#mindless-octopus

[catfishofoldin99colours]

my brain MUST be getting better because knitting ribbing is now the most boring thing in the fucking world

[stenka-razin]

ok so apparently Eat Babies? went on to be part of actually respected modern industrial act Black Dresses. That's wild. I first heard of her on a compilation where white people rapped over Super Mario Brothers music.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

It's Early, Baby

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, pre-established relationship, light fluff, lotta smut (fingering, blowjob, p in v), humor.

Summary/Warnings: A slow morning gets heated fast.

Author's Note: Request from @wizardluffy! I swear to god I got so close to only horny. But at the last moment. Feelings with the steel chair. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.4k

It’s amazing this doesn’t happen more often, given who Dean is. A year ago, before you got to have this—Dean’s body sprawled over yours, his snoring right in your ear and face pressed into the crook of your neck—you would’ve imagined that it was a daily occurrence. 

But Dean has a lot more self-control than people give him credit for. You’ll see him eyeing your ass when you’re wearing a skirt, but he’ll wait until you’re home to back you against a wall. He’ll kiss on your neck and whisper promises in your ear, but only when he’s sure no one’s looking. And you can try to get him to lose it at a bar—bending over the pool table and batting your eyelashes like a lovesick schoolgirl—but his face won’t even shift until the door to your bedroom closes, and he’s pouncing on you like a lion. 

So this doesn’t happen that often. Not where he’s pressed right into your thighs and grinding slowly. Where he hasn’t somehow caught it in his sleep and moved you away.

Good.

These are your favorite types of mornings. 

“Dean.” You whisper, wiggling slightly. “Dean.”

He grunts, and his arm around you tightens. 

“Dean Winchester-“

“Shhhh,” his lips brush over the base of your throat, and a shiver runs up your spine. “‘m sleepin’.”

“You’re talking-“

“No, I’m not.” He shifts slightly, his dick pressing right against your core, and a small noise escapes your throat.

“Dean-“

He shakes his head. “Five more minutes.”

It’s a good thing he’s so adorable, because he’s clinging to you like an octopus and rutting mindless against you, completely oblivious to the heat building between your legs. 

You let out a sigh—just a little too blissful to be only frustration—and run your fingers through his hair.

“Dean.” You roll your hips against him, and a soft hiss leaves his mouth. “You’ve got a bit of problem there, buddy.”

His eyes slowly open to meet yours, and a little bleary, but still dancing with amusement. “Did you just call me buddy, sweetheart?”

You grin at him. “Got your attention, didn’t it?”

“Ah.” Dean traces a hand slowly over your cheek before pressing a soft, almost teasing kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Babygirl, you always have my attention.”

You open your mouth, trying to pull up a smart retort from the back of your sleep-fogged brain, but Dean’s a little too fast. He nips at your lower lip while pulling the upper one into his teeth, and when you let out a breathy moan, sleep seems to vanish from his mind. 

Dean rolls over you, pinning you fully between the mattress and his body, and all thoughts of smart comebacks are gone. It’s just Dean, all around you. His hand on your hips, slowing sliding under your shirt to palm at your breast as he kisses you with an open, lazy mouth. Two fingers roll at your nipple with a torturously slow pace, and you might be about to fly out of your skin, but it doesn’t matter, because Dean-

“Shit,” you mumble, your back arching slightly off the bed as he switches to your other breath. “Dean-“

“C’mon, sweetheart.” Dean’s grinning against you, his tongue tracing slowly over your lips between words. “’S what you wanted, isn’t it. To have my attention?”

“I- Oh.” His lips attach to your neck, and your eyes flutter slightly. “Dean-“

He hums against your skin, and his hand starts to glide back down. Over your stomach with a teasing squeeze of your ribs, kneading your hips and thighs, then- 

You let out a long, loud moan as Dean starts to rub his thumb on your clit, grinding up to meet his hand, and he groans against your skin. 

“So fuckin’ wet for me, baby.” He’s moving so slow. So slow and teasing, and his thumb is rolling around but never pressing down. “You this needy for me all night? Woke me up cause you needed me to take care of you?”

You gasp as he flicks against you once, and shake your head desperately. “No- That’s not-“

“C’mon,” He hums your name, rising back over your body with a grin. “It’s just me, sweetheart, you can tell me-“

“Dean, I-“ You take a stuttering breath as his finger pushes inside of you, squirming against his body. “Wanted to take care of you, De- Oh-“

You cut yourself off with a moan as he presses his thumb over your clit, starting to pump his finger so fucking slow, and Dean rises over you with a cocky grin. 

“You wanted to take care of me?” He says your name, his finger slamming a little hard into your cunt, and you moan. “Wake me up just so you could what, give me a handjob?”

You’re just lucid enough to glare at him. You’re more creative than that. You love him more than that. And he’s talking like you were making a joke, like you taking care of him would be insane. 

Dean’s slow from sleep. You know it’s the only reason you have an upper hand. 

You’re still not going to waste it.

Right as he pushed the second finger inside of you—if he got to move it, you would have turned to a squirming puddle beneath him and lost all hope—you hook your leg over his waist, and throw all your weight up. It’s enough to catch him off guard. Enough for you to plant your hands on his chest and push him to the side, until you’re straddling his abdomen and grinning down at his wide-eyed expression.

“Hi,” you whisper, your lips hovering right over Dean’s, and his hands fly up to hold your waist.

“Christ.” He mutters, scanning over your smug expression. “That was really fucking hot, sweetheart.”

Something starts to glow in your chest. “Thank you.”

He hums, his hands tugging at the hem of your shirt. “Need this off, baby, wanna see you-“

“You see me all the time-“

Your words die with a squeak as Dean lands a light slap on your ass, and your fingers dig into his shoulder.

“Someone gets a smart when she’s on top.” He grins up at you, pulling your shirt a little higher. “Mines off too. ’S a democracy-“

“That’s not what democracy means.” You mumble. “And I’ll take my shirt off if you take your pants off.”

Dean laughs. “Easiest deal of my life.”

You roll your eyes as he tugs your shirt over your head, and his hands immediately moving to palm at your breasts. You pry them away with a kiss to Dean’s palm, but you still get a glower.

“What’re you-“

“I’m taking care of you, Dean.” You press his hands down to his chest, squeezing them once in a silent plea for him to stay down, and he obeys. 

You still get a loud groan, though, when you wiggle down his stomach and settle between his legs, pulling his sweats down to free his thick, hard cock. 

“This hard for me?” You grin up at him, slowly starting to stroke his shaft, and he glares at you.

“If you don’t start doin’ something, I’m coming down there-“

Dean cuts himself off with a grunt as you press a kiss to the head of him, your hand still pumping a slow as you can manage, and his hand shoots into your hair. 

“Son of a bitch, sweetheart- You gotta-“ His head throws back as you swirl your tongue around him, his hips jerking up into your mouth. “Goddamnit-“

You pull away with a grin, and he tenses beneath you. “Relax, De-“

“I was relaxed.” He grumbles, his thumb moving to trace your cheekbone. “Was havin’ a really good dream about you, baby- And, fuck-“

He jerks up again, as you lick up from the base of his cock to the tip, and you giggle. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” He groans your name, his hips bucking once more as you take him fully your moan, letting him bump against the back of your throat. “You’re a- Feels so fucking good-“

You glance at him under your eyelashes, and it’s a beautiful sight. Dean’s chest heaving as you bob up and down—letting your tongue press flat over his head and jerking him off before pressing back down and moaning as you choke on him—and his eyes squeezed tight as he tries to let you work.

And he really is trying. All you’re getting is the occasional rut when you swallow around him and a mumbled apology, but you know to relax your throat and prepare for him. It’s more than worth it for the way Dean’s loose below you, and the sounds that are rumbling out of his chest, and the way he’s somehow keeping control but still fisting your hair so tight you can feel a slight burn. 

But he’s getting closer. And moaning. And hair is the price you have to pay for, Dean cumming down your throat, you’ll goddamn live- 

“Shit,” Dean hisses your name through his teeth, his cock jumping slightly in your mouth. “Baby, I’m gonna-“

You moan around him, picking up your speed, and his hips slam up into your mouth with almost a growl rolling through his body.

“God fuckin’- Alright-“ Before you can stop him, Dean sitting up, pulling you off with a grunt and hauling you into his chest. “That’s enough of that.”

You squeak, squirming against his hold, but it’s only building the heat in your core. Because there it is. There’s the snap in his control, as he rolls you onto your back and fixes you with a firm gaze that makes your grind up into him, and-

A high, breathy giggle leaves your lips, and Dean raises his brows. 

“You proud of yourself, sweetheart?”

You nod, rolling your hips up so his cock slides against the mess between your thighs. “Very- mmm-“

Dean cuts you off with a long, slow kiss, and you moan down his throat as he lines himself up with your entrance, pushing just the head inside. 

“Wanna cum in you,” he mutters your name against your lips. “Need to feel you, baby. Please lemme feel you-“

You nod, pushing back up into him for another, harsher kiss, and it’s all he needs.

Dean groans as he slides into you, his brow pressing right to yours with a groan. 

“So tight,” he mutters, kissing all over your face as he lets you adjust. “Feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart-“

Another giggle escapes your throat, and it turns into a high gasp when Dean pulls almost all the way out, then slams back in. 

“Not so smug now, are you sweetheart.”

You moan, scratching at his chest, and Dean just chuckles.

 “I know, babygirl. I’ve got you. Gonna fuck you till you can’t fuckin’ walk.” Dean rolls his hips, bumping on that deepest spot inside of you, and you might be melting and blooming all at once. “Just gotta hold on, alright.”

“Oh- Okay-“ The word is barely out of your mouth before Dean starts to move, and it turns into a gasp that Dean swallows with a grin. 

He doesn’t start hard. It’s only a torturous, taunting drag of his hips against yours for so long, until you’re scratching at his back and whining his name into his ear. Then Dean starts to push a little deeper, a little faster, and stars are dancing behind your eyes as he splits you open on his cock. 

But it’s still so slow.

You don’t bother to beg. It rarely works anyway. And Dean knows how to work himself up, just by fucking into you like he has a million years and kissing you until both your lips are swollen. 

Then he hits the deepest part inside of you, you clench around him and moan his name, and his control slips. 

It’s like a switch, whenever it happens. Just like with your mouth on his cock, he grunts, and then all bets are off. 

Dean starts to fuck into you like he’s an animal. His hips slamming down against yours and his mouth attacks everywhere he can possibly reach, fingers squeezing and pulling at the skin of your hips and thighs. You can barely get in a single whine or plea, your head dizzy and full of Dean, Dean, muscled and feral above you, still holding you so gently but bruising into your cunt until you’re fluttering and dripping around his cock- 

You cum suddenly, with a high scream that Dean swallows, and he’s not far behind. His movement stutter—his tongue pushed down your mouth and your pussy clenching around him as you writhe below him—and a deep moan escapes him as he falls over the edge. 

It’s mostly just color and warmth for you, as you float back down. Dean’s pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and flicking your clit—rocketing you right back up as he laughs, the asshole—but you don’t miss his soft murmur of love you, baby, before he pulls out. 

He always says it there. After the control has snapped, right before he’s regained it, and when you’re so cockdrunk out you can only hum in return. 

It’s sort of how you know he means it. He’s just as bare as you are, and he’s kissing your brow with a low promise of cleaning you up, and nobody else in the world gets to have this. Gets to make him lose total control or surrender it over, even if it’s just for a moment. You don’t doubt that Dean’s cleaned up most everyone he’s been with—a warm cloth between your legs, and a soft kiss on your inner thighs—but he stays with you. Dean crawls back over your body and snuggles into your chest, and only you get that.

His warmth, around you, whenever you want. Hip lips brushing your neck as you lay in each other’s warmth, neither of you in a rush to move until Sam starts slamming on the door. 

Dean’s slack above you. And when his snoring starts up once more, you smile up at the ceiling. 

You’ll stay here as long as you can. At his side, every single morning, as long as Dean lets you.

And if he lets you, you’re just going to let him keep sleeping. He’s earned it. 

You be here when he wakes up, anyway.

End Note: Soft dean is very important to me. Dear God take all his suffering and give it to... God.

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Taglist (Fill out this form to be added!)

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature @sthefferrete @lyarr24

@deansbbyx @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n @globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr

@youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco @elle14-blog1

@impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde @itsdearapril @apobangpo-0613 @alwaystiredandconfused

@arcticwisteria @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007 @jackles010378 @godhelpthisbtch

@ilovedeanwinchester4 @sleepykittycx @immastealurkneecaps @star-yawnznn @maddie0101

@chi-raz @lori19 @wynnthewynnderful @redwinexsupernova @tiana-kh

@woaheasytig3r @canibeyourghoulfriend @lovelywebber @salemslostwitch @winchester-whiskey

@and-i-wish @jsudsgf @fullbelieverheart @wowzabowza69 @bonbonnie88

@pillowjj @barnes70stark @kamisobsessed @happyfxckinghorrors @deans-yn

@jofinka

[dr-spectre]

I really like it when fan artists in the Splatoon community draw Hypno Callie as Callie but way more psychotic and fucked up.

The way artists draw her with the swirly eyes, red backgrounds, unique posing, etc, it's so cool! Way better than drawing her as some cold brainwashed zombie that sucks the life out of Callie because God forbid that woman has a neutral expression.

It fits more in line with how Hypno Callie actually acts like in Splatoon 2. She ain't a mindless brainwashed drone and the Callie we know is gone as lots of people say oh no no no. She is a CRAZY WOMAN!!! Her dialogue is shockingly similar to her harsh dialogue found in Splatoon 1 Splatfests.

Like... friendly reminder, hypnosis ≠ brainwashing/mind control. You cannot use the two terms interchangeably no matter how hard you try to argue. Hypnosis is a weird and unique state for a person to be in.

To me, Hypno Callie works best when Callie who has been under a lot of distress and suffering from her lonely busy life, runs off and decides to join the Octarians out of her own free will, and Octavio creates these hypnotic shades in order to basically keep Callie under control more as she is a wild card and could decide to run off at random. He doesn't outright brainwash her or mind control her, but he just gives her suggestions in a relaxed hypnotic state, and those suggestions just so happen line up with Callie's morals in her mentally unwell mind.

And Callie... she just needs help. She needs that reminder of the good memories she went through. All the times with Marie... when the shades get shot off of her, she still fights with Marie, she's still angry and full of this darkness inside her heart. But when she hears that heavenly melody... all of those positive memories finally rush back into her and she goes "wait... I remember! YEAH!!!" And then she finally reunites with her cousin and gets to have a fresh start with her...

It makes Splatoon 3 more satisfying too as Callie and Marie are so happy together and look back at the past with respect and go "you know, if it wasn't for those events, maybe we wouldn't be the people we are today." That's some incredible stuff man.

And when fan artists properly show that and show Hypno Callie as the girl we know but in a crazed state that needs help, it's some powerful art...

I've seen so much art of Hypno Callie with octopus tentacles around her and her "brainwashing" Marie too and it's so fucking vile and uncomfortable and disgusting to me. Its so gross that people wanna treat Callie like that, you know? It's this weird... disturbing and... here we go....

.....sexual thing the community used to do back in 2017 to 2019. It was an awful time and the VERY SERIOUS AND DISTURBING implications that it brought up are just... WHY?!?!?! GOD WHY?!?! UGHHH!!! You want Callie to be kidnapped, get brainwashed forcefully, lose her memories AND THEN GET SEXUALLY... NO... IM NOT GONNA FINISH THAT! FUCK YOU!!! FUCK OFF!!! HOW DARE YOU!!! HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!!!!

Ugh...

...But I'm very glad that fan artists have moved past that weird and uncomfortable phase and are drawing this important arc for Callie in a more visually powerful way.

So yeah, good job Splatoon fan artists! You're doing DAMN great!!!! Now it's time for youtubers and timeline explainers to pick up the slack....

[fantasymoongirl999]

Ninjago monstrosity spoilers

Omg monstrosity was so cool!!! I know they upped the age rating, but I didn't expect them to go so far down the horror realm!!!

Like omg the centipede thing was so interesting!! Growing one by one with each person you kill, becoming stronger and stronger, growing infinitely! Trapping and dissolving any living thing in sight into a mindless being for your growth? Now that's so messed up and I loved it!!! And just how many people died to that monster? It wound around the whole cave!! That's insane.

Also the siren octopus thing was so we'll done!! Desperate or not, Wu appearing like that, as sort of a vision seems fitting. He's always randomly showing up to guide everyone, so it would make sense, it would have fooled me. And just showing everyone you love, making you believe that to reunite you all, all you have to done is come forward, be swallowed by the ocean? That was awesome!! Poor Kai slowly walking to his demise, nothing but love and longing holding him, it was absolutely perfect!!!!

Shout out to everyone who worked on this because dang!! That was awesome!! The music! The impact frames! The sound design! The scenery! The voice acting!! The monster designs!! All 10/10

I'm going to shove this down everyone's throat now!

[moonfox281]

I headcanon a lot about Jason's little traits of the time when he was a street rat that never really leave even after he has grown up and out to be the man he was these days.

Like how he eats FAST and A LOT and how absurdly enjoyable he looks when eating even when the food is crap. Or like how he always straps a knife or a gun behind his back to EVERYWHERE even though hardly anyone would ever mindless pick up a fight with him these days.

Or how he octopus a dead grip to Dick in his sleep that no force on earth can break through. To the point that it can be uncomfortable sometimes and oh boy, imagine Dick needs to hit the toilet and he would be kicking, shouting, crawling on Jason’s skin in desperation and Jason would Absolute Not.Let.Go!

Because that was how he survived on the street, right? You don't let go of your precious, not even in your sleep.

[lunar-rcp]

Any amber hcs?/nf

𖦹 🌷 ˓ ミ Amber headcanons ໒꒱ ‧₊

♡ !! Thank you for this ask! I love amber a lot!! She needs more attention,,

cw: parental death

✦ Has the best fashion sense out of the team. Having a fashion crisis? Just come to Amber, she'll help out! Sometimes she even likes to design her own clothing.. however, she does need her own models of course! That being, none other than the rescue team! (Roy & Poli are forced to wear dresses sometimes) (Someone please draw that actually)

✦ It may not seem like it, but she can be a TOTAL flirt. She can be bold, and she's not afraid to do so! Which leads to Poli and Roy mostly being flustered by her sparkle.

✦ The opposite of Roy, Amber actually enjoys spicy food. Whenever they both order something, she helps Roy with his serving if something happened to be spicy in it.

✦ Honestly, I don't think this is my own headcanon. We should all agree Amber would be absolutely terrifying when she gets angry.

✦ Amber beats herself up whenever she messes up something. She's afraid of failure, and she despises it. However, the team will always tell her that it's okay to make mistakes.

✦ Literally smells like roses and flowerly perfume. She's a clean girl i'm telling you.

✦ When she met Sandy, she was EXTREMELY overjoyed. To think there would be an another girl in a rescue team had her on cloud nine. Sandy, Amber and Jin often like to do girl hang outs, gossiping about the guys lol (poor them)

✦ Loves to collect crystals and has an entire collection of them. She even gifted crystals to the rescue team members, they treasure it dearly. Here's the crystals she gave to them

Poli - Sodalite

Roy - Red jasper

Helly - Chyrsoprase

Jin - Sunstone

✦ She can be a bit of a nerd, but that's a given. She sometimes goes off about rambling about random things like gemstones and such, but the others happily listen to her rambles. Even if she gets a little embarrassed when she finds out she's been rambling.

✦ Has the healthiest sleeping schedule out of the team. Wakes up early, and goes to bed early. Poli might wake up the earliest, but does he go to bed early? Well..

✦ Enjoys a green smoothie everyday. She tries to suggest the idea to the others. (She was met with Poli, Helly and Jin in utter disgust. However, Roy enjoyed it.)

✦ While I imagine roy as the cook for the team, she's the BAKER for the team! Absolutely makes the most godly desserts that cease to exist. The team adores it. She's in charge for birthday cakes.

✦ When Amber was little, she had to face her mom being pretty sick. Her mom unfortunately passed away when she was a teenager. This was the main reason why she became a nurse, to protect others.

✦ She comes from a big family! She has 5 other siblings, and she's the oldest. Even if it's a lot, she all loves them dearly with her heart.

✦ Adores jewerly. Whenever she has the time, she loves making little bracelets out of gemstones for the team. She's really creative whenever it comes to making accessoires.

✦ Amber dislikes sea food. Especially octopus. She can't really handle textures of certain foods sometimes.

✦ Whenever she's the one who gets sick, she's forced to face the team go into a mindless panic. Even if it's chaotic, it does make her feel better that they care so much for her.

✦ When the others are sick, she knows exactly what to do. She makes sure they have ALL the comfort they need. To kidshows or humming songs, she got them.

✦ Speaking of humming songs.. Amber can sing really well. She doesn't do it often, but whenever they have karoke nights thats when her voice really comes out.

✦ Good at archery! She has a really good aim. Watch out.

✦ Amber feels like she's the weakest of the team since she can't carry heavy stuff without her arms giving out. She feels like she's just supposed to stand on the side for aid rather than help, because she'll just mess it up.

✦ Sometimes a little TOO forgiving. She tries her best to not easily forgive, but it's hard for her.

[lord-of-the-wasteland]

Lord of the wasteland may i have a bedtime story ? 👉👈

yes of course, my dear wastelander.

there was once a young little shark that was a bit of an outcast among the other aquatic animals, because they feared him for his predatory reputation. "every shark must be bad": said the fishes. "every shark will always be cruel and mindless": said the seahorses. "sharks can only destroy but never love" added the octopus.

the shark was hurt and upset by these words. he was still so little and his intentions were always pure. never had he ever hurt anyone with his teeth. but the others would always be deadly afraid of him.

there was a couple days passing and whenever he showed up the same things were being said to him. though one day he swam around and none of the aquatic animals were to be found, no fishes, no seahorses, no octopi. he wondered were they would go until he spotted a diver nearby. his net full of sea creatures. the little shark would draw closer and he was able to spot those that would always call him names. he felt unsure about what he was about to do next but he couldn't help himself. he was doing the right thing in his mind... with a big charge he bit the diver in the arm. the diver immediately let go off of the net and the animals swam free. upon release they looked at the shark and then fled.

the next day they would meet again and they would thank the little shark. they had judged him wrongly and they felt sorry about it. the shark replied. "fear can blur a vision. I acted out of love and the only bad I know is the people that want to harm us. let's not harm each other."

the end.

[secretly-a-catamount]

(@lescahiersdesable I also wrote this story here on ao3.)

  “No, please!” the woman said fearfully, “Don’t hurt me!” Her dark eyes desperately tried to find something in the swallowing darkness.

  “Now, now, my svelte beauty,” purred the creature as it slipped out of the shadows, “no need to make a fuss.”

  It was a man, with sharp, inhuman teeth, pupil-less eyes, and unnaturally pale skin. He wore a black cloak with a high collar and a blood-red gemstone clasp. He spoke with a foreign accent.

  The woman screamed as the monster grabbed her by the shoulders and sunk his fangs into her throat. Blood splattered against her white dress as she struggled, shrieking for mercy, then suddenly, with a burst of strength, the woman—

  “Don’t worry, kid, there’s not enough blood in your veins for any one of us to want to do that to you.”

  Kit jumped. Heart skipping a beat at the abrupt appearance of a girl, he spat out a string of profanities, and then said, “God, you scared me.”

  “Nothing to do with God here. Creature of the Dammed and all that.” The girl was a few years older than him, a young woman really, with a spill of straight black hair lthat feel to her waist and the eyes that all the Blackthorns seemed to share, a particular shade of blue-green that reminded Kit of the thrashing ocean waves that crashed to the shore whenever there was a storm. She spoke with a faint accent and was also quite obviously a vampire, which was weird because he thought vampires weren’t allowed in the Institute thanks to the Shadowhunters’ magical racism. Although maybe, Kit thought, seeing the open eye etched on the back of her hand and the lattice of silver scars crisscrossing her body, the rules were different when the vampire used to be one of them.

  He blinked, not sure what to make of the joke, and then decided to focus on the more pressing matter. “Who the hell are you? How the hell are you here?” He tightened his grip on the dagger he’d liberated from the Blackthorn’s weapons-room.

  “Now that’s more in my wheelhouse.”

  The girl neatly sat herself down on the couch beside him. Her movements weren’t particularly inhuman, but the sword that hung from her hip certainly was. The blade was sleek, long, and almost delicate-looking. Seemingly made from the same material that the Shadowhunters’ special knifes were made from — some sort of crystal-metal alloy that belonged exclusively to the Shadowhunters, because they’re just so good at sharing, Kit thought bitterly — the sword shone subtlety, with black runes Kit didn’t know inset into the blade.

  “I’m Annabel Blackthorn, the Head of the L.A. vampire clan.  As for why I’m here, I need to talk to Emma and Julian. Do you know where they are?”

  “They went on a patrol.” Kit answered, turning the dagger in his hand over and over as he talked, a mindless, repetitive motion that brought him comfort. “But how are you here, like, in the Institute? I thought—“

  “Auntie Annabel!” A shrike, a blur, and Annabel was engulfed in the littlest Blackthorn’s embrace.

“You came! You told me she wouldn’t, but she came.” Tavvy clung to Annabel’s black jacket like a determined octopus as she moved to give Livvy — who’d just come into the room with a ridiculously giant tub of popcorn in her hands — a one-armed hug.

  Livvy accepted the hug, stuck her tongue out at Tavvy, and said, “I didn’t say she wouldn’t come, I just said it would be hard for her to. ‘cuz of the warding.”

  Annabel rolled her eyes and moved to take the popcorn. She placed the popcorn on the table and settled back on the couch. “Malcolm’s spelled me to be able to go into warded buildings since long before you were born. Who’d you think taught Magnus Bane the magic that lets Rafael Santiago trounce around like he owns the place? That place being the New York Institute.” She said, throwing Kit a backwards glance and a bone he didn’t take.

 Kit silently scooted over to make room on the couch. He tightened his grip on the dagger, trying to distract himself from the desperate pang of loneliness that just splintered his heart. His father was dead, torn apart by a rogue gang of werewolves, and even if he wasn’t, Kit couldn’t remember the last time they’d done something like a movie night; Johnny was always too busy swindling grandmas out of their wallets and children out of their pocket allowance to do anything he considered “unnecessarily soft” with Kit.

  “Where’s Dru? Last I checked, movies were her thing.”

  “She’s mooning over Cameron Ashdown.” Livvy answered, sitting entirely too close to Kit.

  “He’s the babysitter.” Tavvy added as he practically climbed into Livvy’s lap, ”Emma says Livvy has a crush on him.”

  Livvy snapped her head around to face Annabel, her cheeks coloring. “I do not!”

  “It’s fine if you do,” Annabel smiled, revealing pointed teeth, “love is a marvelous thing. But he’s much too old for you. Same goes for Dru. So if you try flirting or something and he doesn’t immediately turn you down, you tell me, so I can take care of it.”

  Livvy groaned. “I already had this talk with both Julian and Emma. Separately! I don’t wanna date Cameron, I just think he’s pretty to look at. Same goes for Dru. And besides, he’s Emma’s boyfriend. Again.”

  “They’re together again?” The Head of the L.A. vampire clan got a far away look on her face, her voice dropping to a level Kit had to strain to hear.

  A particularly brutal scream came from the TV. Tavvy flinched as the vampire on the screen tore the struggling woman’s throat out, splattering them both with her blood. Livvy tightened her grip on her younger brother, her Rune-covered arms encircling his small body.

  They were too busy discussing whether or not they should change the channel — Tavvy was scared, but was trying to pretend he wasn’t — to notice that Kit had left the room.

[blood-injections]

Zombies that aren’t mindless or anything like the classic zombie, but that aren’t Smart either, like the other side of the spectrum, where they manage to be intelligent to a fault, but still always hostile and singleminded when it comes to. You know. Being a zombie. Zombies that are something in between, or maybe not in between but a little to the side. Not a brainless thing, not just slow and limping or fast and brutal. Something with just enough reason to alternate between the two. Less of a Thing or a Monster and more of a Creature. A zombie in which the human mind is just alive enough to make it something akin to say, corvids. Crows. Or a lab eat or an octopus. Something smart like that. Zombies that are Predators that can learn and adapt and puzzle things out. The kind of thing that if they were to utilize that 24/7, we’d be done for. But they don’t, and so as a zombie apocalypse, it would be pretty underwhelming, with zombies just as a sort of.. invasive species. They’re just animals, for the most part they’ll ignore you, do their own thing. But if they’re hungry, sure, no, you better pray, because if it’s hunting time.. now you’re the deer.

[monster-rinds]

Chapter 10: Not forgotten

Felicity had lost Josephine several blocks back and some time ago, running from this monster. 

It was no endurance hunter, but it was still relentless. And it only had interest in Felicity. It must have been the one that took that part of her in the theater restroom. It was the only way it could have known where her home was, to lay in wait for her there. Unless it had been following her around since, but she doubted that.

Seeing its behavior as they’d both dodged and weaved and sprinted and dashed away from it, Felicity had eventually directed them to split up, shouting at Josephine to run home.

When Josephine had protested, Felicity managed to put such a look of determination and authority into Amber’s eyes that her friend had shut up and turned and ran away. And the monster didn’t even break its stride in pursuit of Felicity.

‘Monster’ was such a good word for this thing, too. It was horrific, and it had no care in the world for who or what saw it as it tore through the suburbs of Gresham after her.

Felicity could eat it herself, if she got the drop on it, she was sure. But after a couple of attempts to run ahead, double back, and ambush it, she learned very quickly that she couldn’t surprise it. It knew exactly where she was.

It must have absorbed those memories of hers it had eaten. She couldn’t do that sort of thing herself, but she’d seen and heard of emanants who could.

It was so devastating and infuriating, a deep violation. Those memories were hers, a part of her. But now she no longer had any access to them at all, as they’d been ripped from her very being. Amputated. And this thing was using them against her.

And now she was exhausted and starving and flagging and just so, so desperate.

If she absolutely had to, she could eat one or more of her emanant headmates. But she preferred to not even entertain that idea. They were her family. She’d relied upon them, and them upon her. And she wouldn’t break that covenant until she was mindless and unable to control herself. And she’d do everything in her power to avoid that fate for them. Especially since she couldn’t absorb their memories by eating them. It would be such a waste.

She needed to find food soon, though. But if she could just survive the night she might get a chance to do that.

Presently, she had her back against the dirty white asbestos siding of an older house. The strips of pressed and molded material pushing into her back as she caught her breath, she kept her ears open for the sounds of her pursuer, who was very noisy.

Dusk was coming fast, with winter right around the corner.

Two slapping noises and a massive scraping sound repeated over and over, getting obviously closer, accompanied by the periodic rumbling she couldn’t even hear. She felt it in her gut and chest, as if it was rearranging her host’s cells, pulsing like a big cat’s half-assed purr.

Soon, she’d need to run again. Very soon.

But again, she took stock. She glanced around the corner of the house, and saw it pulling itself up onto the sidewalk, pushing through a mailbox and a garbage can, straight at her. Its current path would take it through the side of the house. Though, she’d seen it interact with walls before.

Any physical object that didn’t immediately give way would cause it to stop and sniff.

It had no eyes, and no obvious ears. It was tracking Felicity with its emanant senses, a range of non-physical ways of detecting patterns in the energy of spacetime, and it couldn’t see physical obstacles.

Apparently, scent helped it to evaluate whatever it bumped into, but it didn’t use that sense to hunt her.

When it encountered the side of the house, it would probably go around.

She’d also seen how it had attacked her from the storm drain. It was capable of squeezing its bulk through nearly any crack or crevice like an octopus, despite otherwise functioning as if it had bones and teeth.

Unless she could figure out how to enter its psyche to eat it from within, or some way to destroy its body with physical force, her only other option was to trap it in a sealed container of some sort.

Like, perhaps, a walk-in freezer?

That might be possible.

These thoughts came to her fast, springing from half formed ideas and observations she’d had the last time she’d stopped for breath.

The thing rested by moving slowly whenever she stopped running. Then, when it got close enough, it would sprint again.

Her host’s human body could perpetually outrun it, and maybe even eventually outdistance it. Especially if she got in a vehicle, like a bus or the MAX. But it probably knew where she had to go to keep her host alive and well, and functioning in society. It at least knew where she lived.

It could ambush her later.

She needed help.

She needed help from someone better equipped to deal with this thing. Someone who didn’t need eye contact to do their best trick, whatever it might be.

She edged away from the corner of the house, putting more of the building between her and the monster.

Synthia, a thought bubbled up from below her mind. Synthia is ancient and must be wily. She has to know about this kind of thing.

The thought had a mental voice to it that felt like familiar herbal tea.

“You remember her?” she whispered out loud, to make sure her headmates could hear her.

Yes, came the answer.

“How do I find her?” Felicity asked, taking her Sharpie out of Amber’s purse and uncapping it.

Her domain is here, was the reply, accompanied by a vision of a vaguely familiar sidewalk passing by an unofficial trail entering a wooded lot, and the general sense of where that was in the neighborhood.

“Fantastic!” she hissed, turning and narrowing her eyes as she quickly scribbled her personal glyph on the wall of the house.

Just as she made the last stroke, the structure shuddered and groaned with the impact of two tons of monster. It caused her marker to skip, of course.

She turned and ran as fast as she could, to head down the block, and around the corner there, to sprint away from Synthia’s domain and toward a cluster of fast food joints.

She wondered if she left her host completely, would the monster follow her, and leave Amber and her other emanants alone?

With the memories that her headmate had shared with her, she could do what she needed to do, if she could lure the beast far enough away first, or get lucky and trap it with that walk-in idea.

What would happen if it got stuck in a walk-in with an abandoned human host in there. Would it eat the person?

Did she care?

She kinda did, she thought. Just a little. Obviously. She’d asked herself the question, after all.

As she ran, she thought about how she and her pursuer had managed to avoid the police who’d been called to intercept the violence.

It had mostly been due to her tenacity to keep running from the thing. But also how the human authorities had taken their time to deploy their officers to the scene. Also, a bit of chance.

She’d think that maybe there was something else at work, like something regarding her pursuer’s defenses. But she’d seen plenty of civilian bystanders recording it on their phones.

It was doing nothing to avoid human contact and recognition.

It would be interesting to see how this played out.

“Can you keep Amber safe while I’m gone?” she gasped out between breaths.

Maybe.

“I’ll try to get you to a safe place, first,” she responded. “Gonna spread my eyes around a few more places first.”

She already had eyes on most of Gresham, but a few more in strategic places could mean the difference between her plan working and being cornered one last time.

If all went well, she’d make it to Synthia’s place in a couple of hours, well after dark.

If not, it’s entirely possible the emanant eater would choose to wait at Synthia’s domain for her, since it almost certainly had Felicity’s memories of visiting the place and knew why she might go there.

If she was unable to trap it, and only lose it, that seemed likely.

She made a point of glancing back and slowing down, to make sure it was still following.

---

I’d devised an elaborate plan, which is usually a bad idea when you’re sober. But as we walked to my wooded lot, I recovered from my stupor quickly and couldn’t think of a better alternative. There were two big weak points in my plan, but there was nothing I could do except try to finesse them when we got there.

It was dark, with fewer people about to act as witnesses, and I actually did feel safer having someone else with me. Anyone. It didn’t have to be Greg. But it was Greg.

And when we would get to my place, the first thing he’d notice was that it was a lot full of woods with a game trail going through it, and no driveway or mailbox.

And that was the first weak point. Whether I invited him or not, he’d have to make the decision of whether to follow me in to see my house, or let me go in alone, and trust that I was telling the truth.

Which I absolutely would be, because as we were walking to my place, I was extending myself into my domain enough to command it to manifest a nice little cottage in the clearing.

And then I had to decide what kind of story I would tell him about the cottage and whether or not I had a landlord, or what I was doing there at all.

This had me a little distracted, because it took a certain amount of concentration.

Which meant I was relying on Greg to alert me to anything strange, even though he didn’t have all the senses I did.

I was also not paying full attention to what he was saying, going on automatic and inserting grunts and other vocalizations where it seemed appropriate. I even laughed at his jokes.

So, when I was done constructing and prepping my new cottage, I came back to our locality and my physical projection to hear him saying, “Anyway. It is so refreshing to get to hang out with you outside of work. This is a nice walk, don’t you think? Cold. But the sky is clear, and… well, clear for being filled with light pollution I guess.”

And I seriously slipped and said, “You should have seen it before…” and I stopped myself.

He gave me a strange look and responded, “I have. More or less. I grew up in East Oregon.”

“Oh. Cool,” I replied.

I’d been pushing things, for the last few years, seeing what I could get away with saying around my friends. I guessed I’d made it a bad habit. And now that I was becoming more embroiled in monster affairs, I’d forgotten who my company was, and had followed that habit without first thinking about it. I’d lost track of where my own boundaries were.

I checked Greg’s face, but he had an easy expression with his right eyebrow raised.

“It’s fucking gorgeous out there,” he said. “I really miss it.”

“It was still pretty dark here in the ‘90s,” I said, carefully considering my projected age. I was still pushing it, but relatively safely. “I understand it was even better in the ‘70s. But probably nothing like where you lived.”

He bobbed his head as he appraised me, “I could have sworn you were younger than that! Nice.” He looked around, and said, “At least the light makes it easier to see what’s around us. We can enjoy the neighborhood.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Thanks for walking me home.”

“Not at all!”

“Well, we’re almost there.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed. “You’re gonna think this is weird, but I’ve got a pretty damn cool property. It’s right up there.” And I pointed half a block ahead of us where my lot was. “You might actually like it, I think, once you get over how secluded it is. I’m sort of, uh, off the grid.”

He squinted at where I was pointing, then gave me a startled look. There was no mistaking my indication. The stretch of woods was long enough that I couldn’t be pointing at the house beyond it.

“You’re shitting me,” he said. “You’re pointing at a park. Are you saying you’re homeless”

“I do believe I am not,” I told him with a faint smile. “That’s my property. Or, it might as well be. I just finished building a cozy little cottage on it.”

He gave me affable but an incredulous scowl, showing teeth, “Now you’re really shitting me. With your own hands?”

Now, I did know Greg. I knew that he was socialist at heart, but also a bit anarchist, with an interest in what he would call ‘clandestined civil action’. By which he meant, people taking matters into their own hands. His favorite Star Wars movie was, despite how much he physically resembled his fanboy counterparts, The Last Jedi. The one with a hermit Luke, where the women did all the heavy lifting, and hope was to be found amongst the common folk of the galaxy. 

I knew I was hooking him.

“There’s a reason I haven’t ever hung out with you guys after work before,” I said, telling a different truth. And then another, “It took longer than I expected.”

“Projects like that usually do,” he said. He chewed his lip as he studied the lot we were approaching. The trail inward was now visible in the streetlight. He asked, “Can I come in and see it?”

I shrugged and said, “Sure? You don’t have to, of course. But if you feel like you should walk me through the trail, I wouldn’t object.”

I did have a quick and chilling vision in my head of Croc-face leaping out of the trees to attack Greg, though.

I was pretty certain that wouldn’t happen, however, since I’d had enough evidence to convince me it was a teratovore, and not the people eater I’d thought it was initially.

Why was I more afraid of Greg being hurt than me, though?

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Not one more step,” Greg said a step behind me, in a softer, more coquettish and sarcastic voice. A familiar lilt. “It’s waiting for me in there, and it’ll get you instead if I leave.”

---

previous

next

[princesspastel8]

Chapter 42

Third POV

Jeff lost track of time at this point, but he can tell the month is almost over. This time, he followed Toby's warning. He stopped shouting at the camera, stopped his mindless fits of laughter, and reframed from attacking anyone who tried to give him food. However, the killer couldn't stop throwing himself at the cushion walls as a form of entertainment. He found it hilarious that no matter how much force he puts into it, he'd bounce right off with no injuries.

His black eye and bust lip have healed as well as his bruised cheek, thanks to EJ's aid. But because of his antics, Jeff has been moved to a chair and strapped to it with leather belts. To say that made things much harder would be an understatement. Maybe it's because normally the killer wouldn't care how long he'd be forced to spend in the white room, but now he has someone he desperately needs to get back to.

At this thought, the door to the white room opens. There's stands Hoodie, without his cloth mask, which is odd. His stoic eyes look at the camera, then at Jeff. He grumbles as he quickly goes to Jeff and undo his restraints, much to Jeff's surprise.

"Its normally the faceless fucker doing this after some drawn out speech on if I learned my lesson." He said mockingly, rolling his eyes

Hoodie doesn't answer, making the killer raise a brow. "Brian. Why are you doing this? Any idea how much trouble you'll be in with that octopus?"

Hoodie finishes, straightening himself as he eyes Jeff for using his real name. "Toby." Was all he said before rushing out of the room.

Confused, Jeff rushes after him. "Hold the fuck on Hoodie! Just saying the ticking shit's name doesn't answer my question!"

Hoodie once again doesn't respond nor shows any sighs of slowing down. He rushes up the stairs and forces the wooden doors leading above ground open. Once to the surface, he runs into the woods, leaving Jeff little chance to catch him. The smiling killer grumbles, kicking a rock, then whence - realizing he's not wearing any shoes.

He sighs heavily, walking to the mansion that's only a few meters away. Jeff opens the door with his hands instead of kicking it open. He ignores the stares and walks straight into the kitchen. He makes himself a sandwich and gets a water bottle. The smiling killer scoffs it down rather quickly, sighing in satisfaction.

"You are looong over due for a shower." BEN said, holding his nose as he entered into the kitchen.

"Slenderman, finally let you out?" Eyesless Jack ask, opening the refrigerator.

"Nah, it was Hoodie. Shit was fucking weird. He let me loose then took off in the woods. What's happening now?"

"No idea. I remember seeing Toby about to set out on his mission but looked frazzled after getting some type of message from that witch girl."

At the mention of Luna, the thought of Eboni falls heavy on him. He feels a gut, twisting feeling settle onto him. He ignores the rest of the conversation and walks up the stairs to his room. He greets smile dog briefly. He takes a quick shower, brushing his teeth and letting his hair air dry. He places on his classic outfit - white hoodie, skinny black jeans, and boots.

Once done, he grabs his phone from the nightstand, glad it's been left on the charger this whole time. He raises a brow at the many messages from Eboni, worry setting into his heart - it almost makes him gag. He still hates these types of emotions no matter who they're for. He still views them as weaknesses.

Nevertheless, he opens her messages, the first text making his heart sink into his stomach. Text after text makes his heart sink further down until he can no longer breathe, realizing he's been holding his breath. But the last text, sent today, causes his blood to run cold with panic and dread. He dials her number, pacing back and forth in his room. After the third attempt, he rushes out of his room, running down the stairs.

"Whoa! Damn Jeff, what's wr-"

EJ couldn't finish his sentence, Jeff running out of the front door - not bothering to close it. There's no way she couldn't have. Eboni wouldn't take her life. She wouldn't go against her moral code even after all that's happened to her. Jeff refuses to believe his girl would go so far as to kill herself.

"Fuck..FUCK! PICK UP DAMNIT!" he shouts, still calling Eboni as he runs through the woods and towards her home.

With each miss phonecall, brings little hope that Eboni didn't end her life. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to face the fact that Eboni took her life because he wasn't there. Because he couldn't protect her, because he couldn't save her. But the sight of her open front door does very little to ease his unsteady heart.

Jeff rushes inside, breathing heavily but taking no time to catch his breath. That last message was sent within the early morning hours. It's midnight. The killer doesn't have the option to catch his breath. He runs up the stairs, hearing the loud music blast from behind Eboni's door.

"Princess? Shit! Open the door!" He shouts over the music, body trembling when he didn't receive an answer.

So he throws his body to the door, trying to break it down. After a few times, he's successful. Upon entering her room, he's shocked to see it in this state. Everything is completely destroyed, damaged behind repair. He runs his hand through his hair in frustration when he notices she's not there but pauses at the sight of her close bathroom door.

With unsteady feet, he speed walks to the door, placing his shaking hand on the doorknob and twisting it - slowly pushing the door open. Time seems to stop around him, his lips trembling and eyes widening in horror. This can't be happening.

"EBONI!" he screams, "Oh..oh my god, Eboni!"

Eboni's body is in the tub full of water that is now completely red. A bottle of alcohol and pills are stationed next to the tub and a pair of scissors on the other side. Jeff lifts her limp body out of the water, her body cold - lifeless. Jeff shakes his head at the sight of her slit wrist. A pained sound leaves his lips, surprising himself. He forces his breathing to calm down as he places his head against her chest, desperate to hear a heartbeat - almost praying.

Slow. Faint. Fading.

Time. It's there. It's still beating. Time....there's still time. Jeff stands, holding Eboni bridal style - close to his chest. He doesn't bother to drain the tub nor to shut the front door. His foucs is to run racing against the clock - to win.

The killer sees the mansion, relief almost filling his heart. He kicks the door open, stumbling inside. He scans the room - chest burning, breathing heavy, and eyes burning.

"EJ! ANN! FUCK, SOMEONE!" He screams, voice scratchy and rough. "SHE'S DYING!"

EJ is still in the living room, ditching his food and rushes to Jeff's side. He looks at him, shock at the sight. "What happened to her?"

At this point, Jeff is hyperventilating, eyes still burning and vision becoming blurry. "I-I don't know! The messages...shit! I don't know, EJ just FIX HER! I can't...I-I can't...."

EJ tries to take Eboni from Jeff's grip, but it's too tight. BEN comes, zapping Jeff in hopes it'll knock some sense back into him. "You're babbling. EJ can't help if you can't explain things more clearly. Now let her go so he can do his job."

Jeff gulps, gently handing Eboni over to EJ. The three of them rush to his private infirmary. The Eyeless creature places Eboni's body onto the medical bed, quickly cutting off the soaking hoodie so he can examine her better.

"BEN, go get nurse Ann. Jeff explain everything you saw."

"I...I found her in the tub. Th..The water was completely red. I saw an empty case of pills and a bottle of Jack Daniel's."

EJ looks at her wrist, trying to determine what was used to cut them. The wounds seem to wide more than deep. "What else?"

"Sisscors... I saw a pair of bloody sisscors.."

With information scarce and time limited, EJ is going to need more than Nurse Ann - X Virus. Thankfully, BEN knew this and returned with both of them. EJ explains all that Jeff told him, both of them understanding the situation. Nurse Ann goes to get a machine that sets Jeff on edge.

"The fuck are you doing? What's happening? Someone explain already!" Jeff shouts, yanking his hair in distress.

"Jeff. Her stomach needs to be pumped. Her heart rate is low, and she's barely breathing. Her blood count is low, and her brain is close to shutting down. We can't take you through everything we're doing it's best if you wait outside." EJ tries to reason while focusing on hooking Eboni to a breathing machine.

"No... NO! I CAN'T- I won't leave her side again! You can't make me!" He shouts.

"She's going to need a blood transfusion. She'll eventually die without one. There's too much blood lost." X Virus explains blankly, already operating on Eboni's left wrist.

Nurse Ann looks at him, her eyes asking if he knows her blood type. He doesn't look her way but answers, "Type O. Very rare. I doubt anyone here has that blood type. They'll have to be human, too."

Knowing everyone medical records by hard, EJ looks at Jeff. "So?"

Jeff already has his sleeves pulled up, holding both his arms out. "Take all of it if you gotta! Just hurry up!"

Once Eboni is hooked up to everything needed, EJ begins drawing the right amount of blood based on how low Eboni's blood count is. That's also still dropping rapidly. Once done, he steps away and goes back to the operating table. The moment he does, Eboni's heart flat lines.

No.

No.

NO!

The sound is enough to send Jeff into complete hysterics. He begins screaming to the top of his lungs, rushing over to Eboni's side - but BEN holds him down, struggling to keep him in place. Other proxies had to come and keep the smiling killer at bay, which becomes a distraction to the three that are trying to revive. her.

"Get him out! He's getting in the way! All of you are getting in the way!" EJ shouts over the commotion.

The proxies drag Jeff out of the room, keeping him down within the halls. Eventually, Jeff loses his strength, body sagging as he slames his fist repeatedly onto the tile floor. It's then that he realizes his eyes are still burning, and his cheeks are wet. He reaches up to touch it, liquid staining his fingers.

Tears?

When was the last time he felt so much guilt? So much remorse? So much lost? And so....so worthless? Selfish. Jeff, the killer is selfish. He knows this and has always embraced it, basking in his narcissistic ways. But look where that's gotten him. He didn't consider Eboni. He never did, not even when she was wailing in his arms that night. His anger, what he wanted, trumpeted above all else. His need for violence. His need for blood. His need to kill. It's because of Jeff that she endured so much. He knew she wouldn't last long without him. He knew and still did what he wanted, prolonging his time within the white room instead of taking Toby's advice the first time. Jeff can point the finger as much as he wants, but he has to face the truth. All of this is his fault.

The killer thrives on living his life to the fullest, never letting anything hold him down. He has no regrets and lives with no remorse. But now? All of that is put into question. He longed for a sense of freedom, craved it, and desired it. Yet once he gains something along the lines of it, he ruins it - destorys it. Everything he has ever touched crumbled, and Eboni is, unfortunately, no exception. She begged him to stay, not to leave her. But he did, without a second, thought. Even no, he still can't feel any regret for abandoning her that night to beat Masky.

Jeff sobs in anguish, gripping and pulling his hair as he rests against the door, keeping him apart from Eboni - the sound of the heart rate machine flat lining haunting him.

Useless.

Pitiful.

Worthless.

Despite his skills in killing, his strong and stubborn will, and his view on life, nothing will change the first and only regret he will carry, the remorse he allows himself to feel. A young girl meant to be just another victim. A girl that has turned his fucked up mind and life upside down. The only person to grant him a sense of freedom.....

Jeff the killer, regrets aiding in Eboni's death.

[iceandironbars]

So, I have a couple of fic ideas/plots written out and I wanna see which one is the most requested so I can start writing, lemme know what you think

1. HTP One shot. Wholesome/Sitcom Vibe. Taking place in hydra HQ pre CATWS. Characters: babysitter big brain Rumlow, awkward bar hooligan Rollins, Stoopid cinnamon roll Soldier, disgusting old man Pierce. Plot: Rumlow and Rollins find out about Pierce using the Soldier for his personal pleasure behind closed doors and they decide to end that for good.

2. HTP fic, multiple chapters. Explicit, violent, plot heavy, possessive love story/porn vibe. Taking place mainly in Madripoor, post Endgame, pre TFATWS/instead of TFATWS. Characters: clueless bitter prison escapee Zemo, enhanced sugar daddy club owner Rumlow (Lagos explosion didn't happen), mindless and done with life Soldier, several detailed and original side characters. Plot: After refusing to be his handler, Zemo reconsiders and follows the Soldier to Madripoor, finding him in possession of former Hydra Commander Brock Rumlow, who demonstrates Zemo in great detail what being the Soldier's handler entails. A tug of war between the two of them follows, developing into an intricate triangle relationship (sub Soldier, dom Rumlow, switch Zemo).

3. Fic, multiple chapters. Plot heavy, slow burn love story vibe. Taking place in Avengers Tower/Surroundings a year after CATWS. Characters: hopelessly in love badass Soldier, pardoned and disabled ex-hydra Rumlow, annoyed Nick Fury, several Avengers. Plot: The Soldier walks into Avengers tower, apparently without rhyme and reason, a hunt for him follows and due to several failed attempts at and the hopelessness of the mission Nick Fury makes the decision to ask former Hydra Commander Rumlow for help in obtaining him.

4. HTP One shot. Absolute Comedy gold vibe. Takes place in a mission briefing/conversation, location not specified, hypothetical setting. Characters: Doesn't think there's anything wrong with him Rumlow, hands in the cookie jar Rollins, sassy Soldier, Zemo, various avengers. Plot: During a briefing the Soldier dares Rumlow to talk about the Octopus Club, confusion, shock and a hilarious conversation follows.

[groovesucksatvideogames]

This is a Side Order aesthetic appreciation post

Spoilers, obviously.

The visuals in Side Order are so freaking good, you guys. On the surface, everything looks extremely bright, white and sterile. But then there are so many details based around ecological disasters.

There's bleached coral outside the spire:

The Jelletons are fish skeletons with creepy dead eyes that swarm you like a mindless zombie horde, but most importantly they drip black ink that looks like an oil spill:

Not only that but their skeletons aren't made of bones. They're mostly made of plastic, which isn't biodegradable:

And then there's Overlorder, which is an octopus-shaped mass of black ink/oil with a bunch of trash floating inside it that kinda resembles a face. A big glob of trash not unlike the Great Pacific Garbage Patch:

(This is one of the least gross pics of the garbage patch I could find btw)

And it didn't make it into the final game but there's also concept art that looks like the nuclear warning architecture:

Marina confirms that she programmed the Jelletons as part of the Memverse, but her original designs were cuter before Order commandeered them, so it's safe to assume the plastic skeletons and oil-like ink aren't her doing. Order's ultimate goal is to create a perfectly clean world of stasis, and yet everything associated with it is disgusting: trash, toxic waste, and dead things.

[script-a-world]

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Hi, I'm trying to figure out how effective would species with multiple arms can use them at the same time. I mean, say for fighting, it's well known that dual wielding is very much just a trope and while it's been done, research says it's less as effective. So yeah if I have an alien with 6 arms it doesn't mean I should put a weapon in all of them. I get that. But how about other things. Can they like, drive a car with controls that need all 6 hands? Would that perhaps be even more effective since they don't need to take their hands off something to move toward something else. Maybe this species handles the pedals with hands instead of feet. Then two extra hands for changing gear and other things. Maybe it's a different kind of transportation system too that isn't comparable to us. Or maybe it's more dangerous because there's too many moving parts. Or say, a waiter using 6 hands to hold 6 trays, dangerous or more useful? Obviously there are a lot of other aspects but these are just a few examples.

Licorice: It’s not just about the limbs; it’s about the brain. Apparently an octopus has a mini-brain in each of its eight arms, so the arms are able to act independently of each other. It also has a central brain for when the arms need to be coordinated.  An octopus could probably octo-wield eight different weapons if it had to! Natural History Museum: Octopuses Keep Surprising Us

A human who suddenly grew four extra arms might become a clumsy menace, but a creature that’s had six arms since it was born probably wouldn’t have any trouble juggling six trays. That would be its normal. 

Since you’re designing this creature from the ground up, you’re free to decide whether it’s more octopus-like or more human-like when it comes to limb movements - or perhaps neither human nor octopus, but something else altogether. 

Addy: Limbs exist for a reason: to fulfill a purpose. As humans, we do foot stuff with our feet and hand stuff with our hands. A creature with more than four limbs would have a brain set up for using those limbs in an effective manner to fulfill their purpose. Like a centaur would be able to walk and do stuff with its hands at the same time - we generally don't question that.

It's really a matter of focus, in my opinion. Could someone with four arms play two different songs on two pianos at the same time? Probably not, much like how most human people can't play two different songs on two pianos at the same time – we focus on one thing at a time, regardless of how many hands we're using on that task. That's part of the problem with dual-wielding – not only are you messing with the momentum of your swings, you're also splitting your focus between two weapons.

For reference, imagine that humans only came with one arm by default, and someone asked if a two-armed creature would be able to use both limbs effectively. As humans, we know the answer is yes! Sure, we have a side that we favor, but we're able to use both of our arms at the same time. We're just generally limited to doing one thing with those two arms – laundry, driving (steering wheel + changing the volume, etc), knitting, whittling, texting, etc. There are some mindless things that we can do with one hand (holding a pet while talking on the phone), but we don't really multitask. I imagine that the same set of ideas can be extended to whatever creature you've got in your head.

Feral: Have you ever had to turn the radio down while driving in order to read the signs on the highway? It's a pretty common thing, and it has to do with our brain’s ability to switch attention between different sensory inputs. Using both your hands and your feet while attending to one specific task - say shifting gears in manual transmission - is something we are pretty capable of doing. It’s when we’re trying to split our focus to different tasks simultaneously that we begin to have trouble. 

So, let’s break down each specific example-

Driving a car with only hands and no feet involved. My paraplegic great-uncle did this actually. He had a specialty steering column with the gas and brake pedal. He had to use both hands at all times, obviously, but there’s nothing that says this can’t be done as a normal convention even with two hands.

Using all six hands to drive. We are able to effectively drive with between three and four limbs (or two limbs as previously stated) depending on the type of transmission we have, so it just seems superfluous to require six, unless is some kind of scifi tech that travels in different dimensions like a fly car. At that point, the question becomes, how much attention switching is needed? The more attention switching, the more dangerous.

Can a waiter carry more with six hands rather than two? Having worked in food service and knowing people in food service, stacking is actually the great skill of a waiter. I can carry as much food stacked properly in one arm as I can spread out between two and be much safer doing so because I am therefore taking up less space, which means there is less likelihood someone would bump into me.

So, when are more limbs actually better?

Consider monkeys with prehensile tails (essentially a fifth limb) or insects, arachnids, and other anthropods, What can they do better than animals with only four limbs? 

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Hail Hydra - Chapter Eleven “Vision without integrity is not mission – it's manipulation.”

Bucky gets to his new home, and is treated with surprising tenderness- until he isn't. Prompts fulfilled; - 'If I Wanted You Dead' and 'Wants a Prize for Basic Decency' - @multifandom-flash (Double); - 'It's Okay to Cry' - Multifandom Flash (Dozen); - 'Ghosts Hide Better When It's Snowing' - Winter Wonderland Bingo (@seasonaldelightsbingo); - 'Blizzard' - Winter Wonderland Bingo; - 'Made a Slave' - Multifandom Flash (Beehive). CW: Violence, slavery, implied risk to life.

Divider by @firefly-graphics! Read the full chapter below, or on AO3 here. Boards at the bottom!

The truck ride eventually became a flight at a private, unspectacular airfield – the plane so small and rickety that a lesser man would have been inconsolable. A distant part of my brain absently wondered where we were going, but I was so focused on the feeling soaking back into bones that I barely cared.

If they keep up the heat, they can do what they like.

I hadn’t been truly warm in longer than I could remember. The room I had been moved to had been marginally less frigid, but I’d still never truly thawed out – but sat with my hands cuffed together in the back of a seven-passenger plane, I had my head resting against the back of the seat, eyes closed with pleasure at the returning sensation in my skin.

But there was a definite downside to being able to feel my body again.

The plane hit another air pocket, the turbulence shaking the craft ominously, and I winced.

“Nervous flier?” the Lieutenant asked, smirking when I opened an eye an inch to consider him.

“No, Sir,” I replied softly, raising my head to position myself more respectfully. “Not at all.”

“You winced.” When I only nodded, he frowned, turning more fully to face me. “Why?”

I flexed my fingers thoughtfully, taking a moment before responding, hissing quietly at the stiffness. “I… I heal quickly now. I’m not sure why. I broke many bones under the doctor, and they healed quickly, though most did not heal correctly. I didn’t notice too much with the cold, but now…” I grimaced minutely, watching the bones of my hand shift in unnatural ways in response to the pull of tendons and muscles.

He nodded once, taking a long drag from a cigar, considering me quietly. “We’ll clean you up, Asset. Don’t you worry.” I hesitated nervously, and he grinned again, wide and quietly alarming. “If I wanted you dead, Soldat, you already would be. It’s in our vested interests to keep you alive. There’ll be no mindless torture here.”

The look on his face – something akin to pride – implied he felt he was owed some form of prize for his basic decency; with how I’d been treated since my capture so far, I’d be likely to give him one, if I had any possessions of my own left. Even the boots now encasing my feet had never been my own, and the uniform I found myself clad in was HYDRA black, a skull with octopus legs adorning the cuffs.

I never thought I’d so miss the standard army greens.

That thought had me longing, lost in thoughts of the streets of Brooklyn, of the pancakes on Sunday that my mother used to scrape all week to afford, of running wild with Steve and trying to keep him safe despite his boldness-

But the Lieutenant was still staring at me, clearly waiting for a response, an expression of gratitude.

“Thank you, Sir,” I replied quickly, ducking my head graciously. “I-I’m very pleased to hear that.”

“You will be of great use to us, Asset,” he murmured as he settled back into his seat, steel eyes finally moving away from me. “You have a very important future.”

His words resounded ominously around my head as he stared aimlessly at the clouds passing by the window, a sense of profound fear settling in my chest.

What could this Soviet organisation possibly have planned for me?

I was bundled off the plane and onto the back of a snowmobile, grasping tight to the handle behind me – as much as he seemed far less vicious than the last man who seemed to hold my life in his hands, I wasn’t inclined to touch onto anyone right now, especially in a somewhat intimate manner.

The white wasteland was seemingly endless around us, stretching as far as I could see as we hurtled over it, the line between land and sky blurred.

I almost didn’t notice the gradually increasing disruptions to the landscape; beginning as small rocks, we were soon weaving between boulders as large as myself, dark and ragged against an eternal white.

We began to slow, and I looked around, brow furrowing. “We’re- there’s nothing here?”

The Lieutenant turned his head to glance at me from the corner of his eye as he raised his goggles, frowning minutely. “No HYDRA operation would be so easily found.” He climbed from the vehicle, shrugging a holdall over his back. The bag had appeared with him as he first joined us in the truck, presumably having been found in the alpine compound, but I had no idea what it held – only that it appeared to be quite light, given the ease with which he maneuvered it.

I fell into step behind him silently, my gaze automatically scanning for any possibility of escape. While the Lieutenant seemed noticeably kinder than the doctor, I still harboured a deep concern about what exactly they had in store for me. They had seemingly hunted me quite avidly, and their interest in my survival was somewhat ominous.

He lead the way to a heavy door nestled within a rocky outcrop, guiding me silently into a bleak corridor, several soldiers following behind. I was hyperaware of the guns at my back, silent and warning despite their apparently relaxed nature; I knew these men would not hesitate to take me out if they thought I was a risk.

The building descended and twisted in a multitude of ways, and I was hopelessly lost before we finally came to a halt. The soldiers marched on at a barked word from their Lieutenant, never even glancing my way as they passed by. Lebedev’s eyes turned to me, showing no emotion as he offered me a toothy smile.

“This is your room. This is where you will be unless otherwise instructed.”

His palm pressed to the heavy metal door, and I swallowed dryly at the thick window in the top of the door, a small hatch below. It was far too familiar, far too similar to the one I’d been kicked and dragged through for the last several months for my comfort. I could only nod, fear seizing my throat, as he slid back the bolt.

No opportunity to wander if I ever wanted to, then. A prisoner. Again.

He led me inside, and my relief was palpable at the somewhat-comfortable temperature, the sight of an actual bed – albeit with a metal frame, but the mattress was more than a thin pad, at least – and a threadbare carpet on the floor, in place of cold stone.

I looked around in surprise, and he nodded me forward, inviting me to explore the space. My fingers trailed gently over the sheets, the idea of wrapping myself up and burrowing between them offering me some modicum of comfort. Hand flexing automatically, I grimaced minutely at the ache in my bones, turning back to the Lieutenant to find his gaze still on me. “I- Thank you, Sir,” I stammered quickly as his eyes narrowed minutely, relief flooding my body when he relaxed.

“We’ll sort your bones before we let you get situated. You’ll be more comfortable.”

The pain of having half my bones broken and reset was agonising, strapped down to a table and staring into a bright light as one finger after another were snapped and realigned.

“I’m sorry,” the Lieutenant murmured with a thin smile, leaning into my eyeline. “We’d give you anaesthetic, but with your metabolism, you’d burn it off before you ever felt the effects, you see.” His smile grew a little wider as I winced when my wrist was snapped back. It took a high degree of effort to break my bones, my entire body jerking in the process, and the straps around my body chafed against my once-more bare skin. “It’s okay to cry,” he murmured soothingly, an unidentifiable edge to his voice that send a tremble down my spine. The feeling of my bones being manipulated had brought tears to my eyes, but I was blinking them back fiercely, refusing to let a single one fall in front of these people. His hand gently smoothed over my hair, and the surprise made my eyes widen, a single tear trailing down my cheek, eliciting a grin from the Lieutenant as he brushed it away with his thumb. “See? It’s okay. Nobody will judge you.”

The men around me grew still for a heartbeat, their anxiety palpable. Something about the look in his gaze made my stomach contract, nausea flooding through me for reasons I couldn’t quite identify. He seemed nice enough, but something felt amiss.

By the time my restraints were undone, I was aching in new ways, but feeling far more aligned than I had in a while, the breaks already starting to heal in more natural positions. I sat up slowly, grimacing, flexing my fingers experimentally with the eyes of the room on me. “It… Feels better. Thank you.” I spoke tentatively, still distrusting their motivation, gaze on my hands as I tested their movement. The Lieutenant nodded and he jerked his head at me, gesturing for me to follow him, and I got nervously to my feet as sweat pooled in my palms.

What now?

I was led into a room with enormous windows, overhanging an ominous cliff and with a view further than I could see through the swirling snow that had begun to fall while they worked on me. I shivered as the Lieutenant shut the door behind us, and he smiled tightly as he circled around to the front of me.

“You’re probably wondering what we intend to do with you, yes?”

“I… Yes, Sir…” I admitted quietly, my voice shaking minutely with nerves. This room felt too large, and I was too vulnerable, my nudity and tender extremities exposing my every weakness. The blizzard raged on through the glass, battering against the barrier in a furious attempt to overtake the warm room, and I thought briefly of the winter camo I’d seen the Soviet soldiers equipped with in battles further north.

 “You are the result of Arnim Zola’s experimentation,” he began, circling me slowly. I watched him briefly before moving my gaze to the snowstorm, refusing to appear perturbed despite my vulnerability; there was only the two of us here. If it came to blows, I would win – even if I would never escape this compound alive afterwards. “During your time in Austria, Zola tested his own serum on you. And a few others, but they died before they could be of use.” Another wolfish grin, and my muscles contracted instinctively, barely biting back a growl at his dismissive tone.

They were my brothers.

He raised an eyebrow at my tightened posture, and I forced myself to relax, though my tongue still pressed to the roof of my mouth in an effort not to snap. “When you were liberated by the so-called Captain America, we-” The snark in his voice had made an irrepressible scoff rise in my throat, and his head jerked around as he paused, fixing his steel eyes on me. “Is there a problem?”

“Captain America is twice – no, ten times the man you will ever be. You’d be lucky to-” My words died in my throat as his palm found my cheek, my skin stinging at the impact as my eyes widened in surprise.

“Captain America is a stain upon this world. The Americans do not deserve such power. But worry not, we plan to eradicate him before long.” I hissed and moved closer, fingers clenching into a fist by my side, but he simply raised an eyebrow, stepping back a half-inch to aim his gun at my chest. “Rein yourself in, Asset. You are valuable, yes. But we have succeeded once before, and we could succeed again. You are not irreplaceable, and I will not hesitate to put you down if I need to.” I took a slow step backwards at the seriousness in his eyes, my will and resistance still shaken by my time in captivity. “That’s a good boy. Get on your knees.”

I hesitated, and his hand found my hair, roughly forcing me to kneel until my palm hit the floor. “We will not mindlessly torture you here. But you will obey, or you will be punished.” He leaned over me, his voice soft as he whispered in my ear. “And believe me – I can hurt you far more than the doctor. I know all about you, Asset. I know exactly how far I can push you without doing permanent damage, and I am more than willing to utilise that knowledge to its fullest extent at the slightest provocation.”

I swallowed dryly, fury and humiliation making my muscles tremble.

Decision time. Fight, or forfeit.

I thought of the countless winding corridors and endless armed men, and a single tear dropped to the concrete behind my hands. Before all this – and even at the start of my original captivity – I’d have tried to fight, choosing death over servitude.

But now… I knew how to play this game. I knew how to survive, even if I was barely alive. I could hope that one day this would be over.

Steve wouldn’t leave me here. One day he’d find out I was alive, and he’d come for me. I just had to survive in the meantime.

“Yes, Sir,” I murmured to the ground, soft and broken.

He scoffed softly, hand tanging in my hair, pulling me upright on my knees to meet his eyes. “There. Was that so hard?” He moved to a low table, humming under his breath as he fiddled with unseen items, but I kept my gaze forward, staring with unfocused eyes into the swirling, swaying white. “There’s something you should understand. Are you listening?” He moved to squat in front of me as I nodded, drawing my eye to his. “James Barnes has been dead since the moment HYDRA serum entered your veins. His animated corpse just took a little while to catch up. But that fall from the train made certain his demise.” His hand grasped my chin roughly, a vicious smile on his face. “You are the Asset. The Winter Soldier. A ghost, a spectre… An assassin, one day, when we have you trained. The first of many,” he added, a genuine edge to his smile, seemingly proud of this idea. My gaze flicked back to the snow, thinking again of those Soviet soldiers in their white camouflage.

Ghosts hide better in the snow.

His fingers shifted to my throat, pushing my head back. I winced with realisation as heavy metal latched around my neck, blindly staring at the plain ceiling, wondering distantly what had happened to my life. I used to live a comparably luxurious life, cock of the walk back in Brooklyn, hanging around with Stevie and not having my life threatened on a daily basis. Now… I was collared and naked, knelt before this man who intended to use me as a slave.

I had to survive this. No matter how hard it was. No matter how much I wanted to die.

I had to survive this.