phenomena of lost control. The fleeting feeling is all to familiar, and still just as agonizing. And still she found it difficult and tiring how he not once stopped by to see her, again, there was not a single trace of Johnny Sawyer.

With the influx of irrational feeling and fear of her own thoughts, the cravings quickly became the center of her attention. A twisted vision of of the grotesque and morbid, a delightful mess of her thoughts. She dreamt of the moment she’d enact it all, thriving in the phantom feeling of that cathartic act. In those moments her sovereignty would come rushing back to her in a euphoric affair of the sickening and deadly.

She’d thought about how she might find one, her first victim. Dreamt up what he would look like and how he would act. She pondered about the many interests he might have, what type of girls he was into, what he was studying, his goals and aspirations. She often settled on the physically brute, men that seemed so masculine and attractive, it made it all the more purposeful when she stole their own lives from them. She thought about how she’d wait until all the college kids came out on weekends to the bars in out in Pleugerville, how she’d get dressed up real nice in a short little dress with her makeup done all pretty and her hair blown out and messy. How she’d so effectively advertise herself as one of those sluts that whored themselves out to immature boys. She’d sit at the bar shooting whiskey, keeping a cautious eye on those who entered; who was in a group, who was alone, who was drunk and looking to score. It was easier to take advantage of those types it seemed.

Rebecca thought about how she’d strut over in those heeled pumps and bend over just enough so that he could see her cleavage poking out of her little dress. How she’d twirl her hair and bat her lashes, blabbering incoherent nothings and enticing him to come home with her with the promise of giving him the night of his life. How she’d carefully look for the perfect opportunity to leave with him unnoticed by those in the bar and drive him back to the farmhouse just an hour away. How she’d watch the excitement or arousal yearn in his eyes and the slick smile spread across his face when she’d place him on the bed and step out with the simple excuse of giving her a minute. Only to watch the same eyes fret in terror as she came back in with an axe lurched over her head and her arms swinging the thing downward towards his bare chest. His eyes once so lustrous now turnt to a weeping mess as he cried and screamed, or at least that’s how it went sometimes.

Other times she’d ask them to step into the shower with her, reducing him to a helplessly nude and vulnerable state only to step back into the washroom with the axe gripped firmly in her right hand. Her left would draw back the curtain and she’d send the blade of her weapon barreling into his lewdly wet body. The way he would scream in agony and fear as she drew it back only to do it over and over again, it pooled the slick in between her legs and tingled her insides. She’d cut up his body until his intestines spilled outward and would laugh as he struggled to scoop them up into his trembling arms, then hack away his arms, then his legs, and remove that damned dick of his the way they gelded horses for their pestilent behaviors. Then finally the head, last so that he could watch as the woman he looked to as a piece of meat turned him into that very thing. A sorry excuse of a man, she’d never even look their way.

She’d think it up while she was getting ready in the mornings or winding down to sleep. While she was doing the dishes or cooking dinner, cleaning the house or working out in the fields. She’d wake up a sweaty mess with the tight feeling of anticipation in her core. And each time she’d get herself off on it, crossing her legs tight and winding them together in an embarrassing display of the sexually vulgar and insensitive. It was the best in the shower; when docile hands would tantalizingly gloss over her slick skin and spread the bubbles from her soap bar over the supple skin of her breasts and thighs. She’d wrap her legs about each other and squeeze them tightly, squirming in pleasure when the rush of her orgasm would come flooding in all at once. With it, the gruesome imagery of her victim’s corpse as he lay mutilated and bloody on the shower floor. Just as she pulls the axe from his severed head.

The thought crosses her mind more than once, more frequently with the day of her father’s departure arriving. He’d be gone for a few days, off to pick up the cattle they’d been prepping that farmland for for the last month and a half. It was the perfect opportunity to enact her sick little fantasy, to fulfill her wants and gain back what she’d lost. After the first kill she was sure the control garnered from it would be enough to set her straight in-spite of the growing affections she felt towards Johnny. She’d never go through with it, though.

A measly four days pass since she’d last seen him, and in that time the thoughts developed to be much more prevalent and intense. This combined with the incessant need to see him once more fosters a zealous infatuation and uncontrollable solicitude. Then, as soon as it had began, she heard the news over the radio station.

William “Willie” Lewis, a local and long-time member of the Muerto County community has been confirmed missing this morning by residents of the town of Newt. The sheriff’s department says Lewis, a businessman in the area was last seen closing his storefront off county road one seventy two three days ago. They are urging anyone with any information to come forward. Locals are now demanding information regarding the string of missing persons cases in the area of central Texas, believing the disappearance of Lewis to be related to these cases; authorities have no further information at this time.

The moment it had been said had been the moment she knew who was behind the supposed disappearance of mister Lewis. It was no question, not up for debate. It wasn’t very surprising either, he’d boldly confessed to being a vicious killer with a keen interest in murder and vengeance for those who disrespected him. Maybe she hadn’t quite understood the severity of it all; how serious he truly was. Of course she believed Johnny, but she never would have thought he’d actually do it. Rebecca wasn’t frightened by any means, but she was downright dumbstruck. And before too long she’s wandering up to the Sawyer’s porch in search of him, questions riddling her brain in a sort of perpetual state of shock and confusion. Confounded by her lack of understanding and commiserating thoughts.

The second he opens that door he’s different; reserved and uptight. He looks his usual self but she’s breathless, heart sputtering in a way that makes her think she’s floating, going through the motions. Ah, she’s missed him.

He doesn’t say anything, just glosses over her with a dazed kind of look. His dark eyes sparkling with the same intensity they always held, and she can’t help but gaze into them with a certain sense of longing, desperateness. Before he’s even through the doorway she’s opening her mouth to speak but she can’t find the words, only caught up in the way he looks to her with such purpose. Like a hungry animal does it’s prey. He the coyote and she the rabbit.

She struggles to find her voice like she never has before. For the very first time she feels bested by a man, so helplessly smitten with him like a school girl the school jock. She even forgets what she’s sauntered over here to query about, as if his actions didn’t even matter. To her they didn’t, he was just like her and that’s all she needed. He made her freakish dreams feel normal, made her feel understood, like it was all okay.

“You killed him.”

Becca just stands there, watching over his pretty features while her hands dangle at her sides and her fingers itch to graze over his rugged skin. She has yet to notice the crimson that spatters over the left side of his cheek and over his nose or the the bloodied mess that tainted his arms and stained those yellow work gloves he wore, the same ones he’d bought just days before.

“Yeah? You sound surprised.”

“No, no.” Her voice is gentle and soft, quieting to a whisper as she steps closer to him. Those velvety fingers reach up to trickle over the skin of his cheek, smearing the scarlet mess that rests upon it. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it, is all.”

“I don’t hesitate to do the things I like.” He speaks dryly, without affection. It wounds her and stings at her insides. “Guess that’s how we different after all.”

“Don’t.” Rebecca groans, her tone fading from that motherly timbre to become aggressive and cutthroat. “That’s where you’s wrong Johnny boy.” The hand that rested atop his cheek clutches a handful of his hair, pulling it toward her as she feels her temper rise. She doesn’t want him to trash this, this perfect little illusion.

“Yeah well, have yet to prove otherwise, doll face.”

“I said don’t god damnit!” She breaths out, pushing him back as she stammers toward the foot of the porch. Becca feels the emotions pricking at her insides, the burning sensation in her throat a clear predilection of her breach in sanity. “You’s ruinin’ it Johnny, just ruinin’ it.” The tears sting at her eyes, burning like hell when she tries so desperately to get herself together. She’d all but forgotten what it felt like to have it all taken away from her, forgotten how weak he made her in the wake of all those fanciful feelings. She could kill far better than he ever could, that she was sure of. But she hated that horrendous instinct of rejection that cudgeled in her. He was disappointed, she hated it when they were disappointed. It was the only other thing she couldn’t stand.

“Yeah? Tell me what it is I’m ruinin’ then darlin’, appears I’ve missed summin’.” The shit-eating grin she hates so damn much makes it’s appearance yet again, spreading over his face in a blood curdling display of patronization. The shakes begin, it starts with her arms, indicated by the balling of her fists at her sides. Then her legs, and then the rumbling and buzzing that cloud her cognitions. She can’t even hear her own thoughts, riding on the cusp of a breakdown instigated by this game of his.

“I can do it far better than you ever could you know that? You think I’m less than you, tch.”

“There’s my girl! Knew you was in there somewhere.” He laughs, stepping to her in long strides. His rough fingers intertwine themselves in the messy strands of her blonde hair, pulling at them with a fervid yank as he moves her head to his face. She groans, wincing enough to make the tears drip down her cheeks before she opens her eyes back up to see his own, fiery and uncouth with the same passion and fervidity she came to love so much. She liked it when he looked at her like that, with such unadulterated ardor. “Now, I’d like to see you try. Let’s say you put that theory to the test, huh?”

“Oh fuck off Johnny!” When she’s finally had enough she flails her arms toward him, pushing him back enough to get him to release his grasp on her as she stumbles down the steps. “I’ll prove it to you, just you watch.” She hates the way he makes her feel, all warm and tender inside. How the butterflies in her stomach flutter each time he looks at her or calls her his girl. She despises the way it makes her heart jump in her chest and the way it makes her knees shaky. “Now go to hell Johnny boy, may the lord have no mercy on your devilish soul.”

“Don’t worry,” he licks his teeth, beaming as she struts off in a bewildered state of rage and arousal. “I like it when you play hard to get. Gives me more of a challenge!”

She could do anything Johnny could.

And she could do it ten times better.

That night Rebecca had concluded she’d do just that, do what Johnny did better. After all, she’d itched to do it for so long, and it was just meat.

She’d prove him wrong.

“Three days kid, I’ll be out three days. Think you can handle that?” Raymond’s always been a man of few words; Rebecca knew just what he had meant.

“Yes daddy, I’ll be just fine.”

With a sardonic countenance and cynical proclamation he sighs knowingly, looking to the deck floor while buried deep in the paranoid cognitions of his precious daughter with her axe buried deep in that boy’s flesh. For Raymond Payne knew his daughter and the mental ails that troubled her. Despite his reluctancy to accept that. And with the ever growing tensions that had become custom in the household it was only fitting he be nervous about leaving her alone even if it had only been for a brief period. Despite how many times he’d told her or how much he’d prepared.

“You need anything, and I mean anything, you head on over to the Sawyers ‘n they’ll take care of ya’, Drayton’ll be by to check on ya’.”

“Alright daddy, quit yer’ worryin’ ‘n get on with it. Everythin’s gon be just fine, I promise you.”

“You ‘member what I told you?”

“Bout makin’ sure the troughs got hay ‘n water in ‘em and stayin’ in the house? Yes daddy, I got it.”

“Right, well,” he huffs, shifting his eyes from the ground below to her face. “I’ll be off, trailer’s here.”

“Goodbye daddy,” she plants a sweet kiss on his cheek, brushing a delicate hand over his shoulder. “I love ya’, see you in a few days.”

“Yeah,” he pulls her into an embrace, patting her back softly. “be good.”

She watches him walk down the driveway and get into the eighteen wheeler he’d rented solely for this purpose; starting it up and peeling out onto the main road. Those bulky wheels kick up clouds of dirt in curling waves, dusting over the driveway. When it clears she stands there, in a stoic state of rumination. Musing the moment she’d take the axe to a man’s throat and split him in two. She’d thought about it a lot those days, cooped up in her bedroom as she stared blankly at her reflection in the vanity mirror. Brushing through her smoothed hair with empty eyes and an emotionless expression. The same expression she wore now, void of any true indication of the morbid conceptions that passed through her head. She stood there for a time, drearily watching the weeds blow past the yard in the fall air. One moment she’s bracing the cold of the early morning and the next prepping the house to kill a man.

Every move is carefully articulated, from the axe hidden beneath a storage space she carved from the wood planks in the hall to the hatchets she hid throughout the entirety of the house’s interior as an alternative plan if things got messy. Even the plastic mats, which she so strategically laid out to avoid any unnecessary mess about the freshly moped floors. Then her look of the evening; a mini shift dress complete with those black pumps she seemed to enjoy so much. It’s neckline is high with the hem tailored just below her bum, slightly flared out at its end but form fitted to her torso. The fabric is a satin black, sleek and sultry, and it’s sleeveless style does well to elongate her elegant arms. Nude stockings accent the occasion, serving as a barrier for her skin against the brisk air of the night. Her hair is curled and astray, sprayed into some loose curls that appear much more like messy waves. Her bangs just barely covering those seductive eyes of hers that were shrouded in the blackness of her makeup, and her lips painted a dazzling merlot red.

At approximately seven o’clock Rebecca departs from her abode in her father’s old blue pickup, racing along the highway with the radio blasting slow songs from the early fifties. They’re the perfect substitute to quell her anxious thoughts and the paranoia that came with a nerve wracking first time. Yet despite this blatant observation she acts with a certain dignity and confidence, exuding the sophistication and courage of a feral animal. Hungry and vicious like the wolf.

Those animalistic eyes are searching for potentials the second she enters the parking lot of that old bar. It’s nestled up on the outskirts of Pleurgerville, within just a few miles of the local college and prime time spot for students and newly graduates alike. There, in the musty halls of that old brick building, illuminated by the purplish hues of the neon bar signs she takes the stage. Sat innocently with her legs folded over the other in a partly rusted bar stool with a disintegrating cushion. She orders a whiskey on the rocks, sipping quietly on the chilled liquid as her deadly gaze meets the eyes of the many men around her. They’re all just the same, young studs too moronic to handle a real woman, too immature to see through their own world of lies and self importance. She’d kill them all if she could, sever them all one by one and make the rest watch.

She bats her eyelashes and purses her lips, arches her back and accentuates her perky chest. They all approach her with the same sinful look in their faces, the one that tells her they’re all deserving of a visit from Satan himself. They all talk her up, at least, that’s what she lets them think. Her cool demeanor the perfect tool in getting them to fall so helplessly enthralled with her. They reek of liquor, cigarette smoke and the faintest hint of the cheap bathroom cologne. A stench that burns at her nostrils and churns her insides. All her suave small talk and hopes of attaining someone fall short in some way or another, and it becomes increasingly frustrating to gather a victim to enact this little plan of hers. They all share the same story; a college student looking for a quick hookup in their dorm. None of them are willing to venture her way, and it makes her all the more sick of them.

By the time her goldinger glass is empty, the last sip of watered down whiskey trickling down her throat, she’s about had enough of her endeavors. Eyes heavy with trounce and mind vibrating with the burden of succumbing to defeat. The notion of it all is much to dire to bare, the very concept of failure something that twists her gut and makes her feel weak and futile. And just as she begins to quake, her pretty limbs twitching in sheer desperateness, then comes the man with the emerald eyes.

His violently green irises dance about the bar before they land on her, all most as soon as her own did. It was strange, the second she’d locked eyes with him became the second she knew he’d be dead before the night was through. He looks to her in a starkly different manner than the other boys had, his own countenance one of ferality and desolation, he’s looking for an escape.

The vacant seat beside her becomes warm with his presence, not before he orders a whiskey, neat then turns to her, a suave but cunning smile gracing those features of his.

It’s strange but for a fleeting second she saw Johnny sitting beside her, the same veneer reflected in that mischievous grin. Emerald eyes is impossibly handsome, his features much like Johnny’s but without the imperfections his scars and bruises gave off. This man was well dressed too, a nice black blazer and dress slacks accompanying those designer shoes he wore. His hair is neatly tailored in a combed back fashion, slick with grease. He’s nice looking, sure, but he didn’t look like half the man Johnny was.

His name is Matthew, a businessman from out of town looking to escape the confines of his marriage and have his way with a young, pretty little filly. Lucky for her, she’d fit the part of his pathetic little fantasy.

He shared an uncanny likeness to Johnny and a personality that replicated much of Matthias’ behaviors. A no good boy looking to score a quick bang out of his wedlock. Of course, Matthias wasn’t married, only proclaimed her mother to be his one and only; a lie he told vigorously. Just as Matthias shattered Maggie’s, Matthew would break his poor wife’s heart, and that thought reminded her just how much she hated Matthias and all the men that ever did the same. Not to mention, he’d had such a sense of entitlement, as though she’d owed it to him to sleep with him. She hated that.

It isn’t his looks that draws her to him though, no, rather the pontifical nature in which he carries himself. With his head cocked high, his shoulders pushed back and an intoxicating degree of self-importance. A haughty attitude stems from his voice, accompanied by his turgid expression. Sure, he looked like Johnny. But he acted like Matthias, that was the most crucial thing of it all. Throughout the entirety of their evening together, it becomes more and more evident that Matthew is the ideal first victim. His disdain for girls, his pride and his dire selfishness would seal his fate with the devil. Rather than see him as Matthew, she perceives him to be that damned Matthias, especially with the way in which he so desperately throws himself to her. But that’s precisely what makes it so easy to get him so drunk, to the point where he’s falling over in his seat and slurring his speech like some imbecile.

The longer she indulges his conversation the more he drinks, and the more he drinks the easier it becomes to lure in her prey into thinking how great an idea it was to travel a whole hour away for a quick hookup. Through their interactions her animosity for the boy grows, turning feral with resentment and unadulterated anger. It resurfaces the fretful feelings from long ago, that which she harbored before Matthias himself had died. It was that same phenomenon, that same hatred, rekindled in this person, Matthias’ very own rival. And it didn’t take long for her to coax him into joining her for the evening in her isolated little farmhouse just an hour away from the motel he’d been staying at. She cares little about their conversation; turning it in and out of her sadistic and inhumane thoughts of human torture and mutilation. One thing she’s sure of though; he’s a piece of shit for seeking a hall pass like this, defiling his poor and unsuspecting wife. She’d be setting that woman free getting rid of this sorry excuse for a husband.

But then again, surely his wife must’ve done something to dissatisfy him or deter him. Perhaps she wasn’t the rightful woman Rebecca had made her out to be. She’d never let her man become so desperate, she knew how to keep them satiated. How pitiful.

It was all most too easy, so linear and straight forward. Like all the pieces of the puzzle had perfectly fallen into place the moment he stepped into that bar. He was the perfect first kill, a walking symbol of everything she despised most, the very type of male she strove to enact her revenge upon. Just as she’d fit the role in his own selfish fantasies, he so flawlessly made the part in her own. The stupid little man child that thought he could so seamlessly get into her pants, a ruiner of lives, a terrible partner, a walking sin. It was as though she were playing God, taking matters into her own hands and enacting his will.

He talks ceaselessly, on and on about his personal dilemmas and home life as if he’d meant to hold it above her head; as though he held some sort of precedence over her. His pride is just as much insufferable as his lust, and the way he speaks to her and looks her over with such disrespect and carelessness for her own humanity is disgusting. So much so, it’s a wonder how she hasn’t broken character and done something drastic. No, instead she listens in and out of static, carefully, her eyes glued to the highway as she resides in the blissful darkness that were her cognitions. She was daydreaming, thinking about it, the moment his fantasy would evolve into a nightmare and her fantasy a reality. Watching those dreamy emerald eyes swell with fear and utter agony was the moment she kept drawing back to, eagerly awaiting in deviant anticipation and yearning.

He’s a man that’s had everything handed to him throughout the entirety of his short life, a newly wed and appointed chairman of his father’s wealthy company. That only angers her worse, the way he so nonchalantly flaunts his blessings as though he was God’s gift. She’d love to wipe away that arrogant grin of his.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he enjoys talking about himself, caring close to nothing about what others had to share. Her word is of minuscule value to him, and he goes on and on as if his own were the gospel. From what she can gather he’s an intelligent man, but far too caught up in his own self importance. So much so that it makes him stupid and clueless. He enjoys watching college football, a former Longhorn and A&M alumni, and reading about the intricacies of American politics. He’s an ardent supporter of the separation of business and state, a passionate nut case whose sole intention as a corporate rep is to reap the benefits his patrons provide. He boasts about a wealthy sum of money and a large scale inherited business, stresses the emphasis on his hefty fortune and the ease in his way of life. He promises her diamond rings and gold earrings, a Tiffany necklace with a shiny gold chain. Tells her he’d treat her out to dinner at the finest restaurants in Europe and buy her the most beautiful dresses she’s ever seen. She wouldn’t have to worry about a thing, it was an all expenses paid job where all she’d been required to do was keep her mouth shut and sleep with him from time to time. It was clear what he’d once disclosed in the bar was only a front, this man was looking for other women to satisfy the void that his wife could not.

Rebecca didn’t understand it. The man could have all the riches in the world and still never have worked a single day in his life. His white collar lifestyle was nothing to that of her father or Johnny, real men who knew what hard work was. The men who knew how to protect and provide, the ones who knew what real women wanted. This man was a coward, a repulsive little boy with no idea what the real world was like. She’d be sure to savor torturing him to death.

“Well, here we are.” It’s pitch black headed up the dirt road to the farmhouse she learned to call home. A single carriage light flickering on and off on the porch beside the front door. The dim lights of the truck provide some sort of illumination, revealing the front of the old house and it’s newly renovated state. Flower boxes adorn every window, full of vibrant yellow sunflowers and a bird feeder dangles from the awning of the porch.

“You live all alone up here?”

“Oh, yes. Just me. Got some neighbors up the way a ways.” She lies through a placid smile, irritation bubbling when he doesn’t act to help her from her seat or even bother opening the truck door for her. He’s already marching up the steps as soon as the truck’s in park. She hated that.

Matthias used to behave in such a way that women were below him, as though they were meant to serve and cater to his every will. Which would have been fine, if it hadn’t been for his distinct lack of manners and nauseating sense of entitlement he carried with him. Becca’d never forget the way he threw her mother around or slammed doors in her face, left her to fend for her weak self in times of great need, or the way he so openly disregarded their partnership in bed and threw insults and backhanded comments her way every chance he got. Matthew reminded her of him in that regard, held little to no value for a woman and lacked the gentlemanly qualities a man should possess. It was expected she bed him, expected she do everything for him, expected she be the sensual adulteress he wanted her so badly to be. It only strengthened her dislike for him; first a cheat and second an arrogant brute, the world needed less of those.

Selfish. They were selfish, tainted by the work of the devil. The men like Matthias and Matthew that valued women on their willingness to handout their womanhood in sinful affairs of lust. It was disgusting how he acted, like he was so much bigger than her. The superior being, the worthier organism, a blooming magnolia in the middle of winter. She’d never expected a man of his status to be so insufferably dishonorable, anticipated much more the transient type like Matthias or the naive college boys whose only desire was to get their dick sucked by loose women.

But that was the thing; he was just like Matthias. If it weren’t for his looks, she wouldn’t have known the difference; for their personalities matched and their morals had remained alike. They carried about them the same energy, the same type of sickening madness that tore families apart and ruined lives. Matthew was Matthias, and Matthias was Matthew. Two sides of the same coin.

So, as she opened her own door and aided herself out of the driver’s seat, marching up the porch steps and watching Matthew with a piercing stare, she felt elated at the flashes of his image torn into pieces and gorged out, painted in its own blood. The scowl on her face is replaced with an eery smile, one in which her pretty eyes are plastered open wide and her teeth look plastic.

“Here, allow me to show you up to my room.” The formality in her speech is all the more deterring. And it is then that she realizes the severity of her anger, the slight trepidation in her stature as she jumbles with the keys and unlocks the front door a clear indication. There, she’d proceed down the foyer, flickering the yellow lights in the hall on before promptly swiveling to the left. She leaves Matthew in her wake, who follows, albeit timidly, very slowly. Treading with a certain degree of caution at the peculiar changes in her mannerisms.

The house is well put together, furnished with a sort of womanly touch that gave it a cozy feel. That much is clear, but it the suspicion raises in the man’s head; there was no way she’d lived here alone. There was something about it, he was sure she must’ve had a husband.

“So, you live up here all alone do you?” His voice calls from behind, echoing against the halls of the home as she begins up the staircase. In her steps she halts, her own suspicion raising as her brow quirks upwards.

“Yes, of course. Why do you ask?” Inchmeal she turns around, a seamless movement that catches him off guard, especially with that of her off putting appearance. It’s odd, she seems all most feral, lost, and it’s then he feels the beating in his chest thud against his ribs. His gaze widens, watching as she gestures for him to follow. “Come.”

Nothing could stand in between a man and his sexual desires, Rebecca knew that. And so, without a second thought her delicate fingers are gradually unzipping the back of her little black dress. Letting the straps droop down her shoulders and the entire thing become putty around her body. The glimpse of lunacy in her fades, her prior deportment returning just as soon as it had vanished. She clasps the garment to her partially nude frame, luring him with a gentle wink and a mousy encouragement.

“You’ll have to excuse me while I get undressed, you’ll find I’m not accustomed to these types of things. I’ll understand if you change your mind, but, please, I’d love you to have me, I’m a virgin, you know?” She smiles sardonically, her lashes fluttering and eyes glinting in innocence, just as she begins to move up the steps. “My room is straight down the hall, I’ll be in the wash room. Make yourself, comfortable.”

The water is hot, singeing her velveteen skin and melting away her sin. A cocktail of steamed water and black makeup residue drip down the length of her body to wash down the drain, and the faint hum of her angelic voice sings and allures him in a near distance.

He’s laid there on the duvet of her plush bedding, belt undone and dick in hand as he thinks about the temptation of those groomed feet wrapped around the length of his hard cock. He watches the door frame, awaiting her to come out or call for him. Sure, she’s strange, but it’s part of what makes her special, captivating, like the breathless beauty she was.

“Matthias! Why don’t you just come join me!”

The faint, muffled call of her sweet southern drawl behind the sound of running water is all it takes, all it takes for him to shamelessly remove himself of his clothing and toss them to the floor as he moves to join her in the washroom. There the space is thick and muggy, clouded in a misted layer of warm steam. That which fogs up the mirrors and air, forcing him to navigate through a calming atmosphere of the exhilarating unknown and coital. His bare feet brush against the warm tile floors and the shag rugs, even kicking up her shedded dress and black panties. But when he draws back the curtain to see an empty tub, her absence draws a sense of paranoia and confusion in him. One that curdles his nervous stomach and antagonizes the lingering feeling of sexual release and venereal anticipation.

“Hey uh, pretty girl, where’d you run off to?” He teases, a hand still firm on his dick. Tracing up and down in haggard motions, eagerly awaiting the moment her nude body revealed itself to him.

“Oh! Hop on in, had to grab an extra towel, I’ll join you just a second, baby!”

It burns his skin, the stinging eliciting groans of pain and he sharply adjusts himself to turn down the temperature on the handle. As the water runs cold, his tingling skin is soothed, and his mind traverses to much more prevalent matters. Like the fantasy of her precious wet feet pressed against his lips and slipping into his mouth.

Much of her body is still soaked, droplets of now frigid water resting against the skin of her shoulders and the high points of her stoic face. Her bell bottoms are dampened with the wetness of her bathed skin and her wet torso soaks the blue tank top she’d just slipped into. Thick strands of darkened blonde locks coat her face in cold water, as she grabs the wood handle of one of the hatchets she’d set aside and that axe she’d hidden in the floor boards of the hall just in time to make out his groans of pain from the water scorching his exposed skin. Ah, it was all going according to plan.

“Hey, baby?”

“Yeah hot stuff, what is it?”

A feminine hand pulls back the curtain ever so slightly, enacting with such elegance and grace. Dainty fingers and reaching for him and grazing over the slick skin of his chest just softly. The tips of her nails dragging over it in soft traces, she draws her fingertips down further, and further, until she’s sure she’s reached that area just above his manhood. Then, with a delicate hand she takes the length of it into her palm, grasping at it softly and running her thumb carefully over its tip before she calls out to him with such a sweet tone of voice.

“You gonna stab me with this?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Surely you won’t need all this?” She teases, her grasp tightening ever so slightly, fingers gently massaging at it as it grows in size.

“Nah, but you gon’ take all of it.”

“I don’t think I’d know what to do with it, but I have an idea.” Her grip clasps down, crushing the thing in her fist as he groans out in pain and jerks backwards.

“You grippin’ it a lil’ tight there, this some sort of weird sex thing?”

“Nah, just need a good grip on it is all.” In one breakneck motion, her hand pulls him forward by his length and the other comes swinging downward with the hatchet to sever the appendage from his body. Warmth spews over her arms as she drops the thing to the floor, his screams of terror and hurt tickling at her insides in a pleasurable way. The thick of his blood coats her and sprays about the shower curtain, only alluding to that tingly feeling within, she’s aroused.

Just as soon as it happens, the curtain is drawn. The sound of the little metal beads gliding against a metallic rod sounding like the cacophony of ricocheting bullets. Like the red velvet drapes in the beautiful amphitheaters of Manhattan, there’s a clear shot of center stage. In it; an attractive male with a decent nude physique, his face that of horror-struck petrifaction. A strong boy in a most vulnerable predicament, his most lewd parts on full display for her viewing pleasure. Of course, it’s the conveyance of emotion that delights her, leaves her wanting more, the way his face turns ugly with fear and the way he becomes so weak in the presence of a true woman like her. She’d reduced him to nothing but a coward, revealed him for his true self; a helpless little boy whose been nothing short of spoiled.

“Now tell me, are you gon’ take all of this?”

The way her palms grip the splintering wood of her axe stings, those tiny fragments burrowing themselves into her fragile hands. It’s wonderful, the sensation of it all. The way the splinters in her palm dig in the tighter she holds the body of that weapon, the way he cowers beneath her, the multitude of her control.

There it was, it was all coming back to her.

The blade hoisted over her head shadows her sadistic smile. And then, it’s lodged halfway through his right shoulder.

The blissful sound of breaking skin and the slicing of flesh sounds more pretty than she could have hoped, a satisfying sound of a loud crack and tingling squelches. It’s all most lewd, the timbre of thick red spurting out onto the tub’s floor. It’s so carnivorous, a vibrant scarlet hue that intertwines nicely with the cool water that circles near the drain. And then his screams of agony, a rapturous blister of piercing octaves.

The rhapsodic smile plastered over her lips is irreplaceable; entirely unforgettable, a pretty grin full of derangement and intense joy. The corners of her mouth twitch violently, her cheeks aching in lew of her strained veneer. Those elegant brows twist up in delectation, a prime contrast of the scowl she donned just minutes before.

It’s all most too much for one woman to handle, the visceral scenery of it all a sensory overload for the body and mind. Pleasurable contractions cause a yearning feeling in between her legs, one of which would only be satiated by the one thing she desired most; watching him suffer and die at her own hand.

With a foot planted against the edge of the tub and a steady grip she rips the blade from his body, leaving a trail of blood and a pleasing pop as it’s released from the meat of his shoulder. Again, with the strong swing of her arms the blade wedges itself into the left side of his ribs, then his chest, and his bicep, and then his thigh.

Crimson splatters itself over her wet face and body, tainting her perfect image. It drips down the walls of the washroom, soaking the shower curtain and the tile floors as it pours in abundance down the drain. He’s wailing, begging and pleading between screams and cries of pain and suffering. Just what she wanted, obedience, submission.

“Please! Where the fuck am I? What do you want? What’re you doing to me? I’ll give you anything, anything you want! Just leave me the fuck alone you sick freak!”

The way he’s so helpless and begging at her feet makes the space between her legs pool with slick, pumping the adrenaline in her and arousing her just as all the times she imagined it prior. He is at her disposal, and his fate lies in her hands. The very fact alone makes her eager with anticipation of what’s to come, the pleasurable sensations building with each passing moment.

“Oh baby, you ain’t goin’ anywhere?” Becca snorts. “I’m sick of stupid boys like you thinkin’ they can just walk all over me, tch. You’s all the same, entitled little shits who break girl’s hearts ‘cause ya can’t keep it in ya’ pants. Tsk, you ain’t even hold the door open for me, what kinda man is that? I know the type all to well, all you’s do is ruin lives and walk all over girls like they some kinda objects? Nah, nah. And you know? It’s so funny how easy it is to manipulate y’all’s. Dress like a slut, give you big eyes and twirls my hair a little bit. A couple oh baby, oh babys and you’s wrapped around my finger. Pathetic. And now, look, whose the weak one, the one subject to my accord. Ain’t that summin’?”

Perhaps it had slipped her mind to keep the barrage of attacks going, but within an instant he’s pushed her backwards as he’s stumbled down the hall, something that pisses her off more than she knows. The feeling of his grubby hands against her chest a disgusting one that lingers and infuriates her. How dare he. Now, now the psychosis begins.

It all comes rushing in so fast, all most too quickly for her own comprehension. The influx of emotions and feelings, one moment she’s reveling in the satisfaction of an easy first kill and the next spiraling down a neverending nightmare.

“Fuck!”

Falling backwards her back smacks against the wet floor and her head thwacks backwards to crack against the floor. It’s a momentary stun that feels like an eternity, as she gathers herself up enough to get back up again. Her limbs tremble, legs and arms violently shaking in her typical display of mania and bygone control.

“You’ll regret that.”

A trail of blood and wet leads down toward the staircase, the tracks going cold down the steps. It’s then that the concern comes in, a faint worry blossoming in her gut. She bends down to examine it, only to feel the sharp pain of something cold injected into her shoulder.

“Die you bitch!”

A quick groan of pain and she’s turnt around to face him for the coward he is, a scowl lacing her features once more. Dark brows furrow downward and her eyes go dark, something sinister and malignant written in them. They reek of danger and peril, a clear sign of her hellish rage. Her tremoring, wet body saunters toward his cowering figure, her lowered head unmoving as she hovers over him.

There is something so exciting in the way he shivers and cries in fear and pain, his petrified body and conviction of terror enough to bring fourth the curdling in the pit of her stomach. It’s erotic, the way it tenses her insides and contorts her muscles in odd sorts of ways. She could get off and watching him suffer, get off on the sight of his mangled body and screams of despair; knowing she was the cause of it all.

“I’m going to love watching you die.” Cold. It’s cold. Her words are sharp and deadly, evocative of the apathetic devil within her.

In times like these, where her vigorously convulsing body is on the brink of an insane collapse that she’s at her strongest, her most powerful. In times where her control is thwarted and in it’s place a perpetual state of mania, indicates by her frenzied demeanor and vehement determination for vengeance. This time though, the loss of her composure has not dissipated just yet. She’s on the cusp of getting that control back, and she’s delighted with the feeling. It even sends her lurching toward the sensual furor the act stirred in her, chasing the sweet feeling of release as she drives the weapon into him.

The axe swings over her head and down to his shivering body, slicing through the hand that reaches to cease the incoming blow. He’s crying, much like a child whines for their mother and begs for aide. And again, she’s swinging down the axe to thwart into his mangled body, hacking into the flesh of his torso and watching the blood spill into a coagulated pool. His screams tickle her innermost fantasies, and despite her enchanted state and the thrill she experiences in the act her face is stilled, frozen in a state of anger.

The act itself comes easy to her, it’s simple, like a second nature, like learning to ride a bike. It’s a calm, calculated act that instills a sense of duty within her, quells the urge for the sanguinary that bludgeoned in her all that time. It’s something satiating, like the void within her had been filled after all this time.

“That’s it, cry for me.”

The tears that stream down his face excite her, and it’s with it the smile returns to her winsome features. He sobs like a baby, screaming for help with no avail. Those pointless wails are meaningless to her, and are met with the sickening grin she fronts while watching him writhe in pain.

“Oh baby, we ain’t done yet.”

But as it would seem, puny little Matthew had some fight left in him. For he stood, his quaking body struggling to withstand the trauma she’d enacted upon it. She hadn’t known what to expect, but the last thing was the way he grappled her and knocked the axe to the ground.

It’s no question that she’s strong, stronger than him especially in his weakened state. But she doesn’t expect him to push back so hard, underestimating the strength left in him as she’s sent tumbling backwards down the stairs. Her world goes black then, the faint sounds of whines and cries and heavy footsteps down the wood steps fading from her hearing, and then her eyes shut.

When Rebecca awakes there’s no telling how much time has passed, but her body is still soaked in water and blood and she can still hear the sound of running water from the wash room upstairs. She’s left with a splitting headache and a bruised body aching from the tumble down the staircase, the bannister wood is snapped where the back of her head smacked it, and there’s cold water and a bloodied mess left all over the house.

Slowly, her eyes flutter open, wincing shut all most as soon as they open in response to that throbbing ache in her head. A grown is elicited from her lips, and she’s slowly able to sit up. It takes time, but as she awakes from the hit she’s able to scrunch her eyes open to begin examining the scene. In a dazed state the realization hasn’t dawned on her, but the absence of her special victim is something not yet forgotten.

“Fuck! Fucking fuck!” She screams.

The panic comes crashing down like a freight train, her hands desperately coming to clasp at her face and lace into her matted hair. Pulling, tearing and squeezing in heaping handfuls, her eyes widen in fear and the fruition of impending doom. Her body wobbles involuntarily, movements erratic and timid. She’d ruined it, ruined it all.

There’s nothing left of Matthew but endless trails of blood, the front door left wide open with the cool draft blowing in.

“Shit!”

She’s screaming, searching forthrightly for his naked body. Tearing apart every inch of the house’s interior before venturing out into the night, axe in hand. The paranoia is a familiar feeling, that of the fleeting control she’d sought out to take back in the very act she’d failed at. Now, the fear of being caught looms over her like a plague, and when there is no trail to follow, no signs of the man she’d been certain she’d kill, the beast rears it’s head and she’s collapsed to her knees in the hard dirt of the front drive.

Wailing incoherencies up at the sky she cries ugly, salt crusted tears and snot dripping down her face. Her shaking hands grasp at the skin on her face, picking and tearing at it in an attempt to make the paranoia disappear. Then her hair, yanking in handfuls and thrashing her agitated figure about the dirt. All she’d wanted was that control, the feeling she knew was possible from watching his helpless body writhe in pain and die at her hand. She’d only got the pleasure of feeling half of that, a measly dose.

You killed him, you killed him, he’s dead, he’s dead, it’s all according to plan.

She chants the mantra quietly to herself, eyes bloodshot wide as she stares to the dazzling moon above her. A desperate attempt to quell the feral urges in her, to silence the demons, the bad man.

After some time she goes silent, quivering quietly as she watches the moon and grazes through the turbulent thoughts in her head.

There is only one thing she knows to do.

“Johnny! Johnny please, Johnny!” Bare footed and cold, she runs through the ridged dirt and brush that separate the properties, spanning over the plains as she screams for him. The property is quiet, nothing but the soft clanking of clattering pots and pans dangling from the trees and the old yellow porch light illuminating the front screen door.

“Johnny! Johnny come out please, Johnny! I need you!” She cries, sobbing out for him. She swings open the screen and pounds on the wood door, wailing to herself, practically throwing herself against the thing. “Johnny please I need you, I need your help, Johnny!” The cry is desperate, needy, a plead for help. “I fucked up Johnny I fucked up!” She backs up, prodding at her dampened hair and resting her hands atop her head as she paces the porch. “Johnny!”

Click!

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, his eyes clouded with sleep and suspicion in his mien. And without a second thought she’s flung herself onto him, hanging her limbs over his bare shoulders and crying violently.

“Johnny, Johnny listen man you gotta help me man, you gotta help me I-” She pauses, swollen eyes finally able to make contact with his own. “I messed up real bad, I fucked it up, I fucked it all up. He’s gone I, I don’t know where he went. You gotta help me, please.” Through strained whines and hyperventilations she relays her message. It’s a wonder he can make out what she’s saying between those cries of shame and ballistics. She groans, looking to their feet and coughing up the tears caught in her throat. “I let ‘em get away, that fuckin’ cocksucker, he fuckin’ got away.”

“Alright,” Johnny looks to her, a rough hand gripping her cheek when his rugged thumb moves to wipe the wet that drips from those pretty eyes. His hand forces her face up, and it’s with a supercilious sentiment that he examines her features, her desperate state. Observing her with a sort of contentment, satisfaction. Those half lidded eyes meeting hers with a certain degree of knowing, a mutual understanding. “Lead the way, darlin’.”

—

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭! - 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

@yixxes @bdudette @nerdykat101 @kaymarnun

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Comfort from a Wolf Pack

Summary - Part 43 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure), Andre (OG Character) x Reader (best friends), Garth x Bess

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: Hey guys! Before we get into this week's chapter I just want to say that I really want to do a Christmas Writing Challenge for myself where I write festive Imagines leading up to Christmas. If you guys have any prompt ideas (& pairings) that you would like me to attempt please send me a message. I love hearing from you! Anyway, back to the series now, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

After a few more fuel, food and toilet stops and swapping driving between the two of you after each stop, you finally pull into Garth’s driveway. Once Dean shuts off the engine you turn around to Destiny.

“Hey, Sweetie, I know you’re probably pretty nervous about this. But I promise Garth and Bess are really nice people. They’ve even got a little girl probably just a little younger you. So come on, you ready to go meet them?” She sheepishly nods and you hear her stomach growl. “I’m sure Bess is just getting something yummy on the table for brunch too.”

You climb out of the car and help Destiny out of the backseat before going over to join Dean at the front step where he’s already chatting with Garth. Garth pulls you in for a tight hug, then pulls away and crouches down to Destiny’s height.

“So, this little beauty here must be Destiny? I can smell your pure blood from here. Come on in, Bess and Gertie are excited to meet you.”

Garth pushes the door open and stands against it to let you all pass him. As you walk inside Bess comes out from the kitchen to greet you, a little girl by her side. “Hi guys, you must be hungry. Got some options for everyone. Come on in.”

You follow her into the dining room where she’s set the table. There are a few fresh cow hearts but also some bacon and pancakes.

You shoot her an appreciative smile as you take a seat. “Thanks, guys. We really appreciate you doing all this for us.”

Garth brushes his hand through the air at you. “Don’t mention it. You’re family. Dig in.”

Bess serves out a couple of the smaller hearts, one each for the little girls and then a bigger one for her and Garth, while you and Dean help yourselves to the pancakes and bacon.

After breakfast, Gertie invites Destiny up to her room to play, so you take the chance to discuss plans.

Dean starts off rather bluntly, “How do you guys feel about growing your pack?”

Garth and Bess share a look and a nod, then Garth says, “She seems like a real good kid. But she’s been through a lot, I think you gotta give her a little time to adjust. Everyone at this table knows what it’s like to lose someone. It ain’t easy.”

Bess then adds, “And she’s pureblood, like me. So, it’s clear she knows nothing of human life. And hanging around with hunters. Being raised by hunters. I don't know. I think she should stay here with us, but I don’t want to force her to if she’s not comfortable.”

You nod, “I agree. We…Or I, was wondering if we could just stay a few days and see how she settles?”

Bess nods. “Sure. The girls can share and you guys can take the guest room.”

You smile at Bess, “Thanks. Let me help clean up here,” then you look over at Dean. “I trust you can handle the bags?”

“I got it,” he says. He gets up and kisses the top of your head before heading out to the car; Garth follows suit, kissing Bess and then following Dean out to help with your bags. You and Bess stand up as well and start stacking the dirty dishes to cart them into the kitchen. As Bess fills the sink with hot water and dishsoap you pick up a tea towel so you can dry.

“I noticed the rings. Congrats,” she says as she starts to wash the dishes.

“Thanks. I never really believed hunters could have love like this. But with Dean I know it’s worth the struggle. You and Garth’s relationship gave me hope too. If a hunter and a werewolf can make it work, anything’s possible.”

“Yeah. He’s worth it too. But uh, and I don’t mean to overstep, but you and Dean don’t seem to be on the same page about the pup.”

“No, you’re not overstepping. We’re not. I don’t think he wants a child at all, let alone a non-human one. He’s struggling with his training that all monsters are bad, but also he doesn’t think he’d be a good father. But I know he would be. And I just…I feel like I need this. I had an ectopic pregnancy earlier this year and ever since then I’ve just felt like something is missing in my life.”

“I’m so sorry about the pregnancy. I guess my biggest advice is that if you want to go down this road with Destiny, make sure you both get on the same page and do it for the right reasons. She’s not just a puzzle piece to fill a hole in your life, she’s a child who has lost her parents and needs support, love and guidance.”

“I know. I just need a chance to talk to Dean without a little eeves dropper. Would you be able to watch her while we go out somewhere and discuss it?”

“The girls sound like they’re having fun playing together upstairs. Take your time.”

You finish drying the dishes and stacking them on the bench for Bess to put them in their rightful homes. “Thank you again.”

“Just go talk to your husband. Communication is key.”

You hang the towel back on the hook and make your way upstairs towards the sound of your husband’s deep and carrying voice. You lean against the door frame of what you assume is the guestroom as Dean’s placed both of your bags on the end of the Queen-sized bed and wait for a break in his and Garth’s conversation. They go quiet once they sense your presence. Dean beckons you over with his hand and you go into his arms. He leans down and kisses you as Garth quietly slips out of the room.

“You wanna go for a drive?” he asks.

“I was actually gonna ask you the same thing.”

“Perfect. Let’s go.”

You take Dean’s hand as you walk back down the hall. As you pass Gertie’s room, Destiny runs to the doorway, a concerned look on her face. “Where are you going?”

You squeeze Dean’s hand before letting go so you can crouch down to her height. “We just gotta go out for a bit. Pick up some human food and such since Garth and Bess don’t keep much here. You stay here and play with Gertie. You’re safe here and we’ll be back soon, I promise.”

She hugs you tight as she nods. “Okay.”

“Alright. You be good. We’ll be back soon.”

She nods again as she unwraps her arms from your neck to go back to playing with Gertie’s dolls. You stand up and lace your hand with Dean’s again as he leads you back downstairs and out to the car. Like the true gentleman he is, he opens and closes your door for you before going around to the driver’s side.

“You’re amazing with her,” Dean says as he starts the engine and reverses down the driveway. “You are so…You’ll be the perfect mother.”

“Yeah, about that. We have a lot to talk about…”

“I know.” He places his hand on your thigh like he always does when driving.

“We only just got married. I only just finally convinced you to go through with that. I don’t want to do anything to push you away. I know you’re scared of taking her in, of trying to raise a non-human. I know how you were raised. I understand your reservations, I do. But…”

“But you wanna do it?”

“The pit in my stomach…the hole in my heart…it feels smaller when I hug her or care for her. I know it’s only been a couple of days, but running a bath for her, comforting her, explaining things to her, it all just feels right. It feels like what I should be doing.”

Dean just nods as a heavy silence falls over the car. After a few minutes, he pulls a park near a park. You can see a lake in the horizon. He shuts off the engine and opens his door. “Let’s go for a walk.”

You open your own door and walk around the car to meet him and take his hand as you walk onto the grass towards a metal bench seat that overlooks the lake. You enjoy the view, the sounds of birds and the breeze filling the silence and comforting you.

Eventually, you say the only thing you can think of to try and calm the tension, “I love you, Dean. No matter what, okay?”

He drapes his arm over your shoulders pulling you to lean against him. After a while, he finally breaks his silence, “Buying those clothes for her the other morning…I’ve never felt so out of my depth. But playing the part, telling the lady that I was doing a favour for my wife, picking up a new wardrobe for our daughter…that part was easy. It almost felt natural.” Feeling himself tear up at the emotions bubbling in his chest, he clears his throat before continuing, “If you really think we can do this…If you really want to do this…I’m willing to give it a shot.”

You turn around and look at him in shock. “Really?”

“I’m still worried about all the ways it could go wrong. And there are a lot of stipulations I need you to promise me. But you’re starting to convince me that maybe, just maybe, anything is possible.”

You lean over and kiss him, pushing all your emotions into it, letting your lips convey all your feelings without words. A few tears slip down both of your cheeks from the overwhelming emotions.

When he pulls away to take a breath he says, “You don’t know my conditions yet.”

“I don’t care. The fact you’re willing to even consider this means so much to me.”

“You’re not the only one that left something behind in that hospital. I was right there with you. I’ve been telling myself it was for the best, especially when those demons came after us. But, the truth is, the day you showed me that positive test, all my dreams changed. All that mattered to me then was keeping you and our baby safe. And then Bobby called and said you were in the hospital. That was my worst nightmare come true. I can’t go through that again. Shoot me, stab me, kill me, friggen send me back to Hell, but I can’t watch you like that or have that taken away from me again. The only thing I could compare that pain to is the first time I lost Sam.”

You hug him tight, letting your tears soak into his flannel. You know he’s not generally the vulnerable or emotional type, so the fact he’s comfortable enough to let all his walls down with you is so overwhelming. “I love you so much,” you whisper into his neck.

He gently places his hand on your cheek and guides you to face him again, making direct eye contact before shutting his eyes as he brings his lips to yours softly. When he pulls back slightly he leans his forehead against yours and whispers, “I’m ready to get out.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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[wordsbymae]

Mouse deserves to be eaten out by farmer after having to deal with him for song 😋‼️

pt 2. So long!! Damn autocorrect 😔😔😔

18++++ No minors! Will discuss smut

AFAB Reader for this one. lady used once cause I didn't want to use the word thing or girl (even though I write "pretty thing" all the fucking time- I've been converted by the power of Paris Paloma's new song, feminism rocks)

Of course, they do! With all the shit they've put up with. I mean the farmer isn't exactly the easiest to hang out with. He has the emotional intelligence of a turtle.

Of course, he is Male™ so at first he doesn't think it's something he would ever enjoy or just a done thing,,, he's a "MAN". And cause I like playing with my characters like they are Barbies, mouse doesn't even think that something like that can be enjoyable for them or him.

BUT!

The seed of the idea is planted one day.

Not by Mousey and not by him. This happens before he gets with Mousey but after he's been sexually blacklisted by everyone in town. He's cranky and so fucking horny. His usual go-to's of imagining Mousey on their knees or stuck somewhere bent over isn't working like it used to and so he gets a bit frustrated.

So what does he do? He buys porn of course. Sure he wasn't going out of his way to get it. He just happened to transport some calves into a bigger town and saw the adult shop and said fuck it. He ain't ashamed to admit that he bought that specific video (his first one ever :o) due to the resemblance to Mousey both physically and personality-wise. A sweet and innocent lady getting corrupted by a rough and tough country boy.

It's like it was made for him!

so imagine his shock and surprise when the country boy doesn't just fuck into them from behind or missionary or even get sucked off (this is set in the 1950s-1970s and he's from the country, he may fuck but he is unlearned). Instead!!!!! His mouth is heading south? He's lifting pretty skirts to diving underneath. Farmer just sits there in awe. He's not even worried about his ragging boner. No, he's imagining Mosuey moaning like that, begging, screaming, coming undone like a pretty slut.

he was radicalised from that day forward and he will legit eat out Mousey whenever he gets the chance. But he mostly uses it to get out of trouble. The incident with the snake charmer? He pulls over halfway home, throws the cow plush on the ground and buries his head under Mousey's skirt while he "begs" for forgiveness. Really mousey is the one who ends up begging.

[balladofthewhitehorse]

7, 14, 18, 22, 38 + d & g for Scotland, i love the way you write him :D (I know that’s so many I’m so sorry for being greedy don’t feel like you have to answer them all! <3)

Don’t apologise at all! I’m glad you love the way I write him. I took a lot of inspiration from your HCs as well as Stirringwinds, Oumaheroes and Fumblingmusings too! Thanks for sending in so many good asks >:)c I absolutely love talking to others about these characters. 7. What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

Going fishing - a peaceful brisk morning for it too, with not a soul around to disturb him, on the banks of a sluggish river. It’s something he does every so often, and usually it gets him in a nostalgic mood. Things were easier once. Things were simple once, back when immortality was something that riveted Scotland’s spirit rather than left him brooding for hours on end. However, this puts Scotland into a miserable mood for the rest of the day - it’s frustrating, given that he genuinely enjoys fishing, but it reminds him too much of how easy it was to be a family - how easy it was to simply be able to view England, Wales and Ireland as his family without any of the politics and history to muddy it. Sure, he may be able to fish with England today - but the past hangs like a lantern, illuminating the darkest corners. 

It reminds him, too, of how easy it was to spend time with France - to kiss and hold them without being reminded of the contractual nature of their relationship, of the obligations and politics and the dreadful feeling that he was only ever stoking England’s fury and resentment towards France. It reminds him too, of their relationship with its ups and downs. Fishing is something of a gentle, peaceful past-time. It is one of his most mundane, most human moments and Scotland wishes, wishes with all his heart, that he could go back to being that young boy fishing by the river. 

14. What animal do they fear most?

I will approach this from a metaphorical angle first, and then put down some animals that he generally does not want to fuck around with in a literal sense. Sorry, I love animal symbolism too much not to approach it from a metaphorical sense - even though I think this question is intended rather literally; Firstly, Scotland is afraid of wolves and dogs - particularly big, black ones with white teeth and copper eyes. Collared ones are perfectly fine, Scotland loves a faithful pet, but the sight of a lone, shaggy dark stray is something that awakens an instinctual dread in him. Wolves too, set something primal and wary inside him - and reminds him all too much of his brother, red-eyed and hostile, barghest, black shuck, snarlyow…

He cannot help, but wonder if the plethora of black dogs south of the border are all England’s doing. After-all, humans talk and make stories and are fearful of the dark, and there is nobody quite like his brother who wears the night like a second coat. If Scotland considers himself a stag - noble, free and just - then England is the wolf, wily and furious. It is hard for Scotland to look into a wolf’s eyes for long - and he remembers hunting them down in the forests a long, long time ago and holding their skulls, their broad jaws in his hand and imagining that England was bleeding before him. Maybe that’s just daft of him, Scotland admits. But nevertheless…

Now in a more literal sense, because I think that’s the intention of the question: Scotland isn’t fearful of any animal. He’s wary of some, but Scotland is always quick to point out that caution is not cowardice - and he has quite a lot of disdain for those who are quick to mix up the two. Cows can flatten you if given the chance and while they’re usually docile, Scotland has seen far too many idiots get trampled by cows, and big cats are simply off the table - too stealthy, too agile and powerful. He doesn’t care for sharks either, and makes sure to avoid the sea. Can’t get him on dry land, can they now? All the same, Scotland is not fearful so much as wary most of the time.

18. What embarrasses them?

On a mundane level: Idiocy, Raised Voices, Being Emotional On a much more personal level, there is nothing that Scotland finds more embarrassing than when his siblings lose their wits or their temper. He’s someone who prides himself on being able to keep control of himself, of being level-headed and calm. He’s someone who’s always told himself that he needs to be in charge - needs to act like a leader while everyone else is freaking out. In that sense, one could argue Scotland is not unlike England (who harbours the need to be in control - but by contrast, England does it out of a sense of wariness, of paranoia while Scotland has a sense of duty). When he snaps or when he raises his voice - or perhaps makes a mistake - the embarrassment sticks with Scotland to the very end. It clings to him like ink to paper, like blood to carpet, like sins to a guilty conscience. Out, Damned Spot; Out, I say! - as Lady Macbeth once said. 

‘’You should just forgive him.’’ Scotland replied icily, jaw tense as he watched his sister pace the length of his sitting room - she was erratic, a little like a wasp, Scotland mused to himself. It had been unfair, that much Scotland understood, but then what else was new? ‘’I know him-’’ Wales whirled around, fury in her eyes (so much like her little brother). ‘’-He just…ah, fumbled his words?’’ He shrugged, feeling the tips of his ears going red - the same hue whenever his siblings argued, which was frequently. ‘’It’s not worth the embarrassment.’’ ‘’And what-’’ Wales spat. ‘’-is the embarrassment?’’ 

Scotland stared steadily back, taking a deep breath as he slowly rose to his feet. Wales was doing it again. Wales was twisting his words - and a feeling of frustration seeped into the core of his bones as he watched his sister cross her arms, tapping her foot expectantly. ‘’He will just blame you. And then you’ll get angry and then-’’ Scotland’s lip curled. ‘’-And then everyone loses their shit!’’ It always happened, and Scotland was always there to pick up the pieces (Why me? Why is it always me-!?) ‘’You wouldn’t understand, Wales, I’m just say-’’ ‘’You’re just saying to pick the easy way out, like a coward.’’ Wales scoffed, an icy veneer crossing her eyes as she jabbed a finger at Scotland. ‘’You’ve shoved yourself well up his arse, Scotland.’’

‘’I’m just being smart!’’ Scotland snapped. ‘’England will…will just use this as proof of your immaturity.’’ He sniffed, shaking his head as he leaned in towards Wales (Green eyes ran in the family, and they bore into his soul). ‘’Keep your cool and play your cards right. Just forgive him. It can be as empty or as meaningful as you want, just try not to fucking lose it.’’ Wales’ lips went thin, her back going rigid as she glared at Scotland. ‘’You don’t know how long I’ve been doing that. You fucking don’t know how long I’ve been doing that for already.’’ 

Scotland’s fists clenched. ‘’I do.’’ Whirlwinds of fire and clashing swords, Scotland took a deep breath (as if he were about to dive, to immerse himself in a cold sea - and never return). ‘’So pull yourself together, Wales. Suck it up.’’ Scotland winced as he said these words, face going pale as he watched his sister withdraw (coiled as a spring, wound up - he didn’t try to dodge, squeezing his eyes shut as Wales slammed the door shut). ‘’...Fuck.’’

22. How does jealousy manifest itself in them?

Deep-rooted and quietly seething, Scotland is the figure in the back of the room brooding angrily. Crossed-arms and stiff shoulders, features like stone, he is quiet and icy; A chilly lake in the darkest winter, contemplating what he wants and why he wants it, and most crucially how to get it. Really, Scotland does not think he’s being jealous - only protective, after-all it’s something that he has his sights on and that makes it his, no? Some people might consider England to be rather prickly and sharp - the most jealous out of the siblings, but where England spits fire - Scotland is ice. More specifically, the ice beneath your feet that is threatening to crack, echoing with promise - with threat, the water below to plunge you into his grasp. 

38. What memory do they revisit the most often? 

D. Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?

I think I always kept Scotland’s design fairly consistent! When developing his character (I did this before I realised that Hetalia has a canon Scotland already, LOL!), I had a sort of typical body-shape and design in mind to go with his personality - and Scotland has always given me sort of rugged, outdoorsy vibes (stereotyping aside!) He’s always been broad-shouldered and strong, although I have recently started to toy with the concept of giving him some specific scarring or some leg issue, just because he’s been through a lot. For the most part, his design has been fairly consistent - with a few small changes (such as his height, originally I was going to make their heights consistent with the actual size of the country, so England would be taller than Scotland, but somewhere at some point, I changed my mind). 

G. What trait of theirs bothers you the most? Oooh, this is a good question. I think the trait that bothers me the most is - and I’m answering in terms of how easy it is to write - the fact I think Scotland can be quite self righteous. The issue is that I don’t know how to portray his self-righteousness - because he’s quite well within his rights usually, LOL! I guess I’m gonna try and consider how he can be a little cunning himself from time to time, but  I need to work on my Scottish history. Maybe some grave-robbing fic in the future, hmm? I always do think he’d be a bit of a surgeon back then and well…we all know about Burke and Hare, no? (but without the murder. Unless?)

[strawhatsoraya]

Hey there! I really am enjoying your blog! Can I please request a fem!Strawhat!reader x Law where they have a flirty relationship, occasionally physical but it’s mostly all subtext? They meet again when the Heart pirates and Straw Hats attend the concert for Film Red, she makes fun of his bright, obnoxious outfit, meanwhile she’s wearing some pop-punk e-girl thing and all the teasing each other culminates in a very public display of affection? It’s ok if it has nothing to do with Film Red, I’m mainly using that as the point of reference for the outfits. I’m also okay with smut! Thanks in advance!

I haven't seen Film Red lol so everything is just pulled from imagination. I hope you have been doing well, in the time it has taken me to complete this request lol. Hope you're having a good day!

How It's Done

LAW X FEM READER | NSFW (for implied sexual acts) WORD COUNT: 1k CONTENT WARNING: sexually frustrated pining law I guess, and inappropriate thoughts, some implied sexual behavior between reader and law, on/off again relationship

It had been quite some time since you last saw him, yet his crooked grin was still clear in your mind. It leered at you from behind your eyelids when you tried to rest at night, reminding you that sometimes smiles could be lethal. 

Lethal or not, you couldn’t wait to see it hanging from his lips only to disappear into a well placed grimace from a well placed remark. You adored nothing more than to get under his skin. It was the fuel in your veins, an adrenaline rush that could only compare to that burning moment of overpowering your enemies in battle.

These thoughts in mind, you arrive at the venue for the concert. It had been announced all over, and while normally you had better things to do–being part of your own pirate crew and all–this was an opportunity you couldn’t miss. You had heard the Surgeon of Death would be attending. It would be a pity to miss the chance to see an old friend. 

Law liked to make a habit of not acquiring too many friends. He had tried alliances before–playing nice had never been his forte, and had ended up in an unshakable bond not of his choosing. He shakes his head at the thought of the Strawhat Captain and his characteristic wheezy laughter. At the moment, he wanted to focus on having fun, and not a large pain in his ass. Something Bepo had insisted he needed to do. It was to be his only job for the night.  Law was having difficulty grasping that concept. Fun wasn’t something that came easy to him, so he busied himself instead, with thoughts of you.

Like Luffy, you always did things your way; selfishly, charmingly, seductively. He had tried, and failed before, to get you out of his system. Your impish grin, your teasing words always embedded themselves in his brain where he’d pick at it with inked fingers until they bled. When he couldn't drown you out with whiskey, he had tried losing himself in tangled sheets with others, but your voice would always linger. You were an itch he couldn’t scratch until he decided he should–amidst secrecy, impulsive rendezvous where he’d taste the inside of your thighs. Even after you’d cling to him, beg him for more, you always went back to the same elusive you.

Law would never keep what didn’t want to stay. He was a pirate after all, roaming was all he knew.

He tries to learn something new by wearing the shirt that Penguin picked out for him–yellow, with red cow prints. It did not match his hat at all, but apparently that was the point. Law had wanted to button up but Shachi insisted. The point of letting loose was to be free, and being free also meant being half dressed apparently. At first, he had been hesitant to pair the shirt with white shorts, but as he stood in between the crowd, bodies tightly pressed together, he was thankful for the lack of restrictive clothing. 

Heat rose from the ground, wrapping invisible tendrils around his legs. He wiped at his forehead with the back of one hand, golden eyes seeking amongst the crowd a familiar face. He thinks he sees your profile and begins to move but his pride locks his knees, keeps him rooted to his spot in the crowd. The voice coming through the speakers greets the enthusiastic crowd. Voices roar around him in approval, and before he can convince himself to let go of his pride and seek you out, you disappear among the sea of people. Several songs later, he finally moves, weaves through the heated bodies surrounding him.

“Fancy seeing you here!” you greet him loudly. He turns with difficulty at the sound of your voice, to see you behind him. Your hands are daring–weapons he never knew how to counter. They pull at the flaps of his open shirt, and bring him closer to you. “What’s up with this? You’re not looking the part at all. Is this your idea of having fun?” You release his shirt to trace the pattern of his shirt. Your fingertip dances over the fabric on top of his chest. He jerks when you graze his erect nipple.

You laugh as he flushes, grabbing your wrist in his hand.

“As always,” you say in a drawl, loudly, even as you move closer. He peers down his nose at you, and notices you’re so close he could count every single one of your lashes if he wanted to. “Ever the stick in the mud. You don’t know how to loosen up,” your free hand dances over the ripple of his abdominal muscles. You smooth your palm over his chest, and upwards. “Unless my hands are around your throat.”

Your smile is equal parts threatening and seductive. Law spins away from you, makes up an excuse about enjoying the concert. You smirk next to him, and decide you’ll spend the rest of the event right there by his side, your hand occasionally grazing the back of his.

There was no reason for this insubordinate heat. Law could feel drop after drop, slide down the expanse of his back. He felt it coating his hair until it was slick and stuck to the back of his neck and around his forehead. He should blame the countless bodies swaying to the beat, to the arms in the air swinging in excitement. Instead, he blamed it on you. On your hand that would occasionally find its way on his ass, and you’d follow it with a teasing smile and a fake apology. He didn’t know how much he could take, but when a popular song plays, the crowd roars again. It moves to draw closer to the stage, dragging him along. He is pressed up against you, chest to chest. 

You smile at his discomfort, just like you always did; and like you always did–you do as you please. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers tangling into his sweat covered locks. You pull him close, brush your lips against his. He can taste smoke, and whiskey on your tongue.

“Come on Trafalgar,” you mumble against his mouth. “Let me show you how it’s done in these waters.”

[mychemicalrachel]

tell me more about your vegetarian Ronan Lynch agenda

Aah, gladly! 🙏

Ronan grew up on a farm, he was raised in a barn surrounded by animals, some of which are probably older than he is, and with the kind of private life the Lynches lived, secluded and secretive, I have no doubt he was really really close with some of those animals. He loved them, he cared for them. Take a moment to imagine young Ronan hanging out in the fields with a bunch of cows, talking to them, telling them all the secrets he isn't allowed to tell anyone else, things he's too afraid to share with even his brothers. They're his pets, his friends.

I don't think it's ever specified what kind of farm Niall ran, but I think it's safe to assume that whether it was a cow from their own farm or a neighboring farm, there was at least one time in Ronan’s life that Niall brought home some "fresh beef." And Ronan cannot eat it. We all know how compassionate Ronan is, do you really think he would be able to eat something that had a face? A name??? And I think that slaughtering any of the animals Ronan personally knew would've absolutely destroyed him.

It's just that at first; the fresh beef. It feels different to eat store-bought prepackaged meat because it's not someone Ronan knew. But as he got older, he realized that it wasn't really all that different at all, that the meat he got at the store was once an animal and it was raised just to die and maybe someone like Ronan had really loved that animal, or even worse, maybe nobody had ever loved that animal.

And to also further my Niall Lynch is a bad father agenda, I think, in some ill willed attempt to get Ronan to understand the circle of life, he took young Ronan to a slaughterhouse. That was a mistake. Niall thought that having Ronan see the whole process through would help him come to terms with it; their job is to care for the animals and then the animals get to go on to fulfill their purpose and nourish some family. But that backfires when Ronan takes one look at the facility and breaks down. Niall has to literally drag him away because Ronan gets upset and tries to set some of the cows free (it does not work, cows are kinda slow so they don't get very far).

After that, Ronan swears off meat. I think the whole avocado on pizza thing started off as a misunderstanding. Gansey and Ronan had only just recently become friends, they're still figuring each other out, and Gansey wants to make a good impression, so when they to to Nino’s the first time, he wants to be considerate. He looks at the menu and thinks "what would my new vegetarian best friend like on pizza?" and this lovable dipshit decides of course Ronan would like avocado. Because avocado is good and it is not a meat and Gansey feels awful proud of himself for that suggestion. And Ronan, poor gay Ronan who has the biggest crush on Gansey and doesn't want to hurt his feelings, goes SURE 🥴 let's order avocado on my half of the pizza! And it just becomes tradition after that 😂

[tobiasdrake]

THE FINAL HANGOUT for Desuhiko. I. Think. I've gotten all of the Baubles up to this point. Going into this chapter, every character has one Bauble left to find for one last chill-sesh with them. The way that lines up looks deliberate.

Like, if this is the final chapter, it makes sense that everyone's last bauble to close out their Gumshoe Gab would be located here.

Oh god, are we breaking up?

You're literally the only character who has shipping tags pop up in the tag list when I go to type your name at the end of the post. Not even Kurumi. So if this is what it sounds like then you're about to break the hearts of approximately 100% of the game's audience.

Yuma has the patience of a saint. Imagine spending an hour hanging out on an empty rooftop with nothing to do but get rained on, while your only companion (who asked you to come here) is evasively trying not to talk to you.

I would have excused myself and bailed after like five minutes.

This conversation is coded as hell. No wonder Desuhiko's the only character with algorithm-prioritized shipping tags. He's gotten closer to a love confession in this brief conversation than Kurumi has in hours of hanging out with Yuma and constantly refuting that she's his girlfriend, anime-style.

This is purposeful ship bait. The game's made clear that Yuma/Kurumi is its OTP. It refuses to shut up about it even though it's moving that subplot along at a snail's pace. But the coding in this conversation is clearly meant to throw a bone to the shippers.

100% "If you get it, you get it. But if you don't then Desuhiko's just being a silly-billy by how seriously he's taking this." A paper-thin subtext with just enough deniability.

And judging by the hashtags, people have absolutely taken the game up on its offer. In fairness, reading into things like this is what you have to do to squeeze even an ounce of same-sex romance out of most IPs. Writers will ship-tease until the cows come home but balk at giving us openly gay/bi characters.

At least we got our cool enby Halara. As long as Kodaka doesn't lose the fucking script in the final chapter and sticks the landing for them, Halara will easily be the best LGBT character he's ever written. (Not that the competition makes that difficult or anything.)

Trust Yuma to be utterly oblivious to the subtext here. It's a long-established character trait that he struggles with understanding people when their behavior doesn't match his standards of normalcy. As is typical of Kodaka's protags, he is aggressively the Straight Man.

The musical equivalent of saying, "No, I will not go out with you, but I would like to be friends instead."

Desuhiko is not taking rejection well. But at least he's not doing that thing some people do, where they'll let someone go on tour with them as a fan while utterly convinced that, if he gives it some time, Yuma will come around and realize that joining the band really is what he wants for his life.

Desuhiko's in too much pain right now to accept Yuma as a fan. But he's accepting Yuma's rejection for what it is. He isn't deluding himself to cling to something that can't be. He's processing his emotions and allowing himself to feel. That's the first step in healing.

He is, however, stonewalling. His moment of vulnerability has passed. The defensive walls are up and stronger than over. Accusing Yuma of only wanting to be his fan out of pity is a defense mechanism.

Yuma has successfully pried Desuhiko back out from behind his walls. He's sorry that they can't form the band that Desuhiko wanted but there is a strong basis here for an incredible fanship, one that could change the course of both of their lives.

Sorry, Yuma. You talked yourself into this. Fortunately, I get to bail and let you two have this private moment together.

As is pretty well established by this point, I don't have a high opinion of Desuhiko. It's personal. He hits too close to home and reminds me a lot of myself at his age. But I can see why others would like him and his dynamic with Yuma.

He's a far cry from what I expected him to be when I met him. I expected a much more objectionable character, especially given Kodaka's track record. But actually, Desuhiko's pretty cool.

[snarkylinda]

*Slams table* Spencer's Cowboy AU on 15x7 is living rent-free on my head so I decided to expand on it cause it's literally so wholesome and adorable- take it as a sort of celebration of me finally ending the show? I guess?? I had yet to watch Face Off and In the End but that is technically the finale so-

Spencer only mentions what he, J.J, Rossi and Penelope's roles would be in this tiny little town, so I will go ahead and assume that the rest of the guys are fellow cowboys and cowgirls, because I am imagining the aesthetic and uh-huh, it's serving.

I am pretty sure the AU is meant to be the modern version of cowboys, who had mostly evolved to using trucks but Spencer Reid is Spencer Reid so he goes full old style and uses a horse (well, "uses" is really loose here, he mostly just walks beside it and ride with the other guys lmao think of the very few times we see him drive in canon for reference), so does Luke, because I am convinced he has a soft spot for every animal and horses are cool as shit; the rest uses cars or motos for practicably's sake but when it comes to it all of them can ride like crazy. Yes, even J.J. with her silly lil flower shop.

Emily became this sheriff-ish person shortly after Hotch stepped down to live on the camp with his son in peace, but she is mostly at Rossi's drinking everything he has and making jabs at the town's politicians and how much they take out of her- a really wasted sheriff ends up being taken back to her home in a horse as her roomies watch with concern.

And yes, Emily and Spencer are roomies on this. Everyone that is not married and/or with kids (tho I made an few exceptions-) is someone's roomie on this, actually. Because it would be CUTE and the whole thing on Spence's mind is that everyone is on the same small town and he is so right- On 13x15 Spencer is loafing around Em's apparent like is his damn house so lmao, more to who is who's roomie down below but let's just say that Aristoteles (Spence's horse) had been riding (riden?? I dunno english is dumb) by a really wasted Emily that by his actual owner. The fucking thing rolls his eyes at her.

Rossi works with Ashley Seaver, who until before he re-married Chysta was the only other occupant of his saloon/home- and even after he ties the knot still is, don't worry. I just think in canon that their bond is really sweet and I can't really see her as another cowgirl- so an fellow bartender it is.

And speaking of minor girlies- On J.J's shop, she works with Jordan Todd who takes care of everything when she is on matertiny leave (or just busy with the kids in general) and -after a bad experience with a violent robber- ex-cowgirl Elle Greenaway. Before meeting Will and stuff, JJ and Jordan were roomies but ever since she became a family woman, Jordan moved to Elle's (and they kiss because that would be cool-) a little, modest house near J.J's shop. Pretty much everytime some of the Cow-fellows got hurt or something doing their job they would work for a while at J.J's or Rossi's, but Seaver, Jordan and Elle stayed there cause they preferred that life.

And speaking of former cowboys/girls- there had been a number of them that had retired and sold their cattle and bigger lands to settle in and have a nice little family. As I mentioned before, Hotch was the Sheriff before deciding to devote his time to being with Jack most of the time, so he is enjoying that sweet retirement money on an lil house near J.J's shop so his son can grow next to his "cousins".

Kate was a similar case- after getting pregnant, she hang the rope up and started to work on the little market near her home, selling her friend's farms products.

Alex was a cowgirl for an while and actually taught Spencer some things, but after an stressed cow almost kick his fucking head off his torso she went full "nope" and started teaching at the town's one and only's college, she and James lives near Spencer and Emily's tho so occasionally they read together.

And finally Derek was something like Hotch's second on command for an while but after finding love and stuff he became something like the town's handyman, so he could spend more time with newly born Hank. He was Spencer's roomie before Emily but the night he left, Reid gave him one of his cows as an "never forget me" present so lil Hank could be raised near these critters they had loved so much and raised together for 11 years- everyone is all ".....he is literally moving next door- you can WALK to everyone's house here!" but that don't stop the not very straight hug and tears.

Yes, Gideon is dead on here too- sorry but Spencer without some kind of trauma ain't Spencer- he just fell out of his horse after it got scared by thunder. (hehe, giving lore to what Reid's deal with ridding Aristoteles is-)

Stephen is alive tho. He plays Jazz with his band on Rossi's and is overall living his best life.

Luke and Tara are roomies. He used to be Matt's but *points to the Derek and Spencer's segment* family and kids happened, so Tara moved in shortly after she left her fiance. They live on a farm on the other side of town- (the Spen&Em farm is near the congress, theirs is closer to the dessert's part of it) They mostly have sheep instead of cows tho, since Roxy here is a herding dog and Tara used to be a veterinarian before moving to town. She didn't knew she wanted to be a cowgirl in one of the Spen&Em's cows escaped and went wild on town and she didn't fucking hesitate to take Luke's rope and handle the thing- since she decided to make girlbossing with cows and sheep her whole path in life. Luke also does patrols across town to keep order and stuff, but his night duties are mostly.... trap cows that a very drunk Sheriff had accidentally let out of her own farm. Look she is trying ok? and it's really funny. During the day, since Tara looks after the farm when she is not serving cunt, he helps at Penelope's, which brings me to...

Like Reid said in the famous scene, she works in an animal shelter. PG looks after literally anything that moves- since dogs and cats to that one snake that Tara brought with her from her first job (much to everyone's horror but she loves Noddle so everyone can suck it) and while she didn't "like" Luke at first (quote "this town is not big enough for two cowboys" ignoring the fact she is friends with 3 active cowboys- cowpeople?....cowboys.) but after he brought her his dog and horse, they started to bond over it and she pretty much goes to his home every single night since his farm has the most animals (remember that Tara is a former vet-) and also because that ever since Derek got an life and Emily moved out of her little coon she had been feeling a bit lonely and there is so much that dogs and cows can help with that.

Matt is the only active cowboy with family- But that is because he is more on the rescuer side- like a firefighter, the cow on the name is just the aesthetic lmao- so his horary is way more flexible since he doesn't has to actually watch for a herd or an alcoholic roomie.

An overall, despite the constant storms and other incidents, because the general population is really fucking dumb, despite the occasional tragedy and how many times that fucking cow leaves the farm and makes everyone's lives harder- at the end of the day, Cowboy Spencer just sits on the grass, a horse that is more of an assigned driver that an actual horse by his side, a stressed Sheriff with a killer hangover that is begging him to help her fill the taxes and a book on his lap as he is trying to explain the depth of the Odessey to his cow Mildret, and everything is good.

[yeonban]

Send me ✔ and I’ll bold what my muse would do with/for yours.

@halchron asked: ✔ for kenji / marin and aldous / eric :)

Marin & Kenji

Acquaintance:

hold the door for them | help them carry something | let them borrow something | let them use their phone (they're going to have to learn this one together bc all Marin knows is how to make a call) | smile at them when passing in the streets | shake hands with them | flirt with them in a bar | share a taxi with them | give them a ride home | lend them money | sit next to them on public transportation | offer them some food | help them find something they lost

Friendship:

let them stay the night | listen to them complain (or just talk/ramble in their case) at 4 am | help them get over a break up (I mean. if it ever happened??) | go out shopping with them | pet sit for them | help them move houses | help them find a lost pet | go on vacation with them | stay up all night with them | help them hide a dead body (...he would. I doubt /Kenji/ would want to though) | provide an alibi for them | take their side in a break up | talk about their future plans | be maid of honour/best man/etc. at their wedding | share food with them

Lover:

let them stay after sex | gentle sex | rough sex | experiment | handcuffs | bdsm | whips | orgasm denial | aftercare | cuddles after sex | tea/coffee/etc. after sex | gentle kisses | rough kisses | passionate kisses | sloppy kisses | lazy kisses | hang out without sex | hide their relationship | cheat on them | cheat on someone else with them | dirty talk | loving talk | gentle touches | rough touches | nervous/shy touches | say “I love you”

Married/dating:

take them on expensive dates | pay for dates | make them pay for dates | go to the movies | put out on the first date | get an arranged marriage | stay at home most nights | cuddle in front of the tv | propose first | drop hints until they propose | give a big/expensive/elaborate proposal | have a quiet proposal | say yes to a proposal from them, in the far future only (this made me laugh so hard I just imagined that one 'the myth of consent' meme where both sides of the couple were like 'I consent' and then there was Jesus (in this scenario Ioan) off to the side saying '/I/ do not') | have a big wedding | have a small wedding | elope | get married in Vegas | go on an expensive honeymoon | go on a cheap honeymoon | have kids | get a pet (...do their cows and sheep count,) | move in together | laugh during kisses | laugh during sex | tickle fights | fight over who’s cuter | make them sleep on the couch after fights | make up sex | angry sex | no sex | let their parents stay over | let their family visit often | tell them “I love you” every day (he's taking this more seriously now that he knows what losing people who are dear to him out of nowhere feels like)

Sibling/platonic:

fight | hug | laugh at them when they get hurt | help them hide a dead body | provide an alibi for them | tell them they’re annoying at least once a day | share food with them | help them move houses | walk them down the isle | try to sell them online | set up an online dating account for them | set them up on blind dates | try to set them up with your friends | listen to their problems | help them cook | cook them food | make them watch shows they don’t like with them | tell them they’re an idiot/loser/dork/nerd affectionately

Enemy:

fight them | take petty revenge | kill them | try to smother them in their sleep | hire an assassin | work harder to beat them at something | follow their social media just to get mad about it | make passive aggressive remarks towards them | spread rumours about them | laugh at them when they get hurt | take pleasure from them being upset | ruin their life

Eric & Aldous (italicised is for what he would do if need be, but he'd either complain, scoff or roll his eyes the entire time as if it's psychological torture)

Acquaintance:

hold the door for them | help them carry something | let them borrow something | let them use their phone | smile at them when passing in the streets | shake hands with them | flirt with them in a bar | share a taxi with them | give them a ride home | lend them money | sit next to them on public transportation | offer them some food (only if Aldous is fucking dying) | help them find something they lost

Friendship:

let them stay the night | listen to them complain at 4 am | help them get over a break up | go out shopping with them | pet sit for them | help them move houses | help them find a lost pet | go on vacation with them | stay up all night with them | help them hide a dead body | provide an alibi for them | take their side in a break up | talk about their future plans | be maid of honour/best man/etc. at their wedding | share food with them

Lover:

let them stay after sex | gentle sex | rough sex | experiment | handcuffs | bdsm | whips | orgasm denial | aftercare | cuddles after sex | tea/coffee/etc. after sex | gentle kisses | rough kisses | passionate kisses | sloppy kisses | lazy kisses | hang out without sex | hide their relationship | cheat on them | cheat on someone else with them | dirty talk | loving talk | gentle touches | rough touches | nervous/shy touches | say “I love you”

Married/dating:

take them on expensive dates | pay for dates | make them pay for hanging out | go to the movies | put out on the first date | get an arranged marriage | stay at home most nights | cuddle in front of the tv | propose first | drop hints until they propose | give a big/expensive/elaborate proposal | have a quiet proposal | say yes to a proposal from them | have a big wedding | have a small wedding | elope | get married in Vegas | go on an expensive honeymoon | go on a cheap honeymoon | have kids | get a pet | move in together | laugh during kisses | laugh during sex | tickle fights | fight over who’s cuter | make them sleep on the couch after fights | make up sex | angry sex | no sex | let their parents stay over | let their family visit often | tell them “I love you” every day

Sibling/platonic:

fight | hug | laugh at them when they get hurt | help them hide a dead body | provide an alibi for them | tell them they’re annoying at least once a day | share food with them | help them move houses | walk them down the isle | try to sell them online | set up an online dating account for them | set them up on blind dates | try to set them up with your friends | listen to their problems | help them cook | cook them food | make them watch shows they don’t like with them | tell them they’re an idiot/loser/dork/nerd affectionately

Enemy:

fight them | take petty revenge | kill them | try to smother them in their sleep | hire an assassin | work harder to beat them at something | follow their social media just to get mad about it | make passive aggressive remarks towards them | spread rumours about them | laugh at them when they get hurt | take pleasure from them being upset | ruin their life

[sherbet-shark]

Not an ask necessarily more something I need to do once in a blue moon. Imagine Jamil and his S/O hanging out and talking till late at night. They both decide to watch a movie. It can be a romcom, drama, horror. Whatever his S/O prefers to see that evening. Then he noticed his S/O shivering from the slightly cool air that flows through the open window. He closed the window, sat behind them, wrapped his arms around them and covered them both in a blanket. They cuddled the rest of the movie. 🐄~

YOU GRABS SHOULDERS HOW DARE YOU IM BRAINROTTING ABT JAMIL NOW WATCHING STRANGER THINGS WITH HIS S/O BECAUSE THATS WHAT I WATCHED FOR THIS MONTH WITH MY FAMILY,, I WAS SUCH A SCAREDY CAT FOR THE MOST RECENT SEASON! I- I- DONT TOUCH ME IM LEVITATING /LH & J

COW ANON I WILL FIND YOU AND AAAAAAAAaaaaAAAA, binge watching all the seasons with Jamil, and he’s just enraptured with the 80’s and mystery. Ngl I think he might just roll his eyes and groan initially due to some cliques in the show being played on?? I’m not sure but I think it might spook him just a little with the certain things S.T covers, but he’d find it really cute and endearing to see his s/o hugging a pillow peering up at the screen like a scared child, then shivers a little, the couch their on is a little worn down but the Tv, snacks and company make it ok. MAN DONT TOUCH ME IM ROTTING /JJJJ

On that note tho, I’d like to think Jamil might really like Lucas or Max?? Someone that’s no nonsense, and realistic but knows when to let loose. Something he needs to learn for himself tbh. He would also love a character that’s not what they seem, because it’s relatable and it’s interesting for him to see how they pan out. He’d def see Dustin a little annoying but secretly like how he’s always right abt what’s going to happen xDD. IT BECOMES A MOVIE NIGHT DATE BECAUSE YOU’RE BOTH BUSY AF, THE SEASONS AND EPISODES STRECH OUT ESPECIALLY IN THE LATER SEASONS,, OH MY GOD 🥹🥹🥹 sirrrrrrrr JAMIL I’m so enamored with this fictional character it’s not funny— Thamk you for coming by again Cow anon~ we’ll see each other very soon owo.

[gettin-bi-bi-bi]

So, i’m a bi girl and I hate being the cliche of the sob story queer person who cries themself to sleep because they hate being queer, or rather the disruptions being queer causes in their life.

I constantly feel like i’ll need to choose between continuing my normal life and starting a new life in which I only hang out with queer people. Like once I come out on a larger scale someone will brand me like a cow and set me apart with the other queer people. Idk why but I can’t imagine my normal life coexisting with my queerness. I’m not entirely sure how most of my friends’ vision of me will change, even if I know they don’t have a problem with queer ppl in general and that I wouldn’t even be the first queer person they know. I have come out to a couple of them and they all reacted okay, only that my best friend thinks that i’m only attracted to women because I went out with a couple of guys and I didn’t find myself attracted to them in particular lol 😭

I think all of this terrifies me because I considered that regardless of my sexuality i’ll end up with a man in the end, because i’m very masc leaning and it’s also what will be easier for me, but I recently realised that I think I do want to have something with a woman at least once.

I’m very anxious regarding dating in general –even with men– because I find it hard to not think in the long-term even when I do want to be open to short-term relationships too. I logically know that not all relationships are started with marriage or living together in mind, but for some reason I find it hard not to think that way? So I feel like if I start dating a girl i’ll have to consider her a long term partner and i’m not comfortable with that but I do want to know what that’s like and i’m scared

I'm sorry it took me so long to get to this, I had a tough week.

I would recommend that you try to open up to people that you trust about your fears. I understand that you are afraid of how they will look at you once they know you are bi but don't you want them to see who you truly are? Right now you are keeping a part of yourself in the dark. I don't think your friends will suddenly think you are a totally different person - they will just see something new to add to the image they have of you.

You should also check if there are any queer resource centers in your region that you can go to. Maybe even specifically for young people. It might help you to talk to fellow queer people about this with the benefit of them being strangers = nothing to lose.

There's one sentence in your message that I want to comment on in particular which is "this terrifies me because I considered that regardless of my sexuality i’ll end up with a man in the end" - internalised biphobia can be a bitch at making it seem like the end of the world if you "end up with a man" but I'd like you to remember that part of bisexuality usually is attraction to men. And attraction is supposed to feel good. Being in love is supposed to feel good. Sex is supposed to feel good. So ideally if you are with a man you will WANT to be with him. The thought of "ending up with a man" as if that's somehow a failure of your queer existence is internalised biphobia! You're not less bi or queer for being into men and for dating them.

That being said, it's fine if you also want to explore your sexuality with women. You're allowed to do that. Try not to worry about who you will "end up with" and focus on what you want to do right now. Even if you already know you favour a long-term relationship over short-term or one-night-stands, you can focus on getting to know people NOW and not about when to make wedding arrangements.

Maddie