vuulpecula

[vuulpecula]

He finished quicker than she had thought he might, not that she was disappointed, taking it instead as a compliment. Rolling her tongue over him, continuing to pleasure him until his body seemed to stop spasming with the pulse of orgasm. She swallowed, nostrils flaring at the taste, the texture as it slid down her throat. A smile on her lips as she sat up, the surface sticky and glistening with spit and traces of his seed. Happy and content to have brought him to a climax.

Lithely, Fox slid from her bed, retrieving her well-loved water-bottle from the table. The plastic surface dented from how many times it had been tossed around. She drank greedily from it, washing down anything left of him stuck between her teeth, before offering it to him. A dim silhouette in the darkness of the room. There was a towel or a t-shirt around the room somewhere he could use to clean up and she searched for it quietly in the dark. Not needing light to remember how to move around her quarters. They hadn't always had light here. There had been a long stretch that not even candles had aided them. They had lived in the darkness, she was not afraid of it now.

"I like when you say my name," Fox whispered as she returned to his side. Sliding beneath the blankets, covering his private area with the t-shirt she had recovered. Gently pressing to clean any part of him that hadn't been spared the gush of cum. When she was satisfied, she dropped it over the side of the bed and snuggled close to him once more. Eyes easily sliding shut. "You will sleep well now, I bet, yes?" She poised with a yawn. "It is good, I want you to feel this good here." With me was left unsaid, but it lingered in the space between them. As heavy as their bodies pressing into the mattress together. Creating a hollow of warmth in the old material.

@rickgrimesdoingrickthings

Rick closed his eyes, hands gripping the sheets, spreading his legs slightly more, taking deep breaths, arching his head back, nipples so hard, skin so sensitive- her movements were making the sheets slide off him, he could feel the soft fresh breeze against his skin, he was shivering a little, her warm lips seeming even more heavenly. Why was she doing that? Hours earlier he thought she probably would kill him or try to extract info from him...but...she was offering so much love...he was blushing so hard, feeling so....appreciated. It had been years since he had anything with anyone. He wasn't sure how to call her...he wanted to mutter her name... She wasn't stopping...the movements continued firm, her lips even tighter- Rick started to tense his pelvis a little so he held the pleasure a little longer- Just whimpers, he was focused as well, feeling every inch she was caressing with her tongue. "Fox...mnm.....mn...." Rick was trying to warn her he was close, would it be rude if he came while she was....? "Ahn....Fox.....Fox...." His breathing got faster, his nose all red due to the blushing, his cheeks feeling warm.

Then she took his hand to her head...that was so sweet... He opened his eyes, gently running his fingers through her hair, nails scratching softly her temple, thumb caressing her ear gently- he never pushed or pulled her head, he just gave comfort, ran his fingers though her hair, his hand was warm- pausing every time she squeezed around him- Rick never imagined she would fuck him like that, making him crazy with her lips only- and her teeth. His whole body tensed when she sank her nails in his thigh. He could have tried to move, to roll- but things were perfect as they were, pleasure floating like magical hearts from her lips all over his body. "Ahn....ahn.....mngh..." The moans and little whimpers were impossible to hold, more cum started to escape, slowly, it was making him crazy, her soft caressing wasn't strong enough to make him come, keeping this plateaou of pleasure so high. "Mngh......nn...nnn......" His groans started to get longer, as well as his breathing

Suddenly she started pulling out, so slowly, her teeth pressing and dragging over him. "AAAhnm....Arghm....Mngh.....mnghhnmmnghhh...." He tensed on the bed, a small amount of cum leaving his tip as she squeezed him, he was so so close to coming, but the pleasure alone was almost as satisfying...it wasn't ending.... She looked at him, asked him if it felt good. Of course it did- He was fully naked under her eyes, completely vulnerable, looking at her, not moving one inch. "Mnm....yeah...." Rick muttered sweetly, lips parted, and when she went down on him again, he parted his lips even more, not letting any sound out, just breathing, hips slowly and subtly starting to rock- his eyes got teary due to the pleasure, finally he came, the cum coming out in many little jets, one after the other- as he released it, he also released the air from his lungs, body slowly tensing and then relaxing on the bed. "Fox....ahn....hn..." Finally his breathing slowed down, she was still doing it...he felt his dick almost fully numb, the areas she had stimulated the most- and as she was licking around it, she was making other areas of his arousal get slow little climaxes, whenever she caressed the area between his head and his shaft, he tensed in pleasure, little spasms releasing the rest of him cum- she made him come again, even more slowly this time- he felt all numb...and then shivering...and then all sensible, specially his balls and nipples, his ears, his head- the sensation was absolutely heavenly.

@vuulpecula

#rickgrimesdoingrickthings #x | v. so when you see my face remember to run; and when you hear my name go load up your gun ( TWD FOUR. ) #x | SPICE SPICE SPICE.

[vuulpecula]

Toes curling, thighs squeezing tightly, the only indication above the water at what was happening beneath the surface was the flare of her nostrils, the slight blink of her gaze. Lids making the movement that they were going to close yet not committing to the motion. Focused still on Thexan and the apology she could read in his expression. Confused still, hesitant without knowing the rules of the game that was being played.

Body caught between wanting to give into her husband's fingers, his mouth against her skin and moving away. Leaving the bath as quickly as she had come, leaving temptation in her wake and nothing more.

"You flatter me," Fox sighed, lifting his chin with one wet finger. Removing his mouth from her skin if only to focus fully on reading his expression, understanding what was transpiring. Her other hand held to his wrist, tightly, expecting at any moment that he may dunk her beneath the water--punishment for what had transgressed between her and his brother. Pushing, holding her there as easily as Thexan had done with his own hand. The hand she could not help but wonder about.

"I do not like being left out of conversation," she continued, batting her lashes at him. Playing at being innocent when she was anything but.

"I wish to show off my lovely, lovely wife," low, from deep within his chest.

Perhaps he was cruel. Perhaps he was many things.

Arcann placed his palm against her lower belly, not yet touching her where he longed to. His mouth moved from her neck to her shoulder, not quite as a tender as he ought to be. Marking her, just enough, to let her fair skin blossom in pink and red. Something to show in the wake of his desire, possessive and hungry.

Thexan, meeting Fox's eyes, did little to explain what had transpired between them. The fear that speaking it aloud might somehow upset the strange and exciting tension growing between them, around them. He'd the grace to at least seem apologetic himself, even as his hand drifted low, lower yet, beneath the warm water.

His counterpart, though, was far less so. No reason to turn that amber gaze anywhere aside from Fox, his mouth pressed to her in motions deceptively sensuous as they were deliberate. The hand on her belly sank lower, downward, until it hovered, stilled itself. Just for a moment, long enough to tease her, before finally settling, his fingers slowly beginning to probe and explore.

#deficd #x | v. though hope is frail it’s hard to kill ( STAR WARS THREE. ) #x | SPICE SPICE SPICE.

[vuulpecula]

You must do what it takes to survive. The Reverend Mother in her intricate robes and towering headdresses, advised. A twin sentiment to that of her sister. Make them adore you. Fox had thought of those words of wisdom as she joined those she knew she must now consider family. Trying to ignore the lingering scent of iron--strange how it almost felt like home--skin itching beneath the unfamiliar fabrics. Too light, too rubbery against her skin. All to please her husband.

Milky white nails, sharpened, polished, near iridescent in the strange light of the place raking along his thigh. Half-lidded looks cast his way. A well placed smile. The licking of a knife, ridding it of the remains of foods she was still not quite used to. Nostrils flaring with the movement.

Now, in the complete lack of privacy the hall offered, ordering, demanding him to be quiet--Feyd-Rautha--lest he call near curious ears and eyes. Or worse, those pets of his.

Air catching in her throat, Fox parted her lips to allow herself to breathe. Sucking in what she could with his hand around her throat. Was it excitement she felt? Not simply that of the building anticipation, but something deeper, just past where he was rutting against her, within her. Black fabric pooled at his feet, ripped, ruined, a veritable puddle of blood in the terrible light of the place. It hurt her eyes. The white and the black. Gave her headaches that brought forth a rush of blood from her nose when first she came. Not red, but black. So dark against the white of her skin that it had made her ill to think about. Now, she thought of other colors. The colors of bodies, the pinks and browns, the tans and creams, the reds and oranges--not this black and white.

Obediently, Fox did not make a sound. Did not answer in any way that could be considered speech. There were gasps, soft, involuntary whines as her brows knitted. Manicured nails biting toward the hand that held both of hers in place, fingers curling down. Gaze heavy-lidded as she looked not at his own, but rather, his mouth. The teeth that disappeared within the black hole of it, making him appear toothless. He was a terrible creature, fearsome, but seeing him in this way, imagining that his cruel smile was nothing more than a gummy curve--it was enough to make her chest constrict with the softest lilt of laughter.

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐀 👀 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 || @vuulpecula sent in [QUIET]: sender orders receiver to be more quiet, for Feyd! || selectively accepting.

He's never noticed his own sinews before, how they push against his flesh at each flex, movement, pull of tendons.

White knuckled, fingers pressed just against her pulse point-- thrumming, thrumming. Harkonnen silks look just as good on her, better, than the fabrics she'd been rebelliously keeping from her world. All blue and silver, like the glittering snow. Feyd-rautha keeps her in black, black, black. The very same that he twirls between his fingers, the fabric torn from her bodice.

In these dark corridors, with the slight light that filters from the glowglobes that languidly hover above, they're both stark white and the darkness that lives between the stars. She'd been teasing him all evening, with those sultry looks, manicured nails along his thigh beneath the dinner table. How could she expect him to wait? Maybe, maybe she hadn't.

Not with her scent in his lungs, her taste on his tongue. He feels her in the pores of his teeth and binds her wrists with his hands-- just one to hold them both over her head. The other, oh, the other tightens hold around her throat, just enough, when she has the audacity to bid him silent for each growl, each breath.

"You be quiet, wife," breath hot, humid against the shell of her ear, all warning and threat, all lust and black teeth. He ruts against her, hard, until she remembers who he is. What they are becoming together. "Not a sound."

#deficd #x | v. i must not fear. fear is the mind-killer ( DUNE ONE. ) #x | SPICE SPICE SPICE. #[ hi i'm already obsessed with this ]

[vuulpecula]

It was not that Fox viewed Mark as incapable of murder, the crime scene photos she had seen had proved that he was more than capable. It was the chance, the smallest sliver of a chance, that something would go wrong. Even if the odds were ninety-nine to one in Mark's favor, that measly one percent would keep her up at night. It'd gnaw at her stomach until any sense of hunger was gone. It'd bore holes into her bones, leave her aching, hollow. She said none of this to him, of course, because saying things aloud often made them true. Was she ready to admit that even with a one-percent chance that he would not make it out, the thought of losing him was capable of destroying the carefully constructed world around her.

Instead of answers, Fox left him with silence. Working along side him, pouring over files and emails, making phone calls and checking lab results. Loathe to leave the confines of her office. Usually, if she were to space off, her gaze would find the window and the sky above or the streets below. Today, they dared not even glance that way. Instead, her thoughts left her staring at the labels on filing cabinets or the dark lines of ink blurring together on the countless documents held within her hands. Mark had said she'd be able to do it without him, at least most of it, but could she? All these cases he was helping close... Did he not understand how invaluable he was?

The day ticked on quicker than she would have liked and she held her breathe from the elevator to the car. Gaze low lest she be caught checking the windows of every other vehicle that drove by or was parked near. Paranoia exhausting her even if she did not give into the checking. Still, she could not stop the near constant glancing to the rear-view mirror, looking for any that appeared to be following.

Alexei was everywhere and nowhere. She thought she saw him standing near a paper stand, coffee in hand, a wind blowing open his coat--a blink revealed it was only a man, a stranger, flipping through the grey pages. He was the face of a cabbie that passed them by. A father who knelt to tie the shoes of his son. Fox was trying to keep any and all of her own reactions, the fear that soaked through her hollowed out bones tempered, hidden from Mark. Even so, her knuckles were white as they gripped the wheel and her hand shook as she unlocked the door to the flat. Not able to close it quick enough. Spine crawling with spiders. Certain that there was a monster at the bottom of the stairs, one that would follow no matter if the light was off or on.

Fox had mumbled something about being tired; left Mark alone. She showered in scalding water, scrubbing her skin until it was red and raw. Clean. Too tired for lotion, too numb to do more than bundle her wet hair atop her head and pull into soft pajamas. Sliding into bed, beneath the blankets, wishing that she could just sleep and ignore dealing with what she yet had to do. Sleep did not come and she found herself instead staring at a mark in the wall. The dark scratch of missing paint.

Time did not exist. She did not know how long it had been nor what time it was when Mark came in. Bringing with him something that made her stomach immediately tighten, reminding her of the hunger that had disappeared. He moved her and she let him, gaze shifting toward him only as he leaned down to kiss her ear. Hardly able to see him from the corner of her eye. She wanted to ask him to stay, more than anything, she wanted to ask him not to go anywhere, not to leave, but the words caught in her throat.

"I'm tired," Fox decided on instead. Admitting for perhaps the first time to anyone the toll that her job, her life, her history had taken. "I'm so tired."

@rickgrimesdoingrickthings

Mark's face was everything but indifferent at he office, as Fox stood in front of him. He could feel her pain- in the past he already had felt exactly like that- just like that, so lost that even a phone two rooms away would hit like a siren inside his head.

He watched her, listened to her, calmer eyes now looking at how she paced.

"He's difficult. But I'm difficult too."

Suddenly, Mark seemed so serious, so dangerous- that same stare she had seen in that hospital bathroom weeks ago, when they had met.

"I know. He wouldn't let you go. He would keep chasing...making you uncomfortable...so uncomfortable to know he would be everywhere you went...that you wouldn't be able to do anything. He...did that to me, briefly. I could notice that."

He sighed, those dangerous eyes on his face, as if Mark had dropped the soft mask and let it break. That serious face, tired relaxed eyelids- he almost seemed like someone else, not acting gentle or aloof.

"Your purpose is to solve that pile of cases. It will be historic when you get them all done, and you don't need me to do that. All my notes, all the files I gathered, you could do it on your own if you had to, and even if you couldn't figure out one case or the other, I'm sure you'd be able to solve most of them."

Mark smiled a little bit- a shadow of a smile- he almost couldn't hide how proud of her he had become.

"You're implying no one can touch this man? Not even the police? Not even a killer."

Mark also crossed his arms, resting his hip against the desk, mirroring her. Had she forgotten who Mark Richards was? WHAT he was? He tilted his head slowly, eyes deep in thought as he looked at Fox and frowned a very little bit.

"Not even me?"

He took a deep breath, voice so calm.

Definitely, he had changed. Not that dork, aloof hyperactive hiperfocused mess of a gentleman anymore- that Mark seemed as good as gone. This man...his eyes were cold, his thoughts were cold- having that little breakdown, seeing Fox had been touched, had been harmed right in front of him- that sure turned a switch inside Mark's head. He seemed just like the one fro the day Fox and him had met. That creature.

"Stay away from him?"

He widened his eyes a bit.

Mark wanted to hunt him. Slash his neck, drink his blood, watch his eyes lose their light....drop him on the floor and roll his eyes at the metallic taste in his tongue. He blinked a few times.

Did she think he had no chance against Alexei?

....

His ego got a bit hurt, but his emotions were almost fully turned off by the moment- determination and hate being most of what was left, keeping Mark's dopamine going. If she said such a thing...it was because Alexei sure was something else.

"If he tries to touch you again, I kill him. I will even have an excuse."

He spoke calmly-

Alexei sure could be cold, talking sweetly while his true urge was to kill- however Mark, he didn't even had to act his coldness- he was completely, absolutely calm.

Moments before, the watch on Fox's wrist showed yellow because he had been clearly agitated, but now, it was not showing blue- it was showing "sleep".

Mark was so calm, his heart was so slow that the device read as if he was sleeping.

His dead eyelids, covering almost half of his orbs, every movement of him slow and calculated.

He kept watching her.

Then Fox said it. She said she couldn't lose him.

At first he didn't understand- she could handle the cases on her on, he had said it already- but...

Then it hit him.

His lips parted a bit, a soft brief look of happiness and kindness soon became something of an almost vile smile, a silent chuckle, a smile he even showed his teeth.

"Fox....come on."

Mark's arrogant smile was branded on his face.

"You....not wanting to lose me? I've been making your life a hell for a while."

He just felt so adored that she cared. Maybe it was mutual...the feeling?

After some seconds staring her, he finally moved. Got her a coffee, organized the pile of files, continued to work, gave her time to process everything.

Even after she saw the pictures of what Mark had done to his victims...she still felt empathy for him. She still had...received him with warm embraced when she found out about his past- and oh how he hated that she had seen him so fragile. But still, he was formidable, he knew he was.

While she seemed clearly anxious, thoughts wandering through the afternoon, he worked the whole day with her, not feeling anything but the pleasure of being in her presence, and that sense of protectiveness and adoration that had been growing about Fox.

She was his goddess to remain untouched by the dirty hands of her father. He would adore her altar with Alexei's blood- he would. He promised himself that.

The sunset orange purple magic was hitting the windows when they returned to the flat.

It was night and he knew she was resting, wondering about things, having intrusive thoughts.

Slowly, he entered her room, didn't even knock, stepped inside like a silent shadow, placed a tray with a couple of croissants and some tea with milk for her on the bedside table. Quiet like a cat, he slipped onto bed by her side, but instead of curling on her lap as usual, this time he took her and pulled to his lap, wrapping both arms around her, protectively. Then, he kissed her ear- the ear he had hurt weeks before. He rested his face against the top of her head and remained silent. His hands were often cold, but his body was so warm.

@vuulpecula

#rickgrimesdoingrickthings #x | v. i don’t sleep i just dream ( MODERN EIGHT. ) #murder tw #violence tw #ptsd tw #anxiety tw #long post for ts

[vuulpecula]

Weeping. It had been what she'd done endlessly. From her eyes, from her heart, it spilled out of her like an open wound, tear and tear until she had a near constant saline drip for a few days. Curled up in a chair next to Pavel's bed, close enough to touch his limp hand and never reaching for it. Hadn't she done enough to him? The doctors and nurses, they all said he might not wake up, but they were being optimistic. It made her sick knowing that his survival was hinged on hope and not standard medical practices. There was never a guarantee that a patient would wake up from a coma and before him--all solo runs, unintentional or not, ended fatally.

For the first week, she said nothing. Guilt clamped her jaw shut and she was afraid, afraid that he would hear her voice and awake only to tell her that it was all her fault. That she should feel awful and guilty. It was her doing that had brought him here and should he die...no amount of washing had rid his blood from her hands, if he died, it would remain there forever. She would drown in it.

After a while, she hobbled in on crutches, books wedged beneath her arms. Fox read to him in Russian because one of the doctor's said he might be able to hear even if he could not react. She imagined if he could hear, then he must be terribly bored laying in the bed all day, the sounds of machines clicking and whirling around him. She read him the words of others because she still could not bear to give him her own. When all those books were done and still he had not moved or gave any indication of coming back, she went back to weeping. Daring this time, to touch his hand. To hold it, sometimes pressing the digits against her lips as she mouthed a prayer to whoever might be listening. Take me instead, she begged, save him, please, he does not deserve to die.

Absently, she heard the conversations held by the staff. They spoke of how long they should keep him there, sustained by the machines around him. He could breathe on his own, Fox held to that, if he could breathe on his own, then he could live. They just had to let him keep breathing.

Fox stayed with him as long as she was allowed and at times past that. Sitting in the dim light of his room as the day shift turned to night, holding one of his hands between both of her own. The small cuts upon his skin had healed, but there were still scabs and pale lines were the flesh continued to knit. Often, she rubbed the pad of her thumbs over them, trying to read him like braille. She never could never figure out the words until they came spilling. They came out in great gasps of air, lungs heaving as the letters and tears choked her. Bent over his bedside, dampening his sheets with all the things she had been holding.

"I am so, so sorry, Pashka, do not forgive me, please. Do not ever forgive me." Her soft voice shook with a sob. "I have no right to ask anything of you, not after what I did, what I've done, what I've said and how I treated you--but please, please, do not leave. I cannot live in this world without you." The tears were so heavy that she couldn't make out the features of his face as she begged. "You do not deserve that, you do not deserve this, Pashka, please, wake up, come back. Come back, Pashka, please, please. I'm sorry." She shook her head. "You do not need to speak to me, I will not try to be in your life, I will disappear if that is what you want, I will do anything you ask, just please, come back and ask. I would rather lose you living than to ever know that you are not here. Pashka, please, please." The variations of what she wanted continued until her throat was raw and her head throbbed. A nurse came in and told her she should go back to her own quarters to rest. They had all witnessed it. The grief. No one had the stomach to interrupt. Exhausted, Fox hadn't fought it, but she did stop in the doorway to give him one last look. Tomorrow, she would come back tomorrow with another book, and she would try again.

Dr. McCoy with his ever present frown, was examining Pavel's charts when the change occurred. The first one in a long while that actually seemed to indicate anything other than a muscle spasm. At first, he did not look up, and then he heard the young man speak and his brows were raising with surprise. "My god, man," he exclaimed. "You're awake!" Immediately, he sprung into action, other members of the staff entering to assist. They all shared excited glances, surprised looks, and a few apprehensive frowns. What if he was waking up now only to slip away from them completely? In all the room, everyone held their breath.

"You're in the medical wing," Dr. McCoy informed him, staring intently into Pavel's now open eyes, assessing his pupils. "Do you know who you are? Do you remember what happened?"

In here, everything is calm. The darkness envelops him gently, soothingly, cradling him in its arms with soft promises of rest. Its voice is everywhere and nowhere—you're safe now—and the agonising pain of his mind being splintered, fractured into thousands of pieces when he lost—lost—

—did I lose something?—

—it doesn't matter—

—is whisked away by tendrils of curling finger-like shadows that reach into his broken mind, lovingly and gently weaving all the pieces back together.

Waves of warmth ripple through him, lapping at his body with an easy rhythm until he is fully submerged. It covers his mouth, his nose, his face, and perhaps he should be terrified, but the warmth steals everything from him that is not comfort, promising that no harm will befall him here.

Terrified. Has he ever known such a word? A feeling?

Of course not. Why would he? How could he, when nothing can hurt him here?

And yet, something sharp begins to claw at his chest. It digs and digs and digs, crushing him beneath a frozen weight, and a single word slams back into his mind, silencing the calming voice he'd tried to give himself over to—pain.

The feeling, that horrible feeling of all-encompassing pain, quickly barrels into him when his heart is yanked out of his chest and Pavel tries to scream, but nothing comes out but a strangled gasp that signals his return to the living.

His chest rises and falls with each laboured breath. The motion is slow, barely perceptible, but the will to live is there even though he never once opens his eyes, never stirs in Fox's arms.

-

"What do you have, Rodriguez?" Hazen's grip is firm on the controls as she eases them into a steady descent. "That's Breaker all right. What's left of 'er anyway. Are we too late?"

Rodriguez slides open the chopper door and leans her head out the window, fixated on the two human-shaped figures collapsed on the ground. "I've got strong bio-readings from Alkaev's suit. But—" Her eyes go wide.

"Wait, I've got the kid! Barely, but I got him."

A deafening roar shakes the atmosphere.

"Fuck, we've got to move. You know what to do, right?"

Rodriguez rolls her eyes. "You're gonna tell me how to do my job? Just make sure we don't crash. And try not to fly towards a kaiju this time." Hazen flips the bird to Rodriguez and her team's backs as they hop out of the chopper.

Their extraction is a flurry of activity, undercut by the mounting urgency of the situation. Hurried whispers of, he's dying circulate through the team, muttered gravely under their breaths to keep the possibility from Fox as a team tends to her injuries, lending an arm to ease the burden on her ruined ankle.

Hazen shouts something from the cockpit that earns her an irritated flick of the wrist from Rodriguez and the moment the chopper door slams shut, she takes off, leaving Breaker's lifeless husk behind.

-

Sometimes, Pavel thinks he can hear people talking to him. Voices flit about at the edges of his consciousness, some calm and even, some frantic and hurried, and every once in a while, he is reminded of his name—Pavel.

Sometimes, he thinks he hears them say that there has been no change. That they aren't sure if he's going to be alright. Pavel doesn't understand. Why are they ignoring him?

Once, he even thought he heard Fox's voice beside his head, broken apologies half-whispered in-between stifled sobs. He'd convinced himself he was hallucinating. That his mind had chosen Fox's voice as a remnant of those final moments as a way to comfort him, to break up the monotonous darkness.

Still, he tried so desperately to reach out, but the darkness kept him strapped down to something solid and trapped him in the middle of this labyrinth with no hope of escape. No matter how he reached for his limbs, they never obeyed. Unlike the first darkness, there was no soothing presence here, no pleasant voice promising the world; this beast controlled him, stole his voice and his autonomy until all he could do was place itself at its mercy and scream a silent plea for help while it laughed.

There are days he imagines a room that looks like a highly equipped medical facility. He is laying on one of the beds, trapped in the aether, while the formless voices take on humanoid shapes as they flit about, performing their duties. Every time he tries to speak, they ignore him or they answer the wrong question, something so far removed from what he actually asked that he has to wonder if he's forgotten how to speak English and they're simply humouring him.

Pavel wakes up to utter a single word—Fox?—and is blinded by bright lights that disappear in an instant.

The blackness is everywhere, permeating everything, and Pavel hates the way it refuses to let him go, even more determined to keep him after his near-escape into the light.

He hates the darkness.

He thinks of Fox. Convinces himself it wasn't just the once he heard her voice.

Today, the darkness is weak. There are cracks in its once impenetrable barrier where light slips in and when he reaches out, for the first time, he can feel something respond, heavy and foreign. Hope flares in his chest, setting off the machines at his side, and Pavel has to remind himself what it feels like to be human, to have a body and a physical form that will respond to all his commands.

How to see? Open your eyes, of course. He does so, slowly, unsure, squinting against the unfamiliar vibrancy of the world.

"Where—?"

#ensnchekov #[ CRYING SCREAMING THROWING UP ] #x | v. i'd look up at the stars; wondered if there was life up there. turns out i was looking in the wrong direction ( PACIFIC RIM ONE. )

[vuulpecula]

Cain did his best not to stare as the man ate. He felt as though he was watching a starving hound, a creature that had been beaten down in life and forgotten. Left to die in the woods, let the forest take its bones. This man, he would survive, Cain decided. As long as he remained good and true, he would survive and Cain would help him. Never had he done anything against the word of his King and he would continue not to, but would it hurt to give this man the slightest advantage? Help him where the rest of the world had not? Was that not what his King was always saying?

Anger, hatred is easy. Kindness is hard, Cain, that is why we must continue it.

Swallowing, Cain averted his gaze as the servants approached and began to help the man dress. They were simple clothes, there was no need for armor or boiled leather at this hour and after his journey. A top and bottom of the lightest blue, threadbare in places from the last owner, but at least the threads had been worn soft for him. Something Cain could not help but wonder if the man would much rather enjoy that than perhaps something freshly sewn for him.

"You do not need to thank me," he answered after a moment, turning to meet Rick's eyes with his own. Expression hard, nearly unreadable. "It is my King that you owe your thanks to." He waited until the others were done, gathering up the damp towels and the now empty platter. They both left the room for a moment and it was then he took a moment to speak. Features softening slightly as if it was a family member he was speaking to.

"You will be tested," he warned. "In order to stay, you must pass these tests." He paused to listen for footsteps. "I cannot tell you what they are or when they will come, but know that your trial will begin and soon." He pursed his lips. "At times, you may be attacked, I warn you only to make you aware that no true harm will come to you during this unless you should provoke it. I will apologize now for any discomfort I may cause." He bowed his head. Cain's own father had but one hand, the other had been lost in a battle as he reached out to stop a sword from crashing into his shield-man. He had been the strongest and wisest man that Cain had known, gone too soon by the hands of Negan and his ilk. He had been unable to save his father, but perhaps he could give this man who reminded him some of the man, his help.

"Can you walk?" Cain abruptly changed the conversation as the others returned, standing from his chair. "I will take you to your chambers now to rest. The physician will likely be waiting for us there." Even though he had asked Rick if he was capable of walking, he still offered out his arm. Sturdy enough to support him and strong enough to carry him should the need arise.

@rickgrimesdoingrickthings

Rick was glad Cain had stopped staring him. He was visibly more relaxes. As they removed his rags, he tensed and curled his shoulders, wincing at the pain and at the cold, but it didn't take long for him to warm up due to the water and steam. He kept his head low, not staring the servants, to show respect.

He noticed their eyes on him, made him feel even more nude than he actually was. Marks and wounds told stories, and he didn't want anyone to know about his- it hurt him he had to tell it, but when they showed so much care while holding and cleaning him, it made him feel taken care of. The way they washed him rubbed the soft warm clothes all over him with so much care, it started to make him calm down, tense muscles finally and slowly relaxing.

In some minutes, he got used to them, and in a couple more, he was relaxed enough to start to blush at their touches, nose getting red, face still downwards, eyes on the water, so warm and clean. He wasn't ready for such...caresses in a way? His eyes got teary. That felt so good. He felt assisted, taken care of- Rick hugged his thin self with his arms under water, he could feel his nipples hard at the touches, he joined his knees a little, closing his eyes when they started to wash his hair. His curls were showing. He wondered if they would hate him because of them, like in the culture of his previous city- he wondered if they would shave his hair, if he was going to be a slave- but right now, all that was so heavenly.

He was almost sleeping as they washed his hair, lips parting as he slowly sank more- when they pulled him a bit above the water again, he opened his eyes wide, waking up from the half sleep relaxation, the expression on his face almost funny- and then he felt all that water rinsing his hair- he let out a low muffled relieved moan.

Eventually, they were done, let go of him- and he was already awake enough to remain sitting on his own, both arms on his crotch, even if he was immersed, the water was so clean it was quite transparent when there was no soap.

"I...I...can I...stay a little longer?" Rick muttered, the water still too relaxing for him to leave- and he was shy to just stand naked in front of them, specially since his body was still responding to all those caressess, and that was beyond his will.

Before he could say anything else, the food was brought into the bathroom. Gods. The scent. His mouth watered, he even stood, stomach and crotch slightly pressed against the rocky limits of the large narural tub.

His eyes quickly paced, looking at Cain and then to the food- was it his?? He could....could he eat it?? His stomach started to growl.

"Can I...? Can I eat now? P...p...please...?"

Damn, the food right there making him salivate, such a feral tempted stare formed in his eyes.

As soon as the cook set the tray on the rocky surface, Rick approached it, looked at Cain, then at the food- yes, he realized it was for him, so he didn't lose time, starting to eat- drinking the milk, sinking his teeth into the meal, seeming a bit desperate at first, but slowly calming down, savoring the food, sitting again, letting the water cover most of his body.

He ate it all, licking the dishes, not leaving one drop of milk or one bit of food behind. It felt so good to be warm, clean and not starving.

When he was done, he closed his eyes for a while, took his time relaxing more, resting, until he finally took the towel, slowly drying the upper part of his body, keeping one of the clothes over his shoulders while he finally stepped out of the water, curling shyly as he dried the rest of his body, he used it to wrap himself. What was going to help him now? Would he be made a slave? Was all this...them offering him one last moment of pleasure before they sacrificed him? It...it would be alright, honestly, he was so tired. At least he would die with some decency.

"Mm...thank you..."

@vuulpecula

#rickgrimesdoingrickthings #x | v. you have everything and still the world holds no joy ( HISTORIC EIGHT. )

[vuulpecula]

Alexei smiled at his own reflection as the doors of the elevator slid shut. He knew what he was going to do for the rest of the day, he had a purpose now. One that would kill the time between this moment and the next. Hardly glancing at the phone in his hand as he dialed the number, he hardly waited for an answer before he began speaking in his native tongue. "Bring the car around, find somewhere to park in view of the building, we will be staying here a while."

Within the confines of her office, the room felt too large and too small all at once. There was an urge she felt to clean, one that only heightened as Mark pressed the damp napkin to her cheek. How was it that the skin could feel numb and burn? Mentally, she began to make a list of all that needed to be done. Piles of paperwork to straighten, her desk to wipe down, the windows, the floor--she'd ask the custodians if they would vacuum her office twice; they'd done so for her before.

Mark's hug pulled her from her thoughts and for a moment, there was nothing buzzing around in her head. For a moment, as their bodies touched with the movement, everything was silent.

I'll kill him. Even if it's the last thing I do.

Fox looked at him, her mouth hanging open partially as she processed the words. "Mark," she fumbled, taking a step back, fingers running through her hair. The world was back around them, the cars honking, sirens blaring, the sounds of life. Somewhere down the hall, someones desk phone rang and rang. "He--He's difficult." She settled on, unsure how to tell him that had she not agreed, he would not have left. He would have stayed and if he'd been forced out of the building, he'd be in the street, waiting outside her flat, in the back of whatever café they stopped in. He would be there, a shadow waiting to strike. He always got his way.

There was so much about Alexei Alkeav that he did not know, that she did not have the stomach to tell him. The man was controlling, abusive, a criminal in every sense of the word--that much she had divulged. Fox had told him of how he liked to play games, how he acted more spider torturing his prey than a father. Yet, he was family. If Mark knew more would he still be looking at her that way?

"My purpose is keeping you alive," she answered back, arms crossing. When it came to Alexei, she would not stop protecting Mark, because she knew that look in her father's eyes. She knew he wanted to kill the other man and he clearly knew very little about him. Once he learned more... It was a thought for another time, not here and now when she was feeling raw. An exposed nerve ready to spark at any moment.

"Mark, you can't. We can't. He isn't--" There had been many people who had tried to end Alexei's life already. They always ended up dead and sometimes, he made sure their family died with them. Severing family trees from root to leaf. "You need to stay away from him, alright? I don't you going near him, being alone with him, anything like that. I can't--" Her words caught at the back of her throat and she turned from him a moment to hide the emotion. "I can't lose you either." He had said his life would be meaningless without her and she would think on it later, when there was room in her head. At night when she thought of him sleeping across the flat wondering shamefully if he was laying there thinking about her.

@rickgrimesdoingrickthings

When Alexei told Mark he was mistaking him for someone else, his stare already got more dangerous- playing around? Then, the man was about to tell him to hold his tongue- his eyes got more murderous than before. But then Fox came and everything changed.

That man became even more repulsive, with that sweet smile, fake and true at the same time, pretending a legit smile while showing the pleasure he felt to have Fox still clued to his strings, a pleasure that leaked all the pleasure he had already had with her- Mark knew, it was the same smile he gave his own victims in the last moment he ended their lives- it was the pleasure of feeling powerful- a god in someone else's life.

Fox was clearly angry, and when she said yes...

When she agreed, Mark's heart started to panic. What?? She said yes?? No way...was she indeed still locked between the palms of that man? His eyes got teary, full of revolt. And then the worse, Alexei was approaching her, and fuck- why had Fox stepped slightly ahead of him? That way Mark wouldn't be able to be fast enough to stab the guy's neck with his pen- he wouldn't be able to try properly- he wouldn't be able to defend her...who was...part of him- Fox was part of him...part of his soul...an extension of his existence...he was obsessed with her- and then to see Alexei kiss her cheek...Mark unable to do anything as the man was so close to her...could hurt her, take her hostage, snap her neck with his large hands...

When he saw Alexei kiss her face, a pair of tears rolled down Mark's face. It was absolute hate. Absolute disgust. Watching that man touch her was such a big frustration- it was a violence. Mark's face changed. All that polite, gentle, aloof, neutral expression he always held like a mask broke. Broke violently. His pupils even contracted a bit, the urge to kill so big.

He wanted to grab some weapon and go kill Alexei. That moment. Right there. But he knew he couldn't- if his body moved to kill, the adrenaline released, the substances released in his blood due to the contracting muscles, his heart rate, blood pressure- the damn watch would reach red and the damn alarm would sound...and every police officer in that damn building would fly over him to contain him. The watch was alreasy on yellow...just because of his anxiety, stress. If he moved to kill...the red wouldn't fail to sound...and they probably would take him away from her...lock him for some hours or days...or interrogate him, examine him- and he wouldn't be able to help.

If he intended to kill that man, it would have to be coldly or if aggressively, it would have to be fast. In a way there would be no time for anyone to intervene.

Before he had wondered if losing his freedom, his life- wondered if it was a cost way too high for trying to take that man's life. After all, he was useful to Fox, he could protect her, help her thrive- his presence was positive for her existence, wasting it would be bad for her.

But after seeing Alexei kissing her, he was sure. He had to end that man, even if it was the last thing he did.

Mark took a napkin, applied some alcohol in it and walked to Fox, gently cleaning her cheek, brushing the fabric gently and firmly, to remove from her skin anything Alexei- from his dirty cells and saliva to the sensation of the kiss that probably still lingered on her skin. When Mark was done, he pulled her into a firm hug- he also shared that agony, he held her for some seconds, and when he let go, he nuzzled against her cheek.

"I'll kill him. Even if it's the last thing I do."

Richards had felt it. The pressure of that man- and it had pressured and suffocated her for so long...he could feel...in her eyes, in her breath...-all that empathy Mark had buried was shouting for her- it was greater than the love he felt for himself.

"He didn't tell me anything relevant. Said he wanted to meet you, then insisted on staying." Mark tilted his head softly at her.

"You don't have to worry about me. I'm used to deal with other monsters. And you're more important- never try to shield me again like that....my greatest purpose now is..." He looked away. "Is...you...okay, fine, alright?" Mark sighed. "Solving cases with you...talking to you...you...you understand me, we have fun together...we...we have a purpose...and...if you're gone then everything will be meaningless again."

It was hard to explain. He felt like he lived in her- that he would still live in her if he was gone. "I do...appreciate being shielded...it makes me feel...valuable. However, you're more valuable. To me you protecting me is the same as...as...as...wearing gloves of...gold to clean...shit...okay...?"

Mark was tripping on his words, his brain firing so high- so many thoughts, the stress made him twitch a little- his legs went a bit weak, his body tensed a few times and felt numb, his eyes rolled back for a couple of seconds but he didn't lose consciousness- a small convulsion that happened sometimes when he stressed too much, one of the reasons he had trained hismelf to always remain calm- turn his emotions off- consequences of the physical brain damage he had taken when he was little. It was probably the first time she was seeing it, he had never felt so much revolt and hate and agony while in front of her before- she had never seen him glitch like that before. It lasted less than 4 seconds, and soon he was already walking around, pacing a little. "We need to form a plan...to kill him. Even if we have to arrest him first somehow...we need to end that man...disable him...do...something...so he can't harm you anymore."

@vuulpecula

#rickgrimesdoingrickthings #x | v. i don’t sleep i just dream ( MODERN EIGHT. ) #crime tw #abuse mention tw #cptsd tw #ptsd tw

[vuulpecula]

While he slept, Fox lingered around the house, looking at things she hadn't taken the time to look at before. Intent on making herself move around. It made it a little easier to ignore the wind howling outside the house, pushing on its walls, making it creak. The home had clearly stood for awhile, surely it could withstand one more storm...? Still, it'd be better for them to remain on the ground floor. Thoughts of sliding onto one of the mattresses in the bedrooms above were banished from her mind. They were probably dusty, anyhow, stuffed with goose feathers on a bed that was far too old for box springs.

Then, she was back to him. Pretending not to see the parts of his body that were considered private. Fox worried as he shivered, frowned at the reactions he was having--was Rick already falling ill? Though she wrote it off as exposing him to the less than warm air of the house. If only it had been one of those July thunderstorms, when it got so hot and humid that you had to keep the windows open even as it rained.

"Don't worry," Fox soothed. She'd get herself warm soon enough; her hands and arms lingered in the water when she helped him in. Loathe to remove them and feel the bite of air again. Soon, she promised herself, soon. "I won't get sick," she assured him, as if saying the words would somehow banish all germs and viruses, anything about to sick its teeth into their weakened immune systems. They couldn't afford to get sick, so she wouldn't.

"Shh," she shushed him quietly, a sound softer than the wind, as she dried her hands. Turning her back to him to offer him as much privacy as was possible as she returned to the side of the room that held the kitchen. Did it count as an open-concept if it was also obviously a one-room house? Obviously, the upstairs had been an added addition. Once upon a time the bedroom, the kitchen, the dining room, all of it would have been here. Her heart tightened. There were people who lived here, happy and content in their one-room. They had lived and loved and grown in this house, passed it down their family line until it was abandoned with the rest of the world. She and Rick, they didn't even have that. They barely had what they could carry and even that felt insurmountable most days.

"I won't let you die," she said toward the window, more to herself than him. "Relax, rest, you've done so much for us already. Just..." What? Pretend it didn't happen? Act like nothing going on outside the old walls surrounding them mattered? She chewed her lip, listening to the soft sounds of his limbs rising and falling from the water. Clearly he was washing or doing something like that with the hard, yellowed bar of soap she had found upstairs. "Just rest, alright? You need it." You've been carrying us, the world, for so long, don't your shoulders hurt?

@rickgrimesdoingrickthings

Rick, smiled a little bit at her comment. Not strong, just Russian. Despite the brief smile, there was still a sleepy and painful and tired expression on his face. She told him to sleep a little longer...so he did. He relaxed and remained curled, still, warm. Rick could feel his muscles healing, bones stopping to ache. Fox had saved him, wrapping him like that.

She said he didn't need to be ashamed. She was right. They had almost died, and they already had lost so much, he was glad he still had her. He was so glad. Rick relaxed more at her words. The sound of the water pouring, warming up, the soft steam- it all helped him sleep- they were calming sounds compared to the wild storm outside, the thunders making him curl and tense when white flashes illuminated the house. The wind and strikes of wild rain outside was enough to destroy any walkers nearby, trees falling, fences breaking, becoming flying blades wielded by the wind. It was definitely dangerous out there. He was glad they had found shelter as the storm seemed to be getting worse.

After some minues of sleep, he heard her voice again. Slowly he opened his eyes, feeling way more rested than before, it was evident he was recovering, not as pale anymore.

As Fox started to peel off the blankets exposing his skin, he started to blush- her touched were way too gentle...every time he felt her warm hands on him...his body did weird things, such as shivering, or that soft sweet tension he felt between his legs. "Mnm...thank you." Rick muttered as she helped him make his way to the tub. It had been the first time he was completely nude in front of her- it gave him warm shivers, his heart raced a little, he started to blush- feeling her hands and arms against his exposed self even turned him on a bit- just by wearing nothing in front of her already made him feel all warm, and against his will, a little bit excited- every brush against his body was feeling like heaven...he felt...morally wrong, even though he was the vulnerable one at the moment.

As the fresh air from the house touched his skin, he trembled again, leaning a bit more against her, his hair was such a mess, his nose and ears reddish, and now, his cheeks also. "You also need to warm up..." he muttered when he heard her sniffing. "We can't get sick..." He was so worried about her.

Finally he got into the water- what a bliss....he even moaned in relief, closing his eyes, sinking in the most he could in the large bathtub. "Thanks...wow....it's....it's very good....very very good. I thought...I thought I was going to die...but...but I'll be okay. I'll be okay soon I promise. And I'll take of you too." His voice was so emotional, cerulean eyes on her, full of gratitude and shyness.

"Good. You did an amazing work. We will make it. We just need some rest." Rick curled under the tub, washing his hair and head also, eyes heavy, closing so he could relax more. "I'm okay. I'm closing my eyes just to rest a little, but I'm listening."

@vuulpecula

#rickgrimesdoingrickthings #x | v. it changes you; either into one of them or something a lot less than the person you were ( TWD TWO. )

[vuulpecula]

✖ alright alright alright. what the heck has kept starbuck so busy ?! peep below the cut :) i miss y'all and as soon as the main reno in this dang kitchen is done, i anticipate being around a lot more. anyway, happy munday, ily'all xo.

my beautiful kitchen view ( the guy who cut that outlet hole literally works in construction -.- ); a snapping turtle from the pond ( fish incoming next week ! ); and a fun little picture from my last minute decision to tone my hair pink - enjoy i guess lol

#x | alright alright alright ( OOC. ) #x | munday. #eye contact tw #my face tw #turtle tw #x | i'm not living i'm just killing time ( QUEUE. )

[vuulpecula]

Alexei watched the other as he stumbled through his words, thinking he could tell him what to do. It was almost hilarious. Face expressionless, he moved not an inch. Even if one was watching him breathe, it would be hard to tell if his lungs were expanding or emptying. Clearly, this Richards was more than he was letting on, knew more than he was letting on, but Alexei was not going to react in any way that showed that he understood.

"You appear to have me mistaken for someone else," he answered lowly. "You have no idea what you are talking about and I suggest you hold your tongu--" His own tongue caught as Fox entered the room fully. Joining them with a frown that showed just how unhappy she was. Nostrils flaring as she held a tight lease around the anger he had gifted her with.

"Why are you here," Fox snapped, automatically moving to stand slightly ahead of Mark. Protective of him despite being the only in the room who could not be considered a serial killer. She knew Mark could likely hold his own, had obviously been, but she did not trust Alexei. Didn't trust what he might or might not have said. Did not trust his movements and she especially did not trust the way he had been examining Mark when she entered, before his matching gaze flicked to her.

"That is no way to greet your father," Alexei frowned, opening his arms. It did not take long for him to return them to behind his back when she did not move in for an embrace. "I had business nearby--you won't deny me a visit with you, will you?" The smile he gave was sacchrine, too sweet. Stomach churning. He held his daughter's gaze as if the other man was not in the room with them any longer. Fox held it back, unblinking.

"Fine." She relented after a few minutes had passed. Knowing there would be no way to avoid it. He would cause trouble until he got his way. "Tomorrow. I'll send you the details." It would give her time to think, to prepare.

Satisfied, Alexei nodded his head and moved to leave. Pausing by Fox to press a kiss to her cheek, his pale eyes glued to Mark as he did so. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Richards," he said in farewell. As he left it was as if all the air suddenly returned to the room, though Fox did not move until she heard the elevator doors shut and the machine began to descend. Rounding on Mark with an exhausted expression of worry, concern, irritation.

"What did he say to you?" She demanded, remaining close to him. In his space.

@rickgrimesdoingrickthings

That guy made Mark shiver. He could feel the danger. He could feel the intent from the other killer. He tensed a bit, still trying to look relaxed. "Yes...Richards. Please don't call me Rick...it's Richards." He smiled nervousy, trying to buy time. This Alexei was big...and if he was a dangerous criminal...Mark knew then that it wouldn't be easy. Normal people weren't alert all the time, it was easier to get them- but Alexei...he was so different. Cold. Predator. Dominant and in control.

"Well, if you have no issue waiting then....then could you please wait by the...waiting room...downstairs...?" Mark was deciding if he should make the first move and try to surprise the guy by stabbing him with the pen, but something in him alerted that the man would be ready.

Mark remained there, looking at the man- Alexei's cold smile made him cringe.

Fine.

If he wasn't leaving...no more mister patient guy.

"Please wait downstairs. I'm working here. And I doubt Fox is available to talk to you right now. Leave her alone."

Mark's eyes changed completely, into predator eyes, almost insane, he was revealing his true face to Alexei.

"Leave her life."

Even his tone changed. Colder. Intimidating. Every sign of anxiety seemed to have abandoned Mark's body. "Leave her alone."

But all broke down when Fox herself showed up.

No. Why?? Why??? He told her not to come...

Mark's eyes got wetter. All the love and attention she had been giving him...all the adoration he developed for her...

He wanted her to be happy...

@vuulpecula

#rickgrimesdoingrickthings #x | v. tba. #x | mobile.

[vuulpecula]

✖ alright alright alright. i've got a pretty packed weekend, but i'm getting my hair done today so i should have about 4 hours of idle time that i can use on mobile ! because of that, i'm going to go ICONLESS until i can catch up on drafts, messages, and & memes . i hope everyone gets to enjoy the sunshine this weekend ! xo.

#[ and i will send out the memes ive been meaning to send omg ] #x | alright alright alright ( OOC. )

[vuulpecula]

Cain answered with little more than a grunt, tossing the ruined, wet clothes to the floor when he was handed them by the two assisting Rick. Amos and Quin. In all the years he had known them, he had seldom heard them speak. Not all wounds from the time before, with the now dead King, were so easily healed. He frowned at the floor, allowing them to work in the silence they preferred for a while.

Amos helped support while Quin had removed the tattered remains of Rick's clothing. They made no comment, did not share any telling looks as they took in his ruined body. Treating him no different than any other, though perhaps with a little more care not to hurt him. Lathering soap upon his skin and wiping it clean with cloths as warm as the water. Switching who helped keep him above the water when it came time to rinse the mess from his hair. It took three separate washes to clean all the debris from his locks.

From his seat, Cain pretended not to notice. His King would want to know all the details, but something about that one--even his armored steel heart buckled.

When they were finished, Quin left their side to retrieve a length of fabric to wrap and dry the newcomer in. As she padded across the floor, reminding herself she would need to retrieve clothing for him soon after, Amos addressed Rick. "Would you prefer to stay in the water longer or I can also retrieve a chair for you if you are ready to dry."

In the entry to the room, a servant appeared--the same one from the kitchen. Carrying a tray laden with steaming bowls. Broth, warm milk, water, grains that would digest easily, a small assortments of vegetables and berries, ones picked specifically for their health benefits and of course, a large flagon of ale. Cain stood and both waited for Rick's decision. It would be no trouble if he decided to remain in the water, there were surfaces enough to place his food in the meantime and the heat of the room would help it from cooling too quickly.

@rickgrimesdoingrickthings

Rick seemed to curl more and more as Cain's eyes lingered on his amputation. He looked away, moved his forearm closer to his body as if wanting to hide, eyelids tensing in sadness and agony, as if Cain's presence was smashing his own. Normally Rick would stare back, fiercely, but all the trauma he went through, all the abuse and violence and humiliation, plus the days of wandering alone, hungry, hurt, bleeding. It seemed everything around him was some kind of violence.

He was born in a very small town, after his family had passed and he had nothing else there, he moved to the larger community he used to live as a warrior for years- and he could do so much, he was so capable, from building to planting and managing people and resources, it didn't take long for him to become one of the local baron's most important warriors.

Rick had always dealt with violences though, and it took him years to get used to them, to understand them and accept them. To start with his height- royal knights had to be very tall men, and Rick was average, hence why he never ranked up, despite being such a smart, capable fighter. Then his curly hair. It was seen as a dirty trait in the community he used to live, so he used to always keep his hair short- but now, it had grown, and the curls were showing. Then his eyes. His gray eyes also weren't very well seen in his previous community, there there was a myth about how light eyes were weaker, and made people with such traits not stand the sun well- they were considered inferior, even though such prejudice made no sense.

Then his gente, sensible personality. That also was a bad thing for his old people. But Rick never managed to change.

It was years of adapting to all those prejudices, and now, now he was in a complete different land, with a complete different culture- in the previous culture, losing an arm meant a warrior had failed to protect what he should- in this culture, it seemed a punishment caused to thieves. Thieves in the former culture were punished with slavery if they couldn't pay the double of what they stolen, or three times depending of the quality or amount of good.

The world had just changed.

Richard followed as Cain called, walking slowly, doing his best though. He was clearly tired and in pain, and now that he found a refuge, his body was even more tempted to give up. Rick's mouth salivated so hard when they passed by the kitchen, his stomach made a loud noise, he had to swallow many times to keel the saliva from dripping.

"No...you can...throw it away."

Rick answered to Cain. Those rags would only give bad memories. They still had the scent of those men, and their seed, and his blood. And the shame and humiliation.

As the hot water touched him, he started to relax, such a strong urge to faint hitting him. it felt so good. The blood and filth of his rags were so dry they didn't even get properly wet, they didn't even stain the water.

"Thank you for the hospitality. N....no I'm not that kind of man." Rick's voice was tired, but it still had energy to try and make it clear who he was. What he was.

Now he would be just a slave. A servant if he was lucky. However...considering the way he was being treated, he would gladly serve. He knew the king of that city had to be cautious. He understood and didn't mind it. He had nothing to hide. His amputated arm, the wounds and blood between his legs, the marks of brutality all over his face, his busted lips, the red stains in his eyes- Rick didn't want others staring, but he wouldn't hide if asked about it, if examined.

He was too tired for lies.

"Yes, I allow. It's...it's fine."

The man thought he was going to die. Right there, as his body relaxed. And...it would be fine. At least he wouldn't die in some plains, get eaten by animals, body abandoned in the wild for bandits and animals to violate even more.

He barely could keep his eyes open. Eventually he closed them to rest, even if he kept awake. The servants holding him made Rick's body show anxiety and trauma, heart firing, racing, and it was all against his will. His eyes were clear- he was trying to not show those signs of trauma, but he knew he needed help. He curled his shoulders to help them remove the rags, his skin was all marked, bruises and scratches, as if someone had played with his body, slashed him with a blade to cut and hurt him away from vital spots- torture. Ears, nails, nipples, lips- any sensible spot of him was bruised, red or purple. He didn't want othere imagining what had been done to him. It was hard to accept he had been so weak. He blamed himself. For being weak and stupid. Right under his bellybutton and above his pelvis, a mark had been carved with fire- the mark of the marauder who had tortured him- their group. They had said that no woman would want to sleep with him if they saw where he had been marked, where his enemy had reached. Some were marked on the neck- it meant they were slaves. Some marked on the back- it meant they carried important information and served a greater purpose, often rituals or secret recipes carved on the back of members of families who held such knowlege, often religious- marks on the forehead often meant restriction, such as when a family was submissive to another lineage, all their members were marked. Among many symbols and meaning, to be marked in such a private area meant a warrior had been tainted by the enemy- it was a proof of absolute defeat and humiliation for a man, it meant they weren't blessed by the gods of strength anymore, and that they shouldn't have chidren or they would be weak, and shouldn't be warriors anymore, had no longer the role of a male anymore- In some cultures, men having their long hair chopped off meant the same thing, but the marauders made sure to use the most brute lines the tradition had to offer- they were kind to those who admired them and extremelly brutal to those who opposed them.

They had tried to destroy Rick the most possible while still keeping him alive to live all that. Part of him hoped to get a new start, away from that awful cruel culture, away from those people- maybe this new community had something better to offer.

@vuulpecula

#rickgrimesdoingrickthings #x | v. you have everything and still the world holds no joy ( HISTORIC EIGHT. ) #food tw

[vuulpecula]

✖ i'm lurking while i do drafts but i love y'all so much <3

#x | alright alright alright ( OOC. ) #x | tbd. #[ trying to knock out a bunch so i might delay answering messages until a little later tonight ]

[vuulpecula]

"Great day to save lives and all that, right?" Fox greeted with a yawn. Placing the extra coffee cup she purchased in front of him. Cal <3 written on the side. Her now empty hand ran over his shoulders, a small show of affection as she sipped from her own cup. "Might have to take a nap later--we could schedule it together if you want to join me." She was already five hours into her twelve, but seeing him was already boosting her energy--well that and the 5 minute run she took across the street to get the coffee she was now drinking. Saving the last ten minutes to go to the pediatric floor to see him.

It was easy to blame the jitters, the unease she had been feeling since arriving at work on the caffeine or lack of it, but even now, the sensation lingered. Fox didn't say anything about it to him, though, what would she say? I have a bad feeling? No, it had to be some left over anxiety from another day, anything else would be silly. "How'd you sleep last night? I hope you weren't too lonely." There was a hint of a flirty smile, one that she quickly hid with another sip. Her watch beeped a five minute warning. There was never enough time in the day to speak with him, to look at him, to think of him, but she would give him every ounce of free time she had.

@tapalslegacy grey's anatomy starter

#tapalslegacy #x | v. even though not everything can be fixed; almost everything can be survived ( GREY’S ANATOMY ONE. )

[vuulpecula]

"I'm not strong," Fox corrected him softly, brushing another strand of hair from his forehead. "I'm Russian." She was freezing too, but it wasn't strength that kept her moving. If she stopped, for even a moment, she'd be right beside him, curled and shivering--unable to move. They could not both succumb for if they did they might never rise again. Anyway, Rick deserved to rest, he had done so much for them--he needed to rest.

"Sleep a little longer," she urged, tone not changing from the soft way she had talked to him before his personal shame poisoned him with irritation. "You have nothing to be ashamed of." There would be enough water soon to fill the tub and it would help with one of their problems. The other was going to be solved easily with a clean pot, the stove, and a few of the cans left in the pantry. Fox left his side to check the water, filling up the basin on the floor more and more. It was steaming, helping to warm the room a little more.

Kneeling beside him once more, Fox carefully peeled back the blankets to expose his naked torso. Her cold hands reaching for his arm to help him up. "Let's get you in the water, c'mon, no sense in being shy right now." It wasn't as if she didn't know the parts of a man, after all. Right now, there were more important things to worry about and hypothermia was one of them. Illnesses. Even a cold could knock them back for weeks and without proper medicine... They lived in a time now that it was very possible that the smallest thing could kill them.

It's going to be okay, Fox told herself, sniffling slightly from the cold. Her nose had been running at a near constant, to the point where she had stopped bothering to waste time wiping it. Being near the steam of the water helped. She shivered when she felt it waft through her clothes, not quite as warm when it touched against her skin. "I found towels and some dry clothes upstairs, they smell a little dusty, but they'll do." While he warmed in the water, she could move onto warming what would be their dinner. Her mind was working like a checklist, whirling through each task, already preparing the next one before she finished the one at hand.

"Here, lean on me," she murmured to him, trying not to look at how fragile he appeared when he trembled. "There you go, one foot at a time..."

@rickgrimesdoingrickthings

His consciousness started to fade, his eyes heavy, closing, his sight going black. He still could hear Fox's voice though. Then her steps went far.... Rick couldn't move. He could only feel his bones aching and the tip of his nose burning in cold, his lips a bit dormant. He heard her voice again, opening his eyes briefly; Fox was there again. "Don't go outside..." The man muttered, a pained expression on his face, scared. "I just....I'll be okay....I just need some time....I....I'm freezing...but I'll be okay....I'm warming up..." He fell asleep again, even so, his body tense, shaking in place, so subtly. Then Rick felt the weight over his body, the covers she had brought, she was tucking him in. He let out a soft moan as he felt it- at first, they felt cold, but it didn't take long for them to bring so much comfort. "Thank you..." He muttered, forcing his eyes open to search for her. His lips were back to normal, he looked a bit better, he also seemed to be shaking a bit less compared to some minutes before. "Fox....I'll...I'll get us something to eat...I just....I...." Rick mumbled, his body so numb, so tired and cold. His nose was still red, the tip was freezing, Rick's hands sometimes rubbing his body where he felt hurt due to the cold. She said she was alright... Good. He seemed to get calmer after hearing that. When the Rick felt the warmth of her hand brush against his forehead, moving his hair, he closed his eyes, tried to rest his face against her hand, managing to have his cheek cupped against her palm, even if briefly, that warmth.... He...didn't know what she was doing...but all he wanted was to stay close, so close. Comfort... "It's hurting..." Rick muttered, a tear escaping his eyes, so tired to hold them back every day, for different reasons. That physical ordeal made him crack and break a little, the strong, invulnerable persona fading for a while. "My bones are hurting...I...I was never so cold like this." He said, as if venting to her. .... A pause, and then finally he moved a little, getting more comfortable. "I'm alright." His voice had changed- he seemed...stronger again, as if that fragility from seconds ago was gone- as if it had never existed. "I'll be fine." Part of him refused to cry in front of her. He wanted to be strong, so he would be strong- even if he had to pretend to be strong...so then he could actually be. He didn't know the cold water soaking him plus the strong cold wind would have taken him down so quickly. He didn't think he could lose warmth so fast. Outside....it was actually dangerous...the shock of temperature, that cold water- he couldn't remember the last time he had felt such a freezing rain. After the end of the world...there weren't safe shelters every square, warm bakeries or heaters...it was just....nature- the force of nature, the brute force of nature against them. "Shit...." Rick seemed to have broken up a little bit again, venting more. "I hate this...I'm feeling so ashamed like this." It was a bit different though, the way he spoke- he seemed more annoyed than scared or hurt- he seemed stronger, despite in that situation. "You're...so damn strong...Fox." @vuulpecula

#rickgrimesdoingrickthings #x | v. it changes you; either into one of them or something a lot less than the person you were ( TWD TWO. ) #cold tw #freezing tw

[vuulpecula]

✖ @ensnchekov inquired: (doze) : one muse falls asleep on the other’s shoulder

exhaustion sentence starters | accepting

An early morning after a long night wasn't exactly the best start to the week. The others shuffled in the same as she and Pavel had, rubbing sleep from their eyes, some already resting their heads on a table before the debrief even began. Fox could feel her own lids start to drop and took constant sips of water from her bottle just to try and stay awake. Certain that if she did nod off her drift partner would gladly share whatever notes he might've taken, not that she would ask--that was why she was so surprised when she felt him leaning against her.

Arms pressing at first, then his shoulder pushing, sliding, and finally, his cheek. She leaned back slowly, not wanting to disturb him, but also not wanting him to wake with a severe crick in his neck. For a few minutes she marveled at him from the corner of her eye, fully awake and only half-listening to the droning of their current instructor. Jotting down occasional notes on the pad of paper resting on her lap, though they were not very detailed and strayed often from the lined surface.

From the angle she held her own jaw at, she could just make out his curls, the smattering of freckles, his lashes. They had been inside each others heads, but she had never seen him asleep ( unless a coma counted )--hadn't necessarily thought about it until now. The warmth that radiated from him, the way she could feel a damp spot forming where his lip had been caught on a loop of her top, it was like watching a rainstorm while the sun was shining. That wasn't all. In her left ear she could hear the even breaths of his breathing, could feel his heart beat thrum rhythmically against her shoulder where his neck pressed against it--a symphony of life.

She found herself focused wholly on him. Turning ever so slightly until she could feel the brush of his hair against her cheek. Further still until the locks tickled against her slightly parted lips and curled just high enough that the scent of him began to overwhelm every other in room. Clean in a way that made her think of a perfect bar of white soap, iridescent bubbles foaming as it lathered against freckled skin. Clean in a way that made her think of air after it rains, the crispness of the weather turning colder as a storm blew in. Beneath it, the warm scent of sleep, honey thick, luminous, golden--the aroma of him. It was not overwhelming. It was intoxicating.

#ensnchekov #[ BB IF ITS FROM YOU IM ALWAYS ACCEPTING ] #[ ESP IF ITS PACIFIC RIM RELATED <3 ] #[ 'are you smelling my hair' lmao ] #x | burning the letters ( ANSWERED. ) #x | v. i'd look up at the stars; wondered if there was life up there. turns out i was looking in the wrong direction ( PACIFIC RIM ONE. )

[vuulpecula]

just a reminder that you're wonderful <3

✖ my love ! i adore you every second of every day, YOU, my friend, are the wonderful one !! xo.

#fairisfair #[ D my heart is so full for you <3 ] #[ it is insane to me that we've known each other for 5 years bc it feels like 20 ] #[ ily an i hope life is being gentle with you <3 <3 ] #x | keepsakes. #x | you’re never too important to be nice to people ( POSITIVITY. )