#you filthy cretins.

[cosmicwhoreo]

Maybe Grand Reef Cookie shouldn't always try to make the things he finds into some sort of tea or meal....

[lilacthebooklover]

i want you all to know that tumblr has CHANGED me. i use tone indicators now. i have friends and tag them on existential horror uquizes. this hellsite has got me eating posts. and bragging about it. i'm trapped in a place where a triangle is sexy, gay jokes are dime a dozen, and all of my blorbos are covered in blood. oh god i said "blorbo" again. the nightmare never ends

[clearlyaginger]

Alright send me your hot takes on characters who would normally be considered undesirable who you think is the epitome of sex appeal.

Get freaky with it and tell me why.

[cheto-png]

so

since you guys know their names heres some hcs abt them

they all have fangs and claws (caleb files his claws down to look more approachable, spamton got his removed)

viktor spawned in with sharp teeth because of a glitch

viktor also spawned in with a russian accent (james spawned with an aussie accent)

shortest to tallest: spamton, james, dave, caleb, viktor

caleb is the most responsible

hes also the oldest

spam is the youngest

viktor and dave are the ones that get up to the most chaos other than spamton

viktor runs on monster energy

dave really likes coffee

all of them are some kind of fruity

james is transmasc because i said so

dave is hyper 24/7

viktor is the opposite

he really needs a nap

spamtong used heels in his bigshot era to be taller

he shrunk after bigshot era because. uh. ehehe

ask any questions abt em that you want lmao

[trendywaifus]

imagine sunday disliking you as robin’s partner. he thinks she deserves the absolute best and you barely meet his standards. but because she’s all smiles and full of laughter with you, he’ll hold his tongue and swallow his own venom.

oh, and you know sunday dislikes you so you make it your whole mission to annoy him to DEATH. one time at a private event hosted by the family, you ended up crossing paths with sunday and robin. that was the perfect opportunity to mess with him.

you greet robin, ignoring sunday who was trailing right behind her. “hey there, my pretty angel~ “ you sing song, luring her into your arms and kissed her wings. sunday stands by, patiently tucking his arms behind his back despite the irritation bubbling in his chest. robin giggles as you nuzzled your nose into her feathers.

“ also, is that a new lip gloss you’re trying on? your lips looks so pretty, lemme kiss them~” sunday holds back a exasperated sigh, digging his nails into his gloved palm. the way you coddled his sister, whispering sweet nothings to her and putting your filthy lips on her while she sweetly laughs nearly made him turn away in disgust.

“ i need one more kiss before you go, baby. “

alright, that’s enough.

he brings a clenched fist to his lips and firmly clears his throat, causing you and robin to quickly peel away from each other. “ m-my sincere apologies, brother! “ robin sends her senior a shy, apologetic smile, turning towards him.

you secretly smirk at him when robin’s head is turnt away from you, “ i apologize as well sunday, i forgot you were there. “

wretched cretin. he thought with a tight lipped smile.

[serenaisavillain]

The Veiled Serenade

Summary: Prince Aemond and his brother Aegon traverse amidst the murky depths of Flea Bottom, where darkness reigns supreme. A web of intrigue is woven, fraught with forbidden desires and veiled intentions. As alliances shift and secrets unravel, the stage is set for an ardent tale of power, betrayal, and illicit love affairs in the heart of King's Landing.

Warnings: Contains sensitive themes, including imagery of graphic violence, as well as depictions of sexual assault and harassment. The story contains explicit language and mature themes, including substance abuse and addiction. Authors Note: I'd love to hear your thoughts on the fic.

Aemond One-Eye.

HE COULD HEAR the hushed voices all around him. The prying eyes. The second son of Viserys and Alicent sat staring down into his piss-yellow chalice of ale. His brother Aegon had whispered into his ear at supper that they should get up to some mischief, and Aemond knowing better than to let him go alone, indulged him. There they sat in the belly of Flea Bottom, in the dim light of a tavern surrounded by cretin.

Flies buzzed around sloppily made pies on dingy round tables.

His eye gazed upon the filthy wooden floor covered in spilt ale, retch, piss, and gods knew what else.

Aemond's garments stuck to his sweat-slicked skin, making them practically translucent, and his flowing hair was reduced to damp waves. He was exposed.

The jabbering was incessant and the young prince's ears ached.

"Are you not happy that we found this place?" Aegon slurred. His wrist twisted as he spoke, his ale throwing itself over the rim of the chalice and onto the table.

Aemond cleared his throat and cast his eye towards the small stage in the centre of the room.

A musician with a mandolin stood there plucking a solemn tune.

And there he saw her. A girl no older than him of nine and one, glided in behind the instrumentalist.

Her tawny skin glistened like a bronze coin in the vicious heat of King's Landing. She was statuesque, her frame draped in a thin, silk frock. Her hair sat above her head, a crown of leaves, their branches reaching up and out.

He observed her closer, his chest rising and falling.

Her heart-shaped face accessorized by her dark eyes and long eyelashes. Her broad nose cast shadows on her cheeks in the candlelight, and her plump lips appeared shining as though they were drenched in honey.

"As wind grows cold this winters eve

The babe will cry

The thief will steal

For hunger robs them both of joy

Their empty bellies whine and roar..."

The prince's eye twitched.

Her voice was silvery, each word she chanted clawing itself into his mind.

His heart clenched.

"Excuse me dear brother," Aemond muttered.

Aegon smirked at him.

"Like what you see eh?" He taunted.

"I just need to take a piss," the one-eyed boy huffed and walked off.

The moon was pregnant in the sky, its halo casting a glow over the white-haired prince.

He inhaled.

Slightly chilled air filled his aching lungs.

He could only imagine the night on dragon-back. How the heavens would part for him and Vhagar. The wind whirling through his mane.

"I take it you did not like my song my prince?" He heard a honeyed voice.

The prince swallowed.

"I feel indifferent towards your serenading" He said refusing to turn around and meet her eyes.

She chuckled.

The girl smoothed out her garment and took a step towards him.

"I do not wish to hear such slanders," He turned facing her, eyebrows raised, eyes widened and nostrils flared.

He saw the glimmer of mischief in her amber eyes before she opened her mouth.

"Slanders must be false to be slanders my prince..." she retorted with a smirk on her shimmering lips.

The young man rolled his eyes.

"That's not a very royal gesture," she gasped, placing her soft fingers on her plump cheek.

"Forgive me Lady..."

"Waters," she curtsied.

"Ah... it makes sense now."

The young woman arched her eyebrow.

"And what exactly makes sense?" She mocked.

"You're a bastard."

She slapped him.

Her soft palm licked his face as quick as lightning struck.

His eyes darkened and a smile crept on his face before he caught her wrist.

"I must behest you... do not do that again." He said lowly.

The girl laughed dryly.

"It is a good thing I am not your servant." She spat before boxing him again.

The prince grunted behind bared teeth. Taking her other hand and pushing her smaller body into the shadowy side of the stone tavern.

Her breath was ragged as she struggled against him.

He smelled the perfume of her hair; peach, summer fruits, and white flowers. He inhaled the oil of her skin, a voluptuous bunch of spices, and allowed himself to let his eye flutter close for less than a minute.

The doors of the tavern burst open and out poured two men in search of someone.

Their footsteps furious against the moist dirt below them.

"Y/N?!" A man hollered. Aemond recognized him as the musician on stage earlier with the mandolin.

He was tall and hulking, his face covered by a full beard and his hair black and of neck length.

"Aemond." his brother slurred, before swaying into the direction of his white-haired kin.

He was laughing.

"You filthy dog. I knew you saw something you liked... perhaps we can both..." He rasped.

"Fin!" the girl whined in protest.

"Get off of her!" the musician yelled.

Aegon laughed so hard he thought he might fall over.

"First come first serve. My brother spotted her first. Maybe you'll get your turn after we've finished." he spat, itching at his sword.

Aemond loosened his grip on the girl's clothes.

"I am not a whore!" She cried attempting to shuffle past.

Aegon laughed again.

"No, no. Of course not... what do you prefer to be called these days?" He raised his eyebrows.

The other man's fist tightened.

"Whether you wear a crown or not matters little. You owe her an apology, else you'll find your guts spilled from belly to balls." The tall figure grumbled.

Aemond grabbed his brother pulling him as he walked.

"Did you hear what he-"

"Shut up! you've had too much to drink." The sober brother responded.

AEMOND PACED AROUND HIS CHAMBERS.

Y/N... he thought.

The wind was cold tonight, blowing past the Dornish silk curtains and against his pale skin.

Perhaps he was too harsh with her.

He rubbed his forehead.

And his brother Aegon... he had made a fool of himself once again. His subjects were never fond of him, but now their family was surely falling out of the common folk's favour.

The boy lay back on the menagerie of pillows that sat atop the stack of goose-feather mattresses he called his bed, picturing Y/N's tear-stained face.

He had never stooped so low as to put his hands on a woman.

How in the seven hells would he make this right?

He had no idea.

The banging on his door startled him, and he rushed to clothe himself after stumbling to his feet.

Behind the heavy Valerian steel door loomed his mother, all five foot five of her.

[damien-leblanc]

Black Hat x Adaptor Reader

(I ain't talking about plugs)

Part 1

The alarms didn't go off in Black Hat Manor, nobody noticed you, nobody ever noticed you if that's what you wished you were an adaptor after all you could adapt to any situation needs and your need was to say hello to an old friend.

You waltzed into Black Hat's office and all Black Hat noticed was his office doors slam wide open but there was nobody behind them not Dementia, not Flug hell not even 5.0.5.

What the hell? Black Hat thought as he swiftly got up from his desk and surveyed the room when suddenly he felt two fimilair fingers walk down his neck he turned his neck to see who on earth dared to touch him but somewhere in his mind he already knew.

The minute he turned his neck you were nowhere to be seen. Black Hat scowled he would not be toyed with, "Come out you filthy cretin!" he barked seething with rage

Your chuckles echoed through the room when suddenly you appeared in front of Black Hat his eyes wide with shock "I'm back" you said simply eyes filled with joy

He quickly composed himself "Y/N? No...you're dead...this is a trick" he said his scowl deepening and his form shifting into a great heap of Black flesh, tentacles, razor blades and a frightening scowl. "I don't know how you knew y/n but you will suffer for impersonating what was mine" he said angrier than you had ever seen him in all of your 1000 years together in fact he almost looked hurt

He slashed at ripping away a chunk of your torso but you didn't even flinch instead your body quickly healed and your skin grew harder as if anticipating the next attack.

Black Hat stopped he knew y/n was the last adaptor in existence "It's you..." he said as he shifted to his regular form "It's actually you!" he pulled you close to him with his tendrils and for the first time in millennia you two embraced "You're not allowed to die ever again y/n." he said sternly

"Yes lord Black Hat" you said with a laugh

[sayafics]

Temptation - Prologue

I honestly had no motivation to write another chapter for Dance of Shadows, so I thought I'd do a different fic to get me in the right mood.

Hope you guys like this one!

Criston cole x reader

Chapter I

Masterlist

Vaella Targaryen had her mother's gentle nature and her grandsire's shrewd mind.

If the people of the court were to ask, others would whisper that she did not take an ounce of her father's countenance.

She was brave and kind, and cruel and spoilt - she was fire, through and through. With a heart of unrelenting passion and a soul burning with the ferocity of a dragon, she caught the eyes of many lords throughout the Seven Kingdoms.

Most, if not all, were deemed to pale in contrast - too unworthy to share the same breath as her, if Aemond had a say.

Aemond was her twin, her true other half - in a manner her sister and brothers could never be. Still, she looked upon them with the same loving eyes she did Aemond.

Viserys did not spare her a glance, just as he had not feigned interest in all his heirs aside from his eldest daughter - Rhaenyra.

There was an ever-present ache in the depths of Vaella's heart as she recalls the way her father would dote upon her or Helaena whilst living in the lies the milk of the poppy fed him, and became dismissive when its effects had worn off.

Her mother would become Aemma, her brothers Daemon, and she or Helaena were a reflection of a sister who held no love towards them. No respect. Simply because the blood of Hightower ran alongside the blood of a Targaryen through them, and not the blood of Arryn that ran through Rhaenyra.

There were moments where Vaella adored being a princess, to be doted on by her handmaidens and protected by her knights. But it all melded into a sense of mindless ministrations when she realised their attention was out of duty, not love.

Vaella craved the idea of being wanted - needed.

There was no doubt of the love her siblings held for her - their brash protectiveness and coveted kindness spoke for itself.

But she longed for a whisper of love that was all-consuming and riveting, that had her heart skipping beats, her hands trembling in anticipation, her stomach twisting and turning and eyes welling with gratitude.

She wanted something more.

***

Ser Criston Cole was a man scorned by a woman he believed to love him. A woman he insulted his vows for, tainted his white cloak for.

Ser Cole no longer believed in love - that was what he had told himself. He remained a dutiful knight, the Queen's sworn protector as he marched at her side, ready to fight for her cause, regardless of the sacrifices.

He taught Aemond how to wield a sword. Showing the boy how to protect himself from all those who wished him harm, watching him become a man and a brutal warrior. Criston promised himself he would never see the boy bleed again, not as he had the night Aemond had lost his eye and he had failed in his duties.

He became fretful over Helaena when she was drowning in the vicious waves of her mind. So careful to make sure she did not stumble nor trip whilst muttering the words that echoed in her mind. Mindful of every creature and cretin that scuttered across the Keep and ensured they were returned to her unharmed.

He would fetch Aegon from the filthy brothels of Silk Street. He would wash the boy like he was his own and clothe him like he was a babe. He would put him into bed and stay with the boy until his frenzied mind hushed under the doting nature of wines and ales.

But with Vaella, Alicent's youngest daughter, he simply watched. His eyes fixed upon her from afar.

He watched as she grew into a woman - in a blink of an eye, the girl whose gleeful chitters bounced through the Keep had turned into a woman anew.

Criston felt his throat ache as his heart filled with guilt at the thoughts that plague his mind. He had never paid much attention to the girl. She flitted in and out of his life without a second glance. She was much too quiet for him to take notice, much too shy and reserved.

Vaella spent all her waking moments trailing a father who did not want her and seeking comfort in her grandsire. She would be at the Sept if her mother would not have her, with her brothers if her father denied her.

And as the days passed into years, her shy smiles turned into sensuous smirks, her quiet words into tantalising whispers, her hesitant calls into enticing touches.

But Criston did not believe in love.

That did not stop his obsessions from growing, did not stop the jealousy that raked at his heart, and clawed against his throat when he had to watch her dance in the arms of lords who lusted over her like she was nothing more than a brooding mare.

He simply watched from afar.

Bound by his duties, suffocated by his cloak - Ser Criston Cole could not do much but watch.

That is, until the princess and her dearest brother reached their nameday of eight and ten.

A most lustrous banquet held in their honour as the pair were weighed heavy in gowns and armours of black and green - Vaella's ears shone with the largest of emeralds and her throat adorned with the most lavish of jewels. Her hair was pulled back in an array of complicated braids before falling down her back, and atop her head sat a circlet of the most finest gems.

Strokes of pink dusted her cheeks, giving her a natural flush that made her seem meek and quiet. But her wandering eyes gave away her true intentions, eyes running across the mass of people- of men, hungrily.

Criston heated within the confines of his armour, feeling stifled and suffocated at the sight of her. Still, his heart raged at the rolling waves of lust that poured off the men who attended the banquet.

He had watched as she danced in the arms of several men. Men he believed did not deserve to breathe in her scent, let alone hold her in their embrace.

He clenched his teeth when his heart roared and beat in protest as she took to a final dance with her brothers - shame colouring his ears at the realisation he was jealous of everyone who could get close to her in ways he ached to.

His heart sunk when she threw her head back with a delighted laugh at a joke made by a Lannister. It clenched in agony as she blushed under the lustful gaze of a shameless Tully.

Then, for a moment, Criston's heart wedged itself in his throat, his breathing coming to a stuttered stop as her gaze met his.

Her eyes were the shade of wisterias, vivid and bright. But in the light of a thousand blazing torches, they were almost glowing amber. He was mesmerised by her beauty once more. His mouth became dry, and he floundered for a moment as she sent him a teasing smile. As though she knew something he did not.

Even when she turned away, not daring to move to sneak glances at his form, Criston found himself tense. He stood straighter, on alert for whatever it was that he was sure would happen.

However, he certainly didn't expect this.

Ser Criston Cole, it was announced by the Hand, the Queen's most loyal protector would be given to her youngest daughter - a gift, they had said.

Her Sworn Shield.

Her personal knight.

Her shadow and her friend, a listening ear and a guiding hand, a fearless weapon and a comforting presence.

A gift.

A glance into the girl's eyes, watching how they gleamed with mischief, he was sure it was simply a death sentence.

To test him so harshly, to have him follow around the girl who fascinated him so deeply. It was a devious challenge, indeed.

But it would be okay.

Because, Ser Criston Cole did not believe in love.

[i-am-muzan-kibutsuji]

no actually *licks your face*

You disgusting rat!!

YOU DARE TRACE YOUR FILTHY TONGUE ACROSS MY FACE!!! WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO DO SO!?

FIRST, YOU COME HERE, TELLING ME THAT I AM NO FUN, THEN YOU COME BACK AND TELL ME NO, WHILE ALSO MOLESTING MY FACE!? YOU CRETINOUS CHILD!!!!! YOU'RE FOUL!!

IN ALL MY YEARS OF BEING ALIVE, I'VE NEVER HAD SUCH A DISRESPECTFUL THING TO HAPPEN TO ME!!

[moonflower91]

Battles Not Fought With Steel

summary: After years apart, Saerah meets her nephews again in the same training yard she once beat Jacerys with a wooden sword

It was just as she remembered it. Years before, she had once sat with her father and his Hand, Lord Strong, here at the balcony that overlooked the training grounds.

She'd been a girl then, eagerly licking up whatever attention Viserys deigned to give her. She pitied the girl she'd been, and in a way, was thankful that she saw her sire clearly now.

Slow and weak and blind to all but his own hopes and pride.

Father had often enjoyed watching his sons and grandsons train together, feeding into his own delusion that they would grow up as close, trusted companions, never seeing the tension growing steadily between them.

Part of his foolishness, part of his arrogance, to think that just because he was king and head of their family, that he could force goodwill to blossom between them.

Truth be told, Saerah had somewhat believed those delusions herself, if only to appease her father. Aegon's vicious laughter with Rhaenyra's sons had been rationalized as boyhood blusters. Saerah stealing and secretly destroying the Strong boys' most precious toys had been a childish cruelty, little else than the actions of a mean little girl. The Strong bastards’ taunting of their true born uncle had been brushed off with sneers that to make it heavier than teasing, was to be soft and weak.

Every act of animosity exchanged had been the things of childhood, though Saerah had never counted her nephews as friends for what they'd put Aemond through.

Even her elder brother Aegon, who had so often banded together with the Strong bastards in their endeavours to humiliate Aemond, grew rageful when one of them bested either he or Aemond on the training grounds. Jacerys and Lucerys might be his play things, his hooting shadows that laughed with him when Aemond was teased, but they were still bastards. To best a prince of trueborn blood was something even a fool such as Aegon could not abide.

Then, that night at Driftmark had divided House Targaryen in half. Childhood had died that night and none of the adults present had attempted to soothe the wounds. Instead, they'd severed the mangled bonds entirely.

Where once Saerah thought Lucerys loosing his eye would have been a fair justice, her own exile made her hate the little cretin that coward behind his whore mother, and an eye became too small a price to pay.

As a girl, she'd spent as much time with her father as she was allowed, glowing each time his affection turned to her, even for a brief moment.

Now, she stood at the wall alone, watching her nephews as they practiced their swordsmanship. It was the first she'd seen them in years, but she could recognize them in an instant.

She’d arrived on dragonback a few days prior, and had asked the servants where the unwelcomed host of pretend Valaeryons had wandered off to.

She noted the colors they wore--black and red, Targaryen colors, although they held the name Valaeryion. The two little idiots might as well confirm the rumor that the only royal blood they had came from their Targaryen mother, while the rest of them hailed from the smoking ruins of Harrenhal.

It was a while before Jacerys noticed her, when his eye caught hers as he murmured lowly to his younger brother. He’d a fine face, she had to admit. Harwin Strong had been fine too, before he was melted at Harrenhall.

It would only be proper to greet them. Perhaps it would add a bit more humiliation if she bid them welcome here in the filthy training yard than at the castle gates.

She turned and made her way down the stairs, her slippered feet grazing softly over the stone, heralding her descent with softness.

“Nephews.” She called softly once she reached the boys. Her eyes flashed towards little Luke and her grin widened to see how terrified she looked.

“Aunt.” Jacerys returned, his voice taught. “We missed you this morning.” He challenged.

“Ah, yes, I had other engagements. Helaena’s little ones are just darling, I could not pull myself away from them.”

“I assume you are making up for lost time after your years in Riverrun.”

“Highgarden, actually.”

“Have you found any willing suitors then, at Highgarden?”

Saerah’s brows furrowed. What did he care if she’d had any suitors? “A handful. But I set my sights closer to myself. And from the rumours I hear, one of Daemon’s ilk are like as not to be your bride, whenever your mother decides to cut the cord.”

The tips of his ears reddened and his jaw worked.

“My affairs are not your concern.”

Her mouth hardened. “And my marriage prospects are none of yours.”

“I will one day be king, of course they are of concern to me.”

“Do you honestly care who I take into my bed, Jacerys?” She asked, tilting her head. Then, a wicked thought occurred to her, and she stepped closer. “Is that what you imagine? Me naked, in my bed, contorting my body in all kinds of sinful ways, shaking, crying out with pleasure?”

Jace’s jaw clenched again. “Your attempts to goad me into some kind of argument are falling on disinterested ears, aunt.”

“Oh if I really wanted to provoke you, nephew, I’d take up a practice sword and throttle you once more.” Beside him, little Luke stepped back, but Jacerys, hardheaded and stubborn and proud as ever, refused to back away. Instead, he stared hard into Saerah’s lilac eyes, daring her to do just that. “But fear not. There’s no practice sword in sights. Your face is safe from my wrath. “

"That was years ago, aunt." Jace replied lowly, ears colouring red at the memory of when he'd been throttled by a little girl.  

"I am sure the embarrassment still burns the same."

"As do your hands. Grandfather told me he had your hands lashed for the offence."

"Yes." She replied, biting her cheek as she cast her eyes towards the maid servants flittering about the edges of the yard.  It was the one part of the memory that darkened her mood. "A fair exchange, I would say. My hands healed, your pride may not. Afterall, what future king wants the shame of being bested by a girl over his head.”  

[spitdrunken]

notes: unhealthy relationship, could be read as yandere

rollo is insistent about the fact that he’s not a jealous partner. he would call himself lenient, even. 

because he knows that those friends of yours are filthy cretins, and yet he allows them to spend time around you. though he knows their mere presence could corrupt you, he cares about you, and wants to see you happy. he will begrudgingly admit that they, even though it’s not as large as a part as he contributes, add to your happiness. he will tolerate it.

because rollo knows he’s a good boyfriend, one who would never stoop to a childish emotion such as jealousy, would never stoop to something borne out of insecurity. (he has nothing to be insecure about. you are his, and he is yours. that is all that matters.) no, these feelings do not stem from a feeling of jealousy, but rather a desire to keep you safe. in a world so drenched by magic, everyone is corrupted. rollo himself is no different- but at least he is aware of it, and can put a damper on his urges. 

because rollo is nothing but diligent in anything he puts his mind to, it does not take him long to unearth your friend’s dirty secrets, one after the other. and though he would not try to taint you himself by trying to change your behaviour, others are not nearly as lucky. he will hold anything he finds over their heads, anything for them to leave you alone, and for them to push you closer ot himself.

because, after all, who would believe that the stern, but ultimately kind, president would have any reason to do such a thing?

[acapelladitty]

A huge happy birthday to the very delightful and extremely sweet @enigmamuse 🎂💜 Have this snarky and somewhat silly little Riddler and Scarecrow snippet 🫡💋 xx

The circus had come to town.

Bright colours, jazzed-up musical numbers, and costumes which teetered just on the right side of tasteful filled the packed main hall of the Iceberg Lounge and Edward could almost imagine Oswald laughing as he stared down through his one-way glass at the sea of money which would soon be flowing into his deep pockets.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Gotham!"

Clad in a tailored costume which was so ostentatious that even Edward doubted he could pull it off, the ringmaster strode around the centre of the room with purpose, dragging every gaze as he did.

"Let's move on and get some of you lovely guests up here! I want hands up! Let's volunteer some of our friends for a little task! A little trick!"

Edward's hand was up like a shot, cutting through the air and standing proud amongst the sea of raised arms.

"Hand down before I take it."

The words were hissed and the genuine anger within them made Edward smirk as he turned to the side and faced his irate partner.

"The fool requested volunteers, Jonathan. I'm only taking part." Edward defended, pursing his lips to keep his laughter from escaping. "Maybe they will have a costume? You'd look marvellous in feathers."

A searing pain in his groin drew a frantic yelp from Edward's lips as his hand dropped to wrap around Crane's wrist to prevent his razor-thin fingers from digging any deeper into the sensitive length of his clothed cock.

"You, sir? A volunteer?"

Zeroing in on them like a bloodhound, the ringmaster smiled brightly in the direction of their whisky-stained table.

"No."

Edward's voice emerged in a slightly higher pitch than usual and he coughed the change away with a gentle rumble.

"Cretin! You had better be prepared to kiss it better later on." Edward scowled, the heft of his palm gently rubbing away the lingering pain in his groin as he grumbled his discontent. "Laying your filthy hands on me...I swear if there's a single mark..."

"You like my hands on you any other time."

Tapping his fingers in a jaunty tune against the table, Jonathan matched the scowl with one of his own and Edward hated how much better the expression sat on the deep-set lines of his face.

"Sometimes I think you revel in being difficult for the sake of it." Jonathan continued.

"Sometimes I think you revel in being a son of a bitch for the sake of it."

"We both know that's the truth."

"I worked at a travelling circus once, you know."

Tactful as ever, Edward divered the conversation down a fresh path as he swirled the body of his wine glass around to disturb the merlot within.

The whisky in Jonathan's own glass disappeared in one solid gulp. A noise of amusement playing in his chest.

"A travelling circus?" He exclaimed, voice far too jovial and interested to be genuine. "I was unaware there was still money in the freak show game."

"At night, I dream of killing you."

"Only at night?" Jonathan sank the last of his gin with his mouth set into a grim line. "Age has made you soft, Edward."

[tblsomedoodles]

I'd really love to see your take on Big Mama's perspective of Many Unhappy Returns because, well, o know you've said it doesn't change much eventwise but I get the feeling context and dynamic wise it changes quite a bit.

Like I can imagine Big Mama take a nice sip of tea as one of her guards come in to inform her someone claiming to be her "snugglemuffin beefcake" is on the lobby waiting for her. It's only years of experience and training on keeping her facad up that kept her from spitting both webs and tea all over the guard. Lou Jitsu!? In her lobby!? Unbelievable, it had to be someone trying to trick her or disguised as him!

Even so... she considers the matter. If it is Lou Jitsu than the biggest opportunity has just fallen into her lap! Lou wouldnt date step foot into her parlor unless he needed soemthing from her! Depending on what that is, that filthy, baby stealing cretin will rue the day he took her sons from her, but first she has to wring their location from his skinny little neck before tossing him into the arena! She may even hear him out and do what he asks, if only out of curiosity for what could possibly bring that wretch back to her.

Of it isn't him, she can just as easily have him killed after interrogating him on how he heard that name.

She was somewhat disappointed when she stepped out of the elevator to find a stinky old rat wearing a Lou Jitsu costume and not her ex, but the young man standing next to him was almost interesting enough on his own to make her forgive the obvious trick. Who would have guessed one of those silly little turtles would want to try to make a deal with her!? And it's the cute little blue one who reminded her so much of her little Leonardo, too! But first... the rat!

This is pretty much spot on lol. the only thing i'll add is this:

When she realizes that the rat is in fact, Lou, she doesn't immediately put the dots together. She comes to the conclusion that Lou hid/gave away her boys somewhere and has been raising these turtles as a sort of emotional replacement. Her boys being painfully mutated as babies is the farthest thing from her mind.

and, once they have a second alone, that's what she calls him out on. She demands to know where her boys are (at which point an eavesdropping Leon puts those dots together and instantly regrets it.) Splinter tells her and she doesn't want to believe it.

Draxum may be a ruthless warrior alchemist, but experimenting on yokai children was a line he would never cross. She knows this. There is no way he would experiment on her children like Lou is alluding to.

So she sends him to the arena, dropping the blue turtle in with him last minute b/c if he's not going to tell her where her boys are on his own, then maybe risking one of his preciousness turtles would make him talk.

But then she's tricked. the blue one changes things last second. he, this fourteen year old boy, beat her at her own game. how could that possibly be-

oh.

He beat her because he is her son. Splinter was telling the truth. Draxum did mutate her boys.

no wonder those four turtles reminder her of her kids. it's because they were her kids.

there was a lot to think about; decisions to make, things to do, warrior alchemists to hunt down.

but first things first. She did have a deal to fulfill.

Thank you!

[clumsiestgiantess]

Tserem’s story is actually too long to put all in one sitting, so I’ve decided to split it into two halves with a cliffhanger in the middle. You’re welcome.

(his ref is here btw)

I had his text in a cool font to show his strange accent; kinda sad it doesn’t transfer over onto Tumblr, so just pretend Tserem’s lines are in Caveat font.

I'd only started a rebellion which nearly usurped the King and massacurred his entire bloodline.  I see no need for a death sentence.  It would be the noose for sure — a public hanging to make an example out of me.  I stood patiently in the small courtroom, my arms and legs chained to the cold, stone floor.  Meanwhile, the King, my judge, jury, and soon to be executioner stood haughtily from a podium above me.  Light filtered in through gleaming stained-glass windows above his large wood-carved chair, bathing him in a yellow halo-esque glow.  That visual had to be intentional.

"Filthy rebel leader," the king addressed me, refusing to use my name, though he must know it.  It was by accident that I became a household name.  I hadn't intended for my less-than-ethical ways to spread like wildfire throughout the kingdom.  Then again, it wasn't hard when many were left starving and homeless.  These days people are desperate enough to do just about anything.  Scarlet became an accursed whisper in the wind.  Scarlet like the blood of her enemies.  Scarlet like my own blood which seeped onto the floor from the wounds I'd generously been given on my way in here.  "You will be sentenced to death by-”

The King's advisor quickly pulled him aside; I strained my ears to hear what he said.  "If you hang her in the square, you will have another riot on your hands.  She will not only make a good example of those who do not follow you, she will become a symbol of what those cretins are fighting for."  Damn.  He was right.  I was betting on some sort of trouble to go down during my execution.  I'd even hoped to escape in the chaos.  "It is best you do something more.. secretive."  I tried to tell them that no matter how they killed me, my death would still stand for something.  It has to mean something, right?  However, a metal clamp held my mouth closed, digging into my jaw as I tried to speak.  The King cleared his throat, returning to the podium.  "Rebel, you are sentenced to death… by sacrifice."  

My eyes widened in shock, and my mouth would've hung agape had it not been for the clamp that held it tightly shut.  I strained against my chains.  Death by sacrifice was supposed to be a myth.  Only vague tales claim that the King had tamed the Beast of Shrieking Hill.  And still only rumors claimed that he'd done so with human sacrifices.

"Guards!" the King commanded, "Take her to be readied for the ceremony!"  I cried out in dismay, thrashing in my chains as two armored guards dragged me away.  This time, I wasn't taken to a cell.  They dragged me past the reinforced prison doors to a hallway that came to an abrupt end.  We waited there for a while.  I attacked one of the guards, testing how easy escape would be.  It wasn’t easy enough.  The guard I hadn't attacked cracked the blunt end of his sword over my head, and I crumpled to the ground.  My vision was dotted with black spots, but once they subsided, an old hag stood in front of me.  I flinched, unsure if I was really seeing her or if that guard had knocked the sanity out of me.  The King, followed by his elite personal guard, came up behind the old woman.  My two guards were dismissed, replaced by two of the King's very own.  They held me aside as a third stepped up to the end of the corridor.  They did something to the wall — I couldn't quite see, but it had something to do with rearranging the stone pattern — and suddenly it split wide open, revealing a tunnel straight into the earth.

I was dragged inside first, and the rest of my entourage followed suit.  We walked for what felt like eternity, yet it was over too soon.  The end of the tunnel led into the middle of the forest, where an inconspicuous cart waited.  I was bound tighter and thrust into the back while the rest of the party rode in seats surrounding me.  One of the guards, and the King of course, rode up front to steer.  I was thrown about, jostled roughly every time the cart hit a bump, which was quite often on this derelict road.  

Again the trip was over after eternity, yet only a moment.  The sky had darkened to deep hues of purple and pink.  My stomach dropped as I saw what awaited me.  A long stake lay on the ground with only one small cross-section for me to stand on once it was raised.  I tried to slip away from the guards while they removed my chains, but I should've known better.  These were the best of the best.  I barely made it more than a few inches before their almost inhumanly fast reflexes grabbed hold of me once more.  

Fear gripped me once I was tied to the stake.  My death suddenly became a very real prospect to me.  I would never let myself beg the King for mercy, but I would certainly voice my fear.  Especially once the old hag leaned over me with a bowl of strange liquid between her hands.  She dipped her fingers into it and reached out to put it on me.  I screamed between the fabric of the gag in my mouth, squirming away from the sickly sweet smelling ooze as it dripped off her fingers.  

Despite my best efforts to escape, I could do nothing but watch as multiple guards came to hold me down while the old woman did her work.  The king watched everything from afar, his cold emotionless eyes glaring at me from the edge of the clearing.  First, the woman used the awful stuff to draw markings across my face.  Her long nails were so sharp that she cut into me slightly and I yelped, though it couldn't really be heard through my gag.  Then, she pulled down the neck of my tunic and took another dip of the strange oil.  She drew a symbol over my sternum, pressing roughly into my skin so it was drawn in both oil and blood.  The liquid stung my fresh cuts and I shrieked in pain.

The old hag whispered unintelligible nonsense over me and the guards hoisted me and the stake upwards until it was stuck firmly into the ground.  Now, I was held a good ten or so feet off the earth.  By then, the sky was completely dark and the only light came from the few torches dispersed about the clearing.  The King stepped up to the mountainside in front of me with a torch in his hand.  It was only then that I noticed the gaping hole in the rock face, void black against even the torchlight, like an endless pit.  A similar pit yawned in my stomach as I stared at it in horror.  

"Beast, I offer you tonight another sacrifice!  I hope you may find her suitable, and fill your insatiable appetite."  I retched at the thought of being eaten.  Terror seized my chest as everyone in the clearing proceeded back down the path they'd come.  I cried muffled pleas, begging them to reconsider, but they were soon gone.  Alone in the clearing, I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped for a quick death.

Nothing but the sounds of animals and rustle of leaves on trees in the crisp night air could be heard from the forest.  However, as the sun slid away, another sound started beneath it all.  It was barely noticeable at first.  One moment it was hidden, the next, I was sure I heard it — the tapping of something hard stepping over stone.  Only, it wasn't stepping, really.  The sound was more akin to scuttling, like a massive bug.  This was strange, yet even more terrifying.  I expected the beast to be some awful demon or dragon, maybe a huge hairy monster.  The prospect of something unknown frightened me more than any of those creatures did.  I had to take a look.  

To my relief and disappointment, the torches had all gone out while my eyes were shut tightly.  My heart flew into my throat when I saw the cave — its opening was practically unseeable so that it looked as if it had grown wider in the dark.  A long, snaking body spiraled out of the abyss, spindly legs skittered about its sides as it glided closer.  I wanted to scream, but I couldn't make a single sound.  The very front of its body lifted up, rearing back its head.  I couldn't see what it looked like, but then again, I didn’t really want to.

The creature's creeping body skittered closer, circling the stake once before bringing its head up to examine me.  Dilated snake-like eyes glistened in the dark.  Finally, it seemed my body had caught up with my brain.  I screamed, writhing on the stake in a poor attempt to free myself before the monster could swallow me up.  The creature flinched away from me for a moment before drawing closer.  A forked tongue brushed my chest where the oils were drawn, making my breath hitch in terror, my whole body going cold.

Two massive appenages, almost twice the size of its scuttling legs and far more muscular, lifted from its body from a place a bit below its head.  I thrashed and screamed as the limbs moved in towards me.  At last, I managed to break free of something.  The gag in my mouth fell around my neck.  "Wait!" I cried, "Please!  I'm begging you!  Please don't eat me!  I've done nothing wrong!"  This was a bold-faced lie, but it was all I could think of.  The creature froze in place, pupils narrowing, scrutinizing me from above.  No wonder I was placed on a stake so high in the air.  This monster was as likely as long as the entire castle bridge; its snaking body still sat partially in the cave with no end in sight.  

The creature leaned backwards on its impossibly long body, and for a moment I thought it had somehow miraculously listened to my words.  It was too good to be true — not even my own supporters believed much of what I said.  They only believe in what I did.  Once.  To a few people who really deserved it.  The lengthy creature wound back only to strike at me with lightning speed, ripping me right off the stake.  I shrieked as the shadowy form of the monster overtook me, and I was plunged into darkness.

A throbbing pain in my side startled me awake, and I found myself pressed into a rocky lump of the floor.  Wait.. I woke up.  I'm alive!  My head spun as I sat up and gazed at the room around me.  Glorious light bounced off crystalline structures that grew from floor to ceiling all over the cavern.  It was so beautiful that I was almost certain that I had died after all.  A pristine pool of water reflected the ceiling like a mirror.  My stupefied shock was suddenly overcome by fear as the twisting shadow of the creature that attacked me slid behind the rocky outer edges of the cavern.  I scrambled backwards, searching rapidly for a way out.  

"What do you want with me!?" I cried, standing up despite my dizziness.  "Why don't you just get it over with already?  Stop toying with me and eat me!"  "I thought you said you did not want me to eat you."   I gawked, staring at the creature's form as it stopped moving and gazed at me from the dark.  "Y- You can talk?"  The voice that echoed from the creature's side of the cavern was masculine, and thick with an accent I didn't recognize.  His remark sounded almost amused.  "Why are you-" I suddenly collapsed on the ground, dizziness catching up with me.  I hadn't drank anything over the past who-knows-how-long; I'd probably been unconscious for a while.

"The water in this cavern is for drinking." the creature told me.  I took his words as an invitation and rushed to the water's edge, scooping the cool liquid into my hands and guzzling it as quickly as I could.  I kept an eye on the shadow of the creature the entire time, just in case he tried to attack me while I was turned from him.  Once I finished, I continued my question from before.  "Why are you hiding back there?"  The creature was silent for a moment.  His shadow edged closer, but never came into the light.  "I am hiding because you will be terrified if you see me.  I have tried to take a more human form, but it is not very human."  A more human form?  His shadow didn’t look human at all.  It was twisted around a third of the cavern.  “Well, I’m already terrified of you, so what does it matter?” I replied.  The creature was quiet, slithering back and forth between the columns of crystal.  “I suppose you are right,” he muttered, sliding into the light.

A massive, serpentine body coiled towards me; I followed it with my eyes all the way up to his torso, which faded from scales to tan human flesh.  The beginning of his body — from his torso to his head — looked almost completely human, except for his startling yellow slitted eyes and slightly elongated mouth.  "See, I told you that you would be scared," he grumbled, gesturing to my pale face and horrified expression.  I stumbled backwards, nearly falling into a smaller pool of water behind me.  "Are- Are you going to eat me?"  Panic bubbled into my voice.  I could hear it echo over the stone walls around me.  It was then that I realized that the creature's large body was blocking the only exit I could see.  He grumbled annoyedly, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly.  I backed away further, worried that I'd angered him.  Suddenly, the creature laughed.  His jaw unhinged as he did so, causing me to whimper involuntarily.  I was so sure he'd eat me — that he'd simply swallow me whole.  "Oh, I suppose I should not be laughing," the creature mused, catching himself.  "After all, it is my job to eat humans who are sacrificed to me.  Do not panic little creature, I do not intend to hurt you."

He could easily tell that I didn't believe a word he said by the way I had myself pressed against the back wall, so he continued.  "Look, if I were going to eat you, why would I have waited to do so now?  I could easily have eaten you tied up on the stake."  "I- I don't know!" I cried, "Maybe you like to toy with your food before eating it?  Didn't you just tell me that it's your job to eat me?  Why would you not?"  The being's eyes narrowed in thought for a moment.  "You are rather smart for a human.  I knew I saw something worthwhile in you," he mused.  "Alright, if you wish not to believe me, I do not mind.  You may go free.  I am sure you have family of some sort that are worried about you."  

Shock and sorrow seized my chest simultaneously, mixing into hostility.  "I don't have a family," I murmured as the creature made way for me at the entrance.  "The King's army killed them trying to get to me!  You work for him, and I don't believe a word you say!"  "I DO NO SUCH THING!" the creature roared, scaring me into silence again.  "I work for food.  The King just happens to be my supplier."  He slithered closer to me, leaning over the pool of water, casting ripples over its pristine surface.  His human hand reached for me and I gasped.  The length of it was almost four feet tall.  Thankfully, the creature pulled it back to his side at the last second, re-thinking his actions.  

"I am Tserem.  A being from another world with powers your human mind can barely comprehend, yet I too have what you call family.”  His shuddering sigh made my hair stand on end, but his voice sounded genuine.  “He took yours from you, and he took me from mine."  The creature, Tserem, leaned back like he'd done the night before, though this time he didn't look as though he would strike at me.

His words finally seemed to take hold in my mind.  “You’ve come from another world?  I’ve heard of other realms.. but another world?  What does that mean?”  His foreign accent, devilish appearance, and strange name all made much more sense.  “I have a proposition for you,” he told me, ignoring my questions.  “I have saved your life so I ask you to listen, at the very least, to what I have to offer."

"My name is Scarlet," I replied, "I'm a symbol of a rebellion against the king.  What could you possibly have to offer me?"  "Besides your life?"  He chuckled as my heart nearly beat right out of my chest.  "That was a bad joke, sorry.  You are called Scarlet?"  I nodded hesitantly.  "Come then, I will show you what I mean."  Tserem beckoned for me to follow him, and I cautiously stepped up to his side while he waited for me by the cavern opening.  Nodding brusquely, he slithered into the next cave.  This one was smaller than the other and dimly lit with torches rather than crystalline light.  

Once I stepped in, he gestured to the wall behind him.  An ugly metal clamp cut into the rock wall.  A gigantic, thick chain stemmed from it, coiling across the floor and into Tserem's lower back, digging beneath his snake-like scales.  I can't say I pity this monster, but the metal inside his skin must be horribly painful.  "I could easily go out and kill the King myself.  However, I am trapped here.  I have asked many other sacrificed humans if they wished to help me escape, but none of them have helped me, and some of them I…  could not bother to ask."  

Was it my imagination, or did he hesitate just then?  "I mean, if you give people the option to go free or help a creature like you, I'm guessing most of them chose to get out while they could."  He nodded, a faraway look in his eyes.  "What did you mean when you said you didn't ask some of them?" I asked suspiciously, "Why did you pause for a moment when you spoke?"  I don’t think I’ll like the answer, but for my own safety, I think I should have one. 

Tserem shuddered, "The only things I can eat are animals stupid enough to wander in here, and the humans that are given to me.  Most animals scent me and run long before I can reach them.  Sometimes, when I hear a human writhing on that pole, I am…  I am too far beyond starving to think about sparing a free meal."  "You..  You don't even give them a chance?" I whispered, horrified.  "Those are people!  You can't just eat someone!"  "When you are starving and angry and alone, yes, you can," he spat back.  

"So if I agreed to help you but you got hungry, would you eat me?"  Tserem began to look sick.  "I know you are intelligent beings, but I must do what I can to survive.  I do not want to eat humans, but like my living situation, I have no choice.  The King could feed me anything else, yet he decides to only feed me his own kind."  I stepped down from my argument.  He was forced to live in a cave, forced to eat living ‘sacrifices’.  Like me — forced into becoming a symbol of the rebellion through a few vengeful acts — he became this way through the terrible mistreatment of him by the King, just as I had.  Tserem was a monster by circumstance, not by choice.

I took a deep breath of air, summoning up whatever courage I had left within me.  "Alright.  I'll help you.  Just.. swear to me that no matter how hungry you get, you will not eat me."  Tserem nodded eagerly.  "I would never do such a thing," he replied in mock horror.  At my steely glare, he quickly backed down.  "Yes, of course I will not hurt you.  So, do we have a deal?  You will help free me?"  "You promised me something in return," I reminded him.  "Hmm, I was hoping you would forget about that part.  What would you like?  I can give you riches, power, knowledge…"  Tserem went on and on, listing wishes to grant like a genie in a bottle.  None of his prospects interested me, though.  All I really wanted was my old life back, but that was impossible now.  Out of everything he listed, I supposed I wanted protection the most.  If I'd had protection from the start, I could have saved my family rather than avenge them.

"Protection!" I blurted, "I'll take protection!"  Tserem smiled genuinely down at me.  "Deal!  Scarlet, if you free me, I will owe you a great debt.  I will pledge allegiance to you over the King, and will protect you with my life."  My eyes widened at the thought of having my own personal otherworldly bodyguard.  My mind wandered to the glorious idea of storming into the castle with him by my side, forcing the king off his throne of neglect and deceit.  

"Deal," I replied, holding out my hand for him to shake.  It was a habit, really.  I hadn't expected him to do the same, so it surprised me when his gigantic hand reached for me again.  I flinched away, but soon regained my composure once I realized what he intended to do.  It took all the courage I had to keep from diving into another part of the cave as Tserem inched closer.  Two of his gigantic fingers gripped my whole hand between them.  I expected his grip to be crushing, like a snake coiling around its prey.  However, he was shockingly gentle, delicately shaking my hand with the smallest amount of force.  I could see from the concentrating expression on his face that he was trying his best not to hurt me.

Once he let go, I fell to the floor, exhausted, all threats finally dealt with.  It was daylight outside; I could see it shining from further ahead in the caves.  Still, I hadn't slept all night, and I'd been on high alert ever since I'd been captured.  There’s no food in prison — at least nothing edible.  By now, I’m running off pure fear and adrenaline alone.  Though I was in a strange cave with a creature I barely knew, I got up and searched for somewhere to rest.  I should be safe here.  Not only had Tserem vowed not to eat me, he'd pledged to keep me safe, if I freed him, that is.  I will free him, but not now, not when I'm nearly passing out with exhaustion.  Tserem seemed to notice that I was rapidly losing consciousness at just the right time.  I nearly fell to the floor, but he caught me before my head collided with stone.  I yelped, feeling a sense of vertigo as the gigantic being cautiously pulled me into cupped hands.  In a half sleep, I watched as he slithered off and lay me down in a pile of furrs.  The moment I felt the soft surface beneath me, I fell into a dark and dreamless sleep.

I woke up in a cold sweat, grasping at the furs beneath me.  A nightmare of yesterday’s terrifying events was still fresh in my mind.  Tserem was still asleep when I woke.  He was coiled in a large, scaley heap on the floor, his human torso lying over the top, mouth agape in a snore.  I turned back to the furs and jumped at a strange bristling object I saw nearby.  A whole berry bush sat beside my sleeping place, torn right out of the ground.  This must be my meal.  I’m quite literally starving to death at the moment, so I guess this will do.  While I ate my fill, I watched Tserem.  It was harder to be afraid of him while he was sprawled out across the floor like that.  

Cautiously, I tiptoed past him and wandered the caves, coming to the large opening at the front.  I could see a vast spread of the kingdom lay out before me in the early morning sun.  Clouds caught on the peaks of mountains all around, and light glinted off windows of the houses below.  “Beautiful, is it not?” Tserem asked, startling me.  “I would enjoy living here if I were not trapped here.”  I glanced up at him, watching as his expression sunk to a remorseful stare.  “Hopefully you won’t be stuck here much longer,” I replied.  “How were you planning for someone to free you?”  Tserem slithered back into his cave, and I followed far behind.  I just couldn’t keep up with the sheer size of his winding strides.

At the metal base, Tserem bent down and pointed at the rock face that held the plate.  “I have been working at this wall for many years now.  If you could bring me something as leverage, I will be able to pry myself free.”  I glanced at the opening again.  “What about the stake outside?  Can’t you just use that?”  Tserem huffed, “Do you really think I have spent all these years sitting here but have yet to try that flimsy little stick out there?  It it useless.  It snaps in two before the plate so much as creaks.  I can yank this metal out with my own hands quicker than that stake.”  

“Alright, alright,” I digressed, trying to calm Tserem’s sudden wave of anger.  “What else could we try?”  Before either of us could come up with an idea, the sound of a wagon coming up the path echoed into the cave.  I stepped to the opening curiously, but Tserem yanked me back inside.  “Hey!  What-“  “Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” he whisper-yelled at me, “You are supposed to be dead, remember?”  Tserem peered outside then shot back in, centipede-like legs sliding out from under his skin to create more traction.  “You have to hide!  They are coming to ensure you have died, and report back to the king.”

I looked wildly around the barren rock walls and floor.  “Where?  There’s nowhere for me to hide!” I whispered in a panic.  “Come with me.”  Tserem skittered away into the next cavern, gone in a moment.  I ran after him as fast as I could.  The moment I was inside, gigantic fingers wrapped around my torso, hoisting me into the air with a single hand.  I screamed in terror, but was immediately silenced by a light squeeze.  “Quiet!  They are close enough to hear you!”  “Then why did you grab me, you ass, put me down!”  I shoved at his grip, but it didn’t even budge.  My entire hand just barely fit around the thickness of his finger.  “I grabbed you because you are too small and slow,” he hissed, “Also because I am putting you somewhere safe until they leave.  Oh, I do need this.”   

My overcoat was torn off of me.  I sputtered the angry beginnings of an argument, but Tserem was already lifting me up.  His lanky body extended until I was nearly at the top of the cavern.  He placed me on a rock ledge high above the floor, like a parent placing snacks on a shelf that was too high up for a child to reach.  Lowering himself to the floor, he took my overcoat and placed it between his teeth, shredding it to pieces that drifted to the stone below.  I nearly began to curse at him again, but I realized that if people were coming to check if I'd died, they would easily mistake my shredded garment as proof of just that.

Tserem slithered to the entrance, but not before giving me a final glance over his shoulder.  "Once they leave.. I will not be able to come for you for some time.  Please do not do anything rash on my behalf.  I will return; do not worry."  I desperately wanted to ask him what that meant, but Tserem slithered away at the sound of people at the entrance.  Voices drifted down the rock tunnels to me.  I leaned closer to listen, but I nearly fell off the ledge in doing so.  In the end, I decided clarity wasn't worth the risk of falling to my death.  Tserem would hopefully explain things later.  There were at least two voices I didn't recognize.  They yelled angrily back and forth as a shrieking hiss filled the air.  I could only assume the noise had come from Tserem.  Nothing else would be able to make a cry like that.  Suddenly, a tremendous thud revertibrared through the walls, and shortly after, the sound of clanking armor.  I know that sound all too well.  Street Patrols wore armed plates to protect themselves as they broke up fights, or started them.  

Three people filed into the cavern wearing much heavier armor than the Street Patrols do.  They scanned the seemingly empty cavern as I quickly pressed myself to the wall behind me, afraid that one of them might glance upwards and spot me.  "Hey!  Look up there!"  My heart seized in my chest.  How had they seen me already?  "There are shreds of cloth over here!"  I let out a relieved breath.  The guard, or whoever they were, said 'up there' referring to 'up ahead', not 'hey there's the fugitive that was sentenced to death still alive up on that ledge!'  "Looks like hers to me," someone commented.  "Search the area!" another commanded, "See if you can find anything else left of her."  

I hope my shredded undercoat is enough to convince them I'm dead.  Should I have tried putting some of my blood on it?  Thankfully, the guards weren't too keen on staying here very long.  They took the scraps of my clothing and left.  Once the clanking of their armor dissipated into silence, and I was sure they were gone, I called out to Tserem.  "Tserem!  Are you alright?"  He didn't respond.  I couldn't even hear movement, or breathing for that matter.  His last words to me repeated in my head: 'I will not be able to come for you'.  He said he'd return, but what if something had happened?  What if that cry he made was in pain?  I have to get to him.

The question is how to get to him.  The ledge I'm sitting on is so high that if I stand up, I can touch the cavern ceiling.  Scanning the rocks below me, I internally mapped out a path I might be able to traverse to get down.  However, it consisted of various death-defying leaps from one crystalline structure to another.  I decided to wait and see if Tserem would come back first; the deadly way down would be a last resort.  After about ten minutes, I gave up on waiting.  What if Tserem needed me?  He can't give me protection if he's dead!  

Carefully sliding myself over the side of the rock ledge, I dropped down to the first crystal of many.  The beginning few descents went smoothly enough.  I managed to jump the deadliest gap with only a minor heart attack after nearly sliding off the other side.  It wasn't until the second-to-last jump that I messed up.  My foot landed wrong as I came down, ankle twisting painfully to the side.  I cried out, almost falling off the ledge completely, but I managed to catch the very tip of it on my way down.  Dangling from the smooth crystal surface, my fingers couldn't keep a firm grip.  A few moments after catching myself, I fell the rest of the way down, colliding with hard stone.

Needle-like pain shot through my left arm, which had taken the brute of the fall.  You numb-brained idiot! I scolded myself as I yelled in agony, He told you to wait for him for good reason!  I took a moment to breathe through the initial shock of pain, then moved to sit up and assess just how badly I was injured.  That turned out to be a horrible idea.  I came to a shuddering stop halfway up, then practically fell back to the floor.  A few minutes later, I managed to get my torso upright to see what had broken.

Firstly, my right ankle was already swelling tremendously.  The skin around it began blossoming into an ugly purple.  Next was my left shoulder.  It hung limply at my side, detached from its socket.  I gagged at the sight and tore my gaze away from it.  Besides a few minor scratches and a lot of bruises, those were my most significant injuries.  I half-crawled half-dragged myself over to a large rock formation, using its side to hoist myself up.  It took almost everything I had to get moving.

Despite my injuries, I'm determined to see Tserem.  If I don't, all of my wounds will have been for nothing.  I hobbled into the connected cave.  Tserem's limp tail lay across the floor.  As painlessly as I could manage — which was still tremendously painful — made my way over and followed his body to the entrance.  As I passed the metal clamp on the wall, I realized that the armored men had also tightened his chains so he could no longer leave the cave.  My shocked gasp echoed across stone as I continued on.  A spear was lodged into Tserem’s side, dripping with a strange clear liquid.  I realized with a start that he wasn't breathing, and one word came to mind.  Poison.  The clear liquid on the spear must be a sort of poison, keeping him from taking a breath.

Try as I might, the spear was lodged much too deep for me to pull it out single-handedly.  I tried only once and doubled over in pain as I moved to use my left arm.  Crawling to his head, I lay exhausted in the grass just beyond the rough stone of the cave.  It felt like I'd been poisoned, too.  I couldn't move a single muscle.  I started to wonder if we might both die together, when a raspy gasp tore through my quiet groaning.  "Tserem!" I cried weakly, watching from the ground as he slowly lifted his head.  Relief washed over me, but I hesitated as he hissed angrily.

"Ahh!  Another forsaken spear in my side!  What did they lace it with this time?"  He whirled around and tore the spear out of himself, cursing as the gash gurgled with fresh blood.  Tserem hissed again and turned slowly to head back inside, nursing his wounds.  "Wait!" I gasped as loudly as I could.  It hurt me a bit to hear how weak I sounded.  "Tserem, I-"  He turned around in shock, slithering towards me.  "What in all the worlds..?" he muttered, staring down at me.  "I- I tried to climb down from the ledge," I whimpered, "And I.. fell."  Tserem sighed.  It wasn't a harsh, disappointed sigh, but rather an airy, pitying one.  "I should know by now that humans do not listen.  Come here, let me help you."  

Tserem's hands descended towards me and I flinched, causing pain to ricochet throughout my body.  He hesitated as I shrunk away from him.  "I can not leave you at the front of this cave.  Other humans might find you."  I knew I needed to get back inside, but the thought of being held in the palms of someone's hands was frightening to me.  His size was easier to ignore from a distance.  Here, on the ground, with his gigantic form leaning over me, I felt defenseless.  I am defenseless, even from another person thanks to the injuries I've given myself, nevermind a gigantic bug-snake person.  I squeezed my eyes shut as Tserem reached for me again.  To my immense relief, his touch was shockingly delicate.  He knew just as well as I did that he could easily hurt me further.  A simple pinch of his fingers could snap my arm completely off.  I tried to block thoughts like that from my mind.  He was only trying to help me.  

Tserem carefully carried me back inside, setting me down on the pile of furs once again.  I yelped in pain as my left arm brushed the soft surface.  His slitted pupils slid back and forth, assessing how badly I was injured.  "Well," he murmured, "I will have to fit your arm back into its socket, and you will need something cold to place on your ankle and the rest of your bruises.  If I only had my things, but I left them when I was taken."  "Wait, weren't you poisoned?" I asked weakly, "How are you still alive?  Last I checked, you weren't breathing."  "I got better," Tserem said absent-mindedly, searching for something in the craggs of the rock wall.  "What do you mean, 'you got better'?" I replied, bewildered.  Tserem continued searching instead of answering me.  When he found what he needed, he returned to my side.  A shiny, black piece of stone was placed over my ankle.  It was freezing to the touch, and I yanked my leg out from under it.

"Keep it there," Tserem insisted, nudging my leg beneath the stone again with the tip of his finger.  "The cold will stop the swelling."  "I'll just let it swell, then," I responded, annoyed by the fact that he'd simply placed my leg beneath it again.  "If you let it swell, you will not be able to walk.  Do you want to hobble around for the rest of your life?"  he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.  It sounded almost threatening with his unfamiliar accent.  "If not, I suggest you let it sit for a while."  I grumbled a weak objection, but I have to admit, though not aloud, the coldness was numbing the pain.

"Now, what to do about your arm?"  I shifted nervously as he stared at me.  "I must put it back in the correct place, but you will be very much against this."  Of course I would.  I'm almost certain that he'll ruin my arm further by trying to put it back the way it was.  Most doctors I know would simply amputate the limb.  However, when I relayed this to Tserem, he stared at me, appalled.  "What!?  You do not cut off a limb simply because it becomes dislocated!  Do you humans know nothing about how to take care of yourselves?  No wonder you have such short lifespans!"  I should probably be offended by what he said, but I was curious about something else.  "Why do you know so much about healing?  And why are you not dead?" I asked again, "Wasn't that spear poisoned?"  Tserem sighed, "I can explain that while you recover.  Let me finish this first."  I glanced at my limp arm.  "And.. you're sure you won't crush my arm when you put it back in place?"  "I will do my best."

Sucking in a deep breath to brace for the pain, I watched, wide-eyed as his fingers took my arm between them.  My figure was so small in comparison, he could've been holding a doll.  My entire arm was the same length as his hand.  I shut my eyes again, waiting for something awful to happen.  A loud CRACK split the silent air, and I screamed at the unbearable pain, scrambling out of Tserem's grasp.  It took me a moment, but shortly afterwards, I noticed that the stinging feeling in my arm had been replaced with nothing but a dull ache. 

"I have more of those cold stones.  You should probably keep one over your shoulder too," Tserem mused.  I slowly sat back up, testing my arm gently.  "I- I can't believe it.  Why did the pain stop?  It sounded like you snapped my arm clean off.  For a moment, I thought you lied and had amputated my arm after all."  “The human body is not as vulnerable as one might think.  It is capable of healing itself surprisingly well,” he told me, handing me another stone for my shoulder.  This time, I took it without hesitation.  I was going to ask him how he knew so much about the human body when he himself wasn’t one, but I realized that his top half seemed to be human, and I remembered him mentioning that he tried to take a human form.

“What are you?” I asked once I was settled in with Tserem’s strange cold rocks.  “You look like you’re multiple different things mashed together.  You can offer me things like power and knowledge that most people only dream of, and you can apparently overcome poison like it’s a small illness.”  Tserem nodded slowly, “I suppose I should try to explain, though you might not understand.  I told you that I am not from this world, yes?”  I nodded.  “There are many more worlds out there.  Some are like yours, some are like nothing you will ever know.  My ancestors are not from this world, but I was born here.  I have lived in other places occasionally, but this world is my favorite.  Well, it was my favorite until I was chained here.”  Tserem huffed, tail lashing the floor.  "To answer your questions, the name for what I am is not easily pronounced by the human tongue, but I am an-" he spoke a string of accent-laced syllables that I couldn't dream of repeating correctly.  

"I'll.. just call you Tserem.  That's a hard enough name to pronounce already,” I replied.  "Ah, and about my abilities…  You see, every one of my kind can take the genes of other lifeforms and splice them into our own to help us easily adapt into any environment.  We can take up to three different types before the older ones are replaced.  The only genes we keep constantly are our own.  I could revert back to my true form at any time, though it hurts quite a lot with these merciless metal rods in my back."

I stared at him, confused.  He was speaking my language, but I couldn't understand pieces of what he was saying.  There were a few words strung into his explanation I'd never even heard before.  Maybe they were words from his own language.  "What are jenes?" I asked, thoroughly interested, "What are they and how do you take them?  I.. don't really understand."  Tserem nodded knowingly, "I did say you would not understand.  And it’s genes, not.. jenes."  I couldn’t tell the difference, but I didn’t tell him that.  "Is there a way for you to explain it so that I might?  And what about you recovering from being poisoned?  Does that have to do with genes too?"  He chuckled, "In a way, yes.  Hmm.."  Tserem thought for a moment, brow furrowing in concentration.  "Well, every creature, every living thing from humans to plants, have things called genes, though they have a much longer scientific name, many refer to them as genes, or in shorthand, RNA.  These genes determine how a living thing looks, and even how it behaves, like instructions, if you will, for life itself."  

"Wait, wait…  You're saying that my body has some kind of written instructions inside it somewhere that tell me how to live?" I asked incredulously.  "That doesn't sound right."  "It is.. hard to explain, and I am no expert on this, but in a sense, yes.  The instructions are invisible to the human eye, stitched into the very flesh of a creature."  

What Tserem said barely made logical sense.  How did instructions get sewn into me?  Who put them there?  What would happen if I were to remove them?  "Anyways, my kind can take these.. instructions.. from other living things, and use them to help rewrite ourselves.  This is why I look like, as you said, 'multiple different things mashed together'.  I am made of multiple things; I copied their genetic material."  Suddenly, I saw his figure in a new light.  Tserem wasn't a strange hybrid like other legendary creatures; he somehow stole the instructions for creating other creatures, and built himself from it.  

"So, do you look anything like this?" I asked, gesturing to his mis-matched appearance.  "No, nothing like this at all."  Instantly, my mind ran wild with images of what Tserem might truly look like.  "As for your final, most incessant question: how did I overcome being poisoned?  See, all of my kind have the ability to copy genes and add them to ourselves, but each of us are also born with a more unique ability that comes from our true form.  Some abilities are extremely rare or are considered lucky or attractive, while others are more commonplace, sometimes almost useless.  Mine is the latter, nothing too extraordinary.  My immune system is extremely powerful.  It can cure me of any and all ailments within a few hours."

"Nothing extraordinary!?" I repeated, "You can never get sick!  You’ll never have to die of an illness, or so much as feel affected by it for more than a few hours!   How is that 'nothing extraordinary'?"  Tserem shrugged, "Where I come from, my powers are fairly useless.  With modern medicine, there is no need for a good immune system.  Someone can have my exact powers by simply drinking a salve, or taking a pill."  My mouth hung open for so long, I might have accidentally swallowed a bug.  "You.. Your kind found a way to cure every disease?" I whispered, awestruck.  Tserem nodded, looking thoughtful.  "Yes, the first being to get this ability in my long family history came up with it using their blood.  Of course, these days it is entirely replicated, and not blood at all.  Hmm, I guess I did not realize that something so commonplace to me might be so mind-boggling to you."  

Tserem began talking about more things I didn't understand, but his voice was fuzzy — my head clouded by way too many thoughts.  I finally cut him off when he took a breath.  "Could you just.. leave me alone for a bit?" I asked, only the faintest hints of anger in my voice, "I need to process some things you said."  He paused mid-sentence and gave me a small smile, "Yes, I will be in the crystalline cave if you need me."  The room became eerily quiet once the echoing sound of his skittering legs died off.  

Alone with my thoughts, I tried to sort out the information Tserem had given me.  He was right to say I wouldn't understand it all, but the parts I did understand seemed frightening and slightly wrong.  If Tserem's kind had the medicine to heal any and all illnesses, why didn't they share it with us?  I tried to convince myself there was a valid reason — that maybe the medicine only took effect on their own kind — but I had a sinking feeling that there was a different reason, or rather, no reason at all.  Whatever Tserem is, his kind is so advanced that they have everything and anything a human could want; he'd even given all of it away as offers to me, almost as if they don't matter to him.  Humankind likely seems like one big barbarian tribe to them.  

In this way, I guess it makes sense.  Our kingdom wouldn't offer our grand technology to barbarians.  Tserem's kind just doesn't see us as worth the effort to care.  To them, we’re practically another species of animal.  The pit in my stomach yawned wider; I could sense the nasty feeling of bile rising in my throat.  I didn't like the notion that I was something small and primitive, not worthy of someone's time or effort.  My nerves spiked, and the pain in my ankle came back again, throbbing even beneath the cold rock, which was starting to warm up.

"Tserem!" I called.  There was a tinge of fear in my echoed voice, and I'm not sure why.  He was willing to give me his kind's technology — well, what he has of it.  Nonetheless, I still felt sick.  "Tserem!"  "I'm here!" he called, sliding back into the cave, "What is it?"  "I.. need another cold rock."  He chuckled, "Alright, give me a moment."  I watched numbly as he went over to the notch in the wall and brought me back some fresh stones, taking the warmer ones back.  Tserem's brow furrowed as he examined me for a moment.  "You look ill," he noted, concerned, "Did you get that poison in your system?  Was that why you kept asking me about it?"  In a strange way, it was comforting to see Tserem panic over me.  He did care, but was it only because he benefited from me staying alive to help him?  "No, it's nothing like that," I assured him.  A heavy silence filled the cave as I tried to work up the courage to ask him what I wanted.  "If it is not pain, then what is troubling you?"  I could have waved him off and told him not to worry about it, but there was a genuine anxiousness in his voice and his cautious movements that changed my mind.

"Do you really care about me?" I asked.  My heart raced in my chest; did I want to know the answer?  I was so frightened, when he opened his mouth to reply I began speaking to stop him.  "It's just... When you explained how your kind has everything, and knows so much, while humankind barely knows about itself…"  I struggled to explain, not even sure Tserem would understand.  "We must seem like animals or barbarians to you, because you don't bother to share anything with us.  So, knowing all this, I have to ask you if you really care.  Are you only luring me here with trinkets from your world long enough for you to escape this place, or are you genuinely trying to help me, too?"  Tserem was quiet for so long, I feared I'd figured out his scheme.  Finally, he let out a long sigh and pressed his hands to his temples.

"That.. that was my plan – has been my plan – for a long time now.  Do not be mistaken on my jugement, though.  I do truly believe your kind is smarter than they seem, and can become something incredible with enough time.  Case in point," he added, gesturing to me.  "The truth is, many of my kind do see yours as.. What word was it?  Oh, barbarians and animals and such.  However, that is not the case for all of us, and it is not the case for me."  "But- But your plan.." I stammered.  "My plan was rather rash and selfish due to my imprisonment here for so long.  There was a time when I was more.. desperate.  I have learned my lesson since, and learned that there is more to humankind than I realized.  This is the reason I offered to let you go when you felt trapped here.  In my earlier years here, I would not have let you leave."

"Still, I am being selfish even now by holding the gleaming prize of protection above your head," Tserem realized guiltily.  He turned away from me ashamed, but at the same time, I saw otherwise.  "But you haven't," I said, waiting for him to turn to me again.  "You have been protecting me, even before you said you would.  You saved me from being killed-"  "By myself," he finished, "I saved you from myself.  I do not think that counts, Scarlet, but thank you."  "Hold on, I'm not done," I assured him, "You also saved me from the guards, even when I made a big fuss about it."  "Yes, and now you are injured because of my hiding place," Tserem interrupted.  I gave him an annoyed look, which pacified him some.  

"First of all, it was entirely my decision to try and get myself down after you warned me not to.  Second of all, if you hadn't hidden me there, I likely would've been caught.  So, will you stop putting yourself down and listen to me?"  Tserem's eyes widened a bit and he nodded.  "Good, because I can say, without a doubt, that you've saved my life three times.  I know that you’re trying to help me, I just wanted to know your reasons why."  He was silent for a brief moment.  "My reasons are completely righteous, I swear.  I have no intention to leave you to fend for yourself, or cast you aside once I am free.  As I have said when you arrived: if you free me, I will owe you a great debt.  I will pledge allegiance to you over the King, and will protect you with my life.  I promise I will treat you with respect, like you are one of my own kind.  You just have to trust me."

Tserem cautiously held out his hand to me, and I offered him mine.  I watched amazed, as he clasped my hand, so small in comparison, over the pads of his finger.  "I do.. I do trust you, though sometimes I'm scared to," I confessed.  "But that's nothing new," I added quickly as Tserem pulled away from me, "I don't really trust anyone."  “I am thankful to have your trust, then,” he replied with a small bow, but came up with a pained hiss, gripping his side where the spear had pierced him.  “I must continue healing this.  Can I borrow one of your furs?”  “Sure, I don’t need the whole pile.”  Tserem took one of the larger pelts and offered his thanks before slithering back into the crystalline cave.  I inched myself upward to peer into the room, watching as Tserem cleaned his wound with the fresh water there, making sure not to spill blood into the precious resource.  After patching himself up and tying the fur around his wound, Tserem scuttled back over to me.  “How long do I have to sit here with these rocks?” I asked him.  “Hmm, about an hour more.  You should be sitting with them every so often until your bruises disappear, but if you feel pain in your ankle, or if it starts to swell again, then leave it under a cold stone a while longer.”

I did as he asked, and within a few days I was back on my feet again.  For the most part, I’d gotten used to living with someone who was about the length of the market square.  At least once a day his lanky, snake-like body would block my path and I’d either jump over it or ask Tserem impatiently to move.  He’d always roll his eyes and chuckle; sometimes he’d dare to tease me for my small size.  He’s the one who’s the wrong size, but that was an argument that neither of us ever won.  Once I was fully healed up, Tserem and I began concocting plans to free him from his chains.  A violent storm emerged a few days later.  Both caves began flooding nonstop.  By mid afternoon, the water level was almost up to my waist.  I hated every sopping second, but Tserem relished it.  He told me that where he used to live, the humans there celebrated the harsh rains, and he did too.  

“Well, I hate this.  A lot,” I grumbled, wading through the cave towards him.  My foot hit a rock that was concealed by the murky water, causing me to fall over beneath the surface.  I came up to the sound of Tserem’s boisterous laughter, which calmed to a smirk as I glared at him, my soaked hair falling over my face.  “Come here, let me get you somewhere dry.”  I huffed and turned my back to him, crossing my arms defiantly.  “I’ll find somewhere to sit myself thank you very much.”  Storming off into the crystalline cavern — which was lower down and definitely higher than my waist — I managed to climb on top of an outcropping that rose just above the surface of the water.  However, my dry little safehaven didn’t last very long.  The flooding water soon spilled over the rocks I took shelter on.

“Tserem!” I called annoyedly, “The water’s too high!”  Everything was silent, and for a moment I thought he was ignoring me, but as I peered into the other cave, I realized he was gone.  Ripples brushed the surface of the water, snaking their way in my direction.  I watched the subtle movements, frightened that some water creature had taken shelter in the cave.  A surging wave washed over me as the mysterious creature leaped out of the deep water and fell back with a splash.  It was Tserem the whole time.  I was about to scold him for scaring me, but I held my tongue as I watched him slide gracefully through the water.  On the dry rocks, he was awkwardly bound by his chains, clanking around with a constant scrambling ruckus of his many centipede legs, which echoed throughout the caverns.  In the water, he was entirely different.  His snakeish form glided through the water without a sound as he happily swam laps from one part of the caves to the other.  

“Did you perhaps take the genes of a water snake?” I asked, slightly amused by his eagerness to enjoy a good swim.  “I do not think so,” he replied happily, “I just like the water.  Before I was captured, I lived in a rather dry desert.  I suppose I am in the habit of enjoying so much water because it was scarce for me then.”  “A desert?” I questioned, “I’ve barely been past the outskirts of Farthing.”  “Of what?”  “Farthing, you know, where we live?”  Tserem shrugged, uncaring of the name of his prison.  “Can you put me somewhere higher up?” I asked once he’d finished swimming around.  “If I do, will you try to climb down again?” he asked accusingly.  “No,” I grumbled, glancing at the spot I’d fallen from.  “The rocks are slippery, though.  I still think you will fall.”  “But I’m sick of being soaking wet!” I complained.  “Hmm.. Alright then.”  Tserem slid over to the place I stood and reached for me again.  I braced myself, but didn’t pull away.  Being grabbed was slightly less scary knowing that it was coming.  

Vertigo clenched in my stomach and I tucked my legs up beneath me, gripping Tserem’s fingers for support.  I would have to teach him a more comfortable way to pick me up eventually.  Especially if he’s going to stay around and offer the protection he’d promised.  Using his centipede-like legs, which unfurled from a long pocket that opened beneath him, Tserem clambered up the rocks until he came to a large area far above the water’s surface, created by loosely interwoven crystals.  If he’d placed me here, I probably would’ve fell right through the gaps, but Tserem was big enough to sit over them.  He curled up over the tops of the crystal structures.  Laying out his tail in front of himself, he placed me gently on the wider part, offering me a place to sit.  I sat as still as I could, unsure about the cool, scaled surface I was placed on.  It expanded and shrank beneath me with every breath Tserem took.  “Is this high enough for you?” he asked me almost mockingly.  I answered with a satisfied yes, trying to hide my slightly baffled expression.

The ugly weather forced me to stay in that hidden place for a day and a half until the water finally drained out of the cave.  With every hour that passed I slowly grew accustomed to my temporary living arrangements.  The first few hours I spent practically clinging to Tserem, but by the last few, I moved freely around the space, avoiding the gaps between crystalline spires and lounging boredly on Tserem’s lanky snake body.  At the violent storm’s end, I was brought back down to the cave floor.  I paced around and stretched my legs as Tserem frowned annoyedly at our pool of fresh water, which had been tainted by the muddy rainwater.  “This is the only part I dislike about the rains,” he muttered, “They contaminate my pristine water supply.”  

Later, on Tserem’s urging, I spent an hour and a half lugging a gigantic tree branch over to the cave opening for him to use as a lever.  His excitement over the rain carried into his impatience to be free.  The moment the branch was close enough to the cave, I collapsed to the ground, exhausted.  I watched, unamused, as Tserem easily dragged the gigantic piece of wood inside, after I’d spent ten minutes moving it a few inches.  He lodged it into the crack between the rock wall and the metal plate with terrifying strength.  I instinctually drew back as he threw himself into the column of wood.  His snake body coiled and his human muscles rippled, shoving the wood further and further back while the plate groaned under the stress.

A loud crack echoed through the cave.  “You’re doing it!” I cried, “It’s breaking!”  Moments later the wood splintered down the middle.  I had only a few seconds to recognize what would happen before wooden shrapnel exploded through the cavern.  In a flash, Tserem coiled his scaled body over me like a shield.  Splinters of wood bounced harmlessly off his protective scaly armor.  “Th- Thanks,” I stammered, slightly taken aback by the fact I’d nearly been impaled by jagged splinters.  “Are you alright?” Tserem asked.  “I think so,” I replied, checking myself for any pieces of wood that might’ve embedded in me.  Once I was sure I hadn’t been hit, he turned and examined the half of the log still wedged between the rock and the metal plate.  

“I have an idea,” he announced, “but it will likely be rather painful.”  I frowned, looking between Tserem and the broken log.  “What is it?”  “If I wrap my chains around the log and pull it back out, the pressure should be enough to bend this plate off the wall.  However, yanking on my own chains will feel like yanking off my own scales.”  I shuddered at the mere thought of that intensely painful feeling.  “I can find something else,” I offered, “I could go see what else the storm blew over.”  

Tserem gave me a doubtful look, “You can barely even stand after dragging this branch, and as of this moment, we have no drinkable water.  You rest, I will try to reach one of the trees.  I might have a bit more room now that my chains are slightly falling off the wall.”  I hadn’t realized that we had no water to drink, and I was already parched.  Stepping back, I watched as Tserem strained against his chains.  I cringed at the painful looking grimace on his face as the metal tugged beneath his skin.  Tserem’s fingertips just grazed a large tree outside, but he couldn’t get far enough to actually grab it.  No wonder there was a misshapen clearing surrounding his cave.  If only I had half his strength, I could easily go out there and push the tree over.  That would be all he’d need to get rid of his ugly restraints.

After a few more narrow misses, Tserem fell back into the cave, out of breath.  I silently regarded the situation for a while.  “What if.. What if you reached outside backwards, with your tail rather than your arms.  Your tail is a lot longer.”  Tserem huffed and sat up, “If I turn around, the chains get shorter, see?”  He demonstrated by turning into the cave.  The chains wrapped around his torso as he shifted, pulling him deeper inside.  “I suppose my tail is longer than my arm, though.  I will try.”  Tserem leaned against his chains once more.  Centipede-like legs slid out from beneath him and began slowly stepping backwards into the open.  I held my breath as it inched along the ground, the tip slowly curling around the trunk of the tree.  It wasn’t long enough to grab it, but it was just long enough to reach.

With as big a shove as Tserem could muster, the tree creaked and began falling over.  Upon hearing the tree bend, Tserem slithered back inside and whirled around.  With the extra distance covered by the leaning tree, his fingers could reach the trunk.  In two swift tugs, Tserem ripped the tree right out of the ground.  I watched in silent awe as he bashed the tree against the metal plates over and over again.  His ferocity was slightly terrifying, and I couldn’t help but imagine what might happen if a person were to be on the other end of his wrath.  With a few more strikes, the metal plate fell off the wall.  An echoing clank rang out long after the plate had fallen.  “I…  I did it,” Tserem said in a hushed voice.  I blinked and he was gone, only managing to see the last tip of his tail zip out of the cave opening.  

“FREEDOM!  AT LONG LAST!”  I watched with a wide smile as Tserem slithered around the clearing.  He was so much faster without having to walk around on multiple small legs.  Tserem slid up and down the forest, dodging through trees at lightning speed, when he was suddenly jerked back with incredible force.  He yowled in pain and I rushed over to his side.  “Tserem, what-?”  I stopped short at the sight of him.  Blood dripped down his back from where the chains burrowed under his skin.  The metal plate had gotten hooked on one of the jagged rocks nearby.  At the speed Tserem had been going, the metal links had almost been yanked entirely out of him.  I stood helpless as Tserem gasped in pain and fell to the ground.   Racing to his arm, I tried in vain to get him up, but he was far too big for me to move more than a few inches.  I stepped up to his face to talk with him, but when I did, his eyes were closed.  He’d passed out.  I thought about bringing him some water to wake him, before realizing the small amount of water I could take in my hands wouldn’t be close to enough to wake him.  There really was nothing I could do for him.  Wait, yes there is.  I raced inside the cave and grabbed one of the large furs from the pile where I slept.  Dunking it in the water, I waited impatiently for it to become completely waterlogged.  Though the dirty water could potentially infect his cut, it wouldn’t be long before his impossible immune system healed him.  Back in the clearing, I stood at Tserem’s side once again.  He was lying face down.  How am I going to get up to his back?  Studying him, I traced a path I could climb from his arm to his back.  I’d just begun hauling myself onto his forearm when the sound of hoofbeats thundered into the clearing.  I whirled around just as someone cried “Halt!”

[cicidarkarts]

Filthy Little Muggle

Tom Riddle x Fem!Reader ~Blowjob, rough sex, Dom Riddle, coercion/dubious con, voice kink, parseltongue kink; 18+~

Growing up in Wool’s Orphanage hadn’t been the worst thing. At least, not during the school year, where the infamous Tom Riddle fucked off to whatever elite boarding school he’d been accepted into. You never understood that. Riddle didn’t seem gifted or anything. You rather thought of him as an errant psychopath—one of those serial killers living in some hovel. In any case, those wonderful months lived fairly well in your screwed up memories. It was when he returned during the summer that your life—and the lives of the other children—were haunted.

But you’re out now, working late nights at the coffee shop. It’s a crummy little thing in the middle of nowhere, but because it’s one of the few cafes in Little Hangleton, your business booms. Plus, sight-seers love to come along as tourists and crowd your shop just to get a look at the old Riddle Estate. Odd how you never could escape that name. Tom Riddle. It seemed to pop up everywhere, especially when you didn’t want it to.

Though, you have to admit, your curiosity piques every time another group of thrill-seekers gushes to themselves in the corner about having seen “that old git, Frank” or “a spectre in the window, I swear it was!”. Whenever you walk home in the late evenings, you try to catch a look at the Estate. Once, you swore you saw a strange flash of light, but it’s more typical that you see nothing.

Tonight you decide to finally get closer. You’re sure your horrible decision is influenced by the ceaseless jabbering from those damned teenage thrill-seekers, but you have to see for yourself if it’s truly haunted. Being a Friday, you know for a fact that old codger, Frank, is getting smashed at the local pub, and the teens are around on the weekends. It’s the perfect time to check the estate out for yourself.

You creep up to the house—its gates locked, thick hedges hiding the yard. It’s not difficult to climb over the wrought-iron gate and land upon the plush grass. You observe the house, the looming shadows and large curtained windows. Darkness penetrates the mansion and threatens the grounds. As silent as possible, you stalk around, avoiding the shadows of that creaky old mansion, trying to see inside any of the windows. All are black from the overhanging curtains within.

You spot an odd sort of flash from one of the upper rooms. Gasping, you leap back then slap your hands over your mouth. Whatever the fuck that is, you don’t need it hearing you. That light you’d seen once all those weeks ago hadn’t been your imagination. Those adrenaline junkies are right, something is going on inside the estate. Whether that’s a haunting or not, you’re unsure if you want to find out. Your racing heart feels fit to burst. Perhaps that’s enough for one night—

A loud crack behind you makes you scream. Your voice is cut short by a hand muffling your mouth. An arm crushes your waist, clamping your hands to your side. You thrash, mind panicking as adrenaline pulses through your veins.

“Be quiet and quit struggling,” says a rather calm man’s voice.

Trembling, you try to obey. Your mind races; how did he get behind you? What was that loud noise? 

“I know you,” he says, a realization in his tone. “From the orphanage. Never thought I’d see one of you cretins again.”

That’s when it hits you: the voice, the disdain, the arrogance. He releases your mouth to whirl you around. His face confirms it.

“Tom Riddle?” you say, gawking.

His dark eyes observe you. He’s always been extraordinarily handsome, and despite the slight grey of bags under his eyes, that still holds true. But behind that gorgeous exterior, you know, the heart of a psychopath beats—or, doesn’t. You quiver more now, standing before such a heartless monster. The monster that had driven your fellow orphans to end their suffering once they came of age. They couldn’t handle their trauma on top of real world loneliness. Perhaps they were the lucky ones, as they would never again have to lay eyes upon Tom Marvolo Riddle.

“You remember me,” he says, smirking, nostrils flaring as if looking upon you with equal parts disgust and intrigue. “I remember you, too. Always the cynic, weren’t you? Never fully trusted me. You’re one of the few Muggles that isn’t completely stupid.” “Muggles?” “They come from everywhere, don’t they? All over the UK, throwing themselves at this place like lab rats. Curiosity got you, too, it seems. But don’t you know? The rats that scurry too close to the Riddle Estate never make it out.” You shudder at his words and the cold glare of his soulless eyes. “Wait, Tom, please. We’ve known each other for so long—” “We’ve never known each other. Not that it would matter. I don’t hold sympathy for disgusting Muggles.”

He takes a step back, and you’re about to run in fear. He whips out what looks like a stark white, crooked stick. After a blast of blueish light, your arms snap behind your back, your ankles clasp together, and you collapse into soft grass. You flail against invisible binds, lungs and throat burning from your frantic heart.

Riddle grabs you by the scruff of your shirt. That same cracking whip screeches in your ears, your world is thrown into chaos that roils your stomach, and you’re shoved to a kneeling position. All you see is Riddle’s dark attire while your hands are fastened to something above your head. Your back digs into a wall behind you. When Riddle moves, you see that you’re surrounded by the old dark wood of the estate, staring at the other side of the curtains.

Your gaze darts around the room—a cauldron steams on the table, books are open all around, there’s a desk with a quill and ink and papers filled with writing, and phials of oddly colored liquid sit upon shelves. A human skeleton in the corner—most of its bones missing—makes you gasp as your blood runs like ice. Then Riddle catches your attention.

“I’ve been hard at work,” he says. “Doing things you Muggles could never even dream of. Such horribly inferior creatures.”

He leans over to look you in the eyes, like a parent scolding their misbehaving child. His fingertips trail along your hair and down your jawline. That darkness in his eyes contorts into something more sinister and a chill tears across your spine.

“I was considering making you yet another part of my experiments, but it seems like such a waste.” “Tom, please,” you beg, “don’t hurt me.” His index finger runs across your quivering lower lip. “Do as I say, and maybe you’ll be the first to make it out of here alive.”

His hands cup your face. This forces you to stare into those heartless eyes, settling acid upon your stomach and glistening your palms in sweat. His following words send a jolt of terror through you.

“You’ve grown into a gorgeous woman, haven’t you?”

You don’t get a chance to question him. He presses his warm lips into yours and shoves his tongue into your mouth. You struggle back as far as you can, but the wall mashes you into Riddle and keeps you close. His hands grab the back of your head, yanking against your scalp as he grasps you. His tongue rolls along the inside of your mouth, and his lips kiss and nip yours. A treacherous moan escapes your throat from his practiced motions.

It comes as no shock to you that he's aggressive and forceful, but you're stunned at how wet it's making you. Despite the coercion, you find yourself kissing him back in unexpected fervor. He's such an arsehole, you can't stand looking at his stupid handsome face. Yet you're coming undone by his presence—his high cheekbones and dark hair, his perfect nose and plump pink lips, those cute beauty marks flecking his pale flesh.

He pulls away from his seductive kiss, leaving you leaning toward him for more. He chuckles, a low sound that sets off the long-forgotten alarm bells in your head. But your aroused mind is far too bleary to pay them heed.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asks. "You absolute harlot. Look how hard your nipples are."

He caresses your breasts, thumbs rolling over your protruding nipples. You bite your tongue, trying and failing to repress your pleasured noises, which makes Riddle chuckle again. Darker this time. Lower and more threatening. He mutters something that you don’t understand, something in a vicious hiss. He squeezes your nipples in his fingers and you cry out from the intense pain. The pressure morphs into masochistic jolts of bliss.

"Oh, fuck!" you call out. "More, Tom! Please!" "You vile whore. Seëlúth a laëth," he hisses.

Your mind reels, shock settling in. Those words that came out of you hardly felt like your own. Riddle has you bewitched, enthralled by his callous gaze and beautiful face. His skilled fingers and tongue and lips keep you ensnared.

His fingers release you and he stands, leaving you a panting mess. You're about to beg for more again but your words stop short as he unzips his pleated pants. Frozen, you hold your breath as he reaches into his pants and brings out his cock.

Your breath releases in a quivering mess of ardor. The pale shaft juts out toward your face, ending in the most pleasant peach-colored head. An enticingly thick vein runs along the side, where yet another beauty mark sits above it. The whole length of his cock makes your mouth water. You lick your lips and swallow some of the excess spit.

"Kiss it," he says.

You meet him halfway and trail kisses all over his beautiful dick. Wherever your lips can reach, you place a kiss. You watch his face, at that satisfied and shit-eating smirk as he observes you worshiping his cock.

"Good little Muggle," he says with a cruel chuckle.

He grabs his dick and smacks it into your cheek and upon your open mouth. As it hits your tongue, you taste his gentle flavor, and your mind screams at you to have more. 

“Want to suck my cock?” “Yes, Tom.” “Beg for it. Tell me exactly how you want me to fuck your repulsive throat.” “Please fuck my mouth. Shove your cock down my throat and fuck me until you cum. I want it hard. I want you to dominate me, Tom. Please!”

His cock twitches. He snatches your hair again and thrusts past your lips. You’re forced to suppress a gag when he digs into the back of your throat. He fucks you, holding onto your hair like reins. He doesn’t care to let you breathe, making you gasp through your nose at any chance you can. With every buck, saliva dribbles out of your mouth, sticking to his cock like long, slippery ropes. Your eyes roll as you fuss over his ruthless sex.

"Look at you, drooling all over my cock with your filthy Muggle mouth. You disgusting wretch, you're loving this, aren't you? Taking me so deep."

He proves it by plunging down until your nose mashes against his stomach. Your raw throat burns in pain, your starved lungs cry out for air, and your stomach does its best to remain steady as you hold back a gag. He holds you there for a moment, observing your tear-stained face. His smirk widens as he returns to an easier rhythm.

"You should be honored," he says, his breathing erratic. "To taste my cock is an amazing privilege. And with the way you're letting me use your whore throat, maybe you'll get to swallow my cum soon."

You moan, haggard and exhausted but craving more. Your hands wriggle desperately, frantic to be released from their binds so you can touch your hungry clit. Riddle fucks you harder as he pants and grunts and murmurs. He says things in that other language, like sharp hissing. It chills your blood to listen to such an ominous, elegant noise.

"I'm going to cum down that wet, tight throat," he spits between his zealous hissing. "Want me to grace your throat with my cum?"

You moan loud before he plunges all the way to the base of his cock. Hot seed gushes down your throat, threatening to choke you. He pulls back to let some of it spread along your tongue, giving you a taste of his essence. The saline and warmth goes down easily, detectably. You regret having swallowed so soon—to have that flavor within your mouth again, you feel you would give anything.

Panting, he stands over you. He pulls out and slaps his cock on your face. Then he takes that strange wooden rod, making you flinch as he waves it once. Your hands fall to your sides as your legs come undone, giving your arching limbs a chance to recover. He tears you to your feet by your wrists.

“Get undressed,” he says. “Quickly.”

You do as you’re ordered and remove everything except your bra before he slams you against the wall. His hard cock digs into your groin and he rips your bra down. He gnashes his teeth against your nipple, making you scream. Just as your pussy throbs for touch, his dick bucks inside of you. You’re forced to stand on your tip-toes as he impales you and he grabs one leg to throw it around his waist.

He releases your nipple and fucks your soaked pussy. With his bottom lip clamped in his teeth, he observes your pleasured face and caresses every dip and curve of your body. You throw your head back in utter ecstasy while you fuss over his thick cock. 

"You have such beautiful curves, my dove," he says. "Do you like it when I use your body this way, šchaëƒ?" "Yes, Tom! Please don't stop."

He pounds into you harder, his cock hitting your cervix in a mix of bliss and pain sending ripples of ecstasy through your body. He hisses into your ear more of that bizarre yet entrancing language.

"Sëyah šchaëƒ sçæn lëthay? Are you enjoying my cock, darling?" "Oh God, yes. Your cock feels amazing." "I could cum inside you. Get you pregnant. Wouldn't you like that, dove? Want me to put a baby inside you?" "Anything you want, Tom. Anything!" "Good answer."

His teeth snap down on your neck. You cry out, clawing his clothed back, one leg tight around his waist while the other still tip-toes to meet his merciless fucking. Juices roll along your thighs and you reach to play with your sensitive clit. Riddle snatches your wrist and holds it against the wall, all motions stopping as he leers into your eyes. His intense gaze tears a shudder through you.

"Oh, no, no," he says with a nasty chuckle. "You don't get to cum. Only I get to cum. Don't let me catch you playing with yourself, laëth, or I'll have to punish you. Now what do you say?" "I'm sorry, Tom." "Good Muggle."

He continues as if nothing happened, brutalizing your pussy and making you toss your head back in bliss. His cock jabs inside you, rubbing your plump walls, slapping your tired but eager cervix. He bites your throat everywhere he can reach as you squeal and mewl, before settling on a spot and forcefully sucking your skin.

"Oh, yes!" you say. "Mark me, please!"

One of his hands finds home upon your breasts, squishing and groping them from one to the other, snagging your nipples along the way. You're screaming and wriggling and dying for release. Your pussy throbs and aches, dripping with frenetic desire. He finally lets go of your flesh with a small pop of his mouth, then examines the mark left behind. His eyes trail over your sweaty face and lustful eyes, then, licking his lips, he smirks. 

"Look at that beautiful mark," he breathes. "Now everyone will see that I own you, filthy little slut. Want me to fill your tight cunt with my cum?" "Yes please, Tom," you say. "Own my pussy!"

He grunts and hisses, coming undone a second time as the familiar sound of his orgasm fills the room. His seed gushes hot inside of you. Your pussy clenches around him, throbbing as though hungrily devouring his semen. His head rests in the crook of your neck as he gasps for breath. Sex hormones flood you, making you hold him close, making you think and want to say inappropriate things.

You try to remind yourself of everything Tom Riddle has done. All the pain, all the trauma. Even today: coercing you with threats of violence, entrancing you into reveling in his sex. You aren't attached to this psychopath, you certainly don't love him; you simply want to leave and hope you never see him again. 

His cock is still stuck up inside you, mostly hard but coming down after his second peak. He's hardly disheveled, and once he looks at you, all that's left on his face of your sex is flushed cheeks. The darkness of his eyes grows stronger.

"That was good, Muggle. A night to remember."

He pulls away, his cock sliding out. Excess cum dribbles from your swollen lips. With that same crooked rod, he summons a rag off his cauldron table. Then he cleans himself off and returns his gorgeous cock to its confines. He doesn't offer to get you anything to clean up. Instead, he points his wand at you. 

"T-Tom?" "I may have gotten too ahead of myself, cumming so deep inside you. Can't have you spawning any filthy half-bloods, or worse—" He poorly represses his shudder. "Squibs. Sorry, šchaëƒ, but this is the end for you." "Wait, Tom, please—!" "Avada kedavra!"

The last thing you saw was a blast of green light, then you saw and felt nothing ever again.

[royaltrashkin]

Person Ordering Coffee: I'd like a venti mocha with almond milk, one pump of hazelnut, and a drizzle of chocolate and a venti pumpkin spice latte with a shot of espresso for my friend here, please.

People: Look at this entitled piece of spoiled shit. You self absorbed cretin. You fucking stain upon humanity. I curse you and your entire family you disgusting selfish child of Lucifer. How very dare you speak. I am going to spend weeks mocking you on all my social medias you filthy degenerate.

Different Person Ordering Coffee: Hah! I'm ordering just a plain 16 oz - that's right, 16 oz, I refuse to say the dipshit name you officially call it in your store because I am an educated individual unlike your other customers - black coffee. I bet you never ever get anybody in here ever asking for a black coffee, because this whole world has turned into soft little crybaby entitled losers who scream and holler at the slightest inconvenience and demand respect and attention and accolades for the most mundane achievements. Not I, though, no, I, unlike anybody else who orders coffee, am a philosophical and logical genius of such proportions that I understand what an ounce is, and unlike those simpleton scum I have an actual palette for the sacred brown bean and enjoy the taste, I don't need to cover it with froufrou recipes. I bet you're so glad to have me as a customer, the only person in decades to have asked for something simple.

People: Oh my God. Is it He?! Is it Jesus the Saviour Christ returning? Are we being Raptured?

The Actual Barista: I need a goddamn raise.