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#Yep there's the rat tail!
yellowraincoat · 2 years
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The Simon Snow Trilogy is a beautiful, groundbreaking love story, bc where else can you read about two monster fuckers finding each other in this crazy messed up world 😤
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scatterbrainedbot · 4 months
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I AM SPINNING I AM PACING I AM FULL ON FROLICKING IM SO EXCITED
@d1sc0rd1a THANK U FOR THESE TAGS
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okayokayokayokay so pretty much all of these questions will be Officially Answered properly in the character design/intro pages im working on but also i am physically vibrating with excitement about the fact that you noticed all these details and i have very little self control so! lore dump time!!!
(minor tw for mentions of leos self-harm/self-destructive anxious behaviors and unhealthy coping skills)
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- mikey does indeed have curly fur! i believe he would be considered a 'rex' rat (pictured on the left) for this trait? though the curls can be more easily seen on mice (pictured on the right). or, at least it seems that way. have not delved too deeply into the details of rodent genes and husbandry, but id assume its the same sort of mutation considering curly haired mice are also referred to as rex sometimes? either way hes a extra floofy bby 🧡
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-as for raphie, unfortunately being more fluff and less shell than the average rapheal comes with its downsides. especially if you and your brothers occasionally encounter things like territorial dogs, hungry cats, or sewer crocodiles while exploring places ur dad said not supposed to go. (most of his scars will have more ninja related stories, but his ear i think got messed up from something very animal. probably around age 11 ish? old enough to sneak out from dads protection but young enough to not fully know how to handle himself alone against real danger. thankfully his ear injury looks worse than it actually is for the most part, as the damage was largely to the outer ear. his hearing wasnt super affected, except that he now has a bit of a harder time being able to track/pinpoint noises origins if its on his right side.)
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-also yep! dons got some glasses that just clip/rest on the bridge of his nose! theyre mostly just for home use, as they do fall off if hes knocked around. in the field he has some goggles he tends to use (theyre helpful as they have multiple additional functions like heat-imaging, extra zoom/telescoping, and recording capabilities. but also theyll give him headaches if he wears them for too long without breaks). contacts are theoretically also an option but he absolutely hates the sensation of putting them in. so sometimes when hes tired he'll just not bother with either clips or goggles and just squint and struggle. leo hates when he does that lol.
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-speaking of leo, he is def an anxious baby :) he has a few patches of fur missing on his hand cos he has the tendency to tug on it while hes thinking. he yanked and chewed on his own tail a lot when he was younger too, which is why when hes older he usually wears some wraps to cover the scars left from that behavior. he finds those scars specifically to be kinda embarrassing and shameful because they werent from any battle or life-lesson, just his own 'inability to control himself'. all of his brothers have repeatedly called him out on the fact that that is not a healthy way to think about his anxiety or mental health, but leo insists hes fine. hes kinda convinced himself that a proper warrior always has control over his own body* and his own thoughts, thus he should be able to just like willpower-brute-force his way into 'being better'. (this line of thinking pisses raph off so much he has to leave and go hit something)
Splinter also tries to talk him through some of that internalized guilt/shame/everything, but splinters very metaphorical, poetic, and indirect when it comes to talking about Big Things, which combined with how much leo gets caught in his own head, makes it kinda hard to gauge how much these talks actually help
*this is made extra fun considering leos also ftm trans, so he is faced with a body that fundamentally disobeys him perhaps more than the average rat-man.
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-and im still going back and forth between a few species for splinter, but im leaning mostly towards an African Spurred Tortoise! they have these beautiful if kinda subtle geometric shell patterns and are the third largest species of tortoise in the world. the only thing that doesnt fit perfectly with Splints is that (allegedly) their lifespan in captivity is around 50ish years, whereas im p sure Tortoise Splinter is well over 75, probably closer to 90 when the boys are born and hes mutated into Old Man Papa.
but maybe hes just a particularly long lasting African Spurred Tortoise.
the Hamato family has taken very good care of him for many decades after all. :)
(well. until everything all fell apart, that is.....)
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mrsjellymunson · 6 months
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Hello, Stranger
Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader, Eddie Munson x you, Eddie Munson x reader
For @lesservillain’s excellent Strange and Spooky Stories Halloween writing event for the prompt: ‘Stranger’
Summary: A stranger comes in to buy weird stuff at odd times, and as the cashier at the local hardware store you’re not quite sure what to make of it…
CW: 18+ (MDNI), fluff, maybe SFW though caution for mature and dark themes and allusions to crime and violence. Flirting, li’l bit of awkwardness, some swearing. Both Eddie and reader are in their 20s. Reader’s gender and appearance are not described, they can be whatever you want. No use of y/n. Time period is not mentioned, and any inaccuracies/inconsistencies about history, equipment, American schooling (I’m not from around these parts) or science are deliberate and artistic oh yes they are. No smut, I thought I’d better assess whether I could string a semi-coherent story together before attempting to add that 😆
WC: ~6.2k
A/N: I love gore, revenge movies, murder shows, true crime, science/biology/forensics and DIY (sort of), so this prompt seemed like a perfect fit. There are tiny Easter eggs from The Equalizer, Breaking Bad, 80s crime TV, The Blacklist and John Wick in here - let me know if you spot any! This is the first ‘proper’ fic I’ve posted so I’d love to know what you think. Comments, reblogs and feedback are hugely appreciated and very welcome!
(Also this is my first attempt at dividers too, I hope they worked, I literally have no idea what I’m doing!)
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Yep, you were ‘that’ weird kid. Your friends in Middle School had called you a freak because you brought squirrel tails and chicken feet to show’n’tell.
“But look! If you pull this tendon it makes the claw close! Isn’t that cool?!”
No, apparently that was not cool. Especially when demonstrated against your teacher’s finger...
You’d visit a friend whose father was a doctor, begging to read his medical and pathology text books, and preferring to look at pictures of dissected and diseased organs and spontaneous human combustion over braiding your friend’s hair or talking about boys.
And, apparently, scoring a class-topping 9.5/10 for your rat dissection also wasn’t the social merit badge you thought it might be, even amongst your science-abreast academic peers.
So what if you had a strong constitution. And a love of anatomy and pathology. And then compounded it with a love of true crime, particularly serial killers and forensic methods. Surely there were worse things to be interested in?
By the time you’d finished High School you’d learned to mask your enthusiasm, covering your (apparently, socially unacceptable) fascination for all things ‘gross’ and ‘murderous’ (your friends’ words) by choosing science majors like human anatomy and pathology, criminal behaviour and forensics.
People just thought you were clever, nerdy, a scientist. You never let on that you were itching to actually experience some of these things for yourself, in real time, with your own hands…
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You work the evening shift at the sprawling out-of-town homewares store on the road running out of Indianapolis towards a tiny town you’ve never been to (Hawksville? Hawking?). You work a few evenings a week plus alternate Sundays, currently in the gardening, kitchen and hardware department. It wouldn’t be your chosen section of the store (in the short time you’ve been there you’ve had to amass a lot of knowledge about tools. Also, how to politely deflect the regulars’ offers to share details of their new projects, lest you get drawn in to a half-hour discussion about u-bends or rawl plugs), but the hours suit you and fit around your college classes, and the employee discount comes in handy when things in your shitty apartment break down or your roommate carelessly breaks something, again.
The final few hours of your shifts were usually pretty quiet, barring the occasional domestic plumbing emergency, or a bored Hawkins housewife coming in looking for batteries.
You don’t mind spending your evenings amongst the tools and machinery, it gives you a chance to flick through the latest copy of forensic magazine or True Crime, or work on your college assignments.
One thing that does make the slow evenings more entertaining is the unusual clientele. A nerdy-looking guy with a moustache needing releasable cable ties, cooking oil and a large plastic sheet at 9.30pm must have an interesting backstory, right?
You find yourself concocting fantastical vignettes about the oddballs that pass through, giving them the most amusing or disturbing story you can think of as they glide by in the night.
The guy with the cable ties? Too easy. Clearly he’s got a ‘special friend’ and an interesting evening planned. TBH, that’s probably not even fictional. You call him Salacious Scott.
The friendly, rotund lady who regularly comes in for for buckets and sawdust? You know it’s Mrs Henderson, who is trying to go self-sufficient and has recently installed a composting toilet, but you prefer to imagine she’s actually a madam with a ‘specialist interest’ playroom, who you brand Madame Urolagnia.
The paranoid guy with a beard and thick glasses who won’t tell you his name, buys a lot of vodka from the liquor store nearby and comes in for plastic pipe, cladding and those slot-together foam mats for kids? He tells you he’s into martial arts and these make safe weapon facsimiles for training, but you reckon he’s actually some kind of government agent. Your imaginary name for him is Mysterious Murray.
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One oddball in particular has caught your attention, and not just because he’s easily the handsomest customer you’ve had in a while.
Wait, no, you didn’t just admit that; you just find him interesting, that’s all.
It was his speed and demeanour that had struck you first, rushing in, hand atop the bandana on his head, gangly legs in ripped jeans looking like they were trying to run in two different directions at once, large, dark eyes wide as he’d frantically looked around the store.
“Uh, rope, I need rope, where’d you keep the rope?”
You’d blurted some instructions and he’d headed off, not looking in your direction.
His leather jacket and swinging chains certainly commanded attention amongst the flannel and blue denim that was usually in your line of sight, and you’d found your eyes following him, catching sight of him moving between the aisles from your position behind the counter.
He’d moved towards you with a sturdy knife, a shovel and 3 rolls of duct tape that he’d collected on his way to the checkout, arms full (he didn’t pick up a basket), when you’d ventured,
“I’d recommend the next brand up, if you want something stronger with better sticking power? It costs a little more, but it’s better quality, so overall you’ll use less”, (silently thanking Mr Wheeler’s recent diatribe on the merits and pitfalls of various brands of adhesive tape, remembering the detail because he’d gone so far as to demonstrate by sticking small pieces of it to your skin. It was a weird interaction for sure, but also oddly informative).
He’d lifted his head to look at you and your eyes had connected for the first time. Your eyes widened, and you think you spotted a slight twitch of a smile at one side of his mouth.
Oh, he’s actually really cute.
“Uh, okay, if you think that’s best”.
He dropped his eyes from yours and, after unceremoniously dumping everything else onto your counter, he’d exchanged the rolls and returned.
You’d both paused, you don’t know for how long, and you’d wondered how someone buying rope could be so captivating. But the spell was broken as you’d both spoke simultaneously:
“Did you find everything you need?”
“I’m kinda in a rush, so…”
You’d both chuckled nervously, and you’d set about ringing up his purchases, noticing that a small smile definitely now graced those previously harried features.
He’d paid with a handful of old, crumpled bills pulled from his jacket, politely declining your offer of a bag, and then he was gone as quick as he came, hurrying out into the night with the swish of the automatic doors and a breeze of parking lot-scented night air.
You didn’t know why anyone would need rope and a shovel at that time on a weeknight, but with this particular guy, who you dubbed The Stranger, you found yourself thinking that you wouldn’t mind finding out.
You’d unintentionally spent the rest of that evening coming up with fantasies about that particular customer, although, unusually for you, quite a few of them hadn’t actually involved what was on his receipt…
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When The Stranger next comes in he’s after heavyweight garbage bags, more tape and a saw, but seems in slightly less of a rush.
He pauses at your counter for a few moments, making polite conversation, asking how long you’d been working here, whether you were working late tonight.
Is he trying to… flirt? Surely not…
“Thanks for the tape recommendation by the way, it was a real lifesaver. That stuff’s really good, I definitely have a new favourite!”, gracing you with a broad grin (oh fuck, that was a sight) before he was on his way again.
Another time he bought shears, tarp and a large quantity of painting coveralls.
The next trip involved wire cutters, buckets and a wet’n’dry vacuum.
You begin to enjoy The Stranger coming in buying random shit at odd hours. You can’t quite make him out. He buys a lot of gardening and decorating-type equipment (plus he’s almost single-handedly keeping the cleaning product aisle in business), but he dresses like neither - always in tight, ripped jeans, shredded band tees and his signature leather jacket. You’ve never seen him covered in leaves or dirt, and his clothes have zero paint on them. Those coveralls must do a really good job…
You build up a rapport of sorts with him. There’s always a polite, verging on friendly greeting between you, and you let him know when there’s special offers on tarp and garbage bags, and what days there are deliveries of latex gloves and those painting coveralls he seems to like so much. (Sometimes you’ll even stash a few of the latter for him under the counter if there’s a holiday weekend coming up, knowing Hawkins’ husbands will be out in force and not wanting him to miss out.)
But the ‘fantasy vignette’ and forensically-inclined parts of your brain begin to overlap, and start to tickle your imagination. It’s almost as if each selection of items he buys could be used to either dispatch someone, or dispose of a body. But that’s crazy, right? He seems way too nice to be a serial killer. And mob activity in this part of Indiana? Nah. That wouldn’t happen around here.
Would it?
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It’s a quiet Friday night when you next see The Stranger. He’s picked up bolt cutters, pliers, some metal trays, a sledgehammer, a mop, and, most bizarrely of all because you’ve noticed he’s not usually one for personal safety equipment, ear defenders.
Again, he’s basket-less, barely able to contain the items piled up in his arms. They topple as he arrives at your counter, and some end up partially covering your open magazine.
“Shit, I’m really sorry about that.”
“Oh, no problem, honestly. I probably shouldn’t be reading on the clock anyway”, you say, slightly bashful, as you move the crumpled magazine out from underneath his items, smoothing it down. The Stranger’s eyes are locked on your hands, and as they move across the page they reveal a headline about a recently apprehended serial murderer and some photographs of a variety of grisly-looking, bloody weapons.
“That looks… interesting, watcha reading there?”, he remarks, leaning in.
“Oh, this? It’s about a new guy they’ve just caught over in Europe. He’s fascinating, he used such a variety of tools and methods that at first the police didn’t even think to link the crimes. Ingenious, really, when you think about it. So creative!”
You look up, and The Stranger is regarding you with an unreadable expression. Does he think you’re weird, babbling on about this murderer like you admire him? Or is he actually impressed with your enthusiasm?
“Sorry, I’m a true crime buff, it’s a bit of a pet topic of mine. And I’m studying forensics at college, so it’s kind of like schoolwork too.” You chuckle nervously, arms moving in front of your body and shoulders subtly curling in on yourself in embarrassment.
The Stranger seems to sense your discomfort, and shakes his head, making his curls bounce, smiling and chuckling along with you.
“No, yeah, uh, me too with the crime thing, actually. Well, not so much the reading, I’m more of a hear-it-through-the grapevine, hands on kinda guy.”
‘Hands on’? WTF does that mean?
“Oh, cool, coolcoolcool”. Smooth…
As you scan his items your fantasy vignette tickles your brain again.
No, don’t be silly…
You bag everything up this time, insisting it’ll be easier to carry, handing them to him and taking his crumpled bills.
Your curiosity is more than piqued and you can’t hold it in any longer. Feeling bold, you ask, “So, what’s all this for?”
“Huh?”
“The- the stuff. What’re you doin’ with it?”
The Stranger looks at you through his lashes, not speaking.
Shit, you’ve overstepped, he’s gonna leave, find a different store and you’ll never see him again.
“Uh, well, some people I know out near the big city are, er, planning a, uh, party, with a few of their, um, associates, and I think it’s gonna get pretty loud, hence the earphones. I, uh, don’t usually get involved in stuff until later in the evening, y’know, after all the main fun’s over.”
You look a little quizzical.
He thinks for a moment.
“I tidy up, but I sorta make it a bit more fun for everyone. Bring a bit of pizazz to a usually mundane part of the evening. Kinda thing.”
You process for a few moments. The ‘Mob Cleaner’ vignette you’d fantasised about screams loud and long into your cerebrum.
Nerves give way to curiosity, and you brashly ask, “So, what exactly is it that you do?”
“I’m kind of a cleaner, I guess? If someone has a problem that they’ve had dealt with and they wanna make the cleanup more, um, interesting, I’m the guy they call.”
Probing further, you clarify, “So you don’t make the, uh, mess, you just clean it up. Creatively?”
“Yeah, exactly.”
He explains he’s still quite new to the job, and kinda fell into it. His boss and his mentor are both encouraging, saying his USP is truly original (Unique Selling Point, he explains when you look confused), and that he definitely ‘has potential’. He’s learning a lot as he goes, but his enthusiasm seems to be appreciated and he wants to do well.
“All you really need is a strong stomach, imagination and a flair for the dramatic!”
He illustrates his last point by making jazz hands by the sides of his head, offering you a generous smile. Yeah, you can see how that particular part of the job comes easy to him.
“Oh, well, it sounds like fun. I hope you have a very successful evening!”
“Okay, well, thanks again! I’ll see you.”
You watch him leave, noticing in particular how well his jeans fit tonight.
What’s that saying again - I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave…?
You shake your head to rid yourself of the lewd - and crazy, yeah, totally crazy - thoughts you’re having about The Stranger and encourage yourself back into work mode.
As you busy yourself and tidy your counter you notice something small and white on the floor in front, about the size of a credit card. It must’ve fallen out of his jacket as he fumbled for cash.
Cash. Always cash. Never credit card, never cheque, never — anything traceable…
You round the counter and pick it up, thinking you’d save it and return it to him the next time he comes in. It’s a business card. The text is unfussy and clear, but glossy, bold and slightly gothic. It’s a company name above some text and a pager number, but it may well be the most intriguing piece of writing that you’ve ever come across:
E.M. Creative Disposal Services, Apprentice to Mr Kaplan & Associates, For dinner reservations call: (555)-666-6969
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It’s another quiet night, but there’s already a couple of people at the counter when The Stranger arrives. Mr Sinclair needs a pipe wrench and a plunger (you don’t envy him his evening), and Mrs Wheeler has come in to buy double-As for the second time this month (although this time she also added gardening gloves and secateurs to pad out her basket. Not that you’d judge either way).
You spot The Stranger’s curls before anything else, bobbing in the fluorescent lights as he comes through the entrance doors. He spots the queue and immediately joins it, glancing towards the counter and visibly brightening when he sees you behind it. He’s carrying the sledgehammer he bought last time. As you start to ring up Mrs Wheeler’s batteries you see him examining the head of the hammer. Frowning slightly, he moistens his thumb with his tongue and rubs at one corner, then polishes the same spot on the front of his jeans.
He reaches the counter, receipt retrieved from a bundle pulled from inside his jacket.
You greet each other with a quiet ‘hey’. He continues, “I, uh, wanted to return this. Can I do that?”
“Yeah, sure, lemme ring it through the till. Can I ask why? Company policy,” you shrug, almost apologetically.
“Sure, uh, well you know that phase ‘using a sledgehammer to crack a nut‘? Turns out a sledgehammer does indeed obliterate the, uh, nuts… Let’s just say it wasn’t really suitable for the project I had in mind. I think I need something…”
Lighter? Easier to aim?
“With a little more finesse?” You venture, eyebrows raised, hoping you haven’t completely misread things.
“Yeah, finesse! I like that”. He beams widely at you tilting his head slightly, revealing the most gorgeous dimples you’ve ever seen, and it’s all you can do to hold on to the edge of the counter while your knees gently fail beneath you.
“Umm, you want some help choosing?”
He readily agrees and you direct him to the hammer section, both of you discussing the merits and disadvantages of various models as you choose ones from the display and encourage him to feel their weight and balance. He seems impressed, clearly not expecting you to be so well-versed in the finer aspects of hardware.
“Y’know, you really know your tools!”
You squeak out a bashful, “Thanks.”
You slip into self-deprecating mode and brush off his compliment, saying, “It comes with the territory I guess. I’ve picked up a lot working here. Plus I just sometimes browse the shelves, thinking of nefarious uses for random household objects.” Hurriedly adding, “For school, of course!”
You cringe a bit, thinking this must make you look like some kind of weirdo, but The Stranger takes it easily in his stride, commenting, “You know, you’d be surprised to learn just how much of a marketable skill that can be.”
You chat some more and he eventually chooses a smaller, less unwieldy hammer, and after he pays you part ways again.
You still desperately want to ask him exactly what he used that other hammer for, what ‘Creative Disposal Services’ actually means, and what the hell have dinner reservations got to do with any of this?
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The next night you see The Stranger he saunters in at about 8:30. He has a different energy about him this evening, seeming both more relaxed but also somewhat on edge. He’s not in his usual ratty band tee tonight, you notice, and no leather jacket either. Instead he’s wearing a what looks to be a clean, maybe even pressed, electric blue raglan shirt with black half length sleeves. You spot a crimson guitar pick necklace that you’ve not seen before dangling from a twinkling silver ball chain, resting against his sternum and resplendent against the blue.
Observing his forearms for the first time you notice how attractive - and (oh!) tattooed - they are. Toned and veined, their shape and his mix of tattoos are shown off to perfection by that sleeve length, and a leather and chain bracelet that adorns one powerful-looking wrist. The glint of his chunky silver rings accentuates his large hands that peek out of his jeans pockets as he wanders over to you. He’s still in tight black jeans, but they seem a little… neater than usual. And he’s not in a rush. It’s almost like he’s not working, maybe even making an effort.
You feel a frisson of excitement - could it be that he’s come in just to see you?
Exhibit A, m’lud: Scrubbing up well.
He heads straight for your counter, and you greet each other with your characteristic friendliness.
He spies the hefty text books you’ve spread before you, and leans onto the counter to get a closer look.
“Watcha workin’ on tonight, Doctor Quincy?”
You swallow at the cute nickname, voice cracking slightly as you start to tell him about the assignment you’ve got. It’s about evidential tool marks, and how pathologists can identify what’s been used as a weapon or tool of dismemberment.
The Stranger tries to play down his interest, but his demeanour betrays him as he presses for more details, even asking if he could maybe read the finished piece.
That’s weird, right? People don’t read other people’s science essays for fun. Do they?
But you agree, promising to bring him a copy when it’s done.
The conversation lulls, and The Stranger twists the pad of one of his thumbs against the counter, seemingly a little nervous, though you can’t imagine what about.
To break the silence you slip into work mode, but for some reason drop your voice a couple of octaves and murmur,
“So anyway, what is it that can I help you with, sir?”
Wait, is he blushing?
“Um, oh, uh, I actually don’t have a shopping list today, I was, uh, just gonna browse, I guess.”
He backs away from your counter, giving it a few rhythmic slaps with his fingertips before turning away from you and ambling off into the store. He returns a few moments later with a small hatchet and mid-range fold-out knife, plus two rolls of his now-favourite tape.
“You can never have too many of these, amirite?”
He gives you that dimpled smile again, and you feel your stomach do a full (though anatomically impossible) 360° flip.
Observing his lack of focus and comparatively small selection of items, you wonder if he really needs those things, or whether he’s just picking them up as an excuse to come in to the store. Your chest heats up a little at the thought.
Exhibit B: Small, possibly unnecessary purchase. The evidence is mounting up.
Seeing the hatchet, your eyes light up with enthusiasm as you remember something.
“Hey, we just got some new stock in that I think you might like, y’know, if I’m not overstepping or anything.” You finish with a nervous chuckle.
You smile at him nervously through your lashes, skin heating even more in case this is suddenly all a bit too familiar.
He grins, responding, “Sure, go ahead!”
Your smile broadens and relaxes as you turn away from him and walk to the back shelves, crouching down and retrieving something in your arms.
Standing quickly and turning, you notice his eyes widen and immediately flick up to yours, a slightly alarmed expression on his face.
Exhibit C: Was he checking you out when he thought you wouldn’t notice? (Also, is it getting hot in here?)
With a loud thunk you lay two (frankly, terrifying-looking) multi-tools out on the counter in front of him. One looks like an oversized, overspec-ed Swiss Army knife, and the other could easily pass as a prop from an exorcism-themed horror movie. You over-excitedly explain the features of each, saying, “This one has a hammer and an axe, plus screwdrivers, pliers, a saw, wire cutters, a magnesium rod”, you look up at him quickly and ask, “do you ever need to start fires? Plus, it has…”, you wave your hand dramatically over your favourite part of the item, like you were showing it off on a shopping channel, and stretch out the syllables of the final two words for emphasis, “…a bottle opener…”. You raise your eyebrows and grin widely, like this must surely be the deal breaker.
The Stranger laughs, throwing his head back with deep-throated barks from the centre of his chest, and then he chuckles a little, bringing a strand of hair over his cheek and a curled finger to his lips. You’re slightly distracted by that glimpse of his extended neck (god, you want to gnaw at it), and that laugh? You wish you could’ve recorded it somehow.
You quickly compose yourself and continue, switching to the ’horror prop’ product, “And this one has fewer features, but I like it for its simplicity, robustness and practical charm. It’s an axe, hammer, nail puller and pry bar. And it even has a rubber coated handle, so you can still use it safely even if your hands are wet. For, y’know, whatever reason…” you finish, slightly abashed.
“Aw, Pumpkin, this is the kindest thing anyone’s done for me in a while, thank you.”
Pumpkin. PumpkinPumpkinPumpkin. Exhibit D: A term of endearment!
He takes some time to examine both articles, testing out their various features, hefting them in his (large, strong) hands (stop it!).
“I love them. Y’know what, I can’t decide. I’ll take both. What’s the damage?”
You visibly brighten, a squeak of delight that you hope he didn’t hear inadvertently leaving you as you puff up with both his term of endearment and your ever-growing customer service confidence.
You check whether he’d still like the other items he’d brought to the counter, and apart from the duct tape (“You really can’t have too much of this stuff!”), he allows you to reshelve the rest.
He watches, enthralled, as you wrap his new tools in the store-issue brown paper reverently and carefully, as though you were wrapping an expensive gift in a fancy department store, the pair of you sharing bashful looks and half smiles as you work.
As he hands over the now-unsurprising crumpled bills and takes his change his hand drifts closer to yours, glancing his fingers over your palm and lingering for just a moment. There’s a little hitch in your inhale, and you think you see his ears redden a little.
He gathers up his purchases in his arms carefully and gently, and he backs away from your counter slowly.
“I guess I’ll head out then. Uh, I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah, I guess you will, uhh-”
“Eddie. My name’s Eddie.”
“Okay, I guess so, Eddie.” You say his name slowly, like you’re testing out the syllables in your mouth.
You continue speaking, offering your name in reciprocation.
“Yeah, yeah I know your name, it’s kinda on your little badge there.” A tiny nod indicates the plastic rectangle pinned on your apron strap near your left shoulder.
Your cheeks heat again. “Right, of course. Ha!” You inwardly cringe. Well, that could’ve gone better.
He’s still backing away, getting dangerously close to an intricately balanced display of colourful children’s watering cans. You’re about to say something, but he turns just in time, ambling towards the illuminated exit with a mumbled, “Okay, bye then. Thanks again for these…” lifting the packages in his arms, and turning to look over his shoulder a couple more times before he finally reaches the door and disappears into the parking lot.
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“Hey, d’you know anything about wood chippers?”
It’s been a week since you’ve seen The Stranger Eddie, and you turn abruptly to find him walking towards your counter.
His question throws you out of your stocktaking zone (you’d been focussing on ordering enough plastic pumpkin-shaped buckets for all of Hawkins’ kids this Halloween), but you quickly slip into customer service mode and ask for more details.
Eddie explains, using mostly his arms, that he needs one that, “throws everything everywhere”. You finally work out that he means the type where you feed stuff into a hopper on one side and the shredded debris is forced out of a raised chute on the other (as opposed to the more gravity-based ones where stuff is fed into the top and simply falls out the bottom).
He’s passing it off as being involved in some avant garde student art project, a performance piece involving feeding a load of wood and, uh, paint, yeah, paint into a wood chipper and having it spray out the other side. He blusters that the students are trying to make a point about climate change, or maybe it’s deforestation, he can’t seem to decide.
He explains that the piece is to be performed indoors, that there’ll be quite a few people present, and that he also needs a large quantity of tarp and coveralls because it was likely to make a huge mess.
This is the clincher. You’re absolutely convinced there is no art project, and what’s go through that chipper is more likely to be a human body. Or, given the amount of effort being gone to, and Eddie’s flair for theatrics, probably more than one.
“What size branches?”
He looks at you, confused. “Huh?”
“The, uh, limbs. What size will you be shredding? Some of the smaller models won’t cope with thick trunks.”
He swallows. His eyes meet yours, and he licks his lips. You can’t help but stare at those full, pink… Look away! Just look away!!
He subtly smirks, slowly moves his hands across the counter, and, gently taking hold of one of your hands in his, loops his other finger and thumb around your wrist.
“Um, definitely thicker than this…” - he extends your arm towards him, and moves his other hand slowly up your skin until he gets to your upper arm - “…and maybe a little thicker than this, too.”
You hope he can’t feel the burning sensation that’s erupted up your arm. You know he can’t possibly hear your racing heartbeat or detect the adrenaline that’s coursing through your veins, but you’re acutely aware of both just the same. You briefly ponder whether you’ll need to get a fire extinguisher from aisle 7.
“Umm, how about I show you what we’ve got?”
Composing yourself, barely, you take him to the large garden implements section, explaining that for larger trunks and limbs he may need something towable.
Under the guise of working out whether various models would be suitable, you take the opportunity to dig a little and find out what kind of vehicle he drives. It’s a van, so roomy, practical for carrying a lot of equipment that needs to be kept out of sight. Well, this all tracks.
Also, your brain helpfully suggests, it could potentially be romantic, a private little hideaway where you and he could… No! Stay on topic, you’re at work for god’s sake!
As you debate the various choices you find you’re occasionally leaning into each other, shoulders and elbows lightly bumping, you stealing glances at his chiselled jawline when you think he isn’t looking.
Eddie eventually decides on a mid-size towable model, and as you arrange for it to be delivered to the collection bay he bids you goodnight and disappears out to his van.
‘Art project’, huh? I don’t think so…
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You don’t see Eddie for a couple of weeks after that, and you begin to wonder whether he doesn’t like you. Maybe you went too far, did you bore him? Did you frighten him off? Did he feel pressured into buying those gadgets or the expensive wood chipper?
Maybe he’s finally realised you’re a weirdo, like everyone at school eventually did?
Trying to get out of your funk you steel yourself and ask your department manager, Keith, whether he’d seen an odd, metal-looking guy in the store at all.
“Nah, not recently, but someone like that did come in a few weeks back, asking about when you’d be working. Something about your product knowledge helping him with a job, or whatever. I told him your schedule, I hope that’s ok.”
So you haven’t missed him, and maybe he’s not avoiding you. Good, that’s good. Exhibit E: He’s been asking about you?? Oh fu-
You’re startled out of your reverie by the sound of someone slapping two plastic packets down onto the counter.
“Oh, hi Mrs Wheeler, let me ring those up for you…”
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On his next visit it’s clear Eddie is restocking his cleaning supplies, and he’s even deigned to use a small trolley this time to transport the heavy and bulky items.
As well as multi-surface cleaner, mops, cloths and some heavy duty gloves, you notice his trolley also contains numerous bottles of chlorine bleach.
“Big clean-up job tonight, huh?”
“What? Oh, yeah, I guess so. I need to leave the place without any trace of the, uh, performance this time.”
“Depends what you need to clean up, I guess. Y’know, chlorine bleach doesn’t necessarily get rid of everything.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, it’s fascinating, common misconception by the way. Chlorine bleach gets rid of visible stains, so that’s great if your main concern is aesthetics. But you can still detect haemoglobin, if you have access to the right tools and solutions.”
Eddie looks bath engaged and confused.
“A-heema-whatnow?”
You snicker.
“Haemo-, y’know what, never mind. Blood, basically. So actually, oxygen bleach is your best bet if your biggest concern removing all traces of, let’s say, blood and DNA. Whilst it doesn’t necessarily remove all the marks, it does degrade everything biological to the point where it’s undetectable. At least, with the tests we currently have.”
Eddie leans his elbows on the counter, giving you his full attention, resting his cheeks on his knuckles and pushing his dimpled grin up even further. Emboldened, you talk at length about haemoglobin, DNA degradation, specialist chemical solutions and alternative light sources.
He stays there, rapt, until you come to a natural stop. Just before he straightens up he quietly mumbles, still smiling, “Fucking incredible”.
With a deep breath he returns to the aisles to procure both types of bleach, pays and heads out into the night with a cheery, “Wish me luck!”
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The cleanup must’ve gone well, because Eddie’s back a few days later and is making conversation.
“Hey, um, I remember reading once about some guy in England, years ago, who, like, melted people. You ever heard of that?”
You contemplate for a moment.
“Oh, d’you mean the Acid Bath Murderer, John Haigh?”
“Acid bath? Yeah, that sounds familiar.”
“Y’know, that’s actually one of my favourite case studies! It was one of the stories that first got me interested in true crime. 1940s England, dude thought he could get away with it if there was no body. Nope, sorry! When I first heard about it I thought it was really inventive, though he actually took the idea from a French guy who’d already done similar. Makes you wonder how many undiscovered dissolved bodies there might’ve been before and since, huh?”
You wax lyrical for a little while on the relative merits and disadvantages of the dissolving of human bodies in acid, even relating an anecdote about how your lab partner once chose the wrong combination of acid and beaker type, finishing with, “Hoo-boy, that was a mess!”
You become a little awkward, aware of how long you’ve been talking and the possibly-disturbingly-creepy level of detail you’ve gone into, though Eddie doesn’t seem to mind and presents somewhat like he’s paying attention in a chem class. Regardless, you decide to change the subject.
“I meant to ask last time, how did that wood chipping project go?”
“Oh, uh, yeah, really good, thanks. Y’know that advice you gave me about the chipper came in real handy. It was quite the show!” He looks gleefully at you, flashing that brilliant smile. A few small fireworks quietly explode in your innards.
“I’m so glad! Did the client like it?”
“Oh yeah, baby, they were thrilled!”
Baby. That’s new. You like it, and you add it to your growing mental filing system labelled ‘Evidence that Eddie might like me’. You can’t even remember what letter you’re up to now, you’re just enjoying stuffing it fuller every time he graces you with another morsel.
“They even gave me a nice bonus, for my ‘theatricality’.” He begins to lift his arms, but stops himself, resisting doing the jazz hands things again, reasoning there’s only so many times he can do an impersonation of a court jester before it puts someone off. “Said they’re gonna recommend me to their buddies too.”
More softly, and a little bashful, looking through his lashes he adds, “Kinda wish you could’ve been there, actually.”
Oh my, is he blushing again?
“Yeah, me too. I’d love to see you work sometime…”
“You would?”
Okay, he’s definitely blushing.
He leans in over your counter, close, so he can say in a low voice,
“Uh, just so we’re on the same page, you know what I do has nothing to do with art projects, right?”
Holding his gaze, and with your voice surprisingly steady, you swallow before confirming, “Yes, Eddie. I know.”
He huffs out a stuttering breath, and the air between you seems to heat.
He lifts one hand and rubs the back of his neck nervously.
“Hey listen, uh, I dunno if this is a little too forward, or weird, or y’know, whatever,” He’s rambling now. It’s adorable.
“I was kinda gonna ask you if you wanted to get milkshakes sometime, but, uh, maybe you’d actually wanna come out on a job with me? I’ve got one coming up on Sunday that I could really use an extra pair of hands on. I could pay you of course, y’know, for your time.”
You want to blurt out that, for him, you’d willingly burn the world and everyone in it for free. Instead, you smile wide, and settle for,
“Well, my tutors are always encouraging us to get real world experience…”
“Great, so I’ll pick you up at the end of your shift?”
“Sure, Eddie. I’ll look forward to it.”
You’re both grinning, stuttering messes.
“Great! Great. Uh, okay then, I guess I’ll see you Sunday?”
As he turns to leave, you stop him with one final question.
“Just one more thing Eddie. Should I bring my own coveralls..?”
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If you got this far, thanks so much for reading!!
Comments and reblogs make my world spin, do let me know what you think.
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hes-a-rat-whisperer · 3 months
Text
"enemy encounter!"
(deltarune AU part 4)
RP with my beloved lovey dovey @surprise-sausage-party <3 <3
as Alistair and Ceb continued on their way, those peculiar words the puppet said to them wouldn´t leave his mind..
´quality time with the locals´? what did he mean by that?
the rat´s ears twitched.
probably nothing at all. he´s a lunatic who popped out of a dumpster, who knows if his map would even be worth anything? it would have probably only led them in circles.
...
...however..that wouldn´t be much different from their situation now, would it?
yep, the two monsters were lost.
seemingly every road led to another dead end!
in his frustration, the short fused professor smashed his massive tail on the ground with a growl.
he looked just about ready to rip out his fur!
was this a city, or a labyrinth?!
after a few more moments of thinking, he grabbed Ceb´s clawed hand and led him in yet another direction.
"we should try going that way.." he said, which must have been the fouth time he said that by this point.
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eihwaz-y-d · 1 year
Text
Twin Skeletons
Part IV
Beginning Previous Part
People who wanted to be tagged: @queenieofsouls @my-mom-calls-me-rat @daemonlogical @crystaldrops20
Again: I know nothing and do what I want.
The petty criminals were quickly dealt with, Jason just needed to walk in the alley and as soon as the wannabe muggers noticed the Red Hood they ran like a dog with its tail between its legs. 
Suits him just fine, now he just needs to deal with the teenagers with zero Self-preservation. Turning around he found himself facing the from the museum. The boy is hunched into himself and rubbing his temples as if to prevent or fight a bad headache, he pays no attention towards his surroundings at all. On closer inspection the kid does not look good, maybe he needs medical attention? 
"Hey kid, are you okay? Are you hurt somewhere?" the boy does not react at all. That is not a good sign, reaching out Jason tries again. "Hey kid?" 
But as soon as his hand makes contact with the tens shoulder the teen reacts immediately. 
The kids eyes flyes open -later Jason would swear his eyes flashed a toxic (Lazarus) green for a moment-, with one arm he beats Jason's hand off his shoulder and with the other he throws a punch towards his throat, then something like recognize, understanding and fear flickers other his face. He tries to pull his punch and let it land somewhere other than the throat, literally anywhere else.  Everything happened in a matter of seconds, Jason didn't have the time to react at all. The punch hit him just under his throat where his neck goes into his breast. Jason staggers back, a breathless cry /groan leaves his lips and for a moment it's difficult to breathe again. The pit shrieks and wither in fear and tries to hide deeper before it goes eerie quiet again - It nearly feels like it is gone and never was there in the first -. It takes a moment before air fills Jason's lungs again, he rubs his throat before sitting up again. 
A feral grin spread across his lips and Jason is glad for his helmet overwise he would look like a maniac. But Damn, possibly dangerous person or not, the kid is like a freaking messiah for Jason. One look and the pit trembles in fear and goes quiet, one punch and the pit disappears like it was never there. 
He feels jittery and happy but also at peace. It's like he got dosed with Dopamine, serotonin and Endorphin all at once. He can't remember the last time he feels this good. There was pain he did not notice till it was gone. It feels like heaven. He is high on the best drug and probably already addicted to it. 
" Damn kid, that was a mean punch." Despite the voice modulation his voice still sounds a little hoarse. 
The black haired teen seems almost panicked in his worries. " I'm so sorry, by the Ancients, I didn't mean to punch you. Are you okay? Do you have difficulty with the breathing? Do you need a Doctor? Where do one find a doc-"
A low chuckle - the red hood does not giggle and if anyone would say so, Jason will call them a liar - cuts the rambling short. " Relax, kid, you didn't punch me that hard. I wasn't expecting it and you just caught me off guard. "
Danny narrows his eyes suspiciously, his whole body language screams mistrust. "Are you sure?" 
"Yep." he answers way too cheerful for Red Hood's reputation as a crime lord but Jason simply did not care. He is still grinning like a loon under his helmet. 
After a minute of silence and awkward looking around from Danny and open staring from Jason - who is here to call him out on it? Nobody, he can look all he like-, Jason decides to break the ice, Danny looks rather uncomfortable. 
" Hey, you are the kid from the museum, aren't you? Did you get to see the exhibition you wanted to visit? "
" No."
" A shame, it's really good." 
" just rub it in, will' ya?" 
And Red Hood laughs again while Danny sulks. 
" Whatcha name kid?" 
"Danny" 
" Alright Danny, what are you doing out here in the Narrows at this time?" 
" I got out, then I was attacked by some kind of ninja. I ran and got completely lost but at least I think I lost the ninja dude." 
" lost you say? Why are out and about anyway? Shouldn't little kids like you already been to bed? "
" I have no qualms with punching you again. Can you tell me how to get to the museum from there on I would probably find my way back. "
" I could take you directly to your hotel." 
" Thanks but no thanks. Have you heard of stranger danger? You are not really easy to read with the helm and the voice modification. This doesn't really inspire my confidence in you. I don't fancy being kidnapped again. Just tell me what way to go and I'm not your problem anymore. "
So Damian kidnapped Danny and the boy got away? That is surprising. 
Danny was once again holding his head and was breathing forcefully controlled, like he was trying to breath away pain. 
And the moment of silence was back, then Jason reached for his helm and pressed the mechanism before pulling it off. Luckily he still wore his domino mask underneath the helmet. He did it without thinking and the bat would not approve but who cares about the bat anyway, not Jason, thats for sure. 
"You don't look quite alright, let me help you?" 
" it's just a headache, I'll survive. So? Which way now?" 
Sighting, Jason pointed in the right direction. "That way." 
 Danny slowly moves towards the end of alley. "Nice. Thanks Mr Hero dude."
That brings a little smirke on Jason's lips. "You don't know who I am, or?" 
Looking back other his shoulders Danny replies with a little grin. " No! But with hair like yours I'm pretty sure I would recognize you out of your hero outfit." 
Shaking his head, Jason snorts. "Cheeky brat" 
"At your Service." the Teenager has the nerves to bow mockingly towards him and than he was gone.
As Danny got back at the hotel, it was nearly half past four in the morning and neither his core nor his mind had settled and he didn't believe he could sleep without some nightmares so he would better not try to sleep. Sneaking back in was easy. 
He took his sketch pad from his backpack and did was away does best after a nightmare, he let the memories take hold and just draw till his mind was quite again.
Soooo..... Fun fact. How Danny deals with his overwhelmed mind (and after nightmares) is how I deal with nightmares. I draw them and then they don't haunt me anymore. And one of my head canon of Danny Phantom is that Danny is really good at engineering. (in the Fenton household it is a necessary survival skill for Danny to be good at engineering, he needs to know how his parents technology works, how to manipulate the technology or straight up sabotage it so he dies not completely) but being good at engineering also means to know how to read the blueprints correctly or draw some himself, I think. And I assume one needs at least a little bit of drawing skills for that so for this fic Danny is decent at drawing and sketching.
And also. Someone once told me as I hit puberty if I am in the need of defending myself I should always goes for the soft parts like the throat and than run. So it becomes a habit of writing punching someone in the throat rather than punching in the face.
I hope you all enjoyed reading!
Edit : Next Part
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hectic-hector · 5 months
Text
Encantober prompt #30: Blood
Sweet Sentiments
(Summary: the long-awaited sequel to "Sympathy Pain". It's that time of the month again, but Bruno manages to handle it (and his sobrinas) a little bit better this time. Mild CW for a small amount of blood.)
They were out of salt. Julieta was certain of it. She had searched every shelf of the pantry, as well as each and every cabinet, multiple times. Nothing. Ever optimistic (or simply desperate), she’d searched until Casita grew irritated and began to loudly clack the counter tiles in protest. When that didn’t work, the house resorted to sealing the pantry and cabinet doors shut, refusing to let Julieta open them again.
Annoyed though she was, she knew she couldn’t blame Casita. The eldest Madrigal triplet was an absolute basket case when she didn’t have every single ingredient she needed. She had even dipped her pinky in the sugar bowl and sampled the crystalline powder inside just to make sure it hadn’t been swapped out again. Nope. Still sugar. For the first time ever, she found herself mentally berating Camilo for not playing that classic prank on her. Julieta placed her palms on two jittery tiles to calm them down and heaved a deep, dramatic sigh. “Looks like arepas are out of the question.” There was a soft thud, followed by the rhythmic sound of fluttering tiles, as a coconut rolled along the counter and stopped right in front of her. She looked at it for a moment before smiling. “I guess I could make cocadas instead. Gracias, Casita!” Julieta set to work grating coconut meat. After several minutes of culinary ambiance, the telltale thwap thwap thwap of sandals caught her ear. She didn’t have to turn around to know who had entered the kitchen. 
"Bruno, be honest,” she said with her back to him, “did you use up all the salt again?" 
Bruno froze, staring saucer-eyed at the back of his sister’s head. 
“Nnnot all of it.” “That’s what you said about the chocolate last time." “Yeah, but I only need a small dash of salt when I use it. You try convincing a colony of rats that they don’t need nearly as much chocolate as they think they do!” He walked over to where his sister stood to see what she was working on. Julieta glanced over and noticed the light gray rat on his right shoulder. Or rather, the back end of a rat. It was facing the other way with its front end hidden under peppery locks of Bruno’s hair. “Is that Horacio or Ignacio?” she asked, recognizing the color of the rat’s fur. “Rosalita,” Bruno replied. “She’s their triplet sister.” He lifted her tail up. “See? No huevos. Big difference. S’why I usually don’t let the boys ride on my shoulders. I don’t need those things in my face!”
Julieta couldn’t help but chuckle. “Does Rosalita like coconut?” “Let’s see!” 
Bruno reached up and turned the rat around so that she was facing forward. Julieta offered up a cupped palm with fresh shreds of coconut meat in the middle of it. Rosalita sniffed her hand. A moment later she found the treat and scooped up a mouthful before settling back on her haunches. Holding the shreds in her tiny little hands, she nibbled away happily at them. Bruno grinned.
“Yep. She does!” He reached up again to give her a little scratch behind the ears, but Rosalita made an indignant squeak and promptly turned to face the other way, her tail wrapping around Bruno’s throat to steady herself on his narrow shoulder. He scratched her rump instead, earning another squeak of protest.
“It’s alright, Rosie!” he said with a chuckle. “She thinks I’m trying to snatch her food.” “Speaking of snatched food,” Julieta started, and Bruno braced himself, “what did happen to the salt, if you didn’t take it?”
Bruno shrugged his unoccupied shoulder. “I dunno. Maybe Camilo used it on the snails in the garden?” “I doubt it. Antonio caught him doing that once and had an absolute meltdown. I don’t think ’Milo would dare do it again.” Bruno raised a brow. “Can Toñito talk to snails?” Julieta shook her head as she resumed shredding coconut. “He’s always loved animals, even snails. Doesn’t matter if they can speak to him or not. When he was four he found a snail with a pretty pink and yellow shell that he wanted to keep as a pet.” “I remember that. He named it after Casita, didn’t he?” “Mm-hm. He said the snail’s house was as pretty as ours, so he called it Casitita.” Bruno stood beside his sister and picked up the unshredded half of the coconut. “What are you making?” “Cocadas. I was going to make arepas for the construction crew working on the Peña-Suarez house –” Bruno set the coconut down and put his hands up. “I know, I know, but I swear, Juli, I didn’t use all your salt! I’ve got my own private stash. See?” He pulled his ruana aside and showed her the breast pocket of his shirt. “There’s still some left, if you want it.”
Julieta smirked. "The last time you gave me your pocket salt, it had lint in it, so no thank you." 
“Eh, your loss.” He reached into his pocket, scooping up salt, then flung it over his ratless shoulder before a look of panic crossed his face. “No, wait! That was the last of it!” “Then why don’t you go down to the market and get some more?” Julieta replied with an arched brow. “I’ve got a lot of work to do here, and you’re not exactly helping just standing around.” “Should I also get some –” “Yes!” “You don’t even know what I was going to say!” “It doesn’t matter,” she said as she shooed him away. “If you think we need it, then we probably do. Use your own judgment.”
It was Bruno’s turn to smirk. “You’re asking the guy who told a priest he’d go bald to use his own judgment?” “The same guy who knew his sobrinas needed chocolate and went out of his way to get it for them.” Julieta turned to face him with a tender smile. “That guy. I trust his judgment.” Bruno couldn’t help but return the smile, though he embellished it with a dramatic sigh. “Alright. I’ll go. But only because you know how to butter me up.” He lifted the rat from his shoulder, planted a kiss on the top of her head, and set her down on the floor. “Off you go, Rosalita! No rats allowed at the market!” “Or in the kitchen,” Julieta reminded him. “It’s one thing when they’re on your shoulder –” “Esta bien, Juli. She knows.” Bruno nodded toward Rosalita, who was already scurrying away to find the nearest hole in the wall. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ “Will you please keep it down? You’re being too loud.” “What are you talking about? All I did was grow some orchids.” “Well you’re growing them too loudly! And those flowers are hideous!” “They’re dracula orchids. They don’t have to be beautiful. What is your problem?” Camilo waltzed in between his sister and cousin, shapeshifting into the former. “Oh, don’t mind me,” he said in Dolores’s voice. “It’s that time of the month when everything is my problem!”
Dolores growled and shoved him. Camilo snickered and shifted back into his own form. “What? You make it pretty obvious when you can’t even stand the sound of flowers blooming.” He turned to look at the orchids Isabela was holding. “Whoa, these flowers have faces? No way!” Isabela beamed proudly. “That’s why they’re also known as monkey face orchids,” she said with a snide smirk aimed directly at Dolores. “And what is that supposed to mean?” Dolores demanded, hands on her hips. “It means they can be whatever they want because they don’t care what you think about them!” Isabela shot back as vines began to envelop the nearest column and wall. Twisted crimson flowers burst into bloom on them, coupled with long, needle-like thorns. Camilo raised a brow. “You too, huh?” Isabela glowered at him. “What?” He gestured to the vines. “You always grow these during that–”
THWUMP!
Camilo was silenced by a giant rafflesia flower to the face. “You’re both being too loud!” Dolores snapped.
Having heard the commotion, Julieta poked her head out of the kitchen to investigate. Her fears were confirmed by the sight of the blood red flowers creeping along the walls. She went back over to the oven to keep an eye on the cocadas, casting an uneasy glance out the nearest window. They were low on chocolate, but she knew she could depend on her brother to get more from the market, just as he had the previous month. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Bruno returned with a sackful of goods and a look of annoyance creasing his brow. “I asked Señor Fuentes what he wanted for five pounds of coffee beans,” he said as he unpacked his purchases. “And do you know what he said? He said he wanted a vision. Just a vision. Simple enough, right? Oh, no. Of course not. I invited him back to Casita, but he insisted I give him a vision right then and there.” Julieta set the cocadas to cool on the windowsill and came over to see what Bruno had bought. Salt, cinnamon, coffee, corn, and avocados were laid out on the counter.
“What did you tell him?” she asked, picking up the salt. “I told him he was crazy,” Bruno answered matter-of-factly. Julieta’s eyes widened. “You didn’t!” “Well, no. I didn’t say that out loud. I did tell him he was drinking way too much of his own coffee if he thought I could just conjure up a sand storm in the middle of the marketplace! And even if I could, I doubt anyone else there would appreciate it.” “Did he actually want a tablet, or did he just want a vision?” Bruno shrugged. “I told him I could do it without the sand storm if he didn’t mind taking my word for it, but that if he wanted to see the vision for himself, I would need sand. No sand, no tablet. He finally gave me the coffee and muttered something about coming over tomorrow, so I think he finally got it.”
Julieta nodded and looked over the groceries again. “You didn’t happen to get any chocolate, did you?” Bruno also looked at the groceries. “Uh, no. Sorry, was I supposed to?” “It would have helped, but I didn’t realize until after you’d left.” Julieta glanced over toward Casita’s courtyard, where Isabela had surrounded herself with an array of particularly lethal-looking plants, while twin Doloreses argued with each other nearby.
Bruno followed her gaze. “That time again, huh?” Julieta nodded. “Do all the girls have it at the same time?” “Usually, yes.” The real Dolores stopped bickering with her doppelganger and turned to stare in utter disbelief at her aunt and uncle. The two stared back at her, realizing they’d been caught.
Dolores turned beet red and hurried off to her room, leaving an unfazed Camilo to mimic his cousin instead. Annoyed, Isabela retaliated by encircling him with several large Venus flytraps that immediately began snapping at his legs.  
Julieta sighed. “We really need that chocolate.” She went back over to the windowsill to check the cocadas. “I have to go deliver these, so I’ll pick some up while I’m out,” she said as she placed the treats inside a small handbasket, then turned to Bruno. “Would you mind watching the kids?” “They’re mostly old enough to watch themselves now, aren’t they?” “I mean, if there are any problems, can I trust you to be the responsible adult here?” “Responsible is a strong word,” Bruno began, but Julieta was already heading for the door. “Wait! You’re seriously going to leave me in charge? What about Gus and Félix?” “Agustín tends to make himself scarce when he knows the girls are menstruating, and Félix is on the construction crew.” “Pepa –” “–Is doing climate control to make sure the cement sets properly.” “Ma –” “Mamá’s visiting the Guzmáns.” Julieta paused at the door and turned to face her brother with a reassuring smile. “You’ll do just fine, Bruni,” she said, calling him by his old nickname. “I have every confidence in you.” “Not the best decision you could have made, to be honest.” She gave him a good-natured smirk. “I stand by it. And I’ll be back before anyone even notices I’ve gone.” Bruno smirked back. “Excuse me, but who’s the psychic here? I don’t even need a vision to know that the instant Doña Martina sees you, she’s going to invite you in for tea and gossip. And you won’t have the heart to say no.”
Julieta rolled her eyes. “Would you rather run my errands for me?” she asked, holding out the basket of cocadas toward him. Bruno took a step back and put his hands up, shaking his head. “Oh, no. I’ve reached my social limit for the day, thank you very much. If they’re not furry or family, I’m done dealing with them.” Julieta sighed. “Alright then. You’re in charge until I return, but you know the rules: no rats in the kitchen, and sand stays inside your tower.” Casita opened the front door to allow her to step out. Bruno followed, stopping at the threshold. “Don’t your rules kinda defeat the purpose of me being in charge?” he called after her.
CRASH!
Bruno jumped and spun around. A large terra cotta pot lay broken in the middle of the courtyard. He looked up to see Luisa standing on the balcony directly above, gripping the railing with guilt etched across her face. Isabela appeared beside her and looked down with a gasp. “Luisa! That was my favorite cactus! How could you?” “I didn’t mean to!” Luisa replied. “I was just moving it out of the way, but then Mirabel ran right past me and I didn’t want her to run into it, so I just kind of fumbled it and –”
“MIRABELLL!”
“ – and accidentally dropped it over the railing.”
Isabela huffed. “She is so dead!” “It’s not like you can’t just grow another cactus,” Luisa pointed out as the two of them headed down the stairs. “A cactus is a cactus. They’re all the same.” Isabela made it to the ground floor ahead of Luisa, turning on her with an icy glare. “They are NOT all the same! You take that back!” She stood over the broken pot, looking torn between weeping and raging. “Her name was Elenora, and she was my emotional support cactus!” “Then why was it just sitting there on the mezzanine?” Luisa asked. “Why wasn’t it in your room?” “Because she also guarded my door!” Isabela snapped in a tone that said the answer was obvious. “Well it did the job alright, because I got pricked just walking past it!”
“Well maybe if you didn’t lumber around like a gorilla, you could have avoided it!” Luisa loomed over Isabela, teeth and fists clenched. “You wanna repeat that, princess?” Undeterred, Isabela merely smiled and batted her eyes. “Oh, didn’t you hear me the first time?” she purred, “Or do you even have any ears under all those bulging slabs of meat you call muscles?”
Bruno quickly wedged himself between the two girls, holding a palm up in front of each one.
“Alright now, let’s not say anything we might regret!” he said, a little louder than he’d meant to. The sudden appearance of twisted, thorny vines protectively encircling Isabela made Bruno’s skin crawl unpleasantly at the memory of being assaulted by them a month prior. He recalled his poor choice of words with his nieces that had led to the assault and made a mental note to be more tactful. “I understand that you’re both, uh, going through some things right now, so let’s just try to be reasonable here. Isa, do you want to tell your sister how you feel, but maybe try phrasing it a little differently? Lulu, are you willing to give her another chance?” Both girls glared at each other in silence for a moment before Isabela nodded calmly. “Yes, Tío. Of course. I would just like to ask Luisa how many times she skipped brain day, because it seems to be the only muscle in her body that she never uses.” “The brain isn’t a muscle, hibiscus head!” Luisa retorted. “You’d know that if you didn’t spend all day huffing pollen!” Before he could say a word, Bruno found himself on the floor, the exposed skin of his face, neck, and hands stinging with pain. He looked up to see the bougainvillea surrounding Isabela had practically exploded all over the courtyard. He sat up, wincing at the little stabs of pain all over his body. Several thorns had gone right through his clothes, though the added layer that his ruana provided kept them from going very deep. He felt a hand on his arm attempting to help him up and accepted it. Luisa and Isabela were still arguing as Mirabel led Bruno into the kitchen. “I find it best to just stay out of the way when those two start fighting,” she whispered. Bruno nodded agreement. He shook some thorns from his ruana before taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Mamá made cocadas,” Mirabel said as she looked around. She picked up a small dish towel from the counter. “She took them to the construction crew working on the new house,” Bruno told her. “Guess I’ll have to wait ‘til she gets back.” He gingerly pulled at a thorn in his forearm, then gave up quickly with a hiss of pain. Mirabel turned to him with a look of concern that uncannily mirrored her mother’s. “Well, we can’t leave those thorns in. Here, let me pull them out.” 
She pulled a chair up to sit down facing Bruno. She began to reach for a thorn in his neck, but he drew back nervously and held up a hand to block her. “M-maybe we should wait for your mother.” Mirabel sighed and took his hand in both of her own. “Please, Tío, let me help you. The longer you leave those in, the more they’re going to hurt.” Without warning, she plucked a thorn from the back of his hand. It happened so quickly that Bruno didn’t even see her do it. He let out a small hiss, but thankfully the pain had already passed. Mirabel gently pressed the dish towel against the skin, soaking up the little dot of blood from the wound. “There, now. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” “I guess not,” Bruno murmured. “I mean, as long as you’re that quick with the rest of them –”
He let out another hiss as Mirabel yanked a second thorn from his hand. She pressed the cloth against the wound for a second before moving on to the next thorn. 
It didn’t take long for Bruno to decide he didn’t want to see where she would strike next, so he kept his eyes closed. Several yips, hisses, and half-uttered swears later, he cracked an eye open. The first thing he saw was the dish towel, now covered in red spots, moving in to dab at his cheek. He reached up. “You don’t need to do this, Mira,” he said, taking the towel from her. “I appreciate it, but it’s not your job to clean up my mess. I mean, I can barely stand the sight of my own blood, so I can only imagine how this must make you feel.” He nodded to the bloody cloth. Mirabel shook her head. “Honestly, it doesn’t bother me. I have to deal with a lot more blood than that on a regular basis, so…” she shrugged, only now beginning to look the slightest bit uncomfortable. Bruno raised a brow. “Oh?” The girl looked away with a blush, biting her lip. “Oh.” Bruno blushed as well. “Right.”
“And it’s… kind of my fault that this happened in the first place,” Mirabel confessed, taking the towel back from him. “I ran past Luisa on the mezzanine and made her drop Isa’s cactus.” She reached up to pull a thorn from Bruno’s chin. “And why did y– YOWCH! – why did you do that?”
Mirabel blushed again. Saying nothing, she held up the bloodied towel as a hint. Bruno stared at it for a moment before understanding. “I wasn’t expecting it so soon,” she murmured, eyes downcast. She dropped the towel to her lap and nervously twisted it with both hands. Bruno was surprised that his niece was being so open with him, given how she had reacted to his knowledge of the subject only a month before. Now, seeing the way she was hunched over, brow slightly creased, he wondered if she was having cramps. “Your ma will be back soon with chocolate,” he said, offering a small smile when she looked up at him. His eyes seemed to glow faintly for a moment, then his smile grew. “And she’s going to make chocolate tres leches cake for dessert! Don’t tell her I told you, though. It’s a surprise.”
Mirabel tried to give him a scolding look, but failed. Instead, she ended up mirroring his smile. ~   ~   ~   ~   ~ The cake was even better than Bruno could have foreseen. Julieta gave him a heaping slice, encouraging him to eat more to make up for the malnutrition he’d suffered inside the walls. In the few months since Casita had been restored, Bruno’s health and physique had visibly improved, despite the fact that many of his extra servings ended up being eaten by Camilo instead. 
A sprig of mint leaves sprouted on top of Bruno’s cake slice as he picked up his fork. He looked over at Isabela, who smiled apologetically. “Sorry about the thorns earlier, Tío. Have some soothing mint with your cake.” Bruno smiled back, appreciative. “It’s okay, Isa. And thank you.” He took a bite and his eyes lit up. “Wow! I had no idea this could taste even better! That’s quite an achievement! Or should I say, achieve-mint?” Antonio and the girls giggled. Camilo rolled his eyes. “Maybe I should add mint to my desserts more often,” said Julieta. “Your cooking is amazing already,” said Bruno, “but a little improve-mint wouldn’t hurt!”
More giggles, plus a small groan from Camilo. The boy looked miserably at Bruno. “I’m glad you’re back, Tío. I really am, but you’re killing me with the puns.” Bruno smirked at the boy, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Well, thanks, ‘Milo. I appreciate the senti-mint.” Camilo threw his arms heavenward with a loud groan. Mirabel snickered. “About time you got your just desserts!” she teased.
Camilo shot her a dirty look, then sighed. “May I please be excused from this family?” “Not a chance,” said Bruno. “I tried that once, and look where I am now!” Camilo crossed his arms with a huff. “Rats!” “Hey, watch your language,” Bruno warned with a teasing grin. THE END @encantober-official
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euphoricfilter · 1 year
Text
Rope Bunny || ‘Helping Hands’ Halloween Special
~ TEASER
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Pairing: Caretaker! Yoongi x Kindergarten Teacher! Reader
Genre: Fluff || Smut || Established Relationship || Non-idol au
Summary: Yoongi had never been too fond of Halloween. Hated that one tacky day of the year with every fibre of his being. All it takes however, is your little surprise to convince him that maybe, just maybe, Halloween isn't all that bad.
Word Count: (estimated) 3k
Tags/ warnings: fluff, smut in the forms of: bondage, reader get's tied to the bed, penetrative protected sex (because that's cool), playboy bunny costume, halloween slander, ew they're still in love
Notes: read helping hands here though this can be read as a stand alone if you so please <3
+ + +
“Y/n?” he calls out, kicking the door closed behind him, “You home, my love?”
He hears shuffling from the other room, your silk bedsheets ratting you out that you’re home.
Yoongi dumps the brown box onto the couch, the little pattering of Holly’s feet on the hardwood floor bringing his attention to the floor as he kicks his shoes off.
Yoongi bends down, pulling a strip of tissue paper from the dog’s mouth. “Gross. You can’t eat that.”
He pokes his head into the kitchen, the dog’s bowl still half full of dinner, so you hadn’t forgotten to feed him.
He wanders towards your bedroom, orange lamp dimmed as he hears you hum to yourself.
Yoongi feels as though time stops when he pushes the bedroom door open.
There you are, sprawled out on your stomach, legs kicking up behind you as you rest your chin the palms of your hands.
“Is that a playboy bunny costume?” he gapes, eyes glued to the delicate black ears that sit prettily atop of your head. Frilly little collar and bow snug around your neck with matching little cuffs that encase your pretty wrists.
“Yep!” you smile, “Surprise”
Yoongi opens his mouth only to close it. His extensive vocabulary suddenly evaporating to nothing more than the image of you dressed so prettily in his bed.
“Did I really make you speechless?” you ask, eyes wide with wonder and Yoongi can only be baffled at how good you’d been able to keep this a secret.
“Seems so” he takes a few steps towards the bed, “Oh—is that a tail?” he gapes, shameless as he watches your butt wiggle.
“It’s really soft. Wanna touch?”
Yoongi kneels on the edge of the bed, tips of his fingers brushing over the faux fur tail. His hands trail downwards, index finger running over your covered core; feeling it pulse as he applies a little more pressure.  
“Was this your idea?” He asks, ignoring your evident frown when he pulls his hand away from where you needed it most.
Release Date: Sunday 30th October @ 11pm GMT
Edit: Release date change: Saturday 29th October @ 11pm GMT
full fic can be read here
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eldritch-spouse · 2 years
Note
Okay okay okay okay! So, after you made that post about Santi offering a “fun time” up for the other members of the Clergy, I have to request of you at least a drabble (or maybe more?) of us having a threesome with Santi and Patches. I need to know how that would go down. Please and thank you!
-surgery anon
[*cracks knuckles* Finally, time to harass this bitch. Fem reader.]
TW: Scummy behavior, Patches is taken advantage of. (Though he doesn't regret it.)
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" That's your plan? Really? " You look at the incubus, who is very clearly thinking with his smaller head, instead of the big one- As usual.
" But of course, Admin. " Santi grins, pacing back and forth inside the break room, which is currently empty save for you and the demon. " Patches won't deny an opportunity to have a drink with you, and if you down a Twister, he definitely will too! He's a lightweight on top of that, we'll have him in our hands in the blink of an eye. "
You hum, watching the large monster clearly excite himself just picturing it all going down. Santi has a point, alcohol makes Patches crumble in moments, he's perhaps the most whorish drunk you've ever seen in your life. And the dullahan knows this, which might make him hesitate to drink, but getting a personal invitation from you would trap him into it immediately. Plus, you're a lot more resistant to alcohol's effects than any monster here, due to Krulu's presence in your body. It's just a matter of waiting, guiding him somewhere adequate and having your way. Easy. Fun even.
You have decided to torture the dullahan again?
Yep. It'll be entertaining this time, you promise.
Well then, do not keep your higher waiting...
Absolutely.
" So- " You begin, interrupting Santi's fevered ranting about how much he's going to enjoy this and how well fucked the two of you will be by the end. " Tell me again, why are we doing this? " The question is nothing more than a tease and you both know it.
The incubus' tail wags and his eyes lid as he crowds you to the wall. " Because I'm going to make you two see stars, love. " He slurs, head dipping to lick the shell of your ear. " Mmm and I think it would be a fantastic bonding experience. "
Yes, that's about as much logic you'd expect from Santi. Still doesn't change the fact that some very base part of you is looking forward to this. And judging by the way the demon laps at his yellow chops, you know he can tell. You lean in, though instead of offering the kiss your coworker was looking forward to, you bite his lower lip and smack a heavy hand upon his ass.
" Oh! Admin-! " He moans out, ever the theatrical whore. " Little minx... I'll put you in your place. "
Your eyes roll on their own accord. You've tamed harder at the behest of your lord, the only challenge here is keeping up. Tsk. " Yes yes, get busy now, find us a room. " And with that, you head out to the ground floor.
[...]
Gallon is pleased to see you, perhaps because this is a relatively slow hour, and he can only rearrange his glasses so many times until boredom starts chewing through his nerves. " Admin, come to visit lonely old me? " The slime mocks, tendrils curling in delight.
" Nope. " A random stool is occupied.
" Heartless. Absolutely heartless. Frigid. I'm desolate- "
" And I'm thirsty. " You interrupt. " Get me two Willows barman. "
The Willow Twister. Quite like a number of other Clergy exclusive drinks, these special cocktails, served in a sort of "coupe" glass and featuring a gentle, pinkish hue, are a very popular product. Why? Well, put simply, they're nothing more than pretty-looking aphrodisiacs, tasty, elegant, expensive- The perfect gift that sends a very particular message, I wanna fuck you silly. Excuse the French.
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Nonetheless, it's that pretty thing you're going to get for yourself and the lab rat. Because subtlety is not necessary for someone as desperate as the dullahan.
" Adventurous today, are we? " The bartender muses, already fetching the appropriate utensils. " I'm not sure whether to commend or pity the lost soul that has caught your eye. "
" You're supposed to be nosy with the clients, not your superiors. " You chastise. " Besides, I only have eyes for one, you know that. This is... A playdate. "
" Ah... I see. So, would it be right to assume- "
You clear your throat. " Keep asking questions and I'll throw Fank-e's glitter containers at you. "
Gallon flinches. " ...Noted. "
A little after that exchange, the Twisters are ready, gently placed in front of your stool. You shoo the bartender away, a little insistently, and fetch your phone, sliding into the direct messages of none other than the pumpkin munchkin himself. A single text is sent. "Head up to the bar," it says, "I miss when we talked. <3"
Too on the nose? Yeah, definitely. Will he still show up? Yeah. Definitely.
Such is confirmed when you hear the nearest elevator ding. That was fast. Oh, you can picture it now, Patches getting the message, throwing his papers away, making a mad dash out the lab with those goofy boots he's always wearing. Hilarious. Poor guy, he's been going through some weird phases lately.
We are partly at fault for such.
Well, yes. Is that bad? Should this be stopped?
Are you blind, lamb? He enjoys the game more than we do.
Fair. Plausible. True, probably.
That conversation will have to wait for later, because the subject of your mild pity is currently in front of you.
" A-Admin, miss! " He... He's standing by your side like some soldier. Is he going to sit on his own? You let a couple of silent seconds pass. Doesn't look like it. Hm, maybe you and your worship really have been taking it a little harshly on him.
" Have a seat, dear. " You begin, tapping the stool. A cheshire grins spreads on your cheeks. " I got us some drinks while I waited. "
It's in that exact moment that you get to bask in the dullahan's facial expression, that vegetable head that should never be able to emote yet manages to be more expressive than real flesh at times. He goes through a myriad of emotions in an amusingly quick span of time. Shock. Disbelief. Confusion. Doubt. Vulnerability. Acceptance and embarrassment. You're not a wraith, but maybe you're starting to understand why Nebul thinks certain emotions are so delicious. Patches does sit down, after gazing at the fancy drinks like a lost mule in a desert.
" You uh- Didn't have to... " He muses quietly, dragging the offer towards himself regardless. There's a faint glimmer of infatuated hope in those pinprick "pupils", something that almost tugs at your heartstrings, considering what you're about to do to him.
But then, you think, you do love him. You love all of them. Perhaps not in the same deep, overwhelming way you covet and desperately need your lord, but there is definitely a mildly possessive affection within you for every staff member, Patches included. It's a different form of love, perhaps not the one he wants, yet love nonetheless.
"Oh knock it off, tell me about your day already. "
Conversation unfurls, and while you had to metaphorically tug at the pumpkin man to get him to speak more rather than just make goo-goo eyes at you, it flows steadily, Patches easily drinking alongside you. Truth be told, you do get along with the dullahan, him you and Ludwig have history together, many are the situations that can be looked back upon fondly. The relaxing effects of the Willow Twister certainly help, causing you both to slump slightly, leaning into the other, tossing chaste flirts here and there. His face is colored a seaweed green so dark that you'd think he's getting ripe or something. You have a nice buzz going, though the bulk of the effects are lost on your very resistant metabolism.
" ... And we were thrown out the party because I let Ludwig use my head as a sangria fountain. Again. "
" Holy shit dude- " You wheeze. " Isn't that... Didn't that feel weird for you? " Patches opens his mouth, flushes darker, and closes it wordlessly. You look down, perhaps on reflex, spotting the way his legs cross on the stool. Ah, so he's cracking already. " Guess you've always been a hardcore slut, huh? This really is your place after all. "
Patches shudders visibly, lowering his hat and flashing you an unsubtle leer. " ... I think my place is beneath your heels. "
Heh. So he can dish them out too, what a pleasant surprise.
In the dead air of what essentially amounts to The Clergy's pre-rush hours, no one really notices you sliding a leg between Patches' own, nudging them apart. He lets you, making no effort to hide the twitching length pushing at his purple garbs. The monster man pants, expectantly, his empty glass indicating he's more than ready to get fucked out. And you, well, you've never been too good at keeping your hands off your sluts. So, without shame or hesitation, you cozy up to his stool and lower a hand to the monster's lap, petting his conundrum as if rewarding him for an appropriate reaction.
" I think you're right. "
Patches makes a weak, stifled moan. Though someone picks up on it, the bartender, which has been glancing at you two for a while now. You give the slime a side-glance that reads "mind your business", and he grins, turning away. " A-Ahn, Admin- I- " A very stressed, pleading look is tossed your way, and you know exactly what the dullahan is getting at.
See, a Twister heightens one's sensitivity, naturally. Which makes it really hard to stay quiet. And while you know that the one beside you wouldn't protest much if you chose to debase him in front of a (rather small as of now) crowd, this mock-hesitation is great for your end-goal. " Do you want help, Patches? "
" Mhm, y-yes. " Your hand lifts. " Yes please! " He finally corrects himself.
Time for the killing blow. " And what would you do for that help? " You make it a point to not let him think about the question too much, stroking his length with a lot more pressure, enough to make his hips roll subtly.
" Uhn- Anything! " He whispers.
Hah.
Idiot.
" Get up then. "
" H-Huh? " Cute. You hop off the stool, straightening your clothes and offering him a blatantly predatory grin that makes the dullahan probably second-guess his wording.
" Get up, I got us a place. "
[...]
Santi didn't warn you which room you'd be staying at, so you're going to assume it's the one he usually rents out at The Clergy. It's practically his anyway. Such is confirmed when you exit the elevator, hand wrapped around Patches' own gloved one, and the incubus' door swings open slowly. The thin monster is staring at you wordlessly, like you're a goddess amidst peasants, hard as a fucking rock. Maybe you should get him drunk on Twisters more, he looks downright adorable like this. Dumb little dork.
So intoxicated and infatuated is the pumpkin monster, that he doesn't notice you leading him directly inside the lust demon's room. It's a luxurious looking place, admittedly. All heavy tones of reds, blacks and golds. Laces and silks find their home here, along with an expensive, comparatively massive bed. It's just a tiny bit barebones aside from that, though it hardly matters for the activities that take place within it. Everything about this location evokes eroticism and taboo-ness, as if this were a little rabbit hole safe from all outside elements, an intimate safe space. Or is it just the incubus hormones all over it?
It's the sex demon hormones...
A couple of moments inside, and it seems the dullahan's brain is still sputtering in an attempt to function. " A-Admin, why are we- "
Whatever he's about to say is cut off abruptly by two burly black arms wrapping around not only the dullahan, but yourself as well. You're suddenly encased in a bear hug with the demon who owns said room, yelping in shock.
" Why there you two lovebirds are! I was getting so lonely in here... " The incubus purrs, dropping to place a kiss on both your heads. Patches' hat is quickly flicked off. You and the green monster are glued to the demon enough to feel a hard, barbed length poking at both your backs.
You toss your head back to get a better look at Santi, whose face is clearly flushed a nice red hue. More than he'd usually be in sexual circumstances. Guess he wasn't kidding when he said he was really looking forward to bedding you two. Fucking his coworkers has been in his bucket list for a while, you haven't forgotten his many hints. The demon winks down at you, causing the crux between your legs to pulse. Holy shit.
" S-Santi? But- But we're in the wrong room, what- "
Both you and the demon laugh loudly. " No love, this is the room. " Santi clarifies, moving to the dullahan's side, picking and prodding at his frankly impractical clothes. You can see the flicker of distaste on the demon's eyes as he struggles to find some sort of zipper on the other man's garbs. Dumbass.
You take the moment to soothe Patches, or rather, jab him into letting this happen. " Relax, we just want to help you, dummy. And maybe, you can help us out too, yeah? " It's easier to undo someone's clothes when your brain isn't microwaved into fucking constantly like Santi's, so you get the bulk of the dullahan's clothes off while he makes flustered vocalizations and squirms between the two of you.
" H-Help you? "
" Well, I haven't had dinner yet, Patchy... " The demon starts, groping the other through his tight pants now that the purple work covering is gone. Big fat lie, the incubus never skips a meal. But it works nonetheless.
" You don't want Santi to starve, do you? " There's a grin growing on your face when the dullahan just shakes his head bashfully, legs trembling at the other's firm pawing. You reward him with a kiss, the incubus quickly stealing one from you as well.
Then, you get to see something most curious, when Santi twists the other male's head towards him and allows a long tongue to not only trace at the rim of the green one's left socket, but also shoves it inside none too gently. Gross, invasive. Hot. Patches shudders and tenses, moaning. You're content to watch, until the demon looks at you through long lashes and makes an authoritative nod towards your clothed state. Right.
You've never taken your clothes off faster. Well, perhaps you have, when your higher needed urgent care- But fact of the matter is you're still undressing shamelessly fast right now. No bra today, just the laciest pair of black panties you had lying around, because you recall the demon enjoys those. And Patches, well as long as they belong to you, he'll enjoy them.
There's an approving grunt from the bigger monster, who easily tosses the dullahan onto your grasp after thoroughly drooling into his "eye socket". Patches pants, letting bare hands skim the curves of your body while Santi pulls the rest of his clothes off. It's your turn to be pawed at, tits rolled between heavy hands while a tail barren of its golden rings drags between your legs. You wish it were something else. Patches watches avidly, eyes trained on you, gulping, fingers twitching as if he wants to reach for himself but felt shy about it. You take the moment to make an exaggerated face of delight at him, leaning back into Santi's bulk.
Out of nowhere, a sharp sting of pain to your ass makes you spring upwards with a shriek. Ah, payback... Lord, that's a strong palm.
" Get on my bed. " It wasn't a suggestion.
You tug Patches along, throwing him onto the fluffed mattress first before pouncing on top, kissing at the flustered monster here and there while he throbs beneath you, squirming like the needy thing he is. Thin fingers rise to play with the dough of your rump, trying ever so subtly to make you grind on his length, but you deny him.
A horned shadow is cast over you two, there's no doubt that's Santi. And as soon as you toss your head back, he's there, leering down the same way Morell looks at the piglets in his warehouse, lapping at sharp yellow teeth. You can see it in those bright eyes, he's planning, tail swaying pensively. One can only wonder what type of obscenities must be going through that mind to make him bite his lip and drool precum like a faucet.
Funnily enough, he seems stumped. Like the demon didn't plan this far ahead, and getting you two in the same bed is already more than he expected out of the whole endeavor.
Why do you keep assuming he puts real thought into anything to begin with?
Great point.
You shift then, emboldened, kneeling on the demon's bed, taking his weeping length in hand and sparing him a look nothing short of mischievous. Santi purrs loudly while you pump him generously, appreciating the girth of him and the fluttering barbs on his underside. " What's the matter, big boy, cat got your tongue? "
The other chuffs, a claw rubbing beneath your chin teasingly. " Mmm, hard to speak with your hands on my cock, princess. "
You resist the urge to snort, slipping your index into the demon's slit, catching the way his eyes roll for a second. Hah. " Luckily for you, I can do the thinking for all of us. Get on. "
What you have in mind is nothing wildly out of bounds, something relatively normal to start the night off with. Your panties are tossed aside while Santi settles expectantly on the bed, making a show of dragging the dullahan closer to him so the two can grind at each other like the perverts they are. You cannot get any wetter. Nonetheless, distance is put between them as you weasel to be the center of attention, Santi blanketing your back and the magic caster in front of you.
" I can't... Fuck, I- I can't believe we're doing this. " Patches murmurs, trying to cover his flaming face.
The demon watches curiously while you ghost hands around the green monster's head, giving Patches a lewd and forceful kiss before popping his head off altogether. You can think of many ways to humiliate Patches like this if you wanted, letting Santi fuck his sockets, making him finger his own head-holes while he's getting fucked, there's endless possibilities! But for now, you settle that pumpkin head below you, strategically.
" Enjoy the view, pervert. " You jab, coaxing him to kneel so you can get a better look at his vine-adorned cock. Patches appears to understand what exactly he'll be viewing, as does the incubus, who makes an elated sound behind you.
" Ooh! Clever, we're birds of a feather, Admin. " Santi growls, spreading your cuntlips for the dullahan's eyes. You don't know what to make of that statement, though your capacity to pass judgement is greatly diminished as soon as two fingers are stretching you out. You groan in frustration, as does Krulu in the back of your mind.
" Get inside and fuck me already. "
Worrying about his size is pointless. You've welcomed siadar cock numberless times, Krulu has made sure that your guts can handle a good stuffing, stretching harmlessly.
The demon grins and moans, ecstatic. " Yes ma'am! " You're about to drop your lips around the green monster's shaft before the other interrupts. " One second, love... " A saturated pink curl manifests around Patches' cock, squeezing the base tightly before looping beneath the glans and apparently piercing into his urethra painlessly.
Still makes him keen beneath you though. " A-Ahn-! What- "
" Well sweetheart, can't have you blowing your load as soon as our lovely boss lady gets to work now, can we? " The demon purrs.
" Agreed. "
Watching the magic caster squirm is funny. Even funnier is hearing his gasp-turned-whimper the moment you kiss his cock, taking half of him into you without hesitation. Perhaps, if you weren't so horny, you'd take the time to tease Patches more.
Speaking of Patches, he's getting a great show, Santi's tip parked at your soaked folds, gently pressing in while you spread yourself further and mewl around the other. The moment Santi sinks in is marked by a disgustingly wet sound that rises color to your cheeks.
There's a hiss. " Fffuck me- Tighter than a first! "
Now that you just can't resist commenting on, lifting off Patches' dick with a lurid pop, playing with his balls as compensation when he predictably whines. " Do you say that to everyone you fuck? "
Santi coos, giving you a light piston forward. " Yes. Do I mean it? Sometimes. " You suppose it's not a baseless compliment, considering the incubus' size, most people must be tight for him. The demon bends to speak right into your ear. " Krulu gave you such a hot fucking pussy, I'd die happy buried in you, sweetheart. "
Oh? So your worship altered more than just your ability to stretch.
I only made you as irresistible as you deserve to be.
That alone makes you pulse hard around the bigger monster. It was such a visceral reaction that you're sure even Patches might have been able to see your clit throb from his position. Santi reacts by hilting inside you and drooling with his tongue out, a bestial sort of whore moan echoing from the two of you.
Aroused beyond measure, you resume taking care of the dullahan, forcing your throat to accommodate his entire length- Without much effort, though still a lot of gusto. One hand taps his thigh, encouraging him to move, while the other holds his own. Sappy handholding while you blow your coworker and get railed by a horndog demon... Such is your life. And you love it.
The drag of Santi's barbs across your walls is delicious in a way you fail to describe, making you flutter and buck for more. Each frantic little motion earning you a rumble of pleasure from above. " And they say you need more than one cock these days... " The demon snickers, proud of himself, his next thrust purposely deep and slow to make you feel every bump.
Lord fuck, you're gonna cum.
Several times, in fact. Make this worth my time, chosen.
Why, you'd never disappoint.
Apparently, your near-rhythmic moaning is driving someone wild. Patches, who has gone well past the point of orgasm and is keening desperately to the sight of you getting plowed, has lost all inhibition.
" Fffuck- Please! Ah- I c-can't take it! " He cries. You're willing to bet he's actually crying.
" Aww, really? Not even just a tiny bit longer? " Santi mocks, fucking into you hard enough to make your eyes roll back. You can hardly keep up on Patches.
" N-No! Just let me- Mmff- Let me cum! I'll f-fucking die. "
Dramatic whore.
No shit, he likes humiliating himself.
The incubus apparently cannot resist torturing him further. And honestly, who can? " That bad, love? "
" I ah- I need it! " The sounds he's making are pathetic enough that you almost feel bad. " I need it- Admin gh- Fuck! "
Through the growing pleasure, you buck particularly hard against Santi, telling him to let the poor loser blow his load already. He might actually lose his mind. Santi does not care, flicking your clit instead.
" Hmm, it does sound frustrating... " The demon grins, making it a point to take his time and showing Patches how much fun he's having buried inside you while the other has to watch, unable to so much as orgasm.
" S-Santi PLEASE- "
Those seem to be the magic words, because the incubus glues himself onto your body and grabs the back of your head, pushing it even harder against the dullahan, your nose mushed to his pelvis. Your eyes water, thoroughly stuffed from both ends, feeling the magic growth around Patches' length dissipate.
" Cum then, needy slut, we have a long night ahead of us. "
The green monster moans his relief, repositioning so he can fuck your face, Santi helping him along by bobbing you on the other's cock. It only takes a couple of frenzied bucks for Patches to howl loudly and cram himself as deep down your throat as he physically can, pulsing globs of seed into you. His pathetic look, the shameless noises, and the goosebump-inducing sensation of Santi licking the back of your neck in silent praise trigger your own climax.
Finally...
Shivering and tearing up, your sight falters for a moment as you rise to cry out, hearing your own worship groan in the back of your mind. It's a powerful orgasm, leaving you glazed and disoriented, only able to register Santi's cock still drilling into you, and the several ropes of cum Patches has unknowingly marked your face with.
Good job so far, lesser.
Krulu praises. Perfect, perfect, you're being good, you're being so good-
Suddenly, you're yanked up, hitting the incubus' back while he uses both arms to secure you, pistoning fast enough to bounce you. You only register shards of broken praise and obscene compliments, muddled brain focused on the feel of the demon's tongue cleaning the jizz off your face. His pace falters, and with a strained snarl, he hilts, caging you further. Santi moans and pants freely on the back of your head as a generous jet of lust demon cum fills you up.
Perhaps, if you had never slept with a big monster before, you would have been worried by the way your lower abdomen distends a bit.
As is, you can only giggle drunkenly, observing it squelch out of you whenever the rumbling demon rolls his hips. Patches' head stares up at you two, mesmerized in desire, though quickly stained by your mixed fluids. Hah, karma.
You're gently lowered onto the sheets, sprawling out in satisfaction and getting to see the incubus offer the same cleaning treatment to the dullahan before screwing his head back on. The sensation of thick, pearly cum oozing out of you is marvelous, and given it comes from a lustful demon, it'll only be a matter of minutes until the fluid revs you up again.
" C'mere... " You lazily invite the dullahan over for a cuddle.
Santi gets in the middle, holding you two to his chest, a very self-satisfied and smug grin on his admittedly handsome features. Huh, his tits do make for great pillows.
After a couple of blissful seconds, the demon hums. " So, on a scale of 'wow you're so hot' to 'I'll never fuck better', how would you two rate this experien- "
Immediate groaning.
" Santi no- " " Just shut up- "
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izhunny · 2 months
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😏... Failed at flash fiction challenge by overshooting the mark; succeeded at a fun Frostiron heist ficlet!
Final word count: 1415.
fffprompt: TAKE MY HAND
(full fic below the cut or use the link to AO3 in the title)
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Title: A Little Light Burgling
Relationship: Loki/Tony Stark
Rating: Teen and up
No Archive Warnings Apply
(See work at AO3 link above for adtl tags/notes or take your chances below)
SUMMARY: To help a friend, Tony needs to break into the impenetrable vault of The Protectors (of insanely magical objects, some of which definitely shouldn't be on Earth). Only she's in another galaxy and can't help with the mission she tasked him with. And the Avengers… won't.
Who does Tony know with experience of and no moral qualms about stealing magical shit from the good guys?
💙
A/N: Dialogue only. Tony speaks the first line.
💙
“This is your fault. Fix it.”
“Take my hand.”
“Pfft. No.”
“How do you propose I fix the situation?”
“Same way you got me into it!”
“Shh! As I explained, I cannot use magic inside the catacombs, except for this exact spot. Or it will trigger an alarm. I resent the implication I had anything to do with you falling into that open grave. You stepped into that all on your own.”
“Empty grave.”
“Empty?”
“Yep. Mostly.”
“Most-”
“Me. I’m in the otherwise empty grave. So, mostly empty. Now get me out.”
“Move over.”
“What!”
“This is what we’re here for. Move. I’ll not be held responsible for crushing you.”
“Fine. Ugh. What are you doing?”
“Searching.”
“How can you see anything? We should have grabbed a torch from the corridor.”
“My eyes are not my only tool.”
“Hey, hey, that’s my-”
“So it is. Apologies. Step aside so I–aha!”
“Is that a secret door?”
“Yes. Bit small. Would you like to go first?”
“You should probably know, I‘m not a fan of caves. Why did I agree to this again?”
“Because you don’t trust me with the artifact at the end of this secret passage, but you need assistance getting it and none of your merry band of do-gooders would help?”
“Right. Think there’s anything alive in there?”
“Everything down here is quite dead except for us and the guards. And possibly rodents.”
“Rats!”
“Shush. In my experience, most catacombs have them. Nothing to worry about unless we encounter water or if you have an open wound.”
“Uh.”
“Uh?”
“I fell on my elbow.”
“Turn.”
“How can you see?”
“With much better eyesight than you.”
“Hey! Cold hands.”
“Abraded but not bleeding. You’ll be fine. Let’s go.”
“Wait. Thanks for. Don’t leave me down here.”
“Breathe. Hold. Release. Again. Good. I vowed earlier to aid this nefarious endeavor. Again, my sworn word, I will not leave you behind here. A literally unbreakable oath. You used this to your advantage with my brother, did you not?”
“I did. Okay. Lead on, McDuff.”
“There’s light at the end. Hold onto my coat tail.”
“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“Honestly, neither can I. What made you ask me?”
“Sneaking around. Breaking and entering. Stealing shit from a secret vault in a secret lair. Seemed like your idea of a good time.”
“It does sound like me. How are you doing?”
“I think my eyes are adjusting. The scenery has… improved. How much further?”
“Scenery? All you could possibly see is my, oh. Very amusing. Get your head out from under my jacket and see for yourself.”
“Think it’s boobytrapped?”
“No. But those lockpicks you concealed about your person will be useful. We need to change places.”
“We don’t really have the room to–”
“Back up a little. I’ll lay down; you crawl over and impress me with your genius engineering prowess.”
“Just break the lock off.”
“Wasn’t your plan for this to appear as if no one had ever been here?”
“Shit! We have to crawl back through to get out. I. Oh god!”
“Breathe. I can teleport us out at any moment if you do not care about triggering an alarm.”
“Okay. I just. Yeah. Okay. Breathing. Not trapped?”
“Not trapped.”
“Cool. You want to move down a little more?”
“No. I’ll be right under you to brace you so you can work.”
“Right. Oh, sorry about the. Whoops, my jeans caught on one of your belts. Why do you have so many damn belts?”
“Stop struggling. Allow me. There. I suggest you rest your weight on me.”
“I’m good.”
“You’re not. Your arms will need to remain in a precarious position for several minutes, your sweat already drips on me, and I predict your thighs and back will give before that lock yields to you. Rest. Your. Weight. On me. I’ll brace you up.”
“It’s like that one yoga pose. This is actually better. Thanks.”
“Are you…?”
“Yeah. I am. Ignore that.”
“But you were panicking a moment ago.”
“Not everything on me immediately responds to requests from my brain. Almost. Almost. Damn it! I need the other rake in my back pocket. Can you?”
“Yes. Here.”
“Thanks. Why are you doing this?”
“Sounded like fun.”
“Called it.”
“My brother’s disapproval over a collaboration of unlawful mischief was—Shh! Voices. Magic.”
“Mmm…”
“...Oh.”
“Good or bad oh?”
“Just. Oh. They’ve gone. The magic is receding, too. Keep working, you shameless creature.”
“Locks already open. Your lips are soft.”
“Thank you.”
“Can I kiss you again?”
“Later. Let’s retrieve this object you seek and get out of here.”
“Good idea.”
“I’ll get the latch. Shield your eyes.”
“Fuck, it’s fucking bright.”
“Oh my. Look, look.”
“Yeah, that’s… wow. That’s a lot of stuff.”
“Are you entirely certain you wish to take only whatever we’re here for from this vault?”
“You promised. My artifact only.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t try to negotiate for more. Crawl inside already.”
“Sorry. Ouch!”
“Get off the floor.”
“How did you manage that from your back so gracefully?”
“Superior proprioception and strength. Well, what are we here for?”
“It’s a cube, like the cube that–”
“No wonder you didn’t tell me. Start on that side. I’ll start over there.”
“See it?”
“No. You?”
“Not yet.”
“You’re certain, only the cube?”
“Yes.”
“But this could be fun. Or this!”
“Put that back.”
“But, but shiny, dangerous magical objects. Displayed like wares in a shop!”
“I found it. But it’s in a locked case.”
“That lock should be no issue.”
“Yep. After I get this to my friend, I’m telling them about the security loophole you exploited.”
“If I could leave you here, I would.”
“I won’t tell them how I know about it.”
“Finding another avenue in might be challenging.”
“What the hell are. Are you, are you licking those things?”
“Just the really interesting ones. So I can find them later.”
“Does this mean you’ll be able to locate me whenever you want?”
“You’re the one who kissed me. And yes.”
“Okay, that’s—.”
“Don’t touch it! Let me wrap it with a bit of—”
“That’s my favorite t-shirt you just ripped a chunk out of. And that’s a handy use of a belt.”
“Undignified as it may seem, this can act as a light for our crawl back if you hold the belt between your teeth.”
“Can you get the lock back onto–”
“Yes! Get in, hurry! The magic sweep is starting on the other side of the vault.”
“Damn, it’s worse with light.”
“Move!”
“I’m moving!”
“How do you possibly manage inside your suit if you’re so claustrophobic?”
“Suit’s not a cave.”
“Well, in that case. You know that makes no reasonable sense whatsoever, don’t you?”
“Never said it was reasonable. That’s, uh, my ankle you got there.”
“Did you pull the entry closed when we came in?”
“I don’t remember. And I can’t tell with all the light.”
“Of all the. Put the cube between your knees. Lie down. I’ll crawl past and leave my jacket over you. Wrap the cube in it and follow.”
“Ow, hey, watch the. Um. That a dagger in your pants or are you just happy to be crawling over the back of me in a dark tunnel with ill-gotten loot?”
“The first. Maybe a little of the second. Quiet. The guards should be making their round again soon. After they pass, we’ll exit. Your hand is taking liberties I haven’t granted.”
“It’s keeping me distracted. And calm. It is pretty nice ass. Why do you guys wear so much leather anyway?”
“Why are you so interested in fashion?”
“I’m stylish. Sue me.”
“You’re also inappropriate.”
“I’m inappropriately interested in what’s underneath that fashion.”
“Ehehehe. They’re leaving. Let’s go.”
“I never thought I’d be happy standing in an empty grave.”
“My jacket?”
“After you get us to my lab. How’s it look?”
“Like it’s too big for you and has a cosmic cube in it. Fetching nonetheless. Would you like one of your own?”
“You offering?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. You’d probably want something in red.”
“I’m partial to black when it comes to leather. You know you have about twenty knives in this thing?”
“Thirty-two. Come on. Take my hand.”
“Thanks.”
“This was fun.”
“Would you like to get to know each other a little better over takeout, not watch a movie, and fool around?”
“I thought you’d never ask. Stand here.”
“Can I kiss you while we’re teleporting?”
“Shut up and–”
“Mmmmm.”
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evolutionsvoid · 1 year
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In major dungeons and lairs, the vast caverns and winding tunnels can get so complex that it almost mimics a city. You get areas of sleep, routes that get the heaviest traffic and, of course, a place where all the filth and muck settles. It is no city sewer, but it tends to smell just as bad, if not worse. A layer beneath the sprawling dungeon, where all the feces, blood and other ungodly fluids trickle down and pool. For many, visiting such level of this area is unthinkable. The smell would peel your skin off and the stains on your good battle armor would never come out. However, some heroes have noticed that they aren't the only ones turned off by this foul mire. Many other monsters and beasts avoid this sewer as well, for pretty much the same reasons. It is a cesspool for disease and infection, so why ever go near it? With this knowledge, some adventurers advise slogging through this wretched pit, as it allows you to sneak beneath many encounters and reach your destination unchallenged. The creatures that do live in this vile swamp are hardly a concern too, as they are mere scavengers and dung eaters. No real threat. In most cases, they are right. However, if you do find yourself in an especially populous dungeon, or the layer of a particularly powerful dragon, then one may think twice. A beast of godly might is unmatched in many things, and it so happens to apply to the potency of their feces as well. Dung like that may scatter many other species, but there are a few that are drawn to such a rich supply. Delve into the great mires of filth to avoid the scourges above, and you may encounter an even worse foe. The putrid swamps can be home to the infamous Grimera, an amalgamation of everything rotten and filthy. It lurks these foul lands in search of rich dung and undigested goodies, rolling them up into perfect balls to lug back to its decomposing layer. While it does enjoy feeding on filth, it will jump on the opportunity to devour something fresher, and intruding adventurers fit the menu. It may seem like a shambling parasite, but it is a far greater threat then some may believe. Its rat head boasts powerful incisors that can gnaw through bone and armor, coated in disease-riddled saliva. From its porcine head comes clouds of caustic vapor, shot out of its dribbling snout in great plumes. From its back comes waves of hungry maggots, eager to dine on flesh and dung alike. Its many tails boast foul spikes, a thirst for blood, and enough of a mind to swing at what it wants. Its mighty insectile fist is perfect for crushing or for rolling up filthy balls of dung and chucking them at foes. With all this combined, the Grimera is powerful enemy, that also happens to live in a place where a single open wound can doom you to a slow and miserable death. Be messily devoured or rolled up in a dung ball and left to decompose until you reach that ripe stage of rot.
Grimeras can be tamed or summoned, but don't expect to have a lot of friends or allies around if you have one. The neighbors will probably complain too. And perhaps the entire kingdom.            
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"Grimera, as in GRIME-ERA" Well crap, I completely missed the change of the year and am feeling kind of out of it. All these folks making art for the new year or talking about future goals and past victories and what not. But I bungled it all and totally forgot! I know! How about a rat?? Everyone loves rats! Give you folks a rat for a treat! Year of the Rat, ya know! Right? Right? Uh, Year of the Pig? Year of the Botfly? Tapeworm? Dung Beetle? Ramrod?
Yep, start of the new year and already beefed it! Oh well, par for the course...
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adiosmemeguy23 · 9 days
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The First of Many
(I did "Dreams" for Damien I might as well do something for Alexander as well)
(Shoutouts to @onyxonline)
ALEXANDER
It's been some time since Alexander's stores have been up and running, everything is going according to plan. Soon he would be the king of the galaxy and maybe even the Universe itself, but that would have to wait. "Master" can play God all he wants; he will bring him great power and influence once he "ascends" and that is when he will make his move. A brilliant plan he thought, but he would need to make a backup plan JUST in case all this is actually true. That will need to wait for he has another idea. Those Space Riders have been a real thorn in their side for quite some time so it's about time to "return the favor". The plan is simple, kidnap a space rider, have a team come in, kidnap that team, pick out the best one suited for the job (weakest minded), plant them inside the Space Riders ranks, disable the HQ's shields and weapons, and destroy them once and for all, simple. Luckily enough there was a Space Rider on a recon mission on the planet one of his shops were located. One confrontation later he got the guy and brought him to one of his "abandoned" warehouses. It was an ocelot by the name Reginald, he would be perfect. After a few days the subterranean motion sensors would pick up a ship landing nearby. He would then order everyone to leave the warehouse but would then stop one of them and give them a special task, he was going to have some fun with the Riders before the process. He had 25 minutes; he was going to make them count.
DOGDAY AND CREW
DogDay and his crew, minus Bubba after he sprained his ankle, approached the rusty doors. DD: "So the tracker says his inside here?" HH: "Yep, seems like it." KC: "Alright let's head in" CN Would then grab KC with his tail preventing him from advancing DD: "We don't know how many are inside, we have to be cautious. *scans the area* Follow me." They would then begin crawling through the vents, occasionally peering through the hatches to see if anyone was around. It seemed as though the place was abandoned. KC: "SEE, no one's here can we get out the vents now." DD: *he thought for a second* Fine let's, quietly, descend." He would then unhook one of the vents hatches and silently scale down, followed by the rest. They wandered the seemingly empty halls until they found Reginald. DD: "We're here to save you. KC unhook him." KC: "On it." He would then start lockpicking the chains. R: "No, you don't understand IT'S A TRAP" As soon as he said that all the lights would cut out and Alexander would be standing at the doorway with a canister of the gas. A: "Don't worry it isn't pure enough to brainwash you or knock you out, but you will still hallucinate. Now let the fun BEGIN!" He said while uncurling his 8ft long neck from around his body and shooting the canister with a laser pistol. Gas would begin to spill out, everyone's heads would start beating like their hearts. After a few seconds of agonizing pain, they would open their eyes to see Alexander had changed. Yellow instead of green, his scales look like knifes jutting out of his skin, and his eyes were red like blood. Everyone was panicking and Alexander would step out of the doorway and say, "10". As soon as he said that everyone would begin to run for it DD leading the way, since they were in a state of anxiety they're brains couldn't remember the way out. They were like rats in a maze and a snake had been released. It was a game to Alexander and he was having SO MUCH FUN!
BUBBAPHANT AND THE REST
It was boring just sitting around on the ship. They probably got lost by now in all honesty, why did he trust Hoppy with the tracker? At least he had the others to entertain him. PP would bring him soup and CC tried to make him feel better with an art piece of all of them to hang in his room. It was nice. Until the explosions happened. He could hear gunfire outside and he knew he had to do something. He dragged himself to the control panel and fired up the weapons. Showtime.
BACK WITH THE OTHERS
22 minutes later and Alexander received a transmission saying they found more, but someone was blowing them to bits with laser cannons on the inside while a unicorn and pig fought on the outside. He asked if they could identify the person inside. The commander replied that a camo drone has been sent inside to take a look. A soldier would run up to the commander and tell them that an elephant was manning the guns. An elephant Alexander thought, that would make a fine plaything. His greed would overcome his thoughts. A plaything AND a mole! "No... let them escape. We have hid in the shadows for long enough! It's time they knew our ways. If we are to be KING, we must know who will follow us beforehand." That voice, he didn't recognize it, but nevertheless he listened. He would then run towards the commanders ping and have even more fun.
After a few minutes.
DD: "GUYS STOP! *everyone stopped dead in their tracks* We can't keep running forever, we have to face him!" Everyone looked uncertain, until CN stepped up. The other followed suit. DD: "Alright! LET'S SHOW HIM WE AREN'T AFRAID!" Everyone roared in enthusiasm and started sprinting down the halls and then running and then jogging and, KC: "Uhm I don't think he's here anymore." HH: "Huh, I was really looking forward to cutting his neck a few feet." DD: "Yeah" *silence*
ALEXANDER
He was glad to breathe in some air after all that running around, but he had bigger fish to fry now. He would go camo (invisible) and sneak pass the two. He would then move towards the cockpit where he saw the elephant. He would then stealthily get a table, a shiny red button, 2 chairs, and a chessboard and pieces. He was surprised at how much the elephant was enthralled in his own little world. He would then shoot at the screen with his pistol destroying it, not before giving the commander the command to lure the two away, he needs quiet after all. A: "Hello there!" BB: "What do you want? To indoctrinate me? Well, it's not happening *pulls out a pistol of his own*" A: *pulls out second pistol* "NO No no, listen all I want is to play a simple game of chess and if you refuse *looks to button* your friends go BOOM!" *he says putting an arm behind his back* BB: "Fine, I'll play your games. But no funny business. Fair is fair." A: "I swear" *holding his hands up* They then put away their weapons and begin the match.
SEVERAL MINUTES LATER
The rest of the crew, including Reginald, see the battlefield. They join in the fray and take out the cultists. After looking around DogDay notices something horrible DD: "Where's Alexander?" CC: "Who?" KC: "The shady business tycoon." PP: "We didn't see him, no." DD: "If he wasn't with you guys then that means... oh shit."
ALEXANDER AND BB
A: "Looks like I win. Checkmate". The placing of the final piece echos in BB's ears, is this it? Is this... the end? A: "WOO, what a rush HAHA. I haven't had THAT much fun in a while. Thank you. Good day." BB looked at him in confusion as he left. BB: "Wait, what about the button?" A: Oh that, yeah, I don't know what that does I just found it while getting set up. I just wanted to make sure you were playing your best. Oh boy, you do not disappoint." BB is all kinds of confused, "He was just playing me? No stakes? No nothing? Just a game? What does he gain from this?" he thought. A: "Well I better get going your friends should be arriving any second now. I will return for another game in 5-6 days. I expect everything to be set up once I arrive. Don't tell your friends I was here, or I will be forced to kill you all. Now, as I said before, good day." He would then turn on his camo and vanish, but he wouldn't go just this second, not before doing something first. BB had a lot to think about, but first things first, he had to clean up.
DogDay and crew would then sprint into the cockpit and see, nothing. They searched and they found Bubba in his room. Safe and sound.
AT NIGHT
NoIt is the dead of night and footsteps can be heard as a camera is then placed inside a mirror in BB's room. The figure would then sneak away. A: "Both his cockpit and room are being put under surveillance" Alexander spoke into his audio logs. A: "I shall watch his every move; this is going to be SO MUCH FUN!" But little did he know, instead of watching the cameras every time he's awake. He would be watching them 24/7. He was obsessed and this addiction only fueled him further and further. He loved his delicate little "Bubble" and he hated that "Mutt" for putting his fragile Bubble in harms way. He will die and Bubble will be all his.
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beardedmrbean · 2 months
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Hmmm, that wasn’t me. But I can see why you think it was
I bitch about my white stepmom, but her family while did treat me and my sister like part of them
Now I did a huge fuck up so I’m estranged. But my little sister is still very close to them
Yet I always saw the issues because the left allow people with toxic treats of my stepmom goes uncheck also allow them to hide their bigotry
The left: All men are trash!
Black men: Hmmmm?
The left: I mean white men!
It’s like the Israel/Palestine conflict and many Jews feel betrayed. Like Jews, the left may have said “Fuck Columbus/Colonizers!” a lot. But they never hated the atrocities they committed. They hated that the non whites were on the loosing side of the wars, a long time ago
Take a look at Killmonger, an embodiment of Black Israelite racist view on the world who turn himself into a weapon of cia imperialism. AND destabilized Wakanda so he can make his own empire where black people was in the top
(Even though pre phase 4 Nick Fury, War Machine, and Falcon would have killed his ass.)
Also someone lives in the Chicago area, if the hood rats got Wakandians tech. They wouldn’t overthrow white people. They would kill each other more
In high school, there was a story about a gangster being a son of a rival into a alley and killing him
Then one Halloween, a Latina girl was killed in a crossfire while fucking trick or treating
But …certain n-words people like Killmonger overlook the horrific things we do to each other
Then there the women king, which expose people to the horrific actions of what Africans did to each other. Not to mention I finally learn who cut my ties to Africa
The French and British should have asked the USA to send some African soldiers to help them out. Though we would probably make the fall of  Carthage look like a joke
Trailing off, but why the fuck African Americans were never taught about they in school?
No seriously I demand answers to it wasn’t taught in schools to the point Viola Davis basically did a black “Jews lionizing the Nazis” or birth of a nation movie for female empowerment
The Amish know why their ancestors went on the mayflower
The Irish and Italian descent Americans knows why they are in America
Steven Spielberg did a fucking kids movie loosely based off his grandfather as a child traveling to America. Where it most famous song is “There are no cats in America!” JEEEZ I WONDER CATS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE A REFERENCE TOO
Also Muslims spin a tail saying they always been peaceful and such. Hmmm what happened 52 years ago during the Olympics? I think Robot chicken did a parody of https://youtu.be/vuQIh0mHGrI?si=1jSOKkrYfPIZCvim
But that the thing about the I/P, I asked Dave, tumblr local libertarian and shitposter. Why do modern feminists and Hitler sound so a like? Now he pointed out that both groups believe in conflict theory and yep.
Jews, the left only used the Holocaust as a way to bash white people. They never care about you as a people. So they would automatically see you as evil to protect the innocent Muslims
(I don’t think all Muslims are evil. But they act like feminists saying that they group never had bigotry and such)
And people think Jews would be perfectly safe after Israel dislove, I follow a Hindu blog that reblog the Kashmir Hindus genocide
That happened in the 90’s
Lord’s know what would happen to Israel if they fall
It's amazing the things folks do in the name of nation or religion, heartbreaking too.
In the name of family makes some more sense, we should focus on humanity instead, but that's not gonna be a huge thing I don't think since we tend to use that as a way to bash other people and ideas anyhow.
wish we could just stop hurting each other, all the yelling and screaming about pollution I imagine war is going to be one of the bigger drivers of climate change, at least the part that humans are responsible for.
Maybe some day, folks can change their focus.
As for your family, hopefully you can get bridges mended eventually at least to the point of being cordial.
Needs to be far less anger in the world
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crayonverse · 10 months
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Tumblr media
drew my favorite orange cat coded character (with a different hairstyle because i dont know how to draw the canon one)
featuring evil seb + a recurring character Seb if they bothered to remember him.
recurring chr au. seb has a rat tail. no comments please
breaks into the island to try and kill donald (hes mainly forgotten he originally wanted to do it for revenge against krane and now he just wants to kill donald because its his hyperfixation /j) and also everytime he breaks in he steals peoples clothes to annoy them personally. he has stolen five of chase's shirts (definitely for no reason other he wants to annoy chase yep no underlying meaning), he stole a pair of leo's thongs (IM FROM AUSTRALIA) and even though they dont fit he wears them anyway. his feet hurt all the time but its the principle of it now, stolen half of adam's jeans but he never noticed, steals one of each of bree's socks anytime she buys any
i forgot to put them on the other drawing but seb has more piercings than before i gave him five ear ones and one goes through his nose
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beastly-writing · 1 year
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he/him!Vex hybrid!Scar x NB!anxiety disorder haver!Opossum hyrid!reader x he/him!Vex hybrid!Cub (Convex duo x reader)
Cw: Crying, Food, uhhh mean thoughts, kinda sexual??? touch (not meant as sexual. Cub just hugs your thighs), and Overworjed reader. thats all [I think ( ..)]
A/N: My boys! :D I love the Concorp CEOs :] also everyone draws them hot when they do non comic fanart >:[ (like keep doing it but hot dang. they're all I can think about sometimes)
means of things
Y/N = your name
F/C = favorite colour
F/T/P = favorite themed pattern
F/F = favorite food
F/DP/M = favorite Disney princess movie
(also the sweaters are like uh the button up ones not uh normal??? ones??)
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"HEYYY Y/N~!" Scar sings as he flutters in the room. I look up from my paper about some feedback about Scarland people sent. "Hi Scar! What's up mate?" I respond with a giggle at the end from him trying to flut his wings back in a comfy placement.
"Y/N Y/N Y/N!!" Cub zooms in. "Will you come have dinner with us? It's your favorite~!" Scar and Cub singy-song together. "I can't guys. I have so much to read and pin up." I sigh from my old, uncomfy office chair. "But save me some? please please??" "But it's date night! we can neVER skip date night!" Scar begs, trying very hard to sound sweet. "Pretty please!" Cub adds to the end.
"Oh. Oh no." I tear up a little from my mistake. 'Date night was tonight! I thought it was tomorrow!' I think to myself with guilt almost crying from my thoughts being so cruel to me. "Hey hey, Lovely one! No need to cry! you just forgot about it. We still love you." Cub says as Scar picks me up -like the strong man he is- and hugs me as my thin rat-like tail twists around his hips. Cub skrichs my ears softly. Scar and Cub softly try calm me down (it doesn't work very well [ ..]) as they walk me to Scar's elven tree house.
Scar sets me down on a couch and Cub let me cling to him in overwhelming shame. "I'm s-so s-so s-orr-y! I hiccup from crying kinda hard. "It's okay! Sh sh sh." Cub comforts as he rubs my sore back. Scar comes back with sweaters for eveyone. A green cat themed sweater on himself, a cyan science themed sweater for Cub, and a F/C F/T/P for me. after Cub put on his sweater and wraps me up in mine, Scar comes in with F/F and some grape soda. "So. How are you doing?" Scar asks nervously "Okay." I deadpan. I'm tired from crying and the hoards of work I was doing. "Wanna watch Wall-e?" Cub asks. Scar turns on the television but waits for your reply. "Can we watch F/DP/M?" "Sure! Sorry for making you cry Cookie." Scar softly says while cuddling up to me, carefully moving my tail as to not squish it. "It's not anyone's fault. Don't worry." I say while getting comfy inbetween the 2 vexes
"Then why did you cry?" Cub asks genuinely "Did we do something? Did something happen? DID SOMEONE HURT YOU OR YOUR FEELINGS?!" Cub kinda panics when he got to the last 2 bits. Scar also makes it clear he worrys the same. "No. I over thought. It's nothing that can be/could've been stopped." I says as the 2 calm down a bit.
Scar grabs me to his (bangin' scitties! ٩(๑òωó๑)۶ wait. I mean... [꒪ω꒪υ]) chest and Cub snorts in annoyance (at Scar) and scoots over to hug my hips/thighs. 'Oh, how my boys make me feel better.' I think to myself.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Yep! Cool right? right? but hhhggghhhh I am a Vex!Cubfan135 simp. 0///0 He is just drawn so... hot. Vex!gtwScar is there too cuz he is a lovely boy and I give him 10/10
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stupidstrawberrystars · 5 months
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How I think the marauders came up with their nicknames:
(This is half way through fifth year and half way through making the map btw. They became animagus last summer- end of fourth year) 
It all starts Monday evening.
“Right, I’ve got my book from the common room, wanna play chess while James has his shower Pete?”
Peter nods and they get to playing. Sirius is relaxing on his bed. James’ shit singing is a suitable faint background noise for his stupid head right now.
For some dumb reason, he hasn’t been able to take his mind of Remus all day (or his eyes- it’s getting bad- he’s literally staring at his fucking hair and back now). 
James emerges from his shower and does his usual belly flip onto Sirius’ bed. He’s still wet from the shower and he would be pissed, but it’s common to have James invade his space now. It’s nicer than having a brother who never comes anywhere near him. 
“Still mooning over Remus then?”
He never should’ve admitted that he fancies Remus. They’ve been treating him like some chick with a crush ever since. 
“Alright James, at least let me be moony in peace.” He rolls his eyes and gets up to go occupy Remus’ bed (only because it’s free and James wouldn’t dare sit on his bed while soaking wet… and he’s not sat there because it smells of him or because it’s weirdly soft or because his jumpers here and- fuck maybe he is acting like some girl).
As he falls onto Remus’ bed, James springs off Sirius’. He’d better not come near him again.
“That’s it! Moony. Remus, your nickname will be Moony.”
They’ve been trying to think up nicknames as they’re working on the map now and want to brand it with more than just Marauders. 
“Alright that’s not too bad.”
Although now every time he’s uses Remus’ nickname he’s going to remember this moment. He’ll never get Moony out of his head now.
But they all look too happy to debate it, and it does suit Remus. 
So Sirius smiles and lets himself indulge in a moment of peace (you know, before more pranks and OWLS and all that shit).  
“Pete that was marvellous! Getting away from Filch as a rat, just be careful next time, that cat got too close to your tail for my liking.”
James is right, Pete was brilliant. They were borrowing (stealing) supplies from Slughorns cupboard for their next prank, James had the cloak and Sirius and Peter had the map, but no way of escaping.
“Distracting the cat saved my butt too Pete. Did its claws reach you, you alright?” He looks alright. He looks ecstatic. 
“Oh i’m alright.”
“Don’t forget to be careful, you all could end up priso- Azkaban. Man it’s so dumb you magic idiots only have one jail in Britain. Anyway, my point is, be careful.”
“Oh Moony it’s nice of you to worry but dearest Pete here would never be so dumb to get himself caught and stuck in Azkaban of all places. Sounds more like a me thing to do, to be honest.”
Pete’s been getting a lot better at lying recently. He’s an essential part of the marauder pranksters (he’s still an annoying pushover though, but they’re training it out of him). 
“Alright. Just don’t lose your wormy tail Pete.”
Sirius sees Pete smile and lock eyes with James. They still have that ridiculous childhood friend idea, connection, mind reading bullshit from first year. 
“Wormtail!” They both yell at each other.
”Oh Moony you’ve done it! You’re a dream. Peter you are now officially Wormtail.” 
Huh?
“Erm mate, are you sure that’s the nickname you want?” Yes Remus, that’s exactly what Sirius is thinking.
Peter looks to James, and to his friends, and nods.
Alright then.
“Now just us two need nicknames.” 
“Yep. Just you two idiots. The deer and the ghost dog.”
“I’m a stag-“ “Ghost dog?” 
For two people who constantly finish each others sentences, Sirius and James also talk over each other a lot. But it’s worth it to see Remus roll his eyes fondly at them.
“James a stag is a deer. And Sirius, your animagus form looks exactly like the black dog from folklore. A ghost that appears all around Europe and America. They’re either death omens or guardians, I guess you’ll have to pick which one you’ll be.”
He’s obviously a guardian, no one protects Remus better than him (you’re a death omen Black… don’t forget The Prank).
“Well I don’t know about calling you ghost… Did those dogs have other names?”
“Yeah… near Sheffield is a place called Leeds. My grandparents lived there. The town has a local version of the legend, it’s known as Padfoot.”
Padfoot…
“I like it. Sirius you are dubbed Padfoot.”
“I want a nickname!” It’s literally the middle of the Great Hall and James is being a prick. Not that that’s uncommon, just usually his craziness is directed at Evans.
“James, we’ll get you a nickname.” Sirius can’t help being slightly annoyed now, he’s rejected everything they’ve thought up. Ok admittedly only Sirius and Pete have tried, Remus deemed it impossible after watching the fifth reject of a perfectly good nickname and chose not to participate in this very weird game.
“I want something good. Come on.”
Sirius beside him to Remus with desperate eyes, and all he gets is a mocking laugh.
”Do I have to do every nickname but my own? Really Pads?”
Sirius falls just a little more every time Remus shortens his nickname.
“James-“ Peter puts his arm up as protection since he’s stuck next to James, who’s swinging his arms in frustration while still clutching a fork. “Be careful with that would you?”
“Oh, sorry Wormy. My bad.” 
Luckily, before Sirius has to intervene, something very, very shocking happens.
“James stop. You’re going to take someone’s eye out. Besides, you’re wrong, why would you want a nickname from these guys if the one Peter got is Wormtail?” Sirius is pretty sure he freezes when Lily, who’s sat on the other side of Remus, joins the conversation. Before he can even insult her for interrupting (and yes his mouth is already open to say something) Remus has his hand on Sirius’ thigh and looks over at him and then winks. 
“Oh? Just pick James’ nickname for us Lils. Then he’ll finally shut up about it.”
Oh he’s a genius. Sirius’ brain is still half-fried from the hand that’s still on his leg (it doesn’t need to be anymore, but it still is) and so he barely notices as Lily rolls her eyes, and declares,
“Potter put down the fork. For fucks sake, just be called Prongs or something.” 
Sirius’ eyes whip to meet Remus’ where they engage in a silent battle debating whether she knows his animagus form or is just making a joke about the fork he’s holding. They settle on it’s probably just a coincidence.
And since Lily said it, James is in love and they have their nicknames.
“Well then. I guess we are officially Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.” 
Sirius feels himself smile. When he first came to Hogwarts, he didn’t expect to meet people who’d change his life this much. And there’s still so many more years to come. 
Oh and in case you’re wondering… yeah… Lily Evans knew. 
Lily Evans knew about the deer. She played it off, but she knew. She knew about the dog. She knew about the rat. She obviously knew about the werewolf. She even knew about the map they were making and the cloak they wore- she’s a muggle after all, and in her world the sound of footsteps means someone’s there, and not just another magic trick, so she put it all together pretty fast.
Lily Evans has had a weight on her shoulders since being shunned from her family, so she learnt everything she could about the wizarding world since she knew it’d be the only place she could have a valuable future. 
And yes, she knew about the war, she knew the years after Hogwarts weren’t going to be easy. 
So what’s the problem with some mischief, it’s not like she wants credit… but Remus has been having some trouble with one of the rooms… and she has an idea on how to record it on their map. 
They still have time until OWLS, and then NEWTS after that. Plenty of time to be young and free before…
oh well, it’s nothing to worry about now, is it?
After all, that’s what Dumbledore tells her whenever she asks.
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hbyrde36 · 10 months
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Chapter 3!
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 ao3 link
Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter
Steve knew full well that the door was locked. He’d heard the mechanism engage and there was a zero percent chance that his vampire captors had suddenly become careless. Still, he bounded up the stairs to see for himself. Yep, locked.
He sat down on the top step for a moment, trying to figure out his next move, when the sound of many little scurrying feet drew his attention back to the space below. Now, Steve might be a big bad vampire hunter but he’s always been afraid of rodents. Mice, rats, doesn’t matter, they all give him the heebie jeebies. He got bitten once as a child while playing hide and seek and had never really gotten over it. He’d been so excited to find such a great spot, a small and low to the ground hidden shelf in the pantry. Unfortunately, something else had gotten to the hiding spot before him and he had paid the price for disturbing it in blood.
All of this to say, there is nothing in the world that would have made Steve go back down those stairs at that moment. Out of the shadows came a huge man-sized brown rat complete with curved tail and some rather sharp looking teeth and claws. A small army of more average sized rats scuttled around the giant’s feet as he approached the bottom step. The rat-man’s black eyes bored into Steve’s own and a shiver ran down his spine.
“Greetings, human. Why don’t you come down and visit with us for a while?” He said, sounding anything but friendly.
Steve gulped. “Oh. I’m good up here, thanks.” He aimed for cool and casual but the words came out a little too breathy to pass for anything but fear.
“Nonsense! Billy asked us to keep you company while you wait. What’s wrong, animator, afraid we’ll bite?”
Animator . Well, apparently this creature knew who he was, that certainly didn’t seem fair.
“Actually, uh…yea, kinda. So, why don’t you just go on back to Billy and tell him that while I appreciate the offer of entertainment, I will have to respectfully decline.” He managed to sound less panicked this time and counted it as a win.
The rat-man let out a series of squeaks and suddenly two more wererats came walking out of the dark to join him. Where the fuck were they all coming from? They couldn’t have been there this whole time, concussed or not, he would have noticed three rats the size of Hopper!
“I guess we’ll just have to come up there and drag you down by force then. Boys, go get him.”
The first rat-man gestured at his companions and they quickly started the all-too-short climb towards him.
Steve pressed his back against the door, trying to get as far from the creatures as he could. Fear overwhelmed him and for a moment all of his training went out the window. He had to stop thinking of them as rats. They were monsters, and he knew how to handle monsters. He physically shook his head in an effort to clear his thoughts.
HE understood now why Eddie had slipped the knife back to him. He appreciated the gesture but jeez, couldn’t the guy have given him a bit more of a warning about this? He’d ask later.
His hand itched to draw the blade but the two wererat lackeys were still a few steps too far away. His best shot would be to wait until the last possible second. They probably thought he was unarmed and that small element of surprise is the only upper hand he’s going to get.
Steve is a pretty experienced fighter but he knows it’s never a fair fight when you’re dealing with preternatural creatures. Skill matters, of course, but hit for hit it’s hard to beat something that can lift a car without breaking a sweat.
He crouched down low, making the move look like he was cowering away from the incoming attackers. When the first of the men was almost on top of him, he drew the blade and swung, slicing into the giant rat’s leg.
The creature reared back, squealing in pain. He lost his balance and fell into his associate, sending them both tumbling down the steps to land in a crumpled heap at the bottom.
The trio’s leader snarled. “You idiots! Can’t even take on one measly human, I guess I have to do everything myself.”
“It’s not our fault, he’s got silver! You said he wouldn’t be armed.”
Along with boosted strength, all were-animals are blessed with extreme healing. Had Steve been wielding a steel blade, the cut would have healed almost instantly but with silver he would heal as slow as a human.
Not sparing his friends a glance, the last wererat standing began to stalk his way towards Steve. He was about halfway up when yet another giant rodent appeared. Jesus, just how bad were the odds going to get here? And when were the goddamn vampires gonna show up?!
The newcomer had very dark fur, almost black. He took in the scene for a moment before bellowing out one word “STOP.”
All of the rats froze, almost as if there were some kind of power behind the word. Maybe there was, Steve didn’t know all the ins and outs of were-animals the way he did with vampires.
“Explain yourselves.” The dark rat demanded.
The two wererats on the floor said nothing. The one on the stairs turned and gave what Steve could only assume was supposed to be a shrug, although in his current form the movement looked…odd.
“The master called, and so we came.”
“I explicitly forbade you from coming here. You do not take his orders, he is not your king! Get out of here before I kill you myself.”
The three man-sized rats quickly fled back into the shadows, the little ones, who had mostly just been watching the show, followed closely at their heels.
“Did they hurt you?”
Steve awkwardly waved the question off with the hand still holding the knife. “No, I’m fine Mr.…uh rat-king?”
“Gareth”
“I’m Steve. Thank you for stopping them, Gareth.”
“Don’t thank me, I didn’t come here to help you. Billy thinks he can declare himself our master simply because rats are his animal to call. I fought hard for my position in the Rodere and I will not have some pretty boy vampire swoop in and take over my people.”
“Still, thanks for showing up when you did.”
“You’re welcome. Why are you being held here anyway?” Gareth asked.
“The vampires want me to work for them. I’ve already agreed to it, they made sure of that. I don't know what the point of all this was.”
“Billy’s a bit…sadistic. Even for a vampire. Probably he just wanted to torment you. For fun.”
“Awesome.”
“Someone must be looking out for you though, wouldn’t have that blade on you otherwise.” Gareth whiskers twitched as he raised his head to scent the air. He scrunched his face in displeasure. “They return, I have to go. Good luck, Steve.”
Steve nastily returned the weapon to his boot, turning to look at the door. He didn’t hear any movement behind it yet but he was sure Gareth was right. When a being with super-senses tells you vampires are coming, you believe them. When he glanced back, the rat-king was gone.
A minute later the door swung open to reveal Tommy lurking in the doorway. He seemed surprised to find Steve at the top of the steps and disappointed to see he was in one piece.
“Where did they go? They weren’t supposed to leave.”
Steve shrugged. “I don’t think they enjoyed my company much, they didn’t laugh at any of my jokes!”
“So cocky, and for what? Do you think pissing me off will do you any favors?”
“No, but it sure is fun.”
Steve smiled sweetly. Tommy looked like he was struggling not to punch him in the face.
“Move it Harrington, Billy’s waiting.”
-
Tommy led him down a long hallway. Wherever they were, it was very dark. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all painted black and there were no windows. The space they eventually entered was huge and Steve was unsurprised to find the color scheme matched with the rest of what he'd seen of the place, black. This area, unlike the very empty basement, housed a variety of equipment. There were piles of thick cords wrapped in neat circles, pieces of rigging, and huge canister lights. All things you might find in a theater, giving Steve his first clue as to where he was.
A small group was clustered together near the back wall of the space, at the center of them was a rather attractive male vampire. His blonde hair was long, though shorter than Eddie’s, and he had the most piercing blue eyes Steve had ever seen. A woman stood to his left. She leaned against him and one of her small hands rested on his bicep possessively. She was human, as far as Steve could tell, although there was something enhanced about her that he couldn’t decipher.
Eddie was situated on the other side of the blonde vampire, who Steve realized must be Billy. He stayed a few steps away from the others, part of the group, yet not. The final member of this strange party was an older man, tall with white hair. Like the girl, he also appeared to be human, but other . Where the girl’s energy was foreign to Steve, the vibes he was getting off the older man felt oddly familiar. Come to think of it, the guy’s face looked familiar too but he couldn’t place him.
Tommy moved away to sidle up to his master, occupying the dead space Eddie had left between himself and the rest.
Billy stepped forward as he looked Steve up and down, appraising.
“Finally! I’ve been waiting to meet this Steve Harrington everyone’s been telling me so much about.”
“…That’s me”
“Tell me, how old do you think I am?”
Steve studied him for a moment, not so much with his eyes but with the force inside himself, the power that allows him to raise the dead. And got jack squat.
“I…don’t know.” he replied, eyebrows crinkled in confusion.
“I thought you said this guy was the best, Munson?” Billy said, half turning to look at the vampire over his shoulder.
“He is.” Eddie stated.
“What’s the problem then, pretty boy?”
“I’m honestly not sure, I just can’t get a read on you.”
“Fine. What about Tommy?”
Steve didn’t even have to think about it. “A hundred, hundred-fifty max.”
“How do you figure?” Billy asked.
Steve was rapidly losing patience. He was tired and scared and he really just wanted to go home at this point. “I just do, ok? I don’t know exactly how it works but I know I'm right.”
“Feeling tough today, huh? I can see why Neil lost his temper with you. Don’t worry, dear old dad is being punished accordingly for damaging what’s mine.”
“I don’t belong to you” Steve snapped on instinct “…wait…dad?”
“Long story, and none of your business.”
“You know what? That’s fine, I don’t really care to be honest. Can we just get this over with? I’d like to get home before sunrise if it’s all the same to you.”
Billy snarled, stalking towards him until they were close enough to touch. He lifted Steve's chin with a finger until they were eye-to-eye. Steve stared fixedly at Billy’s nose. He knew whatever had happened with Eddie gave him some immunity to vampire gaze but he wasn’t willing to test the theory with the master of the city.
“Read me again, human.” Billy spat. He said human like it was a slur, it made Steve’s blood boil.
He reached for his abilities again only to be hit with what could only be described as a tsunami of raw power. He fell to his knees at Billy’s feet. He could do nothing but supplicate before a being of such power. It was only right to put himself below Billy, he was an insignificant thing next to the master. He should apologize immediately for how rude he has been. Billy hadn’t deserved that, he deserved to be worshiped.
Steve balled his hands into fists, digging his nails into the palms hard enough to draw blood. He muttered to himself softly, a mantra of “no…no…no..no.”
Pain helped, it washed away the worst of Billy’s influence and Steve could think clearly again. He scrambled backwards in a sort of crab walk, desperate to get some distance between him and the oldest vampire he’d ever met in person.
“How. Old. Am. I?”
“A thousand, give or take.” Steve rasped out.
“Excellent! Now that you have a more full understanding of who you’re dealing with, we can get down to business. Ten vampires have been murdered in MY city and you’re gonna find out who’s behind it.”
“But there’s only been four murders…”
“That the police know of. We don’t trust the law, for obvious reasons. We can’t be sure they aren’t the ones responsible. Now, these vampires were not new. A few weeks ago Eddie was the 5th most powerful vampire in the city, now he’s the third.”
“Jesus.”
“Exactly, I'm glad you understand the gravity of the situation. It seems you might be as good as he and little Dustin say you are. That may be enough to lessen the severity of Eddie’s punishment.”
“Why? What did he do?”
Billy laughed “Are you worried about him? Shouldn’t you be pissed off that he dragged you into this?”
“No.”
It wasn’t even a lie. By all rights Steve should be furious with the vampire but somehow he just couldn’t blame the guy for seeking out his help. The rest of this shit, maybe, but oddly he now believed Eddie when he said this isn’t how he had meant things to go. Besides, Eddie was his only friend in this room right now, using the term loosely of course.
“Suit yourself. Before you go we have a special treat for you. Something to jump start the investigation. Martin?”
Apparently, the tall white haired man was Martin. He gave a shallow bow in the master's direction before slipping through a side door. He emerged a moment later, lugging along another man. No, not a man…a zombie, and a good one at that. He almost looked alive. That’s why Martin’s mojo felt familiar. He was an animator.
“You remember Billy?” Martin asked the zombie.
“Yes” It answered, voice rough with disuse but clear enough to understand.
“Wonderful. You will answer questions from anyone in this room. Understood?”
“Yes”
“Who was this?” Steve blurted out.
It was Billy who answered. “A witness. He was there when one of my people was killed. We questioned him for hours, tortured him, the whole nine yards, but he wouldn’t squeal. Unfortunately, he was left alone in the basement with his belt a little too long and, well…plan B!”
Steve didn’t like the way Billy said my people . He wasn’t deluded enough to think the phrase betrayed some care or need to protect on the man’s part, the way it should. No, Billy’s tone definitely implied that he viewed his people as his possessions and he didn’t like the idea of someone taking what was his. So toxic.
“Go ahead Billy, ask him whatever you like.” Martin offered.
“Who killed Christopher?” He asked.
The zombie stared at Billy, wide eyes filled with fear. He didn’t speak.
“Hmm, perhaps we need to try something simpler. Maybe he doesn’t remember that name.” Martin ventured.
“You ask him then, I’m bored of this already.” Billy snapped.
Martin nodded to Billy before turning back to his zombie. “Did you witness a vampire being murdered?”
“Yes”
“Excellent, and who killed the vampire?”
The zombie trembled, shaking his head, no, repeatedly.
“Try asking what killed him. Y’know, human or another vampire etc. Maybe he just didn’t know the person or something.” Steve suggested.
Martin pointed a finger at Steve “You stay out of this. I raised this zombie, he is mine to command.”
Eddie was quick to jump to his defense “Hey man, He’s here to help us, don’t be a dick.”
Steve looked at Eddie then, right in his eyes. It seemed the part about Eddie not being able to bespell him was true, or at the very least he wasn’t trying anything at the moment. He watched as a complicated series of emotions washed over Eddie’s face before he finally broke the stare. He’d have to worry about whatever that was about later. Add it to the pile.
“Fine.” Martin agreed, begrudgingly “What killed the vampire?”
“I can’t…I…” The zombie went into a full-on panic this time. If he were still alive, he’d have passed out from hyperventilating already.
Martin cracked the poor thing across the face with an open palm. “You will not embarrass me, answer the question!” He hit it again and the zombie sank to the floor. He rocked itself back and forth, eyes squeezed shut as if that could hide him from the world.
The animator made a move like he was going to kick him next and Steve decided he’d had enough. He shoved Martin out of the way and placed himself between the man and the zombie.”
“What do you think you are doing?”
“Show’s over tough guy, I’m not gonna stand here and watch you abuse him. It’s wrong on so many levels and it’s going to do us no good here. With this type of treatment, you’ve all but ensured he won’t be able to answer any more questions. Great job.” Steve said, his final words dripping with sarcasm.
“What are you talking about, Harrington?” Billy said, finally deciding to rejoin the conversation.
“It’s hard to explain but, when you raise someone from the dead, you’re not actually bringing that person back as they were. The soul or whatever you’d like to call the thing that makes us who we are, is gone. What you get is more of a memory, an echo of what they once were. If you are patient and treat them with respect, they can maintain that memory for a while and answer simple questions and such. This kind of shit though – scaring him, hitting him? He’s done now, broken.”
“You motherfucker” Billy growled, pushing into Martin's space. His face thinned out, the lines of it becoming sharper and more inhuman right before Steve’s eyes. “Go now. Take Steve to his car and get out of here before I kill you.”
Martin nodded once, Steve was almost impressed with how calm he stayed in the face of such restrained violence. Billy was quickly losing control in his anger, his power swirled through the room, gathering momentum while searching for a target.
Martin grabbed his hand, hauling him back towards the hallway he had come from. Steve went along with it for a moment then stopped, turning to look at Eddie. He didn’t know why he did it. Maybe he hoped the dark haired vamp would follow him out and then Steve could keep him safe from whatever punishment Billy had been alluding to. God, had his world turned so upside down in one night that now he was thinking about saving a vampire?
He caught Eddie’s eye and opened his mouth to say, something…he wasn’t sure what, but the other man shook his head, expression grave. He mouthed one word to Steve before turning to face his master’s wrath. RUN
-
Steve and Martin sprinted down the hallway as fast as they could. Having been an athlete in high school and some years younger than the other man, Steve could have easily taken the lead. Problem was, he didn’t know how the fuck to get out of here, wherever they were. Shit.
Finally they approached a door, a little ways down from the basement that Steve knew he would see again in his nightmares. This door was the same as the other except when Martin swung it open the steps led up rather than down.
They came out to a backstage area, much bigger than that of the club. Steve spotted the light of an emergency exit and lunged towards it immediately, knowing it would lead to the outside. It was still dark out, so it wasn’t like the vampires couldn’t follow him out of the building. Still, his first breath of open air settled his nerves.
It wasn’t until he made it around to the front of the building that Steve realized where he was. The Corroded Coffin, the city’s hottest theater and concert venue. With a name like that he should have known it was another vampire run business. It was also only a few blocks away from Guilty Pleasures thankfully, so it wouldn’t be a long walk to his car.
Annoyingly Martin seemed determined to see Steve all the way there. Maybe he was afraid of what would happen if he failed Billy again tonight.
“Man, I don’t need an escort to my car. What would you even do if someone did attack us? More likely I'd be saving your ass than the other way around.” Steve said.
The other man shrugged, no sign of offense on his face. “Perhaps.” was all he said. They continued to walk awkwardly side-by-side until finally they reached his parking spot.
“Well, this is me. I’d say it’s been a pleasure but…”
Martin sighed. “All the snark in the world won’t save you when the monster’s come calling, Mr. Harrington.”
“No, but that’s what the silver bullets are for.”
“It’s a wonder you’ve made it this far. Here, take this.” He said, passing Steve a damp cocktail napkin that he’d written his name and number on.
“I’ll be acting as your daylight contact. If you need anything or have any information to pass along to the master, just give me a call.”
Steve nodded curtly before getting into his car. The other man turned on his heel, immediately walking away once he was safely inside. It did not escape Steve's notice that he headed in the opposite direction of where they had just come from. Smart man.
He pulled out his cell phone, wanting to save the number before the napkin could be lost or ruined. The number on it was legible, though the last name was smudged. All he could make out was that it started with a B. He made the contact name Martin Animator, he could always find out his last name later.
Steve started the car and was about to throw it into gear when he heard a voice. His head whipped around, convinced that someone was lurking in the back seat. It had sounded that close. It happened again, this time he realized the voice was Eddie’s and he was calling Steve’s name.
He slammed his eyes closed and took a deep breath. It had to be exhaustion, right? Just something his head was conjuring up out of…professional concern, or something?
A wind began to blow through his hair, much stronger than could be blamed on the air conditioning and he could no longer deny that some weird shit was happening. Fuck.
He opened his eyes to find two points of golden-brown light hovering in front of his face.
Eddie spoke again, “Steve, I’m so sorry. I have no other choice.” Eddie’s voice was ethereal in a way he had never heard before. It sounded as if it were both in his head and coming from very far away.
He didn’t understand what was happening but if the vampire was apologizing it couldn’t be good. The power, he knew now that’s what it was and not some phantom wind, picked up speed as it thrummed through the small space. Steve wanted to get out of the car and run far away from whatever was happening here but he was frozen.
The wisps of light inched forward until they filled his field of vision and when they finally made contact the world around him exploded into sharp technicolor. It was a little like that scene in the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy transitions from the dull sepia tone of her own world and into the bright intense color of Oz. It was still dark out, though dawn was fast approaching, yet Steve could see the area around him as clearly as if the noon day sun was out.
One glance in the rear-view mirror had his blood running cold. His eyes…they were the deep brown of Eddie’s and they were glowing. It only lasted for a moment, long enough for him to blink and then it was gone. He could have convinced himself it was his imagination if it weren’t for everything else that had happened in the last 8 or so hours.
His eyes had glowed, like a vampire’s. “What the fuck is happening to me” Steve whispered.
He watched the sun break over the horizon as he drove home and for once it was a relief. Far from being annoyed that he was seeing his second sunrise in two days, he felt immense gratitude for the daylight. It meant the vampires would be bedded down for the day. Fourteen hours of peace, give or take, before they’d be out to play again. Billy would expect results fast, he just knew it. First, a few hours of sleep and then Steve would get to work.
Part 4
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