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jack-the-nibbler · 1 year

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Delectable Specimen

Sneaking through the lair of an infamous mad scientist probably isn’t the best idea. Particularly if a few of his concoctions can make you too tasty to resist. It’s a frightening punishment...but will it be as terrifying the second time?

Fandom: Skylanders

Words: 2,551

When you took this mission, you hadn’t expected anything to go too terribly wrong.

It looked simple enough. You and your Skylander companion just had to infiltrate Dr. Krankcase’s lair and sabotage his machinery to prevent another enchanted woods from being bulldozed and used to build more evil wooden minions. You hadn’t expected a sudden cloud of smog to send the airship you were on reeling, accidentally sending you tumbling off to the ground below.

Against common sense, you’d decided to trudge ahead instead of waiting for Camo to find you. Without a weapon or Skylander, you were forced to hide and run past any Chompies or Evilikin that patrolled the area. A lot of wandering later, you stumbled upon an imposing mill. Again, against your better judgment, you chose to slip inside through a side door.

You were immediately smacked with the oppressive smell of the workshop. Vats and containers of bubbling goo were everywhere, smelling like a foul mixture of rancid milk, vomit, and decade-old cheese. You fanned away the fumes, cautiously walking in. Maybe there was a safe place you could stay until your Skylander showed up.

That proved to be your biggest mistake. As you carefully weaved around open, caustic cauldrons, there was a distant tapping. It sounded closer the further you walked. Was some Evilikin waiting to get the drop on you? The clicking suddenly sped up, like someone tapping their foot. It finally brought your attention to a figure on ledge above, illuminated by a glass container of glowing goo.

Perched right above you was the very inventor you’d been sent to take down, Dr. Krankcase. His green, frog-like face was twisted into a sharp-toothed smirk, a tall, red top hat adding to his surprisingly imposing stature. Your eyes were drawn to his most defining feature: five mechanical, wooden spider legs that made up his lower half. That, and the goo gun he had aimed right at you.

“I had a hunch we’d get some uninvited guests, but a genuine Portal Master? Now that’s a real prize!” He exclaimed. “Just come with me, and you won’t get hurt!” Fat chance at that-you ran for it, prompting him to open fire. Green goo splattered around your feet, trying to trap or slow you. Cringing, you shook the gunk off before diving under a table, just out of sight.

Krankcase jumped down, immediately going on the hunt. Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched him inspect the area. Mercifully, he didn’t check under the table. You crawled out, still trembling from how close that had been. You had to find somewhere better to hide. But as you moved to stand, you bumped the slightly rickety table. A small, haphazardly placed cauldron wobbled on its stand before tipping.

You cried out as the pot fell on you, splashing you with minty-green colored goo. It thankfully wasn’t very hot, but you had to get this stuff off. Unfortunately, the noise had been more than enough to alert Dr. Krankcase to your location. There was nowhere to run as he came charging back at breakneck speed.

“There you are!” Krankcase exclaimed, only to freeze when he saw you covered in goo. “Wait, what did you do?!” He ran at you, closing the distance in seconds. Your stomach dropped, ignoring how his expression had swiftly gone from malicious to panicked.

“Stay away from me!” You yelled, backing away from him. But your two legs had no hope of outrunning his five mechanical ones, and within moments the mad doctor had you in his grasp. You tried to struggle away, but he kept grabbing you and trying to clean you off with a ragged towel.

“Stop fighting! Don’t you get it??” he said. “I just cooked up that batch today! It’s a brand new, untested mix! Not even I have any idea what effects it’ll have!”

Your blood ran cold at that. If he didn’t know what that concoction was capable of, then what would happen to you? What kind of toxins were seeping into your body? Were you going to turn into some kind of horrible mutant? You stared up at Krankcase with wide eyes…was your sight failing, or was he always that tall? Actually, his hands grasped more of your body.

“W-Wait, are you getting bigger?” you asked. The doctor looked over you, nervously chewing his thumb for a moment.

“On the contrary, my dear…you appear to be getting smaller.” he said. As you processed this, you shrank down to the size of a mouse. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so vulnerable. The doctor placed you on the table, needing a moment to collect himself.

You curled up on the wooden surface, covering your face. It would be one thing if you’d just been accidentally shrunken down. But you were completely at the mercy of a Doom Raider, one of the most notorious villains in Skylands. Yes, he was admittedly more polite than the others, but there were still countless things he could do to you. All you could do was hope that Camo would find you before the doctor decided to do something worse than hold you captive.

Meanwhile Dr. Krankcase was just as frazzled as you were. Not only was a Skylander likely charging through his workshop, but he was stuck with their shrunken Portal Master. Though the way he saw it, you deserved it for breaking into his workshop and threatening to wreck his whole operation, not to mention tipping over a vat of his precious goo. Perhaps he could just keep you in a jar or box for now. You’d be a good bargaining chip against the Skylanders…

That’s when a small, peculiar smell hit him. It was fresh and sweet; a sharp contrast to the caustic chemicals and reeking mixes he constantly worked with. Was that a side effect of the goo? He had to admit, it made you smell rather…appetizing. A smirk slowly crept onto his face. Slight change of plans, he thought, leaning down to take another whiff of you.

You were so busy sulking that you barely noticed Krankcase leaning in closer. He started sniffing you, blasting you with his warm breath. It felt weird, but oddly kind of nice. The warmth suddenly intensified, before something wet and slimy laved up your back. When you looked back, his pink tongue slipped up along your front, drenching you in drool.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” you yelled. Dr. Krankcase only chuckled, giving you another slimy lick.

“Just giving you a taste, for curiosity’s sake,” he said. “I think I know just what to do with you.” That hungry glint in his eyes, paired with that toothy smirk and a lick of his lips had dread pooling in your stomach. He was just trying to scare you, wasn’t he? But he was reaching for you now, the same way you’d grab for a snack. “Now just hold still. This won’t hurt a bit!”

You screamed and tried to run, but there was nowhere to go. He grabbed you with zero effort, lifting you to a dangerous height from your perspective. He was going to eat you! You kicked and slammed your fist against his leather glove; efforts that were barely noticed.

“No, no, you can’t do this! The Skylanders will come beat you to a pulp and save me!” you cried.

“Oh, I’m aware. I just figured this is the best place I could keep you! Not to mention a fitting way to punish a meddling Portal Master!” he exclaimed. He gave you a few more licks before dangling you above his mouth. “Now then, down the hatch!”

You screamed as he dropped you, a part of you fearing that you’d take a deadly fall to the floor. Instead you landed on his soft tongue, barely managing not to slide towards his throat. This relief was short-lived; you were already wet with saliva, and Krankcase’s tongue was already wrapping around you, making sure you were nice and coated for the trip down.

You whimpered, softly begging him not to swallow, but you knew it was pointless. These villains were all the same, after all. Those few minutes of being tasted felt like hours; being swallowed was almost welcome. But as he tilted his head back, you scrambled to get a grip on something, anything. You didn’t want to be a mad scientist’s snack!

“K-Krankcase, please have mercy just this once!” But he merely chuckled, a flick of his tongue sending you into his throat. In a last ditch effort to be spit out, you managed to grab onto his uvula. Krankcase coughed, and for a moment there was a bit of hope. The tab of flesh was slippery, though; all it took was a single, strong gulp to send you to his belly.

It was difficult to struggle, given how the gullet muscles hugged you. The soft, slick surface had no trouble pushing you deeper into his body. After what felt like an eternity of being squeezed downwards, you slid down into the fleshy pouch of his stomach. The pink walls had a light green glow, keeping you from being in complete darkness.A sigh of satisfaction came from above.

“Nice try, Portal Master, you almost had me! If it’s any consolation, you were absolutely delicious.” Krankcase patted his gut and cackled. You gritted your teeth, kicking a nearby wall. There wasn’t much impact, given how slippery the stomach lining was, but you didn’t care. You just kept kicking and struggling with all your might, hoping to make your captor sick. This earned you another laugh from above. “Woah, easy down there! That tickles!” he said.

There was a slight pressure from outside, and it took you a moment to realize that he was rubbing his belly. You really were just a snack to Krankcase, weren’t you? Just a pesky intruder reduced to a tasty morsel. To make matters worse, Camo had no idea where you were. You could be partially or even completely digested by the time the plant dragon showed up. How would he react to Krankcase gloating about your slimy fate? Completely defeated, you laid along the curve of his stomach and wept.

Dr. Krankcase gave a small burp, licking the last of your taste from his lips. He’d admittedly never given much thought to eating people-that was something a couple of his fellow Doom Raiders preferred-but it was more fun than he’d thought! He’d have to do this again sometime! Just as he was about to get back to work, Krankcase faintly heard you crying. Serves you right…but why did he feel just a little bad? He tried to ignore it, but you just kept sobbing in anticipation of a gruesome end.

“Hey…come on, don’t cry,” he said. “You’ll be fine, I promise. I know I’m a pretty bad guy, but I’m not that cruel.” You brought yourself to look up, wiping tears and slime from your face. You really didn’t want to believe him. What if he was trying to give you false hope? He did sound genuine, though. You had no choice but to settle in, feeling him pat his stomach. “There we go. Now sit tight and let the doctor do his work.” With that, he scuttled off back into the depths of the mill.

It was humiliating, really, having to sit in a villain’s gut while he got to work plotting more destruction. At least it wasn’t dark in there. Plus there was the hope that maybe he wasn’t lying about you being safe. At the moment all you could really do was get comfortable and wait. Admittedly not too hard given how cushy his gut was…even with the smell of pickles.

Ultimately Krankcase would keep his word. You were trapped in his gut for quite some time, but not a bit of you melted. The eventual fight with Camo did throw you around, but the soft lining of the doctor’s gut kept you from taking much damage. Soon, with him and his machinery damaged, Krankcase had no choice but to reluctantly cough you up.

You shivered in Camo’s hold, the dragon’s red eyes wide in shock-and some disgust from the slime you were covered in. He decided against cracking any jokes at your expense, given how shaken you were. Instead he wiped you off as best he could before swallowing you down. You settled into his leafy-feeling stomach, soothed by the familiarity. There was certain to be a spell that could return you to normal size at the academy, but this experience would stick with you…

A couple years had passed, and your imprisonment in the mad doctor’s belly had mostly become a distant memory. Since then, a few of the apprehended villains had been given a chance to reform and go on to train the next generation of Skylanders. Dr. Krankcase had been one of them, which admittedly made you a little nervous. Even after his rehabilitation ended, there was still a degree of awkwardness between you both.

It was well into the night by now. You probably should have been getting ready for bed, but you just sat at your desk with a book. Minutes ticked by as you did your best to fight off the slowly growing drowsiness. Suddenly, the familiar clicking of wooden spider legs made you perk up. Krankcase slowly opened the door, smiling as he let himself in.

“Ah, there you are. Guess I’m not the only one who can’t afford to sleep around here.” he said, crawling up to your side. “I hope you’ve been alright, Portal Master.” That brought a small smile to your face.

“I’m doing just fine, Doc.” you said. There was a nervousness in his stance that you couldn’t exactly place. Like he was steeling himself to deliver some bad news.

“Hey…you remember that little incident, right?” he asked. Ah yes…you could never truly forget, especially whenever he looked even a little peckish.

“Yeah, that was terrifying.” you said. He’d already apologized for it a while back, and you really didn’t hold it against him too much. It made you wonder why he was bringing it up again, so nervously too. Unless…he’d heard about how some of the Skylanders tended to swallow you to protect you, or even just for the hell of it. You looked up at him, and the anxious grin he wore said everything.

“Yeah, about that…I did have the recipe written down, and managed to concoct a growth mix to go with it. Both perfectly harmless, I assure you.” Krankcase said, rolling a vial over to you. You picked up the vial, looking at the minty green goo contained inside. It was perfectly clear what he wanted. You remembered the fear…but also how soft and warm it was inside. And it’s not like you weren’t used to being swallowed. Maybe…it wouldn’t be so bad now? The doctor’s legs fidgeted as he took a breath.

“So…you wanna try it again?”

Krankcase would end up claiming your bed that night. After all, you didn’t exactly need it when you were tucked into the warm, slimy folds of his softly gurgling gut. You slept soundly that night, fully trusting him to keep you safe now.

#male pred #reader prey #pov vore #vore writing #soft vore #safe vore #nonfatal vore #unwilling prey #fearplay #this was so much fucking longer than intended #but yeah I couldn't help myself haha #Imma just...go lay down now...#unwilling to willing ig #Vorelanders

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shieldofiron · 1 year

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La Ladra

Prompt #6: Full Candy Bar

[Did you miss part 5? It’s Here]

[Link to all of the previous parts on Tumblr Here and AO3 Here ]

The rain is punishingly hard as Steve ducks inside the coffee shop, trying to shake out his umbrella without making a whole mess of Billy’s floors. The music is blaring, that heavy metal garbage that Billy cranks in his car, guitars fighting against each other like two wet cats in a bag.

Eddie waves from behind the counter, his curls piled up on top of his head in a messy approximation of the artful way that Heather’s are arranged, which is more like a renaissance painting.

“Hey,” Steve exhales, “Is Billy around?”

“You gonna ask if he can come out and play?” Heather says in a monotone.

“Yeah,” Steve grins wide, “Is he here?”

Heather’s gum snaps, “Might be. You gonna order something?”

Steve glances around the nearly empty shop. There’s only one person here, a redhead with headphones over their ears, hunched over a notebook.

Steve shrugs, “Tea. It’s too late for coffee.”

Heather rolls her eyes, “What kind of tea?”

“Black,” Steve leans against the counter, “Didn’t expect you all to be here.”

Eddie smiles, “Getting ready for tomorrow. We’re decorating.”

Steve eyes the chalkboards, already covered with cartoon skeletons, “You seem pretty decorated to me.”

Eddie leans on the counter, “Billy he has a thing about not really decorating before Max is here.”

“Max. As in, the Maxine?” Steve smooths his tie down. It wasn’t as though they had been dating all that long, only about two weeks. But it seemed like something that Billy might have mentioned, considering how important Max was.

“Yeah?” The redhead is turned around in her seat, looking at Steve expectantly.

“You’re… Max,” Steve isn’t sure if he means it as a question or a statement.

“Yeah,” She spits out, a little vicious. Steve knows they’re not related, not really. Their faces are very different, but there’s something similar about the eyes, the way they hold their mouths, tense at the corners, always ready to bite or bark.

“S-sorry, I’m just friends with Billy,” Steve shakes his head, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Her hand flexes on the back of the chair, but otherwise she has no reaction.

Steve’s breath fixes in his lungs, “He around?”

She blinks, “He’s picking up the boxes. He’ll be back soon.” And then she turns back to her notebook without comment.

Steve slides a little closer to her table, unable to help himself. He feels like he’s trying to impress Billy’s mom or something.

“What are you doing?” He asks quietly.

She lifts one flimsy walkman headphone off her ear and rancid grunge pours out, “What?”

“I asked what you’re doing,” He repeats, feeling foolish. His hand goes to smooth his tie, a nervous habit from meetings that aren’t going well that he can’t seem to shake.

“Assignment,” She plays with a pencil, “For school.”

“You’re still in high school?”

She looks at him like he’s fallen into a vat of sewage, “Grad school. He didn’t tell you that much about me, huh?”

Steve just sucks in a breath and gives her his most charming smile, the King Steve special, “Not that. He talks more about what you’re like. Not what you do...”

It is true. Billy isn’t consciously doing it. It’s just little things. Max likes red vines over twizzlers, because she has no taste. Max still has the high score in that game back in San Clemente. Max would kill Steve for sitting in ‘her seat’ in Billy’s car. Max’s girlfriend Jane looks like that girl with the brown hair, and Billy thought it was her, isn’t that funny. Max can skateboard better than, play better than, and spit better than just about everyone. Or so he hears.

Max just looks Steve up and down, smirking, “You know he’s dating someone. So you can lay off the whole… thing you’re doing. I can’t help you.”

Steve’s stomach sinks, “He is?”

He glances back at Eddie, but he’s in the back, and Heather still has her back turned, reading a magazine while the tea steeps. Did they all know?

“Yeah,” Max toys with the pencil in her hands, “Some guy named Steve. And it’s pretty serious so… sorry.”

“I’m Steve,” It slips out before what she said fully sinks into his brain. Oh. He talks about me too, Steve thinks, the thought like a warm blanket.

“Oh.” She looks him up and down, “Then I can’t help you with that either.”

Steve fights every urge he has to fidget, or shy away. She looks at him, still a little unnervingly, but different from before. Her eyes are bouncing from his hair (a little too long right now, but Billy said something about how it might look nice longer, and maybe he wants to look nice), to his suit (Armani, tailored to within an inch of its life), to the tie (vintage silk, something Robin dug up at Goodwill but that seems to go with everything and so he ends up wearing it nearly every day.)

The back door slams open, loud enough to be heard over the music even.

“I swear to God, that rain could fucking bruise,” Billy’s voice crackles like a bonfire, “Eds, will you help get-”

Billy’s drenched, curls sticking to his face, looking at Steve and Max like he’s seen a ghost.

“Hey,” Steve raises his hand a little.

“What are you doing here?” Billy gasps at him.

Steve stuffs that rejected feeling down to the bottom of his heart, “Just… getting some tea.”

“Oh,” Billy’s lower lip trembles, “Uh… Max… Max, this is Steve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve,” Max gives him a smile, but there’s no gloss on it like Billy’s. It’s just quick, a flash of something snarky.

“Max,” Steve nods like he doesn’t know who that is, “Oh. Maxine. Your sister, right. Nice to meet you.”

Max frowns, “Max. Please.”

Steve has to hold on with all of his willpower not to make a snarky comment back.

He turns back to Billy, instead, “What do you have there?”

Billy shifts the large box slightly in his hands, “Some extra Halloween shit.”

Don’t say it, Steve, he tells himself, this is their thing. For once in your life, don’t be clingy, don’t be needy, be cool, and maybe you’ll make it out of this with just a little bit of dignity.

“Want me to stay and help put them up?” Steve says. Because of course he does.

Billy’s mouth opens a little, “Uh… yeah. Don’t you have work?”

Steve shrugs, “I’ll say it’s Summer Fridays, and I just felt like leaving early.”

“It’s October,” Heather leans against the counter, looking at him with her special blend of derision and amusement.

Steve shrugs, putting a hand in his pocket, “Summer. October. They rhyme. Close enough.”

Heather just raises one brow coolly.

“Where do you work, Steve?” Max cocks her head to the side.

“Up the street,” He sidesteps, literally, and walks over to Billy, taking the cardboard boxes out of his hands, “This okay?”

“Yeah,” Billy’s eyes flicker across his face, “You sure?”

“Of course,” Steve smiles, “I can hang up spider webs with the-”

He looks down into the box.There, next to several boxes of full size candy bars is a woman’s severed head, glistening with rain, brown hair carefully braided as if to keep it out of the way of whatever hacked her head off so roughly. The candy only makes it seem more surreal, like they’ve been placed there to show the head to scale.

“Jesus,” He drops the box, “Holy fucking shit. Holy fucking shit.”

Max starts laughing, hard.

“Billy!” Eddie comes behind the counter and smacks Billy’s arm, “Warn him next time.”

Steve’s heart is still racing. He flops against the counter, loosening his tie with trembling hands.

Eddie leans down and picks up the severed head by the braid, “It’s only rubber, Steve.”

Billy is trying not to laugh, but he is failing, “Sorry. Sorry. I swear… I’m… so fucking sorry.”

Steve covers his eyes with his hands.

“Sorry, Steve,” Eddie’s says, “I used to paint props for a haunted house, and when they changed the theme from haunted hospital to haunted high school, I gave Billy some of the old shit, since he loves Halloween so much. You wanna Crunch bar?”

Steve just makes a strangled noise of embarrassment behind his hands.

“Sorry, I was just so surprised to see you, I didn’t think you’d take the box,” Billy’s voice is strangled.

“Just laugh,” Steve talks into his hands, “I’m kind of a… wuss with scary stuff.”

Max doesn’t hold back, but Heather snaps at her at least, “It’s not that fucking funny.”

Billy takes Steve’s forearms and pulls his hands back from his face, “Pumpkin. Oh.”

Steve is beet red, but he feels a little less embarrassed when Billy slides both hands down to take his.

“Sorry,” Steve mutters, “I just was expecting something more like some little plastic spiders.

Billy tugs his hands just a little, “Sorry, baby.”

“‘S fine. I’m ready for it now,” Steve still shakes his head no, “It’s better when I’m prepared."

Eddie tosses the head in the air once then holds it out, “Would it help to see it up close?”

Steve blinks, and then drops one of Billy’s hands and takes it, just to convince himself he can. Up close, it is a lot clearer that it’s rubber. The rain had made the fake blood seem a lot more real.

He exhales, “Sorry. I just… sorry…”

“It’s fine,” Max smiles, “Like you a lot better now.”

“Is that right?” Billy’s upper lip twitches.

“Yeah,” Max grins, “Especially now that I know we can scare you. I’ll have to call Jane for ideas.”

“No scaring Steve,” Billy says, though his eyes looked just a little too interested in that idea for Steve’s comfort.

“Do you watch horror movies?” Eddie asks.

“I can watch them if I don’t, like psych myself up too much,” Steve shrugs, finally yanking off his tie and laying it on the counter, “But I don’t like it.”

“Mmm,” Max frowns, “Like you less now.”

“Scale of one to ten?” Billy asks her, playing with Steve’s fingers just a little.

“Six,” She says confidently.

Billy whistles, taking the rubber head and spinning it on his hand like a basketball for a moment before catching it, “That’s very high for Max. Even her girlfriend is usually an eight.”

Steve furrows his brow at Max and she answers with a shrug, “She lets people push her around. Very not cool. But she can get up to eleven.”

Heather raises a brow, “Why not twelve?”

Max gives her a dead eyed scare, “Nobody is a twelve. Not possible.”

Steve is about to say something very sappy about Billy, but he imagines that this is not the moment.

“So why is Halloween so special?” Steve asks, now that he can finally breathe, “Or do you do this for all the holidays?”

“Oh god,” Eddie closes his eyes and squirms with happiness, “I love this story.”

Billy and Max look at each other and she gets a goofy sort of grin, kind of sarcastic but kind of soft.

“Maxine fucking loves horror movies, used to watch them when she was way too young. Stephen King fan number one with a bullet, over here,” Billy laughs under his breath, “So once, like a million years ago-”

“When our parents first got married, I hardly knew him,” She furrows her brow a little, like she might squint at him and see a younger Billy there in the shop.

“I got it in my head that I could really scare her. I didn’t know, you know,” He grins at her, eyes dancing, “That she was such a freak.”

“You’re the freak, tell him what you did,” She nudges Billy’s shoulder.

“I got all of this fake blood, and I got in the shower and poured it all over myself,” He rubs his chin, “Like Carrie White.”

“Like Carrie White getting her period,” Max laughs.

“And I, like, laid there on the bathroom floor waiting for her to come in,” Billy rubs a hand over his eyes, “Anyway, she comes in and starts laughing.”

“It was so fake,” Max’s chin juts forward, “He didn’t even hold his breath.”

“I was fifteen, okay,” He frowns, rubbing a hand across the damp material of his henley shirt.

“It was the worst prank I had ever seen in my life,” She declares.

“So I’m lying there, covered in fake blood, which I had to clean up later, by the way, and I have this sister, laughing her head off that I might be dead,” Billy shakes his head, “I was so mad. I was pissed.”

“And he totally breaks, and stands up yelling about ‘what if it was real,’” She rolls her eyes, “Like a maniac. He looked so angry, and so…” She breaks off laughing.

“And…” Billy looks at Max, helpless.

“I hugged him, blood and all,” She turns to Steve, “It was so funny. It was better than Christmas.”

“Always is,” Billy smiles.

“Well, if the prank is as lame as that,” Steve shrugs, grinning cheekily, “I think even I would be completely fine.”

Billy lets go of his hand and swats Steve’s arm, “Fucking rudest boyfriend ever.”

�� Heather and Eddie laugh, and even Max looks amused, but Billy’s doing that wide eyed, nervous expression. The same one he had when Steve brought him a new pack of his favorite cigarettes and cleaned his jacket when he left it at Steve’s by accident.

“Yeah,” Steve grins at him, “I am. But I’m yours.”

Billy’s eyelashes flutter.

“Fucking gross,” Heather cracks her gum like lighting, “Keep that lovey-dovey shit at home, will you?”

Billy grins at her wickedly, “Heather’s just mad because she hasn’t gotten laid in, what? A year?”

“I was getting over Madeline,” Heather’s face has a flash of vulnerability, and then it goes hard again, her mouth a straight, angry line.

Max’s red brows dance a little, “Madeline was more than a year ago.”

“You only dated a week,” Eddie frowns.

“It was an intense week, okay,” Heather frowns, “You wouldn’t understand.”

Eddie’s eyes glitter, “I’ve been having an intense couple of weeks myself.”

Heather gags, pointing a perfectly painted black fingernail at her tongue, “See this is the shit I was talking about.”

“Hey,” Billy says quietly, while Eddie starts to lean over the counter, trying to get Heather to kiss the head while she shoves at him.

“Hey,” Steve says.

Billy’s watchful, his face sort of solemn, “I…”

Steve runs his thumb across Billy’s palm in circles.

“I’m glad you said it first,” Steve whispers, “This takes the pressure off of me.”

Billy barks out a laugh, “Is that right?”

“Yeah,” Steve shakes his head a little, “I always say it first.”

Billy licks the corner of his mouth, whispering deadly quiet, “Well… gotcha.”

Steve takes their joined hands and tucks them both behind his back, so Billy’s holding him, “I’m recovering from a terrible shock. Pick me out a candy bar, ragazzo.”

“What’s that mean?” Billy knows what it means.

“Boyfriend,” Steve raises one brow at him, daring.

“I bet you had a full size candy bar house,” Billy says softly, his eyes lingering on the shoulders of Steve’s suit, “Boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Steve smiles, “You gotta go for the full size. All the way or not at all, that’s what I always say.”

[Part 7 is coming tomorrow- It’s a Rocky Horror Chapter I couldn’t resist]

#text post #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #La Ladra #eine Tasse Kaffee bitte schön #harringrove coffee shop au #coffee shop au #Harringrove Harvest 2022 #HarringroveWeek #max mayfield #harringrove week

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wri0thesley · 11 months

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honkai player here! all of that insane stuff about otto is in fact real and yes his last name is apocalypse. we love to hate him because he's an excellently written character (some would say the best in the series) but also he is a dick. shot and killed a fan favourite character, indirectly caused the death of another and the start of a nosedive into tragedy etc etc. also his grandchild theresa is one of several clones of his lesbian crush that he literally grew out of a vat

this is the most fun way to find out honkai lore i think. just you guys telling me increasingly more bizarre facts. i hope luocha is at least a fraction as weird and rancid

#nat.txt #hsr posting

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fracturestory · 5 months

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1|Bubble

Thunk.

The floor creaked beneath her feet. Distant, metallic screeches echoed through her skull, almost drowning out her muted humming. Her small fingers tightened around the fragile glass of the cup she held, unwilling to let it come shattering to the floor. A dim corridor terminated her path ahead—three doors. Faint voices echoed from behind the one to her left.

She watched the water in her glass tremble as a roaring hum tore through the air. Behind it stood the door straight ahead.

Even from behind it, she could smell the burning metal that singed the air. It was a unique scent to say the least; not quite ‘smoky’ in the traditional sense, but also not entirely foreign either. Like someone had lit a vat of rancid oil aflame.

Thunk.

She sucked in a breath before opening the door.

She squinted in the blazing light, both from the sunlight’s reflection off the unpolished metal sheets and from the dancing flickers of color shimmering now against her surroundings, eclipsed by the silhouette of a helmeted figure hunched over its source. She immediately covered her eyes with a free hand, well aware of the harm that those flickers could bring.

Thunk.

“Zoey?”

The flickers ceased.

“Zoey!” The figure chuckled, lifting their visor. “You didn’t have to fill the cup that far. You want any snacks while you’re at it?”

Zoey shook her head, carefully placing the glass onto the corner of a table as she entered the garage. A stray drop of water ran down her hand as she around to face the figure.

“Nope! You think we can go to that ice cream place again later, Lisa? They have this weird new flavor that I wanna try. Y’know, the one where they have grape juice mixed with chocolate?”

“Maybe,” Lisa stood up. She pulled her welding helmet off and set it down on the table beside the glass. “You know your mom doesn’t want you eating too much ice cream, right?” She picked up the glass and took a sip. A chuckle escaped her as she finished. “Alright, just a small cup this time, ‘kay? You had a bigger bowl than me last time.”

“Oka—”

A loud SHOOM rattled the concrete beneath them, followed by a dull, almost growl-like hum. Dust sifted down from above as the blast subsided around the two girls.

Lisa coughed as she pulled the collar of her shirt over her nose. She reached over and did the same with Zoey. “Stay here,” she said in muffled tones. “I’m gonna check on the boys. Go out to the driveway if it gets too dusty, alright?”

She turned around as frenzied footsteps thumped up from behind the garage door, followed by muffled pounding. “Lis!” the voice cried. “Lisa! A huge hole just opened up in the basement! I tried to pull them away, but—”

Another tremor tore through the house, followed by an earsplitting creaaak as cracks shot up across the floor and walls. The door slammed open.

“Lis!”

The hum from before was louder now that the door was open, yet it felt like all had gone quiet in this moment.

“Caleb,” Lisa’s voice pierced through the uneasy silence. “Show me.”

A single nod was all it took. Lisa trailed behind her brother, following him out of the garage and down into the open doorway to the basement. A dark, almost milky haze obscured the bottom of the stairwell.

Caleb stepped back, trembling hands gripping tightly against the railing.

“That… that wasn’t there before. Wh—”

“You think?” Lisa stepped past him, blocking his path with her arm. “Go stay with Zoey in the garage just in case. Or, no, you two go out to the driveway, ‘kay? I don’t want either of you two to be anywhere near… whatever this is. Your friends are still downstairs?”

“Y-yeah. I think so.”

Lisa stared into the darkness for a few more seconds before backing away, nudging her brother to do the same as tendrils of shadow pulsed from the dark miasma clouding their view. Dark lines spiderwebbed out in every direction around them, like cracks spreading across a mirror.

“It’s spreading,” she took another step back, nearly shoving her brother as she turned. “Caleb, go. Now.”

The two fled back to the top of the stairwell, Lisa slamming the door behind herself as she herself exited. She could feel her heart beating in her throat.

What was that down there?

It was hard to describe the hum as it sounded now. It was almost… mechanical, in a sense, rising and falling in pitch in gentle pulses as if it were a motor accelerating.

That was when it wasn’t crackling with the might of a thunderstorm.

Run.

Fractured thoughts filtered through her paralyzed mind. If Caleb’s friends were still down there, they weren’t talking anymore.

Run.

The word screamed through her head.

Run.

Were they—

Run.

Her eyes shifted to a worried Caleb, standing at the garage door and staring back at her. He was saying something.

Run

Run.

She finally tore away from the shut door, racing back into the garage with her brother in tow.

“Lisa!” Zoey sounded surprised by her return, popping up from behind a table with a socket wrench in her hand. “Did you—”

She shrieked as Lisa grabbed her by the hand, pulling her away and out of the garage.

“You two stay here,” Lisa stopped on the driveway. “I don’t know what’s going on, but this isn’t an earthquake. There’s… something down there. Caleb, call mom and dad and tell them what’s happening.”

“O-okay,” Caleb dug his hands into his pockets, feeling around. “I left my phone in the basem—”

Lisa slapped her own phone in his hands. “You already know the password, use my phone instead. Zoey, you stay with him until I get back.”

She could barely make out the pained expression on Zoey’s face before she turned away, making a beeline for the hanging tools on the wall.

A C-clamp and a length of tie-down strap would have to do.

…What was she doing?

“Lisa?” she could vaguely make out Zoey’s voice from somewhere behind her.

Her body marched itself back through the garage door. The basement’s stairwell was wide-open now; wherever its door had gone in the fleeting moments that she spent outside, she did not know.

Whatever the case was, the inky darkness had almost reached the top now. The haze had also strangely dispersed giving way instead to a uniform black; like a bubble made of pure shadow. Though, the black lines that snaked out from the ‘core’ lingered. She took a deep breath, hooking the clamp around the handrail. She twirled its handle until it had tightened, then began to tie the strap around her waist.

Every nerve in her body screamed for her to flee just as she had before.

“Lisa!” Zoey shoved herself between Lisa and the top of the stairwell. “Come on! You have to go too! Before something else bad happens! Caleb said you can check on his friends later!”

Lisa’s heart dropped.

“…Zoey?”

Zoey’s gaze drifted downward. To the darkness that now surrounded her feet.

Lisa did the same.

“…Lisa, I can’t feel my feet.”

Lisa looked back up to Zoey’s paling face.

“I can’t feel my feet, I can’t feel my feet—” Zoey’s voice wavered as she began to hyperventilate. She gripped Lisa’s arms. “Lisa, what do I do now?”

“Lisa!” Caleb’s voice came from the garage. “It’s coming through the wall now, too! I can see it!”

Her heart pounded in her throat. She grit her teeth, looking wildly around for something, anything, that she could use.

She shook her head. There was no time. She grappled Zoey beneath her arms the best she could without stepping into the shadows herself, pulling upward once she was steady. This had to—

“Ow…” Zoey managed through her own panicked breaths. Her voice was barely a whisper now. “Lisa, I’m scared.”

Lisa released her. The darkness was halfway up her calves now, and only creeping higher. Another razor-thin tendril raced past them, though this time it was suspended mid-air.

There was hardly room to stand anymore. Lisa felt her back press against the door opposite the stairwell, still holding onto Zoey by her hands. “Hold on, Zoey. I’ve still got you. You hear me?”

Zoey lifted her head, locking eyes with Lisa. She forced a trembling smile as her grip tightened a little. A shot of pain flashed across her face as she did so.

“I’ve got you.”

Lisa looked down to Zoey’s hands.

And the trickle of blood that now stained her own.

“Is everything going to be okay?”

Lisa pursed her lips. She shook her head. “No, but as long as I’m still here, I’m sure as hell gonna try.”

She felt another pair of hands grip around her own arm as she too began to sink into the darkness.

“Caleb?” she jerked her attention to her brother. “I thought I told you and Zoey to stay in the driveway!”

“Yeah, but Zoey’s my friend too” —Caleb grunted, tugging with all his strength— "Just because you’re her babysitter doesn’t mean that you have to save her by yourself. And…” He paused for a moment, heaving before he began to pull again, his feet slipping uselessly against the floor. “I’m not… going to let… another one… disappear. And you know I’m not letting you get eaten either!”

Lisa shifted her gaze downward. The bubble of darkness was up to her knees now.

Their fate had been sealed.

She glanced one last time to Zoey, her unconscious torso still poking out from the rest of the mass.

Her blood dripped down into the abyss.

She looked now to Caleb. He gave another futile tug, straining from his perch at the edge of the doorframe.

There was really only one thing left that she could do now. At the very least, perhaps it could spell an end to their collective dread.

She wrenched her arm from Caleb’s grasp and threw herself fully into the darkness.

#fractures #tumblr writers #writeblr #my posts #original fiction #novel writing #authors on tumblr #writing community #creative writing #rough draft #original story #original character

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umbracirrus · 8 months

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WIP Wednesday (on Thursday)!

I was tagged by @throughtrialbyfire, though admittedly I've not long woken up and saw the tag, and it's just gone 7:25am on Thursday morning! I also know I did actually post a WIP yesterday, on Wednesday, but what's another one, eh?

I wouldn't know who to tag (still quite new here so don't really have much of a clue!!) but if anyone wants to do it and say that I've tagged them then go ahead :)

This is an excerpt from something which happens later down the line in The Perfect Storm, so may have some spoilers for events to come but honestly I just really like it and is probably one of the few coherent parts of the wip which isn't a massive list of bullet points.

For a little context though, Elyse had Riften and Markarth change hands when she needed to get access to Dragonsreach to capture Odahviing, hence why Maven is Riften's Jarl.

“So, I have heard about something which has recently happened in Whiterun which has... Piqued my interest,” Maven stated as she poured them both a mug of mead each, whilst Elyse did her best not to get distracted by the brewing storm clouds she could see forming in the west from their position on the keep’s balcony. “You have recently invested in Honningbrew Meadery, and are officially a stakeholder in Sabjorn’s... Business.”

She should have known the invitation to Riften would have been laced with ulterior motives – Maven’s entire life was one of contracts, schemes, and underhanded business. “You have heard correctly,” she responded, not letting the bitter frustration which threatened to overtake the rancid sweetness of the mead fill her mouth. “As both a resident of Whiterun, and a Thane of Whiterun Hold, it is an honour to fund and partake in local businesses and their dealings,” and then, she decided to let some of the venom go – her nonchalant swirling of the honeyed liquid in her mug not going unmissed. “There are so few pleasures that feel greater than ending the day with a drink which warms the soul that comes from your doorstep, from flowers and bees which you see when going about your daily business. I could imagine that it is quite the same for your mead – it no doubt tastes better from the source in Riften when compared to anywhere else.”

Either she had somehow been able to disguise her distaste for the way in which the conversation had gone, or Maven was simply very good at masking that she had picked up on her undertones. All that Maven did was give off an enlightened hum as she sipped at her mead in a manner which felt almost... Pretentious.

“Is that so...” She then placed the mug down. “What made you decide to invest? Was it... Spontaneous, or did something inspire you to do so?”

That was a suspicious question. Was Maven trying to get her to put her money into her business too? She had to hold back a scowl as that crossed her mind.

“I see no reason why that would be relevant, beyond it not being something coerced from me – it is something which I did off my own back.”

“And didn’t involve... Perhaps... Wanting to protect Sabjorn from sabotage? Skeevers and madmen, perhaps?’

How did Maven know that?! Unless...

“Mallus was working for you. Not Sabjorn,” she muttered, the pieces all beginning to fit together. Balgruuf had threatened to close both Honningbrew Meadery and Chillfurrow Farm if the skeever problem was not sorted, and suddenly, the problem intensified... In particular in the run up to a mead tasting for the Jarl. She had handled the problem after finding a skeever nest where the creatures were breeding and being fed far too well for vermin... And when she had checked in on the meadery vats, she was attacked by a madman and Mallus Maccius, who both got apprehended by the guards in the aftermath. “You... You wanted Balgruuf to believe that Sabjorn had tried poisoning him so that you could get Mallus named as proprietor with Sabjorn in prison, and switch it over to a Black-Briar meadery!”

Maven scoffed smugly. “Those are your words, Dragonborn. Not mine. And where is your proof, hm? Such accusations towards a Jarl are quite unheard of.”

But she never denied the claims.

That wretched, foul-

“Alas... I will forgive you for such accusations if you were to do a little... Something for me.”

Elyse could feel her jaw tensing and her hands sweating against the mug. She didn’t want to drink any more – she had finally pinpointed why Black-Briar mead tasted so bad to her: the treachery and deceit behind it.

#meg has done some writing #dragonborn oc elyse

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dwagom · 1 year

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i won't let life in europe get to me, i won't let life on this rancid dead-end shithole of a continent get to me, nerves of steel, if going through hell keep going, some people have it worse, forget about your problems, keep hoping keep working, light at the end of the tunnel, everything will be okay, read a self-help book, tightening the belt a little more isn't so hard, nothing is impossible, work ethic thrift ethic savings ethic belt-tightening ethic, turn off your lights, just one more sacrifice for the common good, buy a new microwave to boost the economy but there's an energy crisis so don't power it on, sleep in a sweater and with shoes on, cutting back on meals is actually healthy, a little mould never hurt anybody, shower cold in december, austerity is inevitable, can't get any better than this, too big to fail, environment standards guidance, watch your carbon footprint, mental illness is strictly a chemical imbalance so it's your fault but it's nobody's fault, recycling is a moral imperative, the recycling bin unlocks with a keycard, x tonnes of plastic per capita, zero interest rate policy, quantitative easing, new construction project on every corner but who can afford to buy, buy a used car on new debt and spend 20% of your wages on the fucking car, who let the hallway plant wilt that fuck with a clipboard demands to know and goes from door to door when we're trying to rest, five different soccer championships all the time, oranges in individual plastic sleeves but the sign at checkout tells me to watch my plastic consumption, white or off-white or cream ikea furniture, particleboard, not even a small pleasure that you can risklessly afford, binge the show, binge the other show, unemployment benefits rescinded, got a degree now what, drink x cups of water a day, work out, did you hear the news they're bumping the VAT tax up again, HEADLINE: DO YOU NOT FEEL GUILT ABOUT THIS THING THAT YOU CAN DO NOTHING ABOUT?, job creation, statistics, data, data harvesting, get hyped for the hot new thing, fill out this survey about asteroid mining, even more entertainers running for office, 4th industrial revolution, biotech, cr y pto, this wi-fi-connected water bottle coated in polypissshitplitex will enhance your running performance, get HYPED for another EPIC free trade agreement, is it just me or are politicians increasingly imitating cry p to-peddlers, techbros, thought leaders, life coaches, brand names used as adjectives, the new smart pillow that counts your snores!, don't forget to like and subscribe, i'm not angry i'm not even slightly angry everything's in perfect order

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honorarycassowary · 1 year

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So recently in the whole Twitter debacle I was linked to Dr Elon and Mr Musk, an article from a few years back about the epic highs and lows of working at Tesla. It does a really good job of illustrating how Musk created a fundamentally dysfunctional culture and is a huge jerk to basically everyone he meets. But there’s one bit that falls short somewhat, and I’ve been turning it over in my head because of how it illustrates the differences between unusual and being unreasonable and how those two things can be conflated.

Musk, though, had other concerns. “What’s that smell?” he asked. Everyone went silent. They knew Musk was so sensitive to odors that job candidates were told not to wear cologne or perfume when they met him. They had seen him become upset over small issues like this, had observed him attack executives for their incompetence and inabilities. One person explained that there were vats of liquid silicon nearby. When heated, it sometimes smelled like burning plastic.

These vapors were going to kill people, Musk said. They were going to kill him.

The thing is, it’s not the sensitivity to odors that’s the problem. This paragraph frames it as though odor sensitivity is not only strange, but unreasonable in and of itself. But Elon Musk is not alone in this! There are many, many people who don’t want to smell cologne or perfume in the workplace. The problems here are that a) verbally attacking people is never okay b) sometimes things just smell and you can’t treat it like someone’s fault that they do. Musk is an abject failure at treating other people like human beings, so he enforces what could be minimally invasive preferences in cruel and pointless ways, giving the illusion that the preference is the source of the cruelty instead of his whims.

It’s a conflation that I see kind of a lot, actually. “Bob asked for [unusual thing] and was a huge jerk about the process of getting it done” or “Alice likes [weird preference] and is a rancid asshole if you dislike it” becomes “[unusual thing]/[weird preference] is toxic and unreasonable to expect to be tolerated”.

#cassowary conversation

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theincoherentinspector · 2 years

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 | 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐛 𝐟𝐫𝐲𝐞 𝐱 𝐨𝐜.

Summary: Her love smelled like turmeric and tasted like cardamom - and even within the dark smog of the London sky, the kohl of her wide eyes dazed Jacob like none other.

Author's Note: Jacob Frye pining over a desi oc? inject it. Also for my fellow brown people out there, the fic is loosely based on the punjabi folk song, 'charkha'. ao3 link because tumblr might format this weirdly

tags: 1.8k words: yearning, slight angst, angst with a happy ending.

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐛 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧.

Dismissing any semblance of “assassin dogma” for his own personal tactics – a personal ideal, which has never pleased his idealistic sister.

Hide in plain sight?

Pfft. Even during a stealth mission, Jacob thought running out guns blazing was much more time efficient. Scary, but efficient. Fear takes hold of him only for a moment until adrenaline kicks in – forcing frozen joints to move, and rusty pistols to shoot.

Stealth was silent, and silence was indecisive. Silence came from fear, and Jacob Frye would never feel fear…

… well, that is until he sees her.

She doesn’t look much out of place to any other Londoner bustling down the worn streets of Southwark. And yet… she is different. Different in her hair, and skin, and face. Different in the colourful bangles which adorned her wrists, and the deep black kohl which lined her eyes.

He wants to barge down the street towards her. Maybe tip his hat and give a small wink and do all the things he’s sure a respectable gentleman would do – just do all the things he has done to potential lovers before.

But his feet don’t move – won’t move.

He stays firmly planted, leaning against the corner pub; half-drunk off last night’s pint, half sober off the rancid London air. Standing completely still as the entirety of Southwark walks past him… as she walks past him, paying him no mind.

To her, he is hidden, and silent – unknown.

Jacob, in that moment, is the ideal assassin - he thinks, he doesn’t like to be.

______________________________________________________________

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐛 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐨𝐡𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐬.

He wasn’t expecting to be in Southwark so late into the night, but one thing led to the next, and now here he was; scrubbing Blighter-red blood off his worn gauntlet and picking at the gaping wound near his ribs.

His head hurt, while his feet tripped over themselves in rushed adrenaline.

He winces and looks around the near-deserted street which he stumbled through, trying to find an open shop or familiar face.

And instead, he finds her.

He sees her standing idly behind a food-cart, peering into a large frying vat – the flickering yellow-light from the lamppost above, barely illuminating the young lady.

The smell of piss and soot was one which Jacob was accustomed to in Southwark, and yet as he made his way to her, he began to smell mint and turmeric and oily, fatty deliciousness.

He stays out of the lamppost’s light, not wanting to show his face – not wishing to show the blood.

She smiles at him, and Jacob swears she glows in the flickering light.

“How many fish pakoras would you like?”

Her voice has a rasp and a slight accent which seemed similar to that of Henry Green’s.

“Pakora?” he asks, slightly panicked. “What’s that?”

She cocks her head ever-so slightly, and he isn’t sure if she was frustrated or bemused. “It’s fried fish pieces, with spices. It’s served enthusiastically in India.”

“Well then, serve away!” He blurts, a bit louder then intended to, “I’ll take a dozen!”

She smiles quietly, and for a moment only the soft clinking of her bangles echoes between them, as she picks out a dozen fried pieces of fish from the large frying vat.

Carefully placing them on a piece of newspaper, she smothers them in a layer of mint chutney. The steam rises from the food, wafting into his face, and leaving him near-drooling.

She totals him to 10 pence, and he pays happily; dumping a warm lump of coins in her hand.

“Have a good evening!” she beams, as he walks off with his street-food.

Jacob can only manage a small wave, as his breathe hitches.

And as he staggers through Southwark, he feels his chest crease and breath hitch for air.

Suddenly, even the dark London smog smelled as sweet as her kohl.

______________________________________________________________

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.

Simmi.

She says it with a giggle and an extra dollop of mint chutney, one chilly February morning. He responds with a toothy smile, and an extra penny for her troubles.

But Simmi doesn’t take it – she never takes it.

Softly placing the extra coin back into his calloused palms, she offers him a warm smile instead. “Just tell your green-jacketed mates to buy from my stall!” she’ll simply respond, dark eyes beaming. “Give it to someone who needs it.”

“But you need it”, he wants to say, “Please, just take it. Please...”

But Assassins don’t plead – and so neither does he. Instead, he simply closes his hand, and puts the coin back in his pockets.

Sometimes he’ll let the coins jingle in his trouser pocket, other times he flicks them in the air – tossing them to back-alley orphans and sharing a fish pakora or two for good measure.

The Southwark smog smelling sweeter than it ever had before.

______________________________________________________________

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐛 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.

Simmi.

He’ll be sat on a rooftop or ledge, lounging above London, as he stretches and rolls the different syllables in his mouth - in attempt to sound out every possible phonetic iteration that the letters could produce.

Even then, her name rolled sweetly in his mouth. It tasted like chutney and her tandoor, and every spice he had yet to give a name to.

Sometimes he’ll doze off to these silent hums.

And even when his sister finally jolts him awake with a kick to the ribs, and a scathing scolding for falling asleep again on a mission… his smile does not falter, nor does her name become any less beautiful.

______________________________________________________________

It doesn’t take long for Jacob to convince his associates to bring her little food-stall some traffic.

Reminding the likes of Evie, Henry, Ned… even Abberline! He advertises her fish pakoras like a puppet on strings.

And she, his puppeteer.

______________________________________________________________

𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲.

His Rooks are gathered around his stall, all enjoying their own pakoras and chutney, and for a fleeting moment a strange courage takes him and wishes to talk about more than idle recipes and neighbourhood politics.

“You’re really… nice, Simmi!” Jacob says, in between bites, mouth full of green chutney and fresh fried cod. The words come out awkward, and stumbled – but they manage to pry out of his throat nonetheless.

Simmi merely raises a brow, dark eyes losing their glint. “We don’t even know each other… not really, anyway.”

Her answer is one which he doesn’t expect – maybe because he was expecting to be swept up into a kiss, while saffron and rose petals fell down on them.

You know, only realistic things.

Jacob shifts from side to side, unsure how to respond, especially with his Rooks nearby.

“I know you make good fish pakoras, and you’re good to kids, and you just… give… and give happily.” He wants to say… but he doesn’t.

Because Assassins are silent and deadly, and don’t let silly food vendors turn them to puppets on a string.

He decides to simply concentrate on chewing his fish, and instead Jacob laughs, a hearty, carefree laugh – something that was “classic” Jacob. “Well, hopefully you don’t think I’m too bad?”

Simmi cocks her head, the same way she had done countless times before. There is fear (or was it disappointment?) in her eyes, as they glance momentarily to the pistol strapped around his belt.

“You’re as good as a ruffian can get.” She murmurs, smiling weakly.

Silence lulls between them, and though he can hear the chatter of his Rooks nearby, he feels a strange wave of loneliness.

A ruffian. A criminal. An… Assassin.

He chews harder.

______________________________________________________________

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐛 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐨𝐡𝐥-𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬.

Just as he rounds the street to her alleyway, yearning grows on his tongue for the strong flavours of turmeric, cumin, and mint.

The night had painted the sky dark with ash, barely illuminating the city-streets. Though it would’ve proven to be much safer to trek this journey on top of buildings, he could not risk breaking the delicate object in his hands.

He finds a row of shabby brick houses and knocks on the one with mustard oil stains by its door.

He waits patiently, quietly counting in his head.

The door is opened by a small elderly lady. She wore a beautiful orange garment in a manner unbeknownst to Jacob. Golden bangles made her wrinkled wrists their home, while a single red dot rested on her forehead.

She looks confused at Jacob’s presence and yelled out behind her.

“Simi!”

The elderly woman barks in a language that Jacob could not understand, but the name – Simi – was the only thing he could.

She yells a bit more until disappearing back into the small house.

He waits for a moment, debating if he should’ve just left already – wondering how far away the nearest pub would be, and how long it would take him to get miserably drunk.

And yet, just when he figures to leave, she shows at the door.

Simi the Food Vendor. And yet… this Simi was different.

A worn-out dress was now replaced by a beautiful yellow garment, embroidered with delicate black design. Large yellow bangles replaced her dainty multi-colored ones, while large white earrings hung from her ears.

Everything was different… everything except for her dark eyes – which still adorned the black kohl.

In the face of her, Jacob felt his button-up to be plain – in the face of her, everything felt plain.

“I didn’t think you’d actually remember!” she exclaims, “I must’ve told you, what… months ago?”

Jacob merely nods, satisfied with himself. “I don’t forget easily.”

He then opens the palm of his hands, to reveal the object which was sheltered beneath them – a clay oil candle. It’s cotton wick stood strong, though it was empty – still needing to be filled with oil.

“Happy Diwali, Simmi.”

He holds it out for her to take, and she does gently. Carefully resting it in her hands, as if it would break with the slightest touch.

Her eyes travel from the oil lamp to his waist, presumably looking for the typical gun holster, but only finding a simple belt. She smiles softly. “Y’know, I didn’t think that you’d know anything about Diwali, Mr. Ruffian?”

Jacob grins from ear to ear, “I feel offended. How will you ever make it up to me?”

Simi cocks her head, the very same way she had done all those times before. And then carefully, with one hand, pulls the young assassin’s shirt collar towards her – closing the space with her lips.

She tastes like cardamom, and turmeric and morning tea and every sweet toffee Jacob had yet to discover.

She smiles into the kiss.

Jacob thinks he might not taste too bad either.

#ac syndicate #jacob frye #jacob frye x oc #assassins creed #evie frye

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savage-radio-3way-fm · 5 months

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Episode 013 - Powder Monkeys Special

Clockwork Boys - Selvagem (Fun Things)

The Alan Milman Sect - Stitches In My Head The Alan Milman Sect - I Wanna Kill Somebody Nubs - Job The Reatards - Your So Lewd Wrangler Brutes - Hamburger University

The DangerMen - Surfin' Left Alright The DangerMen - Everybody Shandy - Do The Stomp

The Victims - Girls Don't Go For Punks Amyl & The Sniffers - Cup Of Destiny George W. Bush - Lexicon Devil (Germs) George W. Bush - I Made Paul Dempsey My Bitch In The Toilet At Goo

Turbonegro - I Got Erection Rancid Vat - Blobs Have More Fun OFF! - Panic Attack OFF! - Crawl

Powder Monkeys - Persecution Blues God - My Pal Royal Flush - Coppers Round The Corner Powder Monkeys - Another Nite In Hell

Bored! - Take It Out On You Powder Monkeys - I Stand Bare Powder Monkeys - Crank Me Up Powder Monkeys - Atomic Resolution

Powder Monkeys - The Supernova That Never Quits Powder Monkeys - In The Doldrums Powder Monkeys - Wasn't Born Yesterday

Pete Wells Band - Ain't Living Long Like This Powder Monkeys - Get The Girl Straight (Live)

Powder Monkeys - Guess I'm Falling In Love (Live) (Velvet Underground) Powder Monkeys - Cock In My Pocket (Live) (Iggy & The Stooges)

Powder Monkeys - Unfair Dismissal Powder Monkeys - House Rules

Powder Monkeys - I Like Pills Powder Monkeys - I Thank You (Sam & Dave)

#savage3wayfm #punkradio #communityradio #powdermonkeys

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local-jawa · 8 months

Text

Writing prompt

You hate your manager, and you hate working at McDonalds, but most of all you hate the smell of French fries cooking in a rancid vat of oil. You clock in, tie on an apron, and—surprise, your manager has you on fry duty again. Jerk. You go into the walk-in freezer to grab a bag of frozen fries, but when you turn around, the freezer is gone. In fact, the entire Burger Hut is gone. So is the year 2023! You discover that you are on a potato farm in 1545. You don't know what to do, until it dawns on you that no one here knows how to make a French fries. With your advanced knowledge on the subject, you could make a ton of money and become a lord or something like that.

#idea #writing #writing prompt #write it #random #thoughts #random thoughts #writers #writers on tumblr #tumblr

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parricider · 1 year

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𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐓𝐏𝐄𝐃 > @timelocker:

❝ you CAN'T go ! NOT NOW !! ❞ rascal cries. the gound shakes with the behemoth's every step, metal and dark skies towering over them. every trick they've had up their sleeves had fallen promptly and bit the dust.

❝ you -- HAVE to wake up ! ❞ emerald falls from a careless hand on the ground, her other arm carrying his form against hers. her breathing is erratic as she shakes him, tries to call for him -- to REACH HIM, through the wounds, the pain, the unconscious mind.

❝ YOU CAN'T GIVE UP ! you've -- you've always -- ALWAYS been so stubborn ! you NEVER gave up on anything ! not even on me ! SO DON'T YOU DARE START NOW !! ❞

it's closer now -- she can feel it. BUT RASCAL DOESN'T LOOK UP. not when shadows engulfed them whole, not even when the screeching of machineries warned her of an incoming blow. she holds him closer now, her arms embracing him tightly.

❝ i've got you. i'm not letting you go. i'm NEVER letting you go. ❞

❝ SO PLEASE ! JUST THIS ONCE ! ❞

❝ DON'T LET GO OF ME !! ❞

´ ･ . ✶ ━━ ⧼ ♛ ⧽ MUCOUS GUNK clogged the gullet of the once rabble-rousing daredevil that had just been spitballing SCRAP METAL-RENDING-BEATDOWN promising flex after promising flex… smack straight into the metal behemoth’s auricular receptors— but of course, despotic bluff tactics did JACKSHIT to a murder unit with no ‘ hightailing out of there ’ protocols & letting you go off on your merrily way scott-free, just because you took a few denting-swings at its nonexistent design flaw insecurities that you scrapped up & tried to inculcate. SCOURGE HAD THE URGE TO GAG; HE HAD THE URGE TO UPCHUCK HIS OWN VISCERA… but he couldn’t. he didn’t remember getting his cerebrals scrambled, or his rib cage getting fucking granulated. whatever colossal-level shellacking he had taken, whatever slapstick SCREW UP had led to him being so satirically vulnerable, had zonked him out into this somatically-disconnected state, where the only semblance of sensation he had was this pneumonia-like irritation, & the sudden itch to clear his throat, but his body wasn’t responding to his frenetic demands to clear the airway. HE COULDN’T HEAR ANYTHING– COULDN’T SEE ANYTHING–

DON'T LET GO OF ME !!

RAS ?

´ ･ . ✶ ━━ ⧼ ♛ ⧽ THAT VOICE. the voice that had once, admittedly not too long ago, made him want to PERMANENTLY ADHESE fucking gorilla tape over the holes of his irritable ears— perhaps dunk his head into a sensory-depriving industrial vat of liquid nitrogen, too, to wrap an extra reinforced layer of metaphorical ‘ time for you to shut the fuck up ’ tape around his entire head ( & maybe-perhaps take a little cryogenic snooze for a couple hundred years )— anything… ANYTHING to drown out the EAR SPLITTING SAMARITAN-ING TINNITUS of a bleeding-hearted DO-GOODER trying to spitball out ceramic-plate & rancid bullshit-smelling promises into the cracked & rusted cups that are jitterily held out to her by the clamoring hands of the moebian people. irritatingly desperate, & yet, always IRRITATINGLY INSATIABLE at the end of the day… & YET …

´ ･ . ✶ ━━ ⧼ ♛ ⧽ NOW THAT SOUND WAS EXHILARATINGLY MOTIVATING– COMFORTING… that trademark injudiciousness laced within it managed to be the only sound that reached him. hearing it recently has been enkindling something else deep within the hedgehog– not tinnitual irritation– but it motivated him to persevere, to stand his ground with ARAMID FIBRE-STRENGTHED RESILIENCE ( to really stand his ground; it was no longer a defensive bluff )... to death-grip onto shreds of hope & patiently wait for the moment where they can once again rock so fucking hard ‘til the hearts of their crowd pop; TO NOT BE AFRAID OF BROKEN BONES– TO NOT BE AFRAID OF VERTIGO WHEN DIVING BACK INTO THE UNKNOWN

TO KEEP GOING NO MATTER WHAT. HAND IN HAND.

´ ･ . ✶ ━━ ⧼ ♛ ⧽ DON’T LET GO OF ME– half-lidded eyes sear into the looming steel colossus as scourge steadily regains consciousness, his chin resting atop rascal’s head as an anti-vertigo-leverage as he slowly turns his head. DON’T LET GO OF ME… he remembers that was the main stipulation of their sloppy, spit-sealed oath; a sloppy oath that felt so long ago now— sloppily shook on in the moment, but now held together with military-grade aramid fibres. it was once a reluctant & toxic survival tactic, but now it is dead-sincere. HE AIN’T LETTING GO OF HER. HE’LL NEVER LET GO OF HER. scourge’s dumb mistakes & the repercussive pain is rascal’s to endure, too, & vice versa. HE NEEDED TO FIND A QUICKASS WAY TO REMIND HER OF THAT… so that she’d never dare to question his word again. HOWEVER…

´ ･ . ✶ ━━ ⧼ ♛ ⧽ HE WAS GONNA TOSS ONE LAST DART AT THE ROULETTE… or, one last emerald to put it literally. this silence has worn out its welcome, & it was time to try ONE LAST STUPID IDEA. ONE LAST ENCORE…

´ ･ . ✶ ━━ ⧼ ♛ ⧽ a ragged glove frenetically prys himself from rascal’s embrace ( the screeching of machinery warning them that THERE WASN’T MUCH TIME LEFT ), while the other swoops down & snatches the emerald that she had dropped. & SCOURGE STOOD HIS GROUND– STANCE & OPEN-MOUTHED GRIN IMMOVABLY RESILIENT, as he mirrored the titan’s punching motion, readying to collide the emerald with its metal fist. a thumbs up is shot in her direction with the other.

❝ HEH, SORRY, ＨＵＳ. ‘m gonna have’ta be a bit ill-mannered an’ renounce our spit-binded vows for a sec, an' let go of ya. SWEAR i’ll make it up t’ya after i drag ya by th’scruff an’ getcha outta this mess– I AM GETTIN’ US BOTH OUTTA HERE. that’s a promise. no behind the scenes take backsies-in’ schemin’ t’worry about, alright ? WHATEVER Y’WANT… ❞

❝ NO TURNIN’ BACK !! ❞

´ ･ . ✶ ━━ ⧼ ♛ ⧽ A CONCUSSIVE SHOCKWAVE emanates from them once their fists collide, blowing out a crater in the earth from where the hedgehog stood… BUT SCOURGE STILL STANDS TALL— UNBUDGING. the emerald he had been clutching onto had absorbed the impact. & visible through the dust storm that had formed, were the contrails of the six emeralds that the titan had been carrying, which cascaded down the titan’s arm in a blinding spiral of prismatic light, before converging into scourge– the purple emerald in his hand acting as a magnet.

´ ･ . ✶ ━━ ⧼ ♛ ⧽ & once the dust cloud subsided, a luminous hedgehog, cladded in GOLDEN FUR, steps out into view; his wounds completely healed.

#メ 👑 ━ 𝐂𝐔𝐙 𝐈'𝐌 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋 '𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐋𝐋 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 凸( •̀ヮ•́メ )凸 . 【 ic 】#timelocker #JACKED UP ON ' pLeAsE HaVe tHe nAsTiEsT MaKeOuT SeSsIoN WiTh mE WhEn wE GeT OuT Of hErE?? 👉👈 ' STEROIDS!!!!!!

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fat-slobby-jojo-girls · 1 year

Note

Yukako definitely goes for the sister due to cute girl Koichi. While Aya went for the mom because of some shit she said back in high school.

"Oh how times have changes Mrs. Hirose~ I remember back when we were in high-school... the things you'd say, all those light hearted "jokes" about my weight, my teeth, my achne~ Isn't it ironic? Karma works in mysterious ways! I guess there really is a flow to everything." Aya chuckled as she watched her former bully glut herself on sticks of butter and a trough of lardy slop.

"Heres the deal piggy~ You got 30 minutes to finish everything without leaving a scrap behind. If you eat it all like a good sow I'll change you back, if you dont... I think I'll leave you like this and let you waddle home covered in food. Sound like a good deal?" Aya laughed as she rubbed Mrs. Hirose's belly while the woman frantically tried to eat as much as possible.

"Huff... *wheeze* Aya! We were just kids! It was BWOOOOOOOOORP... just a bunch of pranks! Please you can't do this to me!" She cried in between mouthfuls of rancid slop and greasy gunk.

"Times ticking piggy. You better hurry up before I decide to add another vat to the pile."

#anon ask #muse: aya #slob

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travelnshit · 1 year

Photo

It's been a week since we were in Caviahue-Copahue and everything still smells faintly of sulphur. It's not too rancid, we don't have to go and live in a cave for the foreseeable, but sometimes when we get in the car a vague aura of volcano assaults our senses. Probably shouldn't have covered ourselves in mud and sat in a vat of fart water to be fair. Anyway. We actually came here for Salto Agrio, that sexy chunk of eyehole fodder in the first photo. Tarrant learned of its existence whilst doom scrolling Instagram one day so we thought we'd have a look. The water is actually that blue and the rocks are actually that red. The water is acidic and produces all manner of oxides that give the rocks that colour. Because it's volcanic a lot of the rocks are those incredible basalt columns that happen when lava cools and cracks (pic 3). Then there are the obnoxiously photogenic monkey puzzle trees which are native to the area and just complete this otherworldly snapshot of unreal nature. This whole area is an absolute hidden gem. I say hidden, the mate wielding domestic tourists know it's here, there are very few foreigners to the point if you do manage to locate someone who speaks English they're more delighted than you are because they never get to practice. I quite like this though, if too many foreigners get wind of a place it does have a tendency to drive up prices. Fortunately it's a bit of a bugger to get to without a car. . https://travelnshit.com/2023/01/31/hot-springs-waterfalls/ • • • #argentina #visitargentina #travel #travelgram #instatravel #wanderlust #lesbiantravel #couplegoals #travelcouple #nature #instanature #naturegram #caviahue #copahue #caviahuecopahue #monkeypuzzletree #hotsprings #waterfalls #saltoagrio #rioagrio #landscape #landscapeporn (at Caviahue-Copahue) https://www.instagram.com/p/CoVelsguXhT/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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herebebones470 · 2 years

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Rocky cutter- a call to arms for all.

Hello tumblr, I come at a time of great need. One story, feel free to make expansions on it, but all i ask is you spread it around 4chan and reddit so they too can make they're own stories of rocky cutter. This whole thing was based on a dream I had.

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Rocky was on a foul smelling train, 10 feet under and moving at a snail's pace. He would be dozing off now but he was wide awake in fear. All he wanted was to go back in time and never agree to do this stupid mission. But right now let's back up a bit, Rocky cutter is a spy from the S.P.C.Y. No one knows what the acronym means, but the organization keeps everything running smoothly in “the world”. Which is a bit stressful for new agents because “the world” isn't really our world, it's more like an earth with things that don't make sense but still follow some kind of logic. Like other people Rocky didn't come willingly, but just came here. No recollection of how he did, no warning, nothing. Next thing he knows he's a secret agent, ordered to kill the man who killed his predecessor. Rocky tapped his finger on his briefcase and stared out into the black nothingness of the cave. He already forgot his target's name, he had no weapon and he had an extremely bad feeling about the train, especially the smell. Rocky got up and crept down into the next room over, and almost immediately vomited. The smell was unbearable now, it smelled of rancid meat mixed with trash. Clenching his nose, he looked again into the room. Not much stood out, it looked like any other train room, except for an open can. He looked in it.

The meat was Whitish and chunky, it was obviously the foul smell but that didn't worry Rocky, he stirred his hand in until he felt something. Rocky then pulled it out and felt his heart sink, It was a human tooth. He then calmly got outside, and puked on the floorboards. Getting his act together he started to stand up a little until he saw that the floorboards were opening fast to a gaping hole, and then he fell down kicking and screaming. Rocky clawed at the walls in a vain hope to stop himself from going any farther down, screaming “PLEASE GOD NO, NOT TODAY AND NOT HERE!!” to the top of his lungs. He kept scratching and scratching till he grabbed something that stopped his fall, it was a cave hole big enough for a man to fit through, unfortunately he fell down right into something soft. Rocky looked around frantically until he saw a glass window, outside we’re glass tubes of people from the train going down into big vats. He then heard a big thumping noise outside the room, and Rocky hid behind a trash can. Two big burly things came in and threw his trash bin out of the room and pushed Rocky to the ground. Rocky scrounged to the ground looking for something sharp, something to stab and kill, glass!

Rocky picked up the glass and stabbed one of the thugs arm and it spit out blood, The thing in the suit started to deflate like a balloon. The other’s limbs went numb and it flew itself out the door. Rocky held onto the glass for dear life as it dug into his skin, Without warning a voice came on the speakers.

“Wisely done, Mr. morman. Age hasn't slowed you down, however if you keep this up my operations will be in shambles.”

Out of the wall on an iron hand with three fingers came a foul smelling briefcase with a red light coming from it.

“I trust you'll take it again.”

Rocky kicked it and crawled to the wall. The voice said solemnly, “ Very well.”

A dark gas filled the room, Rocky got the hell out of there and just kept running. Thoughts went through his head. Where am I? What happened to those people? He entered a room with giant vats and the only way out was up above them. Rocky climbed up and saw his second question answered, though he wished he hadn't. Above all the vats was a big tank with naked people, no one from his train it seemed. Inside the white waters stirred, pushing and pulling the people. They’re limbs started to shrink. Their Stomachs grew. At the end of it, they no longer looked like humans, more like giant maggots with human faces. Then. to rocky's horror,

A humming came echoing through the doors and the maggot people went down into tubes.

Rocky swallowed his vomit and went through the walkway with his hands on his ears to stop hearing the screams. Behind him, he heard something following him and started moving a bit faster and faster. His footing started to falter so in a last ditch effort to stay alive he jumped to the ladder and climbed for his life. While running he turned and saw two fat things slowly chase after him, their bodies jiggling as they moved in for the kill. Rocky ran up into a dark room and hid behind something. He hugged the thing and felt metallic rings, Cans. Whoever this was, The bastard was turning people into canned maggots! Rocky clenched his hands and started to click his teeth rapidly. Then he looked into the sky and…. Oh dear, and spoke to me.

“Look I don't know who you are but shut up! I'm trying to hide from.. Whatever those things are!”

Look here you, You think i'm trying to get you seen. By all means I want you to live so I can tell this saga.

“Saga? A saga?! For who?!”

Doesn't really matter, right now all i can tell you is that they are looking for you and they're very good at hearing things. Rocky shut his mouth.

“NO! NO I WON'T, I’M NOT GOING TO STAND FOR THIS SORT OF ABUSE!

Look, I understand you're having a rough time. People being turned to maggots and being put here but you'll have to understand this is for your own good.

“AND WHO ARE YOU TO SAY THAT?! ARE YOU GOD?! I SWEAR I'VE BEEN GOOD FOR ALL MY LI….

Suddenly a trapdoor opened underneath him and made him fall down and down deeper into the factory till he crashed into some cans, there see?

Right to rocky cutter's side we’re three robots, hunched and ready to kill! Rocky hid into the cans and looked for a way out, with the robots chasing him. Rocky's teeth chattered in fear, and under the pile he pulled his gun and shot one. One of the robots' stomachs opened and split a white and red fluid. Two more wild shots and one left and another ran but not before leaving a foul smelling blood trail to a dark corridor.

Suddenly lights started flickering towards a strange door opposite of the dark corridor, rocky turned to the sky, You know exactly where to go rocky so don't delay the inevitable. Rocky turned his head towards the ground in a gesture of defeat. Rocky walked toward the door slowly, trying to delay the inevitable for as long as possible until it stared right back at him.

He opened it and the door fell on the floor, and there sat the enemy. A hammer headed naga with no eyes and no eyes, yet despite that Rocky knew he was being watched by it, all along the walls were stacks of cans. It at first made a voice, Rocky never in his life figured out what it said but then suddenly pulled out a sword and rushed him. Rocky dogged the first blow and picked up a can and threw it. The thing sliced it with ease but made its contents spill on its chest. Rocky at first stared at the poor soul who died so horribly but then looked again to the concrete sky and… oh I get where his mind is going.

“Could you please help me?! God, I don't want to die! Please just let me get through this as fast as possible”

Fine, I repeated back but said with a very blistering tone so he got the point, don't get any more funny ideas later if you come back.

So then a skeleton came crashing down from the roof with one shotgun pointed at its head. Rocky didn't get the implication and simply picked it up and aimed towards the naga things head, The naga however slipped him on the ground, making rocky shoot the gun. However by my will it shot the sword out and broke it in a million pisces. The naga didn't like that very much so he picked up Rocky by its tail and started swearing to every wall for some bastard spirit or god. Rocky started pleading and pleading like the little fool he was so I simply said, Schrodinger's gun. This time he got the memo and pulled out his gun, however this time the gun started a quick delayed charge. The naga kept ranting and raving until it saw the butterfly bullet slowly emerge from the gun and into his head, Thousands of bits of blue brains hit the floor as the nagas body hit the ground. Around rocky the earth began to shake, the metal floor platting swallowed up the naga. Rocky ran like a headless chicken up something. He didn't care where he was going, all he wanted was to get out of this nightmare!

Farther and farther he went up till he saw a glint of light from ruined stone, keep on keeping on rocky! Till he finally reached the outside and looked to the sky and said: “THANK YOU!”

Yes, he's certainly happy with the inevitable. A good distraction so far. Still I think there's more in it.

Right near him was a nice tree near a pond, the waters were cool and refreshing while the tree’s shade was inviting. Rocky sat down and breathed the sweet air, the kind only yellowstone could ever provide and slept. His fears, his worries, the cans…. THE CANS! Rocky was ready to jump back in but saw that the other passengers were running out of the cave, along with other people from maybe other trains?Didn't matter. Rocky just closed his eyes again and drifted off. With a quiet “A little dream within a dream.” he said with a faint tinge of hope.

So sleep a little rocky, before it all comes back again and again forever more. Because if the cards we’re played right you’ll come back and if they weren't then at least peace can be had here.

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Now you write the next story, from your dreams or

#short story #story prompt #fiction

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