#wip: ram's blood

[garthcelyn]

Officially coming out this Friday

[rc-catalog]

🖊️: fanfiction; 🖼️: moodboard; 🎨: art/edit; 🧵: web weaving; 👥: character profile; ⚡: flash fic friday; ☕: motivation monday

Rating: General, Teen, Mature, Explicit

HEAVEN'S SECRET: REQUIEM

Cain x Lane by @raleigh-edward |🖼️| TW: mild violence | G

Cain and Lane by @liykaii | 🖼️ | TW: blood, skull, gore | M

HEAVEN'S SECRET

HS2 Scene Rewrite by @lolaswips |🖊️| Antigone Walker x Malbonte | TW: suicide attempt, mentions of torture and starvation | M

KALI: FLAME OF SAMSARA

Trick Up My Sleeve by @a-cloud-for-dreams |☕| Deviya Sharma x Doran Basu

Blood Money by @a-cloud-for-dreams |⚡| Deviya Sharma x Doran Basu

Untitled, WIP by @ratanslily |⚡| Deviya Sharma x Saraswati Basu | TW: mentions of blood, violence, self-loating (implied) | T

Untitled WIP by @webanglikethat |⚡| Deviya Sharma x Ram Doobay | G

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Welcome to the Blood Drop ~ David ~ Part.5

warning : minors don't interact/read, smut, hunte/prey, fire play, cigarette burns, sub David/dom reader (as best as it goes), blood drinking, some blood play, mommy issues, praise kink, use of a gun

sub!David x dom!fem reader

masterlist

Part.1(Prolog), Part.2(Paul), Part.3(Dwayne), Part.4(Marko)

Info : So it's finally done after months of having it in my wip it's finsihed, I must say I'm not so pleased about it because it was difficult to get back in but I hope you guys like it. As always have fun reading it :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was true that the night still had a few hours before the sun would slowly rise over Santa Carla. The vampires and night creatures would go to sleep and the leader of the clan would also go to rest. But her day began earlier than others again she had such an irregular sleep rhythm that day and after blurred.

But this was just right for her, if she had not come along that evening, she would not have met these four more than just interesting and handsome vampires. But now she was facing him again and saw how the nicotine had lost its effect, the Bloody Marys could not calm the vampire either.

Something the other three also said and for a moment they seemed to consider grabbing their leader and dragging him out of the establishment.

But a glance at the human woman made them pause. They knew she could not be underestimated. Her clan was still four times the size of David's. But the lust and thirst of a vampire was something they all should not underestimate.

The blond seemed to be even more sure of his intentions, no matter the consequences. ,,It's my turn," he said, his voice dripping with impatience as he took another step toward her. She watched every little gesture on him as his eyes almost seemed to change for a moment.

He seemed almost unable to suppress his hunger. Licked his lips as his eyes went to her neck and seemed to see the blood underneath. The heart seemed to call for him.

She was his irresistible prey since he had seen her on the street. Since the prey had played with him. It had become a game between the two. A game David played with pleasure when it meant he could ram his fang into her flesh.

While she was just waiting to see the surprise on his face when she herself would strike. ,,Don't be so hard on my lady" said Paul who almost looked like he was going to get between the two of them.

My sweet little savior she thought with a smile and gave him a grateful look. ,,It was your offer and you'll carry it through to the end, won't you doll?" she asked with a grin that for a moment gave him back his charm.  It made him so pretty and handsome again.

They would both have fun, she was sure of it, David just had to play along. ,,I'm not worried, shall we?" she replied and pointed to the door before they started to move. He immediately wrapped his hand around her side and didn't seem to let go.

He made his ownership clear, at least for this evening. But just before they were out the door, Dwayne put a hand on his leader's shoulder. The taller black-haired man looked at the blond with a warning in his gaze not to overdo it.

She saw how Dwayne was apparently not sure whether he should intervene or not. It seemed that no one could really estimate how the situation with the leader would develop. All but one.

Pressing closer to David and starting to move, she forced him to leave. Moving out of the room and into the different corridors of the brothel. ,,It seems your boys almost listen to me," she quipped, feeling him pull her closer in warning. His fingernails ran over her clothes and pressed warningly against her skin. She knew she had to be careful how she dealt with him.

One wrong word and she was sure he would lose his self-control. But she insisted, she wanted him to lose his temper, to hunt her down, to use her as his prey.

This feeling of anticipation, which she already had, filled her completely. But whether he also felt it or the short smirk on his lips was something else, she did not know.

At that moment she didn't care either, because she had grabbed him again and taken him through the corridors with her. ,,I never thought you would be so experimental for someone like you," he said as she continued to walk by his side. She knew that he was almost making fun of her.

He thought she was nothing more than a lustful prey who liked to have fun with monsters.

But even if there was something to this theory, it was all her actions and deeds that made her who she was. She did not have a cult of twenty vampires around her for nothing. She had to sacrifice a lot, but it was not in vain.

Paul, Dwayne and Marko protected her even though they had only known her for a few hours. She already had a certain power over the three of them, it would only take a while until she had David as well.

They would all give in eventually, she just had to push the right button. ,,There are many things you don't know Sir Jealousy...and yet here I am with you...and I didn't retreat" she murmured slowly knowing that he would understand everything.

She saw how his blue eyes narrowed almost invisibly when she called him sir. She already suspected that it would go with the blond in such a direction.

A monster and yet inside someone who was looking for love and affection in a mix of power and control because of his life. A description that suited him as she found and yet.

This search for power and control at the same time she didn't want to know how many had already died by his hand. Probably too many women as it was good. Her children had withdrawn the blood and the light and everything looked like new.

It was almost clear to her that he still smelled the blood, the dead and corpses. Her bloodbath and Marko seemed to cling to her and David seemed to hate that she didn't smell like him yet.

That she didn't belong to him yet, belonged only to him. But it didn't bother him that there was this bloodbath for him the fact seemed more important when they finally came into the room where they could give themselves to each other. or rather he finally had her for himself.

She was at his mercy and he could undermine her will. He wanted to end this resistance and insubordination, he could no longer stand it when she controlled everything under her just because she could.

It made no sense to the vampire why she had so much power without being powerful. ,,Retreat? Believe me you won't retreat and I certainly won't sweetie" he replied with a demanding look and stopped in the middle of the hallway.

It was only a few meters to the special room she wanted to take him to. Only a few meters until she had him where she wanted him.

Before she suddenly felt the wall at her back and the cold stone behind it almost painfully bored into her back. The smell of blood and smoke surrounded her as the blonde came closer.

His hands greedily drove over her body. I felt the cold spread to her body as he pushed his leg between hers. She only pressed further against the wall.

Giving her no escape. But before she could protest, she felt him force her into a deep kiss. His lips pressed on hers and he immediately bit. But no sound except a wince left her lip. She did not give him the satisfaction.

But it was exactly the satisfaction he wanted. And he hated that the control was not there. ,,Just give in, gorgeous," he murmured as he licked the blood from her lips. She gave him a warning look and told him not to push it too far.

Even though she knew her heartbeat was increasing, the heat on her cheeks was rising and her eyes showed a moment of lust. Her hand that was not on his torso reached into the small hidden pocket.

Grasped the handle of the object and almost dropped it when he again pushed her closer to the wall. He wanted more from her as he caught her scent and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

He seemed to get horny at her smell, to be attracted to her smell like a drug. Her beating heart called out to him and he wanted to drink her down to the last drop.

To bind her to him and turn her into one of them. She was to become his. She felt how he opened his mouth slightly, saw the pointed canines and knew that he would bite. That there was no stopping him.

But then as he bit she felt the taste of him going through her and a shot rang out before the blonde cried out and hurried away from her.

He held his side hissing painfully and the abnormal liquid ran from between his fingers. Her bullet made of wood had hit him in his side and brought him to the senses of pain.

But for the blond his look the ice blue eyes had a look of first fear and then confusion and finally anger. Taking advantage of the moment, she ran into the room, thundering the door shut behind her, drenching the room in darkness.

No light was turned on, none glowed, and only she seemed to exist in the room. Clasping the pistol in her hand tighter, her breath almost seemed to jump out of her chest, struggling to calm down, she knew it could all be a mistake now.

She knew that the shot was already dangerous if he wanted to kill her, but that was not what she wanted. ,,A strong boy like you...show Mama what you can do" she demanded and felt the breeze go through the room as he came closer. Moving through the darkness like a hunter, licking his lips and desiring her.

He finally wanted to grab her while she finally wanted him. She finally wanted to have him for herself, because even though she was the prey, the prey was also entitled to something from the hunter. His attention.

She felt how it became colder, his indignant rage increased. Before he struck, at the last moment she saw him coming out of the darkness towards her, his silhouette barely visible but still tangible. But he did not reach her before one of her protégés threw him back.

He disappeared again and gave David time to attack. ,,Don't hide, my little bird!" he demanded with lust and hunger, only more annoyed that he couldn't get to her and finally possess her. But it seemed no matter how many times he attacked the more often he was thrown back by her helpers. Until he was thrown back once by all of them.

He hit the ground again and instantly rebounded, only to pause in his movement. He smelled it, smelled the metal, the wood that could be deadly to him.

Smelled her confidence as she held the gun to her head. He caught himself as worry forced its way into his eyes and he became dependent on her.

Her good boy became. ,,Careful with the game," he warned, both to himself and to her, knowing that if she pulled the trigger, it was over. It was over and he and his brothers would die. But the certain kick that built up in him.

Her excitement and especially arousal seemed to make him almost go crazy as he bit his lips and realized that she had him right where she wanted him. ,,David, you can be good for me, can't you?" she asked, pulling back the trigger, playing with him from the beginning and even if he enjoyed the little back and forth between them it was still that he didn't want to lose her.

He knew that she would not give it forever but this game, this attention, this desire was something he carried inside him. ,,David, you can be good for me, can't you?" she asked, pulling back the cock of the gun.

She saw the challenge and fear reflected in his eyes before the shot rang out and the room fell silent. The sound of the shot faded and only her rapid heartbeat remained.

She had pulled the trigger, but David had come up behind her and yanked her wrist up so that the bullet had landed in the ceiling. They paused for a moment so she looked straight ahead and he at her.

His blue eyes did not leave her for fear that something might happen. Instead he slowly took his hand from hers and stroked it along her arm. He lowered his head and slowly walked around her, kissing her slowly, almost full of shame, along her arm.

Tried to take away her fear and excitement in his mind before he stood in front of her. She seemed to slowly release herself from her staare and let her hand wander upwards over his upper body.

Drove to his neck felt satisfied no pulse and the death cold. As he let his gaze lowered out of respect. She put her soft warm hand on his cheek and ordered him to look at her. He only slowly lifted his head before she wrapped him in a gentle kiss.

He slowly pressed her against him, taking her in his arms just to tease him, letting her fingers brush right over the bullet wound, which slightly rekindled the fire in him.

He gripped her tighter and yet he didn't seem to want to kill her. ,,You would have killed yourself...for me...why?" he asked slowly still almost too perplexed as if he didn't know how to deal with the situation. She gave him a knowing smile, her hand slid from his cheek to his shoulder and pushed him down lightly.

She felt him not wanting to give in before she buried her fingers in the wound again. His hiss gave her pleasure before he knelt down in front of her. The proudly overestimating David had brought him to this moment.

Looking up at her, his eyes heavy with lust and incomprehension, his leather gloves digging into his pants as she said, ,,To see you kneel before me David. My own gorgeous boy so good for me" before he came up to her, wrapped her in a kiss and pulled her to him in his shot. Kissing her again he caressed her and yet his claws dragged over her free skin.

The clothes tore and she gave her body so involuntarily free. ,,You're a monster just like us," he realized after she had not only walked over dead bodies but also shot him.

The thought that she would take her own life just to bind him to her made his curiosity and lust for her increase. She pulled back from the kiss and already felt his arousal on her leg.

She felt how the adrenaline that was still shooting through her body slowly lost its effect and finally wanted to have him. The vampire turned them both around and put them down on the hard floor.

He felt her goose bumps and enjoyed her life before reaching into his jacket pocket. Saw her eyes close in surprise as he lit his lighter and the flame lit the space between them.

Saw how she slowly seemed to understand what he wanted to do. He used his own way to make her come to him. ,,I know you can stand it for me" he murmured and reached for a cigarette in his coat pocket, towering over her again like a predator.

He wanted to have her at last, but his claws should be sunk into her first. He lit the drug that had no effect on his dead body and did not take his eyes off her.

She took the cigarette from his lips, took a puff of her own, and almost felt herself under his gaze. Enjoyed being so desired by him. A jealous boy she thought and almost smiled as he came closer to her again.

Sucked in her smell and smoke and took back the cigarette before almost gently reaching for her hand. He wanted to ruin her so much. He wanted to create a bloodbath, but unlike Marko, he wanted to be the one who lifted her up in it. He wanted to be the one she thanked.

She should look at him. Before he stubbed out the smoldering cigarette on her skin, he heard her stifled cry as she tried to grab her arm in the first moment. While she used her free hand to wrap her fingers around his aroused cock.

Giving him back the pain and the pleasure, she heard the sigh of the blonde who immediately rolled his hips against her hand in need. He wanted to get more of what he had been denied all night. ,,You need this power so badly, don't you?" she asked, taking her fingers from his sex for a moment.

She saw him coming closer to her again, wanting more of the touch. Only to press the cigarette to her skin again while she clutched his jaw. Forcing him to look at her she challenged him and slowly saw his nod.

He wanted to lower his gaze as much as he did when his creator was angry with him. ,,I would kill anything and anyone just to-" he began to confess to her, her burnt hand grabbing his hair and forcibly pulling him towards her, entangling him in another kiss.

Interrupting him, she felt his hands go to her breasts, massaging them, enjoying their warmth as they both let the kiss grow deeper and more intimate. While she felt him start to place himself in the right position. She was surprised when she felt his cold hands on her thighs.

The claws left red hot stripes and when he released himself from her kiss, he kissed his way along the stripes. And even though he wanted to burn her even more, it was his hunger that finally took over.

As he rammed his fangs into the soft flesh of her thighs. Her hands found their way into his slightly prickly hair and lovingly stroked his head like a mother.

But the pain was secondary, it only inspired her desire even more and to see him like this. So dependent on her was just everything. He bit more and more of her blood and his excitement only grew.

He held on to her more and more and she was sure that she would have never left the home of the four in any other way. She would have become one of them. Would have become their pretty little doll.

Her fingers still before lovingly stroking his head and a ,,So good for me" of himself gave. Before she only a moment later him hard away from her skin. Gave him a silent look saw how knew what she wanted before he gently bit her hand.

Apologetically made her understand that he would now take care of her. Not enough to make her bleed, but the feel of his black teeth on her skin was enticing.

Leaning back, feeling the coldness of the floor, he lightly pushed her bandages apart, repositioned himself and gave his sex a few more moves with his hand. ,,I'll take good care of you" she heard him murmur before he gently grabbed her leg and placed it on his shoulder she lay there completely for him and yet it was she who held everything in her hand.

Before he entered her she filled him and she knew he had done nothing wrong. Rising up for one, holding on to him and yet enjoying the feeling so much.

The first sounds of pleasure left her lips as David gently but firmly pushed her back to the ground. Kisses and small marks on her calf left which he kissed before he began to move.

A heartfelt sigh came over his bloody lips as the blood dripped from the corner of his mouth onto her body beneath him. She saw how it turned him on to see her like this.

How she slammed her eyes shut the lust behind them that flared up again and again when she looked at him. His gaze searched her heartbeat became faster, her smell of sex the blood on her body which he licked up greedily only to move faster.

She was so good for him and she knew that all the four of them needed was a mother. A mistress, someone they could give themselves to.

So they did, they all did and especially David did to her words of ,,Be a good boy to me". Moving faster he filled her as well as he could, entangling her further in kisses and feeling her tighten around his cock every time he bit her again and took more and more of his blood.

The two of them in the darkness tried to take their bodies together and the blood spread more and more on her body. The thought that he could see her, everything she did and every little movement. Her attention only on him wanted and how good he was.

She felt him slowly approaching her climax, tightening around him, his thrusts becoming more irregular a few minutes later as they both searched for the last release of the night. His claws clung to her hips and her hands held on to his clothes.

She searched his lips one last time before he poured into her and she came around him the groans of the two were muffled by the kiss. But despite the darkness he saw her disintegrate under him her lust at the climax.

Their heavy breathing was the only human thing that seemed to be in the room. After a few moments David slowly withdrew from her, took her leg from his shoulder and kissed it one last time.

He knew that it was even more exhausting for her than for him. ,,Thank you... for everything" he murmured and she knew that any moment he would return to the role of the leader. The grin would be on his lips and he would disappear with his group.

She saw the flare of the cigarette he lit again before he put his gloves back on, which he must have taken off at some point in the darkness. Wincing, she felt him stroke the burn and heard a satisfied sound.

He loved the fire, she realized as she slowly and carefully rose, trying to ignore the pain on her body, she suddenly felt him help her up. ,,Such a good mama's boy" she quipped and heard his smirk as she regained her composure and the two stood in the near darkness.

The glow of the cigarette lay between them and the blond slowly made his way to the door out of an impulse of discomfort.

She followed him slowly and they found themselves in the bright hallway. After several blinks she caught herself again and felt how exhausting this night actually was.

The lust and the act had drained her and yet she was glad to have made this offer to the four. ,,I see you enjoyed your night again," she heard the voice of one of her followers and loved ones as her clan reappeared from the shadows and handed her a robe, which she gratefully accepted.

She pulled the soft fabric over her body and was grateful to her protégés for giving her support. ,,The night is already over," she heard Paul rebuke as he sipped a last Bloody Mary and shook his head demonstratively.

Marko, on the other hand, was still enjoying the hand and looked over her body with a broad grin. David, on the other hand, faced her, took her hand in his and gently kissed the back of her hand.

The charm returned and she saw Dwayne smile slightly, giving her a small smile. It seemed like there was a special bond between them now. A friendship and yet more.

She knew about the desires of the four and the four the other way around. ,,So I guess we will see each other at the latest when the moon rises again" she said and the smaller clan smiled knowing it was true. They would probably see each other again sooner than it was good for their blood.

But when she brought the four to the door, she couldn't help but give them all a big grateful smile. ,,When the moon rises doll you can be sure that we can make a new offer" David said with a wink and Paul waved her goodbye while Marko waved his hand and Dwayne gave her a silent nod before the four vampires disappeared into the ending night.

The door to the blood drop closed again and the etambismo prepared for another night while the great vampire clan retreated into the darkness of the great realm and their human leader ended the night with a relaxing bath.

Knowing that the four would dream more than just about her. Would stray into her store again. But for that she was already and the blood stopper would have something for all guests. The dead and the living.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End of the Blood Drop series

@ghoulgeousimmaculate , @misslavenderlady , @ria-coolgirl , @vampirefilmlover , @adharafirenze , @hypocriticaltypwriter , @lostboys1987girl , @paranormal-fool , @mjtheartist04 , @palomam18

@themarginalthinker

[littlemisspascal]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you so much for the tag @penvisions 💗 I'm excited to actually have something to share!

Here's another lil snippet of my Acacius fic. Remember please I'm not going for historically accurate (or canon accurate either lol), I'm just going for self-indulgent vibes ✨

You see him standing at the altar with the high priest, clad in a purple toga embroidered with a lion’s head in golden thread. A reward in honor of the general’s triumphs in warfare. The placement of the lion above his heart is deliberate, you suspect. A warning of what lies beneath the surface. A guarantee all the tales of his savagery and blood lust passed from mouth to mouth from the battlefields to the city streets are true.

Is it terrible that a part of you–an inane, minuscule scrap of a thing you’ll never verbally acknowledge, not even under oath–is fervently captivated by the notion? You should be listening to the high priest’s prayers to Juno, paying attention to the omens he reads in the entrails of the sacrificed ram upon the altar. But Acacius’ brown eyes, burning with the radiant June sunshine and something else distinctly dangerous, put a flame to your focus and narrow your vision to one central, all-encompassing point.

Is it terrible that you can meet a lion’s stare without a modicum of fear? You wonder how many, if anyone else, have been able to say the same.

[evilwriter37]

WIP Wednesday

Maybe sharing a scene from my newest wip with you folks will make me feel excited for it again. Let’s try it! Enjoy!

Warnings: swearing, sex mention

Hiccup was scared. He was scared out of his mind.

His moon’s blood had stopped. At first, he’d thought it was a blessing from the gods. His moon’s blood always made him feel strange, like this body wasn’t truly his. So, he’d just gone with it. No moon’s blood? Fine. Better for him in the long run.

But then came the cramping and the tiredness and the back aches. The tiredness and back aches were the worst symptoms, and he found himself napping a lot, or dozing off when he was supposed to be working on something for a mission against the Dragon Hunters, or a new invention. He’d fallen asleep at the breakfast table too!

The back aches he hadn’t told anyone about, even though all he wanted was a nice massage. It was all lower back pain, and it made flying unbearable sometimes.

Granted, he hadn’t told his friends about any of this.

Well, there was one friend he’d told, of course. He couldn’t hide anything from Toothless. There was no point in trying, even if he wanted to.

But now, Hiccup had noticed something new.

There was a bulge in his tummy. He sat in his hut—alone save for Toothless—with his tunic pulled up, just staring. It was more noticeable when he sat down verses when he was standing, but it was still there.

He poked at it gingerly, as if it was going to spring out at him. Nothing happened, of course. He kept poking around, completely unsure of what was going on.

Very suddenly, Hiccup couldn’t breathe.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Gods, oh gods. No. Freya, please. No!

Now he sat with one hand on his abdomen, the other hand in his hair, digging his nails into his scalp. Breaths came in and out too fast to be of use to him. He couldn’t see straight and everything was blurry. Panic and dread like nothing he’d ever felt before ate him up from the inside out.

Toothless caught on quick. He pawed at Hiccup’s arm, rumbling in concern. Hiccup barely felt it. All he could feel was that pit of dread in his stomach.

Suddenly, Hiccup found himself down on his back on the bed, legs dangling over the sides. There was a giant weight on him and he wanted to scream, cry out for help, but he still couldn’t breathe. His chest hurt like someone had rammed a hammer into it.

His face was wet.

At first, he didn’t understand why, but then he realized that the weight on him was Toothless, and the wetness he was feeling was Toothless’ tongue.

He took his first real, gasping breath of air. It shuddered on its way in and out, but it was real. The buzzing in his head began to clear, and the dread wasn’t as all powerful as it had been moments ago.

He looked up at Toothless, who was cocking his head at him, trying to see if his method of calming him down had worked.

“Th-thanks, bud,” Hiccup rasped. He reached up a hand to scratch him under the chin. His fingers trembled.

Now Toothless was giving him a look that clearly was asking him to explain things. Why had he started panicking like that? He deserved to know.

“I… I don’t know,” Hiccup said. “I mean… I guess I do. I just… Fuck, I don’t get it.”

Toothless got off of him and let him sit up. Hiccup put his head in his hands. He felt shaky all over.

“I think…”

He didn’t want to voice it. Voicing it would make it more real. Though, it wasn’t as if that small bulge in his abdomen didn’t exist. It absolutely did. Unless of course he was going crazy from stress, but he didn’t think that was what was happening.

Hiccup looked hopelessly at Toothless. “I think I’m pregnant.”

Toothless cocked his head. Hiccup made a cradling motion with his arms.

“Baby,” he said, for Toothless’ benefit. “Here.” He pointed at the bulge.

Toothless licked his hand, cooed.

“But it doesn’t make sense.” Hiccup said. “I… I haven’t… you know… had sex with anyone.”

He was staring down at the bulge again. He didn’t know if talking was making him feel better or worse. He was telling Toothless the truth. There was no reason to lie to him.

As far as Hiccup could remember, he hadn’t done anything that could conceive a child. He was a virgin. The most action he’d ever had was with his own hand.

Hiccup didn’t know who to go to about this. There was no point in going to Gothi. He knew his own body. He didn’t need her to confirm that he was pregnant. He couldn’t go to his father, who would just start asking questions. His friends?

Though, they’d ask a lot of questions too. He doubted they would have answers.

But then who would have answers? Who would know what had happened or why this was happening?

Hiccup wasn’t very religious, but, he decided it was time to pray.

[violetfairydust]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for tagging me @endwersed!

I got the angst feels, so I've been working on torturing Derek that fic recently.

-

Derek sat forward. There was barely enough room in the ambulance for him and the EMT, let alone another person, but he looked anyway. He knew he had to be somewhere. He could hear the siren of the other ambulance. He couldn’t place it. It overlapped with the one he was in. They left at the same time; he had to be close. Was he in front of Derek? If he wasn’t, why wasn’t he? If he wasn’t, Derek would sue the hospital. He didn’t need the money, but he didn’t need the help, either. Stiles needed it. Where was he?

“Sir.”

“No. I’m fine. Where is he?”

“You need to lie down. You hit your head on—”

“I don’t care!” Derek roared. “Where is he?!”

“He’s in the other ambulance. He’s getting help. We’ll be at the hospital in a few minutes. You need to lie back, sir.”

How could that moron expect him to lie back? How could he calm down? How? How? That’s all he could ask. How? How did it happen? Why did it happen? Why did it have to be him? Why? He didn’t do anything wrong. He didn’t even hit the tree when he swerved. How could this have happened? How?

“What happened?” he whispered.

“Lie back, please.” She got out her light and tried to shine it in his eyes. “You might have a concussion.”

If Stiles wasn’t in critical condition, Derek would have laughed. Even if he did have a concussion, it would have healed. The blood on his hands and shirt and the cuffs of his pants was Stiles’.

“I meant with the other driver.”

The other car had veered into the wrong lane. It hit the side of the jeep at the perfect angle to flip it. They rolled off the side of the road and barely missed the tree. All the glass had shattered and covered them like a blanket. The roof was dented, the hood smashed... The car was as lifeless as Stiles looked. He hadn’t responded when Derek screamed his name. He screamed until his throat was raw. When the paramedics were able to pull them from the wreckage, Derek was sat with his back to a trunk. The other car wasn’t as lucky. It rammed into a tree, which had snapped and collapsed on the top of the black car.

“He’s also going to the hospital. Let’s just worry about you right now.”

Ridiculous! Derek didn’t need anyone to worry about him. Stiles needed the attention. Screw the other guy! What about Stiles? What did he do to deserve it? Why? Had the driver been drinking? Or on his phone? Asleep at the wheel? Why? Why did it have to be him? Could it have been prevented if they had just left a few minutes earlier or later? Why did it have to be Stiles? Why couldn’t it have been him? Derek could survive just about anything. He could have walked out of that accident no problem. And he did. Why couldn’t Stiles?

He was breathing at least. But that couldn’t guarantee he would wake up.

-

No pressure tags: @dear-massacre @eevylynn @renmackree @thotpuppy

[itsohh]

A/N: I got like half way through this and got crazy block (I do think I just find writing smut with men far easier) but didn't want to put this to the wip graveyard so 'ere u go.

Word count: 636

Warnings: CNC, smut

The tense environment had become a normality ever since Deimos made his big move to remove Harry from the equation. Then with Ash in a coma and Thermite practically sidelined it added to the stress. You were supposed to be his second in command. Now you were active lead in the field. When he physically couldn't be there, that was up to you to make the orders, make the calls. No hesitation, no doubt. You couldn't afford to have a crack in the rock-solid wall that was your authority. 

Ghosteyes and Redhammer worked well together. A dynamic team where you were the battering ram and they snuck in the back. Yet this time, things all ran to shit. Despite how loud you were, their focus had been on Cab's team. It made it so you could sweep with ease but were forced to listen to their close calls.

With a heavy body, you made your way back to your bedroom. The idea of drowning your worries and stress in a stupidly hot shower was on your mind. Your eyes closed as you yawned and shut the door behind you. 

You sluggishly took a few steps before you felt it. A sudden sharp hand around your throat, nails pressed into it while the point of a blade balanced on your artery. Your entire body tensed at the feeling as your training kicked in. Yet you knew even a single movement could be deadly. Your guard had been down and you only had yourself to blame. 

The silent air ran around you and you opened your mouth to speak when that hand moved. It left your throat and slapped over your mouth. The tip of the blade fell onto the flat side which slid against your throat. It was a show, an example to make sure you were deathly aware of the entire knife. The hand against your mouth pulled you back and your body was met by a feminine frame that you were rather used to. 

That tenseness died a little as you felt her lips brush against your ear. True fear gone, she hissed in your ear. “Not a word.” The blade pricked ever so slightly, a threat. Normally that would have drawn a small stream of blood but this blade didn't. It could still kill but it was dar duller than any of her other blades.

The hand across your lips was removed only for a moment before a silk gag replaced it. Its softness was a contrast to the way she roughly tied it to your head. There wasn't any pause before she grabbed your hands and restricted them behind your back with another binding. 

A solid shove to your back forced you to stumble forward towards your bed and another shove had you fall into it with a bounce. Without your hands, you were unable to break the fall and your check made contact with your sheets. 

Taina didn't spare you any tenderness as her hand crept in front of you and unzipped your pants. She ripped them down without a break until they pooled at your ankles. Your underwear was sliced from your cunt and a wave of cool air hit it with a sudden gust. 

Taina didn’t wait, Caveira didn't wait.  She stuck two fingers in with ease and started to scissor open your cunt. A whine muffled against your gag and she didn't hesitate to slap your ass. 

“Shut. Up.” She wouldn't tolerate anything. Not a sound, not a beg, nothing. Taina was in command and she wanted to make sure you knew that. The flat side of her knife pressed against the back of your thighs for a moment before it was gone. The soft warm touch of her chest pressed against you as she leaned over. “You’re mine.”

[enigma-the-mysterious]

WIP Wednesday: 31/7/24

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RRR has consumed my brain so all recent WIPs are from there. Almost the same as last week. I managed to combine "Ram's thoughts as he carries Bheem away" with another draft like I said I would. I also added a new work to my WIP list. The plot bunnies are multiplying :p

1. Bheem's thoughts after the betrayal: What it says on the tin. Angst, angst, angst and more angst. There isn't enough Bheem trauma fics in the fandom and I am here to fix that

2. Aftermath of Bheem's arrest: Fucktons of angst and Ram being emo and self destructive as usual

3. Inspired: Bheem still has nightmares about the events at Delhi. He and Ram talk. Angst with comfort

4. Chocolate: Dosti era. Ram introduces Bheem to chocolate :D :D :D Pure, self indulgent fluff

5. Ram's guilt about the flogging: What it says on the tin. Post movie. Angst with comfort

Snippet from WIP 5.

"I should have protected you."

"You did."

"No," Ram snarled, feral, vicious. "I did not."

Bheem smiled, in the same serene way he had on the night when he trusted his most carefully guarded secret with the wrong person. "Yes, you did. I know it in my heart. When you told me to kneel, that was not actually an order, was it? It was a plea from you. You took no pleasure from my torture, did you, anna?"

Ram remained silent. He wanted to deny the truth in Bheem's words, for every word that he spoke felt like it was a word closer to Bheem spelling out his forgiveness, his absolution, his mercy for Ram and Ram hated that.

But he could not do it, not anymore. In Delhi, there were too many lies and secrets between them, half truths that ripped them apart and frayed the bond Ram had once thought was holy. So Ram was tired. He was so fucking tired.

"Tell me, anna," Bheem went on, clasping his hands tighter over Ram's fists, as if he feared that Ram would crumble into dust otherwise. Maybe he would. Six months of torture at the hands of the British and this was what would finally break him. The quiet strength and the tender kindness of his Bheema. How ironic and fitting at the same time.

"Tell me all the ways you protected me, saved me, kept my weary heart beating through the torture."

Ram choked on a sob. "I… I can't."

"Yes, you can. You can do this for me, your tammudu, right anna?"

His lips trembled. Memories flooded unbidden. The weight of Catherine's whip in his hand. The strain on his arm as he ripped out chunks of his dearest friend's flesh. The strength of Bheem's song, the stubborn defiance in his eyes, the fire directed at him, the pride in his eyes, his utter refusal to kneel. The warmth of Bheem's blood on his face. God, there had been so much blood. Blood rolling down his back, blood drenching his white dhoti, blood pooled at his feet, blood soaking the holy soil.

Bheem's body a dead weight on his shoulder.

A warm mist descended over his vision.

Dammit, how was he supposed to form words in such a state?

"I… I tried, Bheema," he finally said, swallowing another fit of sobs. "I tried so damn hard, to make it easy for you. But… but I failed."

Bheem raised both their hands and placed it over his chest. His broad, solid, moving chest.

"You didn't," he said and now his voice sounded strained too. "My heart still beats. My life still thrums in my veins, anna. If it was not for you, I would be dead. If it was any white officer, I would be dead. If it was anyone else, I would be dead at that whipping post."

There was a long silence, punctuated only by Ram's loud exhales.

"Tell me."

[jakkon-and-rose-topic]

More Unedited shit from my J&R WIP folder

CW: Murder

Rose pressed her hand firmly against her bleeding stab wound as she slumped against the wall, wings pressed against the rough stone at her back. She couldn’t rely on anyone. Not now. Everyone had left for the city to get supplies, and she hadn’t seen Jakkon in hours. No one was coming to save her. The Fae gasped in pain as the strange man advanced on her, long tail frisking along the floor as he grinned a mouthful of sharp teeth at her. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

“Fuck…off!” Rose gritted her teeth as she pulled her legs closer to her chest and braced herself against the wall, her breaths heavy and strained.

“Now, that’s not how we talk to a savior is it darling?” He took a step forward but just then, a tiny figure rammed into his legs, prompting the man to shout a string of curses as Pherun’s tiny horn nubs dug into his skin. 

“Leave her alone!” Pherun punched the wound he’d made, causing the man to cry out in pain. A kick cracked across Pherun’s jaw, sending the little boy to the floor with a scream. Rose reached out but couldn’t keep herself upright as Pherun braced himself against the floor, pained sobs shaking his body as blood dripped from his mouth onto the floor. But the man kicked him again, causing Pherun to scream a second time as a small white shape fell from his mouth and he coughed. 

“PHERUN! NO! GET OUT OF THERE! RUN!” Rose dragged herself forward with a wince, reaching for the young boy as the man turned back to her.

“Now you are a troublesome one.” He stalked over to her, grabbing a fistful of her hair and dragging her upward.

Rose gasped a wheezing breath as the man tilted his head to the side, raising his knife. “Ah, no matter, you’ll be dead soon any-”

But before he could finish, a loud crash accompanied by a yelp that almost instantly cut off shattered green glass everywhere. The man crumpled to the ground, his eyes rolling back into his head to reveal Jakkon, standing behind the man. The Satyr stumbled and glanced at Pherun with glazed-over eyes as Rose gasped. 

His gaze turned to her for a moment, and Rose only saw his curly hair fall into his face as he wordlessly grabbed the man by the neckline of his shirt, his face twisting into a scowl as he did so. and stabbed the remaining shard of the bottleneck straight into his throat once, blood splattering over his hands and sleeves before he cast the man to the ground, wavering on his feet for a moment.

“Jak!” Rose ignored the growing fuzz in her vision as Jakkon caught his balance, one of his bloodstained hands flying to his face to cover one of his eyes as Rose’s consciousness slipped away and she fell limp against the stone.

[paperbackribs]

I AM HERE FOR THE WIP THINGY FOR “Timetravel Steddie”!!!! ♥️

he he he so timetravel steddie in my wip folder is Copper Boy, but I like not having a proper name for it as I work on it, I suppose? if it’s less official then I’m more likely to write because I’m less intimidated. But I’m having such a blast with this fic that I have to thank you, Finn, for asking, because I. am. desperate. to share more. 😂

Warning: not exactly spoilers of Copper Boy since we know the endgame is steddie, but the snippet is from a chapter still weeks away from posting.

“This is nice,” he admits.

It's peaceful amongst the maple and birch trees with the dappled light rippling playfully across the forest floor. Steve points to a puddle at the base of a bare blackberry bush; a small blue jay dips its head in and out of the water, vigorously shaking with spray erupting from around its body. It’s adorable and Eddie smiles.

Steve squeezes his hand and leads him onwards, “I always wanted to share it with you.” He pauses, “That sounds weird, doesn’t it? Like this is my woods, even though it’s your backyard.”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head gently, “My closest connection to nature is the bench I deal at. I like the idea of it all in theory, but I usually end up with my pants full of ants and bitten to all hell by mosquitoes. I’ve also been known to trip on air, so a woodland ground littered with sticks and rocks is bound to take me down eventually.”

Steve laughs, pulling a vibrant green leaf off a birch tree to fiddle with it in his free hand. “Like the time you rammed nose first into the gym wall?”

Eddie gapes. “You saw that? No one saw that.”

“It was a bit hard to miss, Eddie,” Steve says wryly. “You had bright red blood streaming down your face. To be honest, I was going to offer to take you to the nurse’s office, but you ran out so fast that I left you to it.

A blush of embarrassment spreads across his face, “So everyone saw that.”

Steve draws Eddie to a stop, brushing a knuckle down his hot cheeks, “No, I’m pretty sure that I was the only one looking.”

Eddie searches Steve’s eyes, finding affection and a touch of heat that causes the back of his neck to prickle. “Yeah, like something you see?”

Steve steps forward, which makes Eddie inexplicably feel the need to move back. He retreats a fraction and Steve’s eyes narrow. “Eddie,” he says prowling closer and Eddie backs away with a larger movement.

“Yeah, Steve?” Eddie asks breathlessly, feeling his body tense, muscles almost quivering with the tension filling them.

“You have ten seconds,” Steve says deeply, his words a rumble Eddie can almost feel in his chest. Electric tension crackles in the air, sparking the pounding of Eddie’s heartbeat, each thud growing louder, faster, and more insistent. He stands frozen in the mounting pressure until Steve starts to count.

“Nine, eight…”

The dam breaks and Eddie darts away, the tall trees that surround them blurring as a surge of adrenalin propels his legs across the ground with reckless speed. He can’t hear anything over the pulse pounding in his head, but he imagines the heavy tread of Steve’s steps behind him, a powerful thumping that matches the heat in his blood.

Steve’s breath pants into Eddie’s hair making Eddies fingers and toes curl, “Got you.”

The thrill of pursuit fizzes through him, filling Eddie with a radiant exultation, laughter breathlessly spilling from his open mouth. His flight is dizzying anticipation and playful freedom.

Just as Eddie giddily thinks that perhaps he is too fast, even for Steve, he is tackled from behind; Steve wrapping a quick arm around his middle, the strong band redirecting his flight forward to spin him around in mid-air and back down onto the ground again.

Eddie wiggles like he’s trying to get away, causing Steve to laugh breathlessly. “None of that,” he commands, spinning Eddie to back him up against a broad tree trunk. Strands of Steve’s bronze hair has fallen over his face, his cheeks ruddy with exertion, and excitement high in his expression. Eddie wants to lick him all over.

“You still trying to get away from me, huh?” Steve says, voice dropping to gravel as he runs his eyes over Eddie’s panting mouth and heaving chest.

“Why? Worried you can’t catch me?” Eddie lightly taunts.

Steve’s eyes turn dark, the hint of heat in his gaze flickering higher, reaching the heights of wildfire. Eddie shivers in the thrill of prey tempting predator that crackles through his body. The tension only twists tighter as Steve leans in with slow deliberation, he draws the tip of his strong nose firmly across Eddie’s cheek, his breath hot in Eddie’s ear, “I think I’d always be able to find you, Eddie. No matter where you are.”

[gwen-writes]

The Fool

i was tagged by @purdledooturt to do WIP wednesday and here i am! i had the idea for a postgame ascended astarion fanfic, but with my own little twist, lol. here is the first chapter!

Summary: With no other options left to expend, Tav implemented a temporary solution. If the Vampire Lord could not be killed or saved, they would have to dull his strength - severely. And unfortunately, there is a ranger in Faerûn who is naive enough, kind enough, to feel bad for him.

Word count: 2.2k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Ranger!Female OC, but he's cursed to be a bat, because it's funny

-

The woods communicate, the soil must feel. Eyes etched into the bark of oaks, ears tucked into leaves. A hidden pact between the forest and wolves, roaches, beasts. It all sang to her, the tune that had been ingrained in her blood since birth. Pyryeva ran over her memories of lycanthropes in her head: the followers of Urdlen she had come across and slain, the petulant werecats clawing at her ankles in the defense of Shar, the wereboar who rammed into her tent and could not be convinced to just talk it out.

In fact, she often preferred to just convince creatures to leave - to stop harassing villages, or trampling beloved buildings. Other people found her a bit odd, something foreign and drifting behind her eyes that must have uneased acquaintances. But animals… understood. Scaled, hairy, or vicious, they paused to listen all the same. 

And so this troop of lycanthropes, she prayed to Ilmater, would stop their ravaging and just listen. Her passing through the Wood of Sharp Teeth was meant to be swift, just a stop on her journey toward the Reaching Woods. The shreds of the High Moor Heroes’ Guild summoned her back home to Elturel, tearing her away from the outskirts of Candlekeep.

Candlekeep, she had once dreamed, would be the city where she finally became an academic, a scholar. Instead, she was promptly declined from every formal institution for her… well, there was a running list. Lack of foresight, short-term memory failure, lack of perception, lack of artistic strength. It took her around thirty minutes to realize that these tests were not actually a qualifier for entry through the Emerald Door, and instead the guards’ cruel way of mocking her.

Her exit from Candlekeep was bittersweet, but she knew that it would lead nowhere. As had many of her ventures - a poor attempt to be anything but a ranger with impressive aim. Politics slipped from her fingers before she even grasped it, an incomprehensible block of information that she could not register, let alone wield. Then there was fiction, song, welding. Fiction felt as though it was holding her mind and wringing it of all its joy, so she quit. Song tumbled from her mouth like a dreary scratching. She actually quite liked that hobby, but that time it was the protesting of her peers that willed her to leave it behind. Weapons were too heavy and domineering in her thin hands, fingers too fitted for a sleek bow to keep something formidable in her hold. 

Embroidery stuck, her quick fingers weaving through fabric easily. That was enjoyable, for a while - the outstretched hands of Ilmater twined through her leather armor. And then, once her God had been preserved on all of her belongings, she was out of ideas. Nature was the next obvious option, but the badger she wanted for her gloves muddled into splotches in practice. The lovely frog for her blanket resembled more of wretched Grung. 

Thus, Eltruel called to her, and she harkened back. Only the Wood of Sharp Teeth bisected her path home, and when the renowned storyteller Pallidor pleaded for her help against the plague of lycanthropes - was she meant to decline?

Werewolves, Pallidor had described them, cunning and volatile. They were still reeling from their loss alongside Grand Duke Valarken, though that man was long dead. She would have loved to live to see that battle. Pyryeva found humanity one of her greatest pleasures: their intense emotions, vulnerability, and courage lended themselves well to sex and gluttony, two of her favorite pastimes. However, she felt torn over the human lifespan. It was 1500 DR, the dawn of a new generation, and nothing exciting was happening. The monsters had been slain, most notably The Absolute. She loathed having not been a part of the “Heroes” troop. But she assured herself that she was meant to be alone, and meant to like it, and meant to give and give as Ilmater commanded.

As ridiculous as it may seem, she wished that new monsters would rise up in the coming years to give her a title of her own. Good things come to those who wait, as her scripture alleged. She smiled, padding along the damp forest floor, imagining beasts scurrying away under her command in exchange for heaps of gold. 

Lycanthropes came in many forms: beautiful elven women or menacing orcs, their transformations ranging from a delicate swan to a dreadful wereserpent. Her awareness stirred, the woods calling out to her.

 Deep musk, wiry fur tickling her fingers as if she was touching it freely.

The sight of her targets were just as she had pictured - goring, rabid werewolves. Like gnolls, but hopefully receptive to a little charisma. Curiously, though, their focus was completely rapt on the trees overhead, paws swiping at the air with no success. Had they taken it upon themselves to hunt a squirrel? Or a bird?

“Going after a squirrel? They’re defenseless,” Pyryeva watched them, like puppies chasing a toy. The pack of three whirled on her, snarling. The tallest one of the group ducked to all fours, lunging at her. The ranger’s nails dug into tree bark, crumbling under her force, as she leveraged herself atop the oak.

“I don’t want to shoot you, but I could,” The bow was already in position, an arrow tipped with silver aimed for his yellow, feral eyes. “I’m good at this. It’s kind of my job.”

He only responded with a grunt, before clawing his way up the base. Fine.

Blood squirted from his right eye socket, a dog yelp escaping his snout as he loosened his grip on the tree. 

“Had enough?” She muttered, another arrow taut, suspended by her bow, immediately. The two lackeys in his wake deliberated amongst themselves, weighing the benefit of their previous prey with the supple-fleshed human hanging in a nearby tree. Apparently, Pyryeva was a better target.

“No way!” A huff escapes her as she hones her focus on one of her most consumptive spells, Speak with Plants. A waste in a battle so easily winnable such as this - as mother would scold - but Pyryeva was hired for her ability to win, not her ability to devise. The roots of the wide birch beneath the two lycanthropes rose from the dirt, entangling their massive paws.

“Your friends are trapped, and you’re about to be blind!” She called down to the leader. “Come out of your wolf forms, and talk to me!”

Instead, the werebeast opted to shake the oak with all his might, interrupting her balance. As a teenager, she despised when her instructors would force her to stand on one leg, books piled atop her head, for hours on end. Balance this, balance that. As if she had been training to join the circus, to tiptoe across rope. But it was as if novels depicting fairytales and wizard battles were resting on her skull, pressuring her to still. 

“I don’t have to spare you, you know! I’ve just been hired to get your group to go away, and I’m trying to be kind!”

This wolf was relentless, yanking the arrow from his eye with a deep grunt. 

“Damn you,” She hissed, her silver arrow heading for his throat, rather than another eye. The yellow of his iris was consumed by black, staring her down as he collapsed onto the leaves and soil. With a flick of her wrist, a swarm of pixies gathered around her frame, swirling down to the ground with her as she plummeted off of the tree.

The two final opponents stood, ankles beginning to look raw from the friction of their incessant wriggling.

“Will someone please just listen to me,” She panted. “I am Pyryeva. You are free to leave these woods -  I will not harm you. All I ask for is peace.”

“And if you don’t give me peace, I will stick my pixies on you, and leave you for dead.”

The green fairies around her cheered with fanatic anticipation. No peace! No peace! No peace! Shrill giggles fell flat around the three of them, lost to the dank vines and stumps.

A burst of energy from the left side, dissipating to reveal a thin elven man with black curls. Pyryeva sighed with relief, ready to start speaking instead of threatening, but he offered her no such grace.

“We, the true lycanthropes of this realm, will not be outcast to other planes for any longer!” He bellowed. “Vehlarr will be restored in Faerûn! It must be done!”

Foam spilled from the corners of the right’s muzzle, teeth bared. Pyryeva gave them a long stare, waiting for the dam to break, waiting for them to see sense and reason with her. But when she studied the elf’s dark eyes, she found no such thing.

“Kill them,” She murmured softly, and the pixies whirled ahead. The ranger shut her eyes tightly, rushing away from the sight, leaving the desperate yelping of dogs behind.

That was, until, her neck was alight again; senses tingling and buzzing with… with nothing at all. Not nothing - it was all consuming, gnawing and starved. Blood sapped over hundreds of years, icy flesh, and then pure depravity. Women and men scattered across the floor, necks torn through. Whips, scars. And a heartbeat pounding, so loud it takes all of Pyryeva’s constitution not to keel over and sob. 

Something rotten, something unholy and corrupt, something undead. Her instincts forced her to sprint, she was sure, to make quick work of the earth beneath her and vanish between the wood. And yet, when her eyes opened, that was not her view at all. A white bat was crumpled on the forest floor beneath her, and it reeked of undeath. But it was so… small. Fluffy. She knew that her senses had never been wrong, honed so particularly by her instructors that an error would never occur.

But she wasn’t in the habit of persecuting small creatures, no matter how undead they may be. A vampire bat, to be sure, but not one she couldn’t befriend. Pyryeva crouched, searching for visible wounds.

“You okay, little guy?” She cooed, and the white lids snapped open to reveal ruby eyes. In moments, it was latched onto her neck, stabbing through her flesh.

“Wha- Ow!” Pyryeva wrapped a fist around the little beast, ripping it from the wound. “You fucker! You fucking… fucker! Ow!”

It strained against her grasp, clawing at her thumb fiendishly.

“Let me go, you wench!” A deep voice emanated from the creature, so ironically demanding from such a cute face. Involuntarily, Pyryeva giggled.

“At least someone is talking to me today,” She flipped him upside down wordlessly, studying his form. “You’re so cute!”

“I will fucking destroy you, tear your muscle from bone!” His best attempt at a threat. She brought him a bit closer to her face, sniffing the air between them.

“You aren’t a normal bat,” She asserted.

“Well, aren’t you a scholar?” He spat, still wiggling in her hand. 

“Vampire bat,” She ignored his slight toward her. “Are you here with the lycanthropes? The werewolves?”

“Those miscreants?” He hissed, offended. “Absolutely not.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Just flying by, of course,” The bat hummed.

“Well, I hope your travels are safe, little guy,” She smiled earnestly, lowering him to the ground and loosening her grasp.

“You are so trusting, little human,” He purred. “Who taught you to be so… docile? It’s fascinating.���

Somehow, he was animated when he spoke, one wing covering his chest as if scandalized.

“It’s just… how I am,” Pyryeva replied softly. She felt an inkling in the back of her skull - a warning that despite this bat being adorable and small, something devoid of soul hid inside. “I really should be going now. More werewolves to catch, and all.”

“Ah ah,” He corrected her. “You will be going nowhere at all.”

“What?” She stared down at him, now standing five and half feet taller than his tiny stature. His wings flapped, and he buzzed up to her face, meeting her gaze.

“My name is Astarion, and I have endured a terrible affliction, you see,” Astarion began, clearly preparing to delve into a story.

“Astarion? Like, "Hero of Baldur’s Gate Astarion?” Her voice was shrill. “Like, Vampire Lord Astarion?”

A killer. A shameless, overgrown child in the form of a handsome, elven man who had gone sick with power. Infamous for his parties and their gore, the feasting on innocents that he indulged in, day or night. The fearsome Vampire Lord who could not be stopped, no matter how many high ranking officials came knocking at his door. Their remains scattered through the streets - a demonstration - and a subsequent silence from the public.

He was corruption born from flesh, a demonic bastard who emerged from the fantastic defeat of the Absolute a vile, psychopathic monster.

“You are a scholar!” His red eyes beamed.

“I want nothing to do with you,” Malice twisted in her words, unlike her usual cadence.

“Oh, my dear, you want everything to do with me, because your sappy, frivolous God says so,” Astarion crooned, glaring at the symbol of Ilmater on her chest. “And if you don’t help me, I will transform and devour you.”

That was a bold-faced lie, of course. The reason he so desperately required her assistance is because he could not transform at all, not since last Uktar. And poor Pyryeva, not studied in her Baldurian literature or news, completely unaware of that fact.

She stumbled back from him, “You wouldn’t.”

Astarion laughed in her face, “Oh, I would.”

“What do you want from me?” Pyryeva forced out the words.

“Walk with me, dearest, and I will tell you the whole sordid tale.”

-

i tag @tequilya and @syoish for next week! <3 :)

[garthcelyn]

Got new followers so I'm going to be annoying for everyone :)

Anyway, made a short surreal film with cannibalism in the woods (I trespassed for this), I think it's a banger considering everything that went wrong (the trespassing, defending the set from drunk teenagers, the usual), have at it.

[knight-commander]

WIP … WHENEVER

I know it’s not Wednesday anymore I just wanted to share this wip I’m working on. More Adrigo lore and backstory. For meee…

992 Words

Pain.

Untenable, unbearable.

Blinding white hot that split his jaw in two, that wreathed down every single notch of his spine, snagged on every single divot within him and pulled him apart at the seams. Breaking apart.

Put back together.

Light that creeps in; light he can’t open his eyes to see.

Pain.

4706 • Abadius • 13, Sunday

Days of slipping in and out of consciousness. Adrigo wasn’t sure which was worse; pain or oblivion. One was proof that he yet lived, and the other was an endless cry for it all to stop. Maybe the dead had been the lucky ones after all. All he could taste was blood and steel on his tongue as he stirred.

“Adrigo?” A familiar voice broke through the silence. He didn’t want to, but he forced his eyes open. Even blinking—to adjust to the light that flooded the room—hurt.

As his eyes adjusted, he quickly scanned his surroundings. Simple room—four walls, a door opposite and slightly to the right of him and his bed. A window parallel to him, judging from the way the light shone in, but he didn’t dare turn his head to confirm.

Sitting to his left, on a chair that had been dragged up to the edge of his bed, was a tiefling woman. Her skin was deep red and beautiful, and her yellow eyes gleamed with a rich emotion that he couldn’t quite parse. She wore the robes of a Signifier, but no helm; her black hair was coiled atop her head and in between two horns that spiraled like a ram’s. The streaks of gray in her hair and lines on her face spoke to her wisdom.

On her lap was a mask etched with lines that spiraled endlessly, and that was Adrigo’s final clue to her identity: Maralictor Ardana, Order of the Gate.

He stirred and moved again but a searing, white-hot agony rushed through him and sent him falling limp again in the bed; he wanted to scream but that would be worse. Speaking would be worse. Opening his jaw would be worse. He knew.

“Don’t move!” Ardana warned, and if he could speak, maybe he would tell her that her warning had come too late. Far too late. Days too late. “You’re safe. You’re being tended to in Senara. Your injuries are severe; we weren’t sure if you would pull through.” She wouldn’t look him in the eyes as she spoke.

And he couldn’t speak. He could do nothing else but look.

Taking a breath, Ardana continued. “You’ve been here for the past two days. A local cleric has been tending to your injuries, but your jaw is a complicated break and can’t be treated properly until we return you to the Citadel Gheradesca—another matter of complication, given that you’re in no fit state to travel.”

Adrigo raised an eyebrow as he waited for her to get to her point, but all that did was shoot another stab of pain through his forehead. No funny looks either, it seemed. He hissed, but it was more of a rattle in the back of his throat.

“Once we determine whether you are healthy enough to make the journey to Corentyn, we’ll…” Ardana trailed off with a heavy sigh, and she rubbed two taloned fingers over a furrow in her brow. “What happened? What happened out there? This was never supposed to…”

She suddenly reached out toward the bedside table; Adrigo couldn’t tell what was on it and didn’t care to look to find out. Before long, a sheaf of parchment was thrust into his lap along with a quill that bled ink. He grabbed the quill, although every muscle in his body screamed at him not to, and glared at Ardana.

“Please,” she begged, her hands clasped like a prayer. “If you remember anything, you need to—“

“What is this?” Another voice entered the fray, and Adrigo turned his eyes to see another tiefling woman standing in the doorway; she wore white robes, and her pale hair was meticulously pinned out of her face. Her voice was firm, and her eyes glared daggers at Ardana.

“Oh, Heidi,” Ardana looked immediately guilty. “I was just—“

“Harassing my patient?” Heidi demanded, and she cleared the room quickly to stand on Adrigo’s other side. A cool hand was pressed against his forehead, and only then did he feel any sort of relief. “It is the first time that he has been awake in days, and already you are questioning him!”

“Heidi, you don’t understand. The nature of our position is such that—“

“—that can wait!” The cleric snapped, vitriol surprising Adrigo. Still he scribbled something into the parchment that neither woman seemed to notice. “There is no saying for certain that he even remembers anything. The nature of his injuries are severe. You should be thanking whatever god you worship that he is alive.”

“But if he does remember something, it is imperative that we have it on record as some sort of corroborating evidence as to what happened,” Ardana seethed, but Adrigo could sense the desperation behind her anger.

“Ser Livianus,” Heidi cut in again. “You are not required to answer any questions posed to you. You need to rest, first and foremost.” Finally, she actually looked at him. “What are you writing?”

Ardana’s eyes flew to him as well. Despite the ache in his bones and the effort that it took to write just a few words, Adrigo furrowed his brow and turned the parchment so that they could read the shaky scrawl.

WHERE IS RUNA?

[cannibal-wings]

WIP Wednesday For You Pay the Cost I'm currently working on the Méndez boss fight. Here are two little snippets from it. This is probably the most rough I've ever posted. Usually my WIP Wednesday stuff has gone through a bit of editing, but these chunks haven't. They're as close to raw as they can get. Currently the fight is at 3K words, and I'm expecting another 2K at least, since I haven't even hit phase two yet. Anyways, enjoy! I'm off to work. (Update might not be next week, with the holidays this weekend, and I'm hosting, claiming my days off, my time to write will be limited. I wouldn't be surprised if the update drops late next week or early the week after)

1.

“Be careful,” Ashley said behind him. It was clear that she had picked up on his unease as well.

“I always am,” he said but that didn’t seem to have the effect he wanted. He supposed his arm in a sling was proof enough that just being careful wasn’t all he needed to do. The movement to Leon’s right was so sudden and explosive that he hardly had time to turn his head. His body was hit, hard, enough to throw him against the side rail and snap it. The momentum carried him across the open space and he hit the concrete floor below with force. Leon would have cried out in pain if the wind hadn’t been kicked from his lungs.

He rolled several times before he came to a stop face down. He lay there motionless, trying to force his lungs to remember how to breathe. His eyes were watering and his vision was white with pain. Finally, he drew a gasp, then another, like a fish out of water. Something off to his right hit the floor as well, it was heavy, and gave no cry of pain. It wasn’t Ashley. Leon pulled his good arm up underneath him and pushed. Slowly he got himself to his knees and looked over. It was Méndez. He turned so he was facing him, his whole body was still shaking with pain. When he looked up at the where he was, he saw a hole had been busted through the wooden wall. That man wasn’t human, that was for certain. There was no way someone could ram him through a solid wood wall with enough force to break metal and likely bone. Leon carefully felt around his ribs but he couldn’t tell if the pain there was from the giant fight, the bull man’s hammer, or the various other times he had been thrown around today.

Méndez started to walk towards him, slowly, in a manner not unlike something that had cornered its prey. “Little Protector, you have forced my hand.”

Leon was still struggling to process his own bodies movements; words were lost on him. But he heard Ashley call out from above, she was still near the walkway. “Leon! Oh my god, are you ok?”

At the sound of her voice Méndez turned to look at her. “I feel I must apologize, for what I am about to do to your Protector.” At that Leon shook his head and reached for his SG. He was able to get two good shots off. The first one hit Méndez in the back, he turned to look over at Leon and the second caught his chest. Fatal shots to someone who was human. “Cease your pointless struggling. Your body has already begun the change, abandon who you were and accept the will of our God.”

“You’re a shitty missionary you know that?” Leon managed to say between gasps of air. Méndez reached down to pick up his hat, it had fallen when he rammed into Leon from above.

Mendez began his approach again. “Lord Saddler wants you alive. But I think he’s making a mistake. You now share our blood, you have been bestowed our gifts, but you fight us every step of the way. You are unwilling and unworthy, and for that I must destroy you. Surely our Lord shall understand, and the Lady will be provided with a new Protector, one who understands its place.”

Leon didn’t like the sound of that. He shot three more times. It didn’t look like Méndez felt a single one. Leon might as well have been shooting him with BBs. “Oh almighty! Grant me the strength to fix your mistake!”

“Son of a bitch,” Leon muttered under his breath. He was going to have to fight, and the odds were looking less in his favor than normal. He quickly scanned the room for anything he could use to his advantage. This was a meat processing house after all, there had to be something he could use. He spotted a machine, a hoist, for hauling the carcasses up onto the tables, it looked like it was gas powered. Sure enough, there were barrels not too far away labeled “fuel”. Leon forced himself to his feet and shouted up at the walkway, “Ashley! Run!”

“Ok!” Her voice seemed hesitant, but her actions weren’t. With one last look down at Leon she sprinted for the stairs that led to the door to the outside.

Once he saw her orange jacket vanish through the door, he kicked the barrel over and shoved it towards Méndez. It started its roll towards the man and Leon didn’t have time to come up with anything clever to say besides, “Hasta luego!” He shot and the barrel exploded upon impact.

That wasn’t the only barrel of fuel, Leon didn’t notice that others had been stored nearby until he heard them go off. Four more loud bangs sounded off, followed by intense flames and clouds of thick, dark smoke. Another set of explosions pounded in from the opposite side, gasoline splattering the walls and pillars of the room. Everything was quickly caught in an intense blaze. Leon shielded his face with his good arm until the explosions ceased. When he lowered it he couldn’t see what was left of Méndez through the thick smoke. His next move was to try to find his own way out.

He looked behind him but there wasn’t a door, just a staircase to another walkway. The only door seemed to be behind the wall of fire he had just created. “Great,” Leon muttered. He solved one problem with another. He would have to run through the fire to get out. Not ideal. It could very well kill him. He gathered himself and started to move towards the fire when something stopped him, a chill ran down his spine despite the heat. Something else was moving in the haze of the flames.

Leon could hear a snapping sound, like breaking branches, followed by the wet sound of meat being torn apart. Again, that sound hit his ears, then he recognized it, bone snapping. It cracked and popped, blending in with the wood that was burning all around them. Through the fire he could see something twitching, then jerking upwards. With each pop it grew taller and it swayed back and forth on what Leon could only assume were legs. Then the whole figure turned towards Leon and began to advance towards him.

Méndez stepped into view. His upper body had become separated from his lower half. It sat on an elongated, exposed spine. Each set of vertebrae now sported sharp insectoid legs that wiggled independently from each other. It reminded him of a centipede. Leon took a step back, then another. “The fuck?” Méndez grew closer still, he didn’t seem disturbed by his body’s sudden mutation.

“God, I thank you for your gift,” Méndez said as he calmly strode towards Leon. Two bulbus growths on his back burst at once, spraying fluid as his body lurched and rolled. Two more appendages sprang out of his back, insectoid again, long, thick, with five joints. Corse hair and spines glinted fresh in the firelight. The tips were curved and sharp. No doubt they were designed to pierce. The limbs were dragging on the floor as Méndez gathered himself, strong spine pulling his upper body and the new arms back up to their full height.

Leon was already backing up. His claws and carapace suddenly seemed a lot less threatening. He spread his mandibles wide and hissed before he said, “You wanna get ugly? Let’s get ugly!” Bold words from a frightened man.

Méndez once more didn’t seem impressed by his threat display or the words that followed. He simply laughed and said, “I knew God would see my side, I knew he would agree with me. You will not live to regret your choice to turn your back on us. Now, behold the miracle!”

2.

Méndez seemed to be getting frustrated. He lashed out more desperately than before. The erratic movements were harder to predict, harder to dodge and Leon caught one to the side that flung him against the wall. The air wasn’t knocked from his lungs this time and he recovered quickly. He quickly shot a few times to distract the monster as he fully got back to his feet. Sweat was running down his back, or at least, Leon hoped it was sweat. He wiped his face, somehow the carapace on his hand was cool despite the heat around him.

“We share the same blood,” Méndez said as he turned to make his way over to where he had tossed Leon, “why do you resist?”

“I’m not answering that, there’s nothing I could say to a man who’s lost himself.” Leon shot again, this time more bullets hit than missed. He was getting more confident and comfortable aiming one handed. “I don’t share your blood either,” Leon spat. He could feel Méndez’s gaze on him. “D-Don’t look at me! I’m not like you, I’ll never be like you! Some sort of monster!” He flared his jaws and said, “You freaks can mess my face up, change my legs, my arms, I don’t care! I won’t be like you, it won’t work.”

“And that, Little Protector, is why I’ve decided to exterminate you.” In a movement faster than what Leon could see, Méndez swiped and caught Leon off balance. He moved in and grabbed the other man with his human hands. He had long, sharp, talons that didn’t struggle in piercing between Leon’s neck plates. He squirmed and struggled in his grasp. “To think you could be this foolish, to reject a gift as wonderful as this!”

Leon looked at Méndez, if there was a good man in there, he was lost now. That Leon was certain of. He couldn’t reach his knife with his injured arm, nor could he get it with his free hand. He kicked out and slashed at Méndez’s chest with his feet claws. The pressure on his neck tightened and he hissed in pain not intimidation. His heart was beating faster now, he needed a way out and fast. He tried again with the claws on his feet. He managed to rake them across his chest but despite digging in deep Méndez didn’t let go. He moved his hand with the SG just enough to line up with Méndez’s leg. He closed his eyes and prayed he didn’t miss. He squeezed the trigger and shot three times, his knee buckled and Leon felt himself drop to the floor.

He landed and scooted back as Méndez fell against the upper walkway. He roared and looked over at him. Leon felt a chill run through him. Those insect arms were a lot longer than they appeared. Mendez flung them out and they came crashing down on him like trees. There wasn’t any space to dodge, his back was against the wall, he had cornered himself again.

Leon didn’t even have time to swear. He raised his good arm and closed his eyes. Ready to hear the crack of carapace and then nothing as he was crushed under the weight of Méndez’s arms. The searing pain was just what Leon expected, only it hadn’t come from his arm, but his sides. Both sides of his body flashed hot with pain, just below his ribcage, as something split his skin and burst forth from his body.

Leon dropped to one knee and cried out. He wasn’t dead, but he sure felt he should be. His body spasmed. His brain was registering resistance on what felt like an arm, but not the arm he was used to. Through watering eyes, he looked up and saw limbs he didn’t recognize. They were holding off Méndez’s claw, which was far too close to his face for his own comfort.

Leon knew they were his immediately. He didn’t even have to look to see where they were connected, he just knew. He had two more arms now, and they were in the process of saving his life. His body shuddered and the new limbs crawled further from his body. With each push they grew longer and stronger. Leon watched as a hand formed at the end of each one. The fingers that unraveled looked like a human’s for a brief moment, before the pointer and middle fingers fused into a long blade like claw. He pushed back hard against Méndez and was surprised to find the monster giving ground to him.

Leon screamed as his body gave one last push and the arms fully extended out of his body. He stood and shoved the limb off and ducked to the side. He took a brief moment to catch his breath and look at the two new arms by his side. They were thin, more like insect limbs than human, but they had the correct number of human joints, a clear shoulder, or pivot point against his body, then an elbow and wrist. The hands weren’t human anymore, but they did have three fingers. That, Leon decided, was enough to hold a shotgun with.

Blood and fluid leaked down Leon’s sides from spot where the new limbs had burst forth, but already the pain was dulling. That healing factor was kicking in again. Leon holstered his handgun and moved for the shotgun. Sure enough, the new arm responded just like his old, injured one. It found its place on the front of the shotgun, the long blade like claw was easy to rest the gun against and the remaining fingers held it in place.

He moved in on Méndez, firing as he walked. The Merchant hadn’t been kidding, this gun packed a hell of a punch, but he hardly felt it against his shoulder. He fired three shots in rapid succession into the spine and Méndez finally howled in pain. He curled in on himself, human arms wrapping around his exposed spine. When he looked at Leon there was pure hatred burning in his eye. “Why? Why has God given you, a heretic, a gift? Have I been betrayed? Was my judgment not true?” Leon didn’t have the answers that the monster needed. He just shot again and again, pumping him full of lead. Méndez swept out again with the long piercing limb. This time Leon jumped on top of it, his dexterous toes wrapping around the limb and he followed the swing as it moved him closer to the upper walkway. He pushed off and jumped to the upper floor in one smooth movement. This time when he spread his jaws and hissed Méndez flinched. “Maybe it’s time to take this “Little Protector” seriously!”

[marley-manson]

10 First Lines

I was tagged by @eveningalchemist, thank you! Doing this on my main because only two of them are Berserk. Fics can be found here.

Potter looked like he’d just been told Sophie needed another enema and there was no one available to do the honors for him, so Hawkeye figured he hadn’t been invited to his office for a surprise party. - Army Style

It wasn’t until supper that Casca realized she hadn’t seen Guts all day. - Snowmelt

Less than an hour after Trapper confessed to the disappointment of the century, the O-Club started to empty. - Precipice

Hawkeye placed the next chip of beef atop his growing tower with the precision and focus only a surgeon who hadn’t slept in over forty-eight hours could have. - War Bonds

The tables clattered and squealed as they were pushed across the wooden floor, wheels leaving trails of sticky blood behind them. - Presumed Dead

Hawkeye was on his fourth glass of the evening when Frank stormed into the Swamp looking like a toddler who’d been told “no.” - Under the Influence

His desired was burning for him just over the black horizon, hooked deep in his bones and pulling him closer irresistibly. - Refraction

I only have 7 fics posted but since @eveningalchemist mentioned wips as a possibility, I'll throw in three of those as well, subject to change:

The house wasn't like he'd imagined. - BJ visits Hawkeye fic

It happened on the way back to the Swamp. - disaster Beejhawk fic

The scent of frying bacon caught him when he opened his front door. - sequel to Presumed Dead

tagging: @rescue-ram @majorbaby @undecimber-of-joy @bisexualdawnsummers @pigtailedgirl

@quordleona03 @morewyckedthanyou @machihunnicutt @bornforastorm and anyone else who wants to do it!

[ddelline]

wip wednesday (feat fresh fandom f*ckery)

blurb | "non-jjk wip posting? on the ddelline/aosc dash? straight to jail" - whoever reads this blog for jjk fic only, probably. sry if you are!!! I promise this =/= abandoning ship, I'm just dillying, dallying, dabbling. in mha. and bkdk. next to jjk that's where I've ended up putting my most obsessive behavior in the past few months; dipped my toe into the manga and emerged 4 months later as an unapologetic bakugō katsuki defender w early onset of bkdk brainrot. now if that interests you, there's wip fic to be had under the cut! if it doesn't, then rest assured that there'll be wip updates a-comin for 3 jjk projects in the near future, lol

premise | post-canon, pro hero setting; slow burn-ish getting together-premise; bkdk as roommates & established wonder duo-partners feat pro hero!shenanigans, sudden emotional realizations, domesticity, action, mixed media & more - also me attempting 2 write lighter, snarkier & dramedy-adjacent. evaluation pending, lmao. either way, wip writing under the cutttt

The sort of monumental, life-altering understanding that Katsuki’s experiencing, sadly, hadn’t hit him like a battering ram of iridescent, incandescent realization, topped off with cartoon hearts and biblical choirs, or whatever. The march towards death had begun with the most inane fucking single step, and here he is, feeling like an idiot, and feeling, like an idiot, every other hour since then. 

Katsuki knows he’s not the most emotionally intelligent person on the block, and he knows that he’s hitting new and consistent deduction-lows when it comes to him-and-Izuku each and every day now. Still, if there’s the possibility of getting a refund on your personal emotional breakthroughs—he’d like one.

He’s ducking beneath hastily drawn police tape, sweat sticky and sooty, hours later, making a beeline towards where the concrete dust-matte green cap of Izuku’s head centers a cluster of reporters. They’ve caught him halfway to where a team of EMTs are waiting, long suffering, to attend to him. Katsuki resists the urge to facepalm.

“—stically, how would you analyze this recent string of public showdowns that you’ve had to deal with? Do you make anything of the increased number of hostile villain encounters you’ve had in the past weeks?”

Izuku scratches his scalp, upsetting a few errant curls. “Y’know, I wouldn’t think much of them, in the sense you’re probably thinking of them. It’s true there have been a few major ‘public showdowns’, as you say,” God bless him (curse him, actually) but he actually makes double quotations to go along. “There’s a common denominator here, what you’re talking about—it’s the arrests you’ve featured on the evening segment a few times. Right?”

Izuku’s suit is torn: a jagged ugly line bisects his hero garb and compression sleeve from mid-tricep to mid-forearm. It’s displaying an ugly gash frothing with blood. As the clump of broadcast-vultures chuckle in tandem he continues—seemingly ignorant of his injury and Katsuki’s impending arrival both—gesticulating animatedly, “Any hostile confrontations we experience whilst on patrol would technically categorize as ‘public showdowns’, but we’ve had—oh, Kacch—Dynamight!”

It’s a scene like any other, on a kind of-interchangeable end of patrol-day: they’ve just squashed an armed robbery-slash-hostage situation, had half a block rupture beneath them during the ensuing chase (neither of them are at fault, Katsuki’ll have their insurance carrier know) and are now stuck doing the obligatory clean-up-and-press-junket half hour. Izuku’s elbow is bleeding something fierce whilst he’s talking to reporters; he’s clasping both palms and twining his fingers, untwines them and raises both arms to gesticulate; lowers his hands and re-clasps his palms—all as he does when he’s faced with press and has to talk ad hoc for extended periods of time.

None of this is particularly out of the ordinary; despite it or in spite of, Katsuki doesn’t know—the amalgamation of the above turns out to be why, when three mic’d up reporters make a narrow path into the cluster for Katsuki to enter into the throng, his first instinct, his knee-jerk reaction, is to be angry.

Izuku clasps his far shoulder. Katsuki shrugs his hand off and ducks near his ear. “You’re injured.”

“Huh? I’m not?” says Izuku quizzically. He looks around and about himself. Katsuki clocks the second he notices his own elbow: the spasm of a lone muscle in his cheek, the embarrassed grit of his jaw—the if you squeal in front of the press you die-look he spears Katsuki with before turning back to the pack. 

Izuku continues, bleeding but thoughtful: “What was I saying? Oh, yeah—I couldn’t talk about the ‘public showdowns’, as you say, without mentioning that any and all hostile confrontations we face on patrol belong to the same statistic. Really, they’re the same as they’ve always been—I wouldn’t say anything’s decreased or increased since a few years. Right?” He squares Katsuki with an inquisitive look.

Katsuki fights the urge to bare his teeth; he sucks down a deep breath, counts to five, and indulges his vulture-friendly maniac of a hero partner. “Because I’m not fucking lame I’m not gonna echo Pinky and say: ‘Another day, another slay.’” A few errant chuckles from the crowd; yeah, Katsuki’s a fucking comedian. “With that said, yeah, what Deku said—I dunno who was on site two days ago, DHN? JNN? JHT? I see all of you nodding, whatever; doesn’t matter—you’re drawing conjecture based on what you see. Shit happens when you’re not here, too.” Katsuki eyeballs the keeper of the JHT mic. “That doesn’t mean shit is happening. Not sure what the point of this is, but not everything’s a damn story—so I’m gonna take Hero Deku—” Katsuki snags Izuku by the collar, “—and go somewhere not where you lot are. He’s bleeding and you’re not. That’s not the end of the world either, in case that’s the doomsday headline you wanna draw up. That’s all. Scatter, fuckers!”

Izuku pouts when Katsuki drags him backwards through the clamoring throng of reporters. “We could’ve done a few more questions.”

Katsuki thinks: I knew I was fine dying for this asshole years ago.

Katsuki says: “We could’ve. We aren’t, though. Fuckface, you’re bleeding everywhere.”

Izuku glances down at himself. “It’s not that bad.”

“No? Tell that to the medteam, who’ll be the ones to explain to the public why unfortunately, due to erroneous judgment on the patient’s part, Pro Hero Deku lost mobility in his left arm a scant four years into his illustrious Symbol of Hope-era.” Katsuki squares him with a thin glare. “Also—tell that to your mom, who wants to put you on a direct flight to an isolated Siberian bunker where you can’t hurt yourself—she’s got a point.”

Izuku eyeballs him. “Kacchan,” he intones, “You’re overly dramatic sometimes.”

“Izuku,” Katsuki mocks, “You’re overly self-sacrificial all the time. Shut up and go see the EMTs.”

The march towards death had begun with the most inane fucking single step, and here he is, feeling, like an idiot, thinking: I knew I was fine dying for this asshole before I knew I was in dumb fucking love with him.

Well, go figure.