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cordeliawhohung · 5 days

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Core, what about a bit of competition with ps! Gaz? Some new girl who think's she's already the darling of the studio takes a liking to Gaz, but finds out about his ties with reader.

The one time she gets to film with Gaz, she overplays her role and absolutely covers his neck, collar, shoulder, everything with hickeys, hoping it will deter the reader.

So imagine her shock when the next day, she pops into his dressing room and finds the reader in there as well, applying foundation over the marks and littered with dozens from Gaz himself. ❤️

(I realize how dumb this sounds as an ask but it's been rotting my brain for days and I desperately need it gone so I can focus on my college classes 😭)

thanks this has also been rotting my brain because i just love putting people in their place (: more ps!gaz here <3

The crux of your ass sits in perfect place on Kyle's thighs while your legs straddle the expanse of his hips. Warm hands rest on your waist as you manhandle his jaw, tilting his head side to side to get better access to his neck. Thick, round hickeys litter the delicate skin around his throat and down to his shoulders in angry, red pinpoint marks that break the beautiful and even tone of his skin with something revolting. They look like proper bruises rather than the after effects of a... wild video shoot. As if someone had tried to strangle him rather than make love to him.

You remember the video well, along with that new model with her fake blonde hair and even faker tan that they had paired Kyle with to shoot the other day. You had only seen her in person one time, and you vividly recall the way her blue eyes rolled over your body, assessing every inch of you before ultimately deciding you were worth very little time. Confidence was a must when you worked in the porn industry, but her attitude borders on an arrogance you haven't seen since your teenage years in public school.

As you apply yellow color corrector onto the dark marks on his skin, you nearly shiver as the images of her stained lips suckling on Kyle's neck flood your mind. There was little room to feel jealousy about her ravaging your favorite co-star when you were too busy cringing. So childish. Over zealous. You nearly cried tears of laughter when you noticed Kyle's expression, grimacing at the wet tongue and annoying teeth that nipped at him, yet still having to pretend to enjoy it. Even the comments on the video joked about it.

Put him back with the other model.

"If I didn't know any better, I would have thought someone tried to strangle you," you tease.

"She might as well have," Kyle sighs. He adjusts his shoulders against the back of the chair, bare pecs flexing with the movement, bringing your attention to the uncovered marks that line his collarbone. "Haven't been able to go out in public without a goddamn turtleneck 'cause of her."

You chuckle as you finish applying and buffing out the rest of the color corrector along his skin. It leaves him looking sickly and discolored, which oddly enough is an improvement to what it looked like before. Setting the corrector to the side, you grab foundation next, hips swaying as you attempt to get some movement in your aching knees. Holding that position for so long without moving had them burning with fatigue.

"Need a break, doll?" Kyle prompts, hands sliding from your waist to your thighs.

"Don't know if we have time for a break. Got a lot of ground to cover before we start," you humor.

Kyle sits forward, throwing you off balance, yet he doesn't let you sway very far before his arms wrap around you, hands supporting your back. Adoring eyes crease as a grin floods his face. Even without the aid of studio lights he glows like a god as he leans closer and places a kiss on your neck.

"Show can't start without us," he says, teeth grazing your skin as he wanders down to your collarbone. "Could always give you a few hickeys to match, if you want."

He doesn't wait for you to answer before his tongue glides across your clavicles just for his teeth to follow right after. A chuckle rumbles in his chest at the tightening of your legs around his hips, and his hands only pull you closer. It doesn't take much for you to give in. Head rolling back, muscles melting as his lips conquer everything you're willing to give him. It's a delicate softness mixed with a brutal bite, something that leaves you gasping as he pulls the very air from your lungs and feeds on the sounds.

Kyle is more starved for you than usual. Sick of the fake, over dramatic screeching he got last week with that other model, he's hungry for the real thing. Hungry for you.

The unopened foundation falls free from your loose fingers and rolls along the floor into some forgotten corner when his hands wander underneath your shirt. It's a dance he has memorized; unclasping your bra without a second thought and tearing both it and your shirt off in a single, swift motion. He gives you little time to recover before his mouth is on your tits, kissing a sparse trail until he's rolling a perky nipple between his lips.

His bare skin feels like heaven underneath the palm of your hands as you grip his shoulders for stability. He'd take you on the cold, dressing room floors, you knew he would. A part of you wanted him to. Fuck the shoot, they should've learned well enough to put cameras in the dressing rooms by that point with how handsy Kyle Garrick always was with you.

"Can't wait until we get on set to try and undo me?" you ask breathlessly.

"Doll, I'll undo you right here and then again on set if you asked me to," he mumbles into your skin.

A quiet squeak interrupts your moment and the ambiance of the room shifts when the door to Kyle's dressing room opens. His hands grow stiff against your spine as you look over your shoulder at the figure in the doorway. You smell her perfume before you recognize her. Something drowning and floral, like a mall department store. It burns your nose, yet you're too distracted by the slack-mouth surprise etched onto the features of the new blood's face.

It's cute; her confusion. How her eyes flicker over your bare back and Kyle's hands pressed against your skin like he's cradling the only thing he cares for in the world. The dots just can't quite connect in her mind as to why he hasn't completely fallen for her yet, as if the only way she knows how to lure men is by butchering their neck with discolored marks. She can't comprehend why he'd rather have you in his lap than her.

Kyle draws a shocked groan from you when his teeth nip at your shoulder, and your eyes have no choice but to fall away from the woman in the doorway as he pulls you closer to him. His chin gently rests on your shoulder as he stares at the model, hands moving to rest on your hips.

"Need somethin?" he asks, bored.

There is very little you wouldn't have given to see the look on her face, but the small huff followed by the door slamming shut is good enough. Small giggles rattle your body as you lean back to get a better look at Kyle, as if your body would throw a fit if he wasn't within your sight. There's an inexplicable relief that floods his face as he looks up at you, and he mirrors your smile.

"What?" he defends. "Only asked her if she needed somethin."

"I think you broke her heart," you patronize.

"She'll live," he mumbles, lips falling against the crook of your neck again. "Your heart is the only one I care about, anyway."

#pornstar!gaz #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader smut #cod smut #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader smut #f!reader

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recovery-is-brutal · 3 months

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Shoutout to "ugly" selfshippers.

Shoutout to your thin hair, damaged hair, maybe even missing hair, shoutout to big noses, upturned noses, small eyes, eyes that are far apart, shoutout to round faces, big ears, thin lips, stained or chipped teeth, missing teeth even, shoutout to your big chin, your small chin, your large pores, wrinkles, and your "weird" or missing eyebrows.

Shoutout to your large neck, your long neck, your short neck, your thin neck. Shoutout to your too broad or too small shoulders. Shoutout to your wide ribcage, your too big or too small chest, your too big or too small hips. Shoutout to your hip dips. Shoutout to any amount of fat on your body. Whether you're skinny or fat, your F/O loves you, and they love your body.

Shoutout to long legs. Short legs. Chubby legs. Shoutout to weird looking toes, big feet, discolored or ingrown toenails. Shoutout to missing limbs. Shoutout to missing toes or fingers. Shoutout to vitiligo. Shoutout to body hair.

Shoutout to scars and tattoos you regret, shoutout to stretch marks, shoutout to eczema. Shoutout to chronic skin conditions. Shoutout to dry, flaky skin. Shoutout to conditions that might make you look unhygienic, even though you aren't. Shoutout to dandruff. Shoutout to acne, hell, acne inversa even.

Whether you hate your own skin color, sexuality, or other parts about you that you can't change - You're all pieces of art, and your F/Os love you with all your "flaws". All they want is to support you the best they can, and for you to cherish your body the best you can. Because it's the shell that holds you and allows them to love you.

#f/o comfort #f/o community #f/o imagines #self shipping imagines #self ship imagines #self ship community #self shipping community #self ship positivity #f/o positivity #f/o stuff #body posititivity

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milkzoro · 6 months

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MY BABY GURL-

May you offer some more zombie Luffy please? I desire more of him-

I don’t mind him nibbling on my while he fucks my brains out- :3

sum more zombie!lu for yew 🤍

version 2 ! (original post)

⋆.✧̣̇˚.⚝𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪★ ✧˖°˗ˏˋ

a fever you can’t sweat out

luffy whined in bed all day, he laid there covered in sweat while tears stained his cheeks, he felt hopeless. this was something completely different for him, he wished he would feel better soon so that he would be the one taking care of you, even though you were completely fine.

after going over all the possibilities of the causes of his sickness, we were both stumped, “are you sure you didn’t eat something bad, lu?” he shook his aching head before a thought crossed his mind.

“we’ll now that you mention it… i did get bit by something… don’t worry peach, ‘m strong.” just as he said that his head started to throb. you rubbed from his shoulder to his chest to try and comfort him, he still had an insane fever, his skin was scorching hot.

“that’s not how that works baby, i’m worried about you.” saddness filled you emotions, you knew he wanted to be okay for you but he physically couldn’t.

“a kiss to make me feel better? then i’ll tell you what happened, promise!” he reached out for you, pulling on the back of your neck to get you close, he looked deep into your soft eyes and smiled. you rolled your eyes and mumbled, ‘fine’ as if you weren’t going to give him a lil smooch anyways.

his lips were warm as he kissed you, his tongue begged for entrance as he tried to push past your plush lips. you allowed it, the growing ache in your tummy wanted him so bad.

you ignored your aches and pulled back, making him growl in annoyance. “you said you’d tell me, luffy. so spill.” you held your ground, despite wanting to give in to his needs.

“muyggffgghhhhh fine— was playing with my bugs… but there was one i didn’t recognize, mm had like human teeth? and, well no it wasn’t a beetle… you think it was a zombie y/n? sheheiiuhihihih kidding! but it did have teeth.”

he showed you the bight mark on his right hand and you audibly gasped. the mark looked so fresh, how could you not have noticed? the teeth indents were red and it definitely looked infected, there was slight swelling and discoloration… poor baby, he was shivering now. the unknown illnesses seemed to be getting worse.

“please don’t worry y/n! ‘m fine! see look!” he shuffled out of bed and stretched out his arms to the best of his ability. “can you kiss me again?” he put on his best puppy dog face for you. how could you say no to him?

you playfully pushed him back on the bed and layed on top of him carefully, kissing his cheeks before meeting his mouth again. “only if you stay in bed and rest baby, that’s the deal if you want me to keep going.” you teased and he wholeheartedly agreed.

luffy ignored the aching feeling flowing through his veins, he loved your pretty lips. he hoped that kissing you would distract the other thoughts that were in his mind. but he sucked, and pulled, and finally bit.

“ouch! luffyyyyy why did you do that?” it stung, you’re pretty sure he broke skin, you tasted a faint trace of metallic in your mouth. he didn’t look okay, he was apologizing as if it wasn’t in his control, he aslo didn’t look like himself. his fever was worsening, he writhed around in bed, clutching his ears because they were becoming hypersensitive.

“baby, listen. it’s okay. i’m here.” you touched him again but he begged for you to back away, he didn’t want to accidentally snap at you and regret it later.

his voice deepened as he explained to you, he growled and moaned. “no, y/n! please, get the ropes, i need you to listed to me and tie me down, i feel something happening, get them now!”

you tied him to the bed and waited for further instructions, biting your lip as a nervous tick. he was unresponsive and still for a moment and you worried even more, you rushed to see if he still had a pulse and he surprisingly did. but he was ice cold. he shuffled in his ropes a bit when he felt your fingers touch his ice neck. you could’ve been mistaken but you thought you heard whimpers?

you boyfriend looked different. his eyes met your own but they didn’t give you that warm feeling anymore, they were hazy white and the color from his skin was gone. you reached out to touch him again.

“y/nnnnn seeeeee mm ohhuuuukayyyy, t-touch mmme” with the groans mixed in, his words were almost inaudible, but you could understand him

you were hesitant at first but you still had the aches in your tummy, luffy laid restless under the ties of the ropes, his soft rustles and pants made your cunt do flips at the sight before you.

“you want me to touch you, lu? i-is this okay to do?

“uh huuhh… i need you now… get on top mughhhhhhhrzz now…please.”

the ropes you placed on him were secure, so you felt safe moving forward. each limb was tied down to every post of the bed, he was sprawled out like a starfish. you knelt between his legs and eyed the tent in his shorts, he looked bigger than usual. the zipper opened easily as you freed huge cock from the fabric, eyes wide from the sight of him.

his growls ushered you to remove your panties and t-shirt. “let me feel you peach, get on.” his raspy voice controlled you, he couldn’t use his hands so he needed to improvise, he begged for you.

“tell me if you want me to stop. okay, lu?”

his eyes turned sinister and a slight grin crept on his face like he has just got the last piece of some monster plan. his voice was more clear now, but it was just a little bit off. it was now deep and demonic. “think before you speak y/n. look at me.” his pale eyes gestured down to his enlarged cock. “shouldn’t i be the one saying that to you? now get on.”

you nodded your head and swallowed your nerves— how were you going to fit it all? waiting around wasn’t going to solve you problem. you hurried to straddle him, lining him up with the drips of your entrance. his growing tip kissed along your slick, you held your breath until you finally sunk all the way down his length. he hissed at the contrast of your warmth swallowing him whole.

more groans fled his mouth, annoyed with how he couldn’t grasp you and move you himself. you needed time though. as you rest at the base of his thick cock, you held your hands to your mouth. silencing your yelps from the pain of being stretched so soon. you shifted your hips a little, the pressure in your cunt finally adjusted to his insane width.

slowly, you began to rock yourself on him, pushing up on his chest for support. “ahhh shit! too big luffy. feels so good—”

he whined and shifted beneath you, bucking up his hips to get you to move faster. “be a good girl and move. please, fucking move peach—” he continued to hit your g-spot repeatedly, even if your weren’t fully ready for it. tears pooled in the corners of your eyes, both from the pain and the pleasure. slick sounds filled your ears as you felt yourself start to unravel around him, you started to bounce faster.

“ahh luffy!! sss too muchh— t-think i’m gonna cum!” your cunt clenched around him, hugging around his thick base perfectly. your words fueled him more, he took it as a sign to fill you up on the spot. the ropes tugged on his flesh as he jolted beneath you, you were surprised they managed to hold down your monster of a boyfriend. but those thoughts soon left as he thrusted deep inside you over and over again. you could barely sit upright as he did so, you were blissed out and so sensitive.

“c-coming lu!!! i’m gonna— fuck! cum so hard!” you felt your legs begin to shake on either sides of him, his deep stokes making your mind go numb as you unravel around him. he wasn’t done yet, but he was close.

“fuck, y/n stay right there for me, gonna fill your pretty cunt all the way up. shit— you can do that for me, can’t ya?” you cried out as he overstimulated your weeping pussy, making a mess of the both of you. he stroked up a few more times before you felt his cold liquid flooding your cunt, there was so much of it.

with his final stoke before he came, he moaned deeply. you cried with him, feeling your second orgasm come with his own. “so tight for me y/n, shittttt— such a perfect pussy.” his chest heaved in unison with yours as you both started to come down from your highs.

⋆.✧̣̇˚.⚝𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪★ ✧˖°˗ˏˋ

@anemptypuddingcup what do we do next ???? do we untie him? yes or yes 🙈

#zombie!luffy #one piece x reader #one piece smut #luffy smut #monkey d luffy smut #luffy x you #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x reader #one piece luffy #straw hat luffy #monkey d luffy #op luffy #monkey luffy smut

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two-red-lungs · 2 years

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Guys how do we feel about perv Eddie 👁 we like him right. Good intentions, but high hormones. Lovably, painfully horny.

Because I was just thinking…

Your ol buddy ol pal Eddie invites you over to his place to study (but mostly to smoke and talk shit about classmates lmaooo) and he excuses himself to hop into the shower real quick and un-stink himself.

Which, obviously, leaves you alone in his room for a decently long amount of time. Long enough that you say, maybe, get bored and start poking around.

Ashtray, gross. Cassettes, dirty clothes, suspicious stain on wall, stack of magazines. You pick a magazine up. Pick up the second one.

You very quickly realize the “Homeowner’s Gazette” and “Seventeen” editions on the top of the pile were a shitty disguise for the actual contents.

Oh my god, it’s dirty mags. And the real ones too, not just the risqué ones. These are the ones you need to go into a different beaded-curtain room to buy.

You plop your butt down on the end of the bed and start reading. Red cheeked, morbidly fascinated.

It’s mostly editions from the “Private” brand, with a few Color Pleasure selections thrown in, too. And the contents of each shiny folio of images is… saucy is too tame a word for it. It’s literally just porn. No nuance, no skirting the subject.

Men with their heads back in enjoyment as women suck them in varying states of undress. Sometimes in similar, coordinated outfits. There’s a tropical themed one. A sailor one. Women spreading their folds for the camera. Lustful trios gripping and grabbing at one another, all thin muscle and permed hair and thatches of public hair.

He looks at these when he’s getting off, you realize. You’re holding the magazines he probably clutches in one hand while he’s jerking with the other, tongue trapped between his teeth and a look of flushed focus on his face that… Jesus, okay, you’re getting carried away.

Mind racing you turn the paper to a double-page spread. The dog ear leading to it is worn, like he’s folded it many times. A favorite. A woman, brazenly busty, coyly resting her hands on the edge of the pool. Resting her large breasts between them. Her lips are shiny cherry-red.

Hmm. You know, she kinda looks like you.

The page crackles. Your eyes narrow. Is that water-warp damage on the page’s print, or is… oh god. Oh god, you should not be holding this, this picture specifically, because that is absolutely Eddie Munson’s cum-

“-Took so long, never know if we’re gonna have hot water or not-“ Eddie had wandered back into the room and you hadn’t even noticed him, in his barefoot and wet-haired glory, rubbing idly at his head with a discolored towel. He freezes in place. Big chocolate eyes going from you, to the magazine. To you, to the magazine. Like he’d crashed.

You lock up, wide-eyed.

He looks at you.

You looks at him.

In a wordless panic he bursts into action, literally snatching the magazine out of your hands and fumbling with the entire pile of them, running through his messy room. Slamming open his narrow closet and just mashing them inside before slamming the door. Bracing his hands on it. Like somehow, magically, putting them all out of sight means you didn’t see them in the first place.

Silence.

“…You weren’t, uh.” He says awkwardly. Even though his wet hair hides most of his face you can glimpse the apple of his cheek and it’s a brilliant pink. “You weren’t supposed to see those.”

“I shouldn’t have been snooping.” Too late for that. Damage done.

His body language makes it seem like he just sort of wants to… slam his head against the closet door a few times. You didn’t blame him. The air has gone from friendly and amicable to incredibly uncomfortable.

You shift your weight. Thinking.

“… So the two guys dressed as sailors going at that lady, was that-“

“You saw the sailors one?!”

Eddie turns a bright cherry tomato red and just like that, you’re back to wanting to laugh.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things s4 #stranger things imagine #my writing #minors dont look

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flygefisk · 7 months

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i will not ask you where you came from i will not ask and neither would you

syndor (he/they), who lives a humble life. he seems content, with his garden and his chickens, but there's something behind his eyes. maybe he's running from something.

howl (any pronouns), who has a second chance. it died with blood under its nails and came back different in some ways- but the wildness is still part of him.

(tw for blood, death mentions under the cut)

once, long ago, there was a god. it was a wild, ancient god, one of blood and lust and life. a forest god.

the god scented blood on the air, dragon blood. it cared little for the civilized folks, as most gods do. it cared little whether they lived or died. but it was a curious god, so it tracked the scent, bounding on deer's hooves to its source.

the god's paws left no tracks in the blood-soaked earth around the dragon's remains. the god considered the creature for a moment: the blade buried in its stomach, hands and coverings stained dark, its face contorted in rage. there was another scent here, under the obvious blood and rot, one even more familiar to the god.

a wild something, indescribable even to the god of such things, coiled around the body that was once its own. it stared up at the god, its teeth bared. the god raised its head and howled in its many voices, joined soon by the wolves and coyotes and hawks and hares of the forest, a mournful harmony of all wild things.

the something howled too, until its song became a scream, letting loose all the sorrow and love and rage of a life that would never have been enough.

the forest went silent. the god lowered its head and nuzzled the something, like a doe to her fawn, like a bear to her cub. wild things understand each other. they don't need words. the god heard the something's quiet plea:

another chance.

-----

once, not so long ago, there was a man. he walked through an overgrown forest, dirt on his hands and his shovel. he loved walking in the forest, listening to the sounds of nature. it was calming.

he paused near a burbling creek to wash the sweat from his face. he sighed in grim satisfaction- tired, sore, numb. but it was over, at last.

the man realized, after staring into the water for long minutes, that something was different. wrong. the forest was silent here. his eye was drawn to a large stone behind him- half his height or more, veined with black and glittering white patches. on its face, a hand print painted with something dark.

a strange impulse took over, something wild within him, and he began to dig.

-----

once, now. a scraping sound. crumbling earth. cracking twigs. then, light. sunlight. warm and bright and so welcome after so long in the dirt.

the creature reached out from its grave. its hands- long, clawed, discolored- shook as it pulled itself up. it blinked against the morning light, yawned as though waking from a long nap.

it almost didn't notice the man with the shovel. he stared at it, his expression unreadable. it ignored him, letting the world wash over it: a cool breeze on its face, the sound of the water, of birds and insects, of wind through the leaves, the cloying scent of dark earth giving way to flowers and trees.

finally, the man held out a hand- blistered, rough, covered in soil- and the creature let him pull it from the earth.

the man removed his cloak, wrapping it around the creature's broad shoulders. it rubbed the fabric between its clawed fingers- soft, warm, dark like good soil- and smiled. it should have been frightening, with its sharp claws and sharper teeth, but the man just smiled back.

wild things understand each other.

#flight rising #&howl #&syndor #howl is so gender tbh #if i had a nickel for every oc ive made #who was treated terribly as an afab in a medieval-ish setting #and took in dark magic to transition + take revenge on those who mistreated them #into a big ol monster with a thick curly mane #id have 2 nickels which isnt a lot but its weird its happened twice #(referring to king) (theyre pretty different in p much all other ways tho)

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thebonejunky · 9 months

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im redesigning the Yellowjackets(90s versions) so i thought i would share some of my brainstorm ideas for new designs

note: look at the reblogs for full thread because i will be adding on as i post each character

im going to draw one(out of seven) character every day. i really love all the actors and outfits in the show, but i want to take them a step further to make them more interesting and stylize them into drawn characters. i also think more symbolism could be implemented into their appearances. my notes below are just random little things i want to add, or some more complicated characterization. i would also very much like to read anyone elses ideas!

Shaunas eyebags heavier

Misty wears redcross patch on her jacket and has bandages wrapped around her sleeves and pant legs

Misty wears the most Yellowjacket gear out of anyone because she desperately wants to feel apart of the team(overcompensation).

Jackie wears a lot of jock-like clothing(bomber jacket, jersey, cleats, etc) but does not have the body type or body movement of a jock, like she's overcompensating for her lack of athletic ability compared to everyone else.

Van's scars are much bigger and more jagged. they werent able to sew up the hole in her cheek and her teeth are visible through the hole, and her left eye is permanently discolored(red sclera, yellow iris) and vision has been lost there. she is not a werewolf, but has stylistic traits reminiscent of one, like sharp teeth and nails. represents the ways in which she has been forced to become more feral and animal-like in order to survive.

Van and Tai's cult masks parallel each other and are recreated versions of their doomcoming masks. while their doomcoming masks represent love and new beginnings, their cult masks represent codependancy and death.

Luara Lee wears entirely white throughout her entire time in the wilderness to represent her innocent and "purity". there are moments where her clothes becomed stained(some times with blood) but she always removes the stains with great care(inspired by Fear Street 1978 when Cindy removes red moss stains from her white polo- the white polo representing her heteronormativity, and the red moss representing lesbian desire). she dies without losing this innocence. this symbolism also reinforces the idea that cannibalism represents girlhood and love between girls(blood is a symptom of femininity. to eat is to give into desire).

Tai becomes more contridictory of herself in her appearence as time goes on and her sleepwalking-self becomes more prominent. clothes with contridictory colors/patterns, Gemini themes.

give van even more butch energy

Lottie wears clothes and accessories that are more witch-like and reminscent of nature. fur jacket, bones and antlers, leaves used to tie clothing together.

make Nat more punk. piercings, band patches on her leather jacket. not design related but i think it would be cool if she played an instrument, like practiced guitar on the down low when shes not playing soccer.

#yellowjackets #character design #boney ideas

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oftenwantedafton · 5 months

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Trapped - Steve Raglan/William Afton x Female Detective Reader

Finale

Rating - Explicit

Warnings for blood and violence

Also available on AO3

You strain against your bonds for what feels like the hundredth time, finally noticing a faint rattling sound.

The bolt shackling your right wrist to the table is loose.

The position of your hand makes it difficult to maneuver as you redouble your efforts, struggling to pull the pin out, fingers plucking and sliding awkwardly.

At last it surrenders, sliding free and falling to the floor. You tug your hand from the shackle and quickly work on the left side. Taking only a moment to rub the sore creases of your wrists, you sit up, instantly reminded of the wounds on your chest and abdomen as pain sears through you, your shirt now plastered to the weeping incisions. You grit your teeth as you work to free your ankles. You don’t have any time to waste.

Once released you slide off the table, stumbling, one hand pressed against your stomach, searching your surroundings for a suitable weapon.

You’re not entirely sure what the metal rod you select from a nearby shelf is intended for, but you know what its new purpose will be. It’s narrow and short enough to be discreet, and still has a decent amount of heft without being too heavy. One end is razor sharp. Tucking it up into the sleeve of your shirt, you start towards the exit.

***

It’s been years since you last saw the yellow rabbit, and those years have not been kind.

The once cheerful golden color like pure sunlight has grown discolored, stained with dirt and rust and mold and tainted with far worse things you don’t care to imagine. Most of one ear is missing. There are jagged tears along both arms and legs and one side of the chest piece, exposing the alloy and cables beneath, a child’s friend turned into the stuff of nightmares.

He’s even taller than you remember, looming over Mike clutching a knife in one fist. The guard is lying on the floor in the dining room, propped up on one elbow to support his weight. One leg is mangled, the limb twisted at an awkward angle beneath him. Just behind him is Abby, crumpled into a small heap.

She’s not dead. She’s not.

Further away, you see four animatronics, their positions on stage abandoned, eyes glowing an ominous crimson.

What the fuck is going on?

“Afton!”

The rabbit’s head lifts in your direction, the silver eyes focusing on your wounded figure. He reaches up with his free hand, pressing some switch and the headpiece detaches, tossed lightly and dropped near your feet, exposing the monster within the decaying husk of costume. The flashing stage lights illuminate his features, revealing pale eyes no longer framed by golden rimmed glasses, his graying hair plastered in damp clusters to his forehead. He smiles at you, dimples forming at the corners of his mouth.

“William,” he corrects, stepping towards you.

You recoil instinctively but he’s fast, surprisingly so in the bulky looking costume. He closes the distance and wraps a hand encased in steel around your throat, shoving you back against the checkerboard patterned wall. His breathing is rapid, erratic. You see dried blood and saliva from earlier crusted in his beard.

“I knew those shackles sounded loose,” he pants. The weight of one forearm pins your left side as his fingers relax, dragging cold against your neck. “But it’s better this way. You should be here to see this. You really can’t stay away from me, can you?”

He’s so fucking delusional.

You try to ease the tool you’ve obsconded from the repair room further down your sleeve in subtle motions, attempting to distract him a little longer and play for time.

“You’re right. I’m addicted.”

He huffs and smirks, moaning in surprise when you stretch to capture his lips with yours, the musty smell of the rotting bowtie heavy near your mouth. The pressure against you loosens as you deepen the kiss, feeling the pointed edge of your concealed weapon shift enough to scrape your palm.

“I fucking knew it,” he breathes against your cheek, teeth catching on one ear lobe before scraping along your neck, nipping and bruising, the killer marking his next victim.

You place one hand against his chest, stroking teasingly down the tattered patches of fur and cloth until you reach an area that’s worn away completely, exposing the metal framework of the suit itself. You suck on his lower lip, starting a fresh trail of blood as you ready the improvised weapon, pointing at the most vulnerable spot of the costume. You whimper with feigned pleasure because you know he enjoys it, further distracting him, elbow drawing back slightly and then you thrust it forward, burying the metal tip within the yellow rabbit’s body.

Afton instantly draws back, eyes flashing, his grip on you already tightening again for the briefest of moments before you hear the sound of something heavy and metallic snap, like a bear trap closing.

It’s the suit itself, the interior components designed to keep the animatronic equipment separate from the wearer failing, locking the murderer inside.

A series of more snaps follows, puncturing his lungs and piercing his organs. He falls to his knees, grimacing, abandoning his knife so he can reach for the fallen headpiece. Patches of dark liquid blossom ominously, his blood saturating the costume.

He struggles to speak, each spiteful word agony.

“You think…you’ve won. But…you’re wrong. I always…come back.” The rabbit’s head rejoins its broken body, its glowing eyes glaring pure hatred at you.

“Not this time,” you whisper.

You hear Mike calling your name, Abby’s voice chiming in. The animatronics, so still during this encounter, as if awaiting instructions, march towards you in a line. Their eyes have lost their menancing shade of red, but still you cower against the wall uncertainly.

You needn’t have worried. It’s not you they’re after.

The fox’s hooked appendage lodges somewhere near the yellow rabbit’s neck, dragging him past you back into the hallway, accompanied by the other rabbit, bear, and chicken. Afton’s choked gurgles of protest continue as he’s pulled deeper into the shadows, back into the heart of the establishment.

A light fixture above your head tumbles suddenly, dangling threateningly by a single wire. Another nearby also gives way, and still another. The entire ceiling begins to collapse and you finally regain your ability to move, rushing to Mike’s side. You tuck your hands into his arm pits, curling up around his shoulders and begin dragging him along as fast as you can, yelling to his sister.

“Abby, get outside, now! This whole place is coming down.” As if to emphasize your statement another section of ceiling gives away in a cascade of ceiling tiles and ductwork. You barely make it through the arched entryway before it too collapses, sending metal and glass crashing to the floor.

Mike insists he can move on his own, struggling to stand, grabbing Abby’s hand and yours, urging you forward as you burst through the main entrance. You can hear the restaurant continue to demolish itself behind you as you flee, crumbling concrete now joining the debris of the interior. Something inside has caught fire, sending dark smoke into the air. You sag against Mike’s car, watching Abby bury her face in the crook of her sibling’s arm. His free arm wraps around your shoulders and together you watch the pizzeria burn.

You’ll make your way to your car to call for an ambulance and backup in a few moments, but for now, you just need to see this, the death of the beast that’s taken so many lives.

The nightmare that has haunted Hurricane for so long has finally ended.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan x you

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tomatoart · 10 months

Note

i was just wondering why you color the teeth of the characters different colors cus its a rlly cool detail but i wasnt sure why you did it. just a style choice maybe??? ANYWAYS love ur art, keep it up :D

THABK YOU SO MUCH OMG… tbh it’s a little mix of stylistic choice and reasons! it’s stylistic bc with everything being the same blue it gets a lil old for me so I like to mix up if there’s a green somewhere to compliment the full piece, especially if I find green teeth fit the characters pallet more than blue (like gwen w green looks nice to me since she has blue eyes) and I find blue teeth look nice with darker skin tones like miles/hobie! But it’s not always the case as It’s also used to show off that teeth aren’t all the same and some ppls teeth are darker or more stained :] sometimes when I use green teeth it’s to imply slight discolor! Usually I’d use a neon yellow green to imply yellow teeth- green (or darker disaturated blue) to imply common discoloration- and mid tone blue for white teeth :) it’s kinda a wild card to find out when I wanna show off that vs doing it just bc I think the colors look better different, but if it’s a group picture and they have diff colors it’s probably to imply diverse Smiles

like my resevil art: Leon has blue opposed to Luis’ neon lime green smile

or my mia and ethan art they have more green tints because I headcanon the mold in their bodies effects their appearance more!

But also sometimes it’s just to fit the persons pallet like my jerma or Vinny art

so at the end of the day it’s all just bc I hav a lot of fun with it and it’s one of my favorite discoveries I’ve made w my style!!! So I’m so happy you picked it out and looked at it so nicely!!!

#asks #not tomaart #I HOPE THAT MAKES SENSE !! I just do it to be silly sometimes but it’s fun to switchup!

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olivescales3 · 9 months

Text

The Forgotten Legends of Chima, Episode 1

Writer's notes at the end of the post

I thought I knew him well, after spending my entire childhood alongside him, but now, he stabbed me through the back. No… It can't be—

This can't be him… He would never do something like this. Or so I thought – he has shoved me aside and stolen the Golden Chi from my grasp.

The furious crocodile stands tall, exuding resentment through every fiber of his body, from the tense muscles to the frowning eyebrows. The shadows projected onto him by hundreds of green leaves seem to discolor his vibrant scales. They form delicate petals that flutter at the wind's command; a force so fierce enough to sway his intimidatingly torn cape.

As I lean onto a nearby tree and regain my posture, I can't help but ruminate on emotion-driven doubts lingering in mind… How could someone hurt their childhood friend? This doesn't make sense! We haven't seen each other in years, but there is no way he would do something like this out of the blue. I'm certain that he is innocent – not because we were childhood friends, but because he was one of the kindest animals I have ever met.

I don't know who hurt him, the criminal who slaughtered his child-like innocence, and worse… I can't stop worrying about what he did to my friend's eye. It was once brimming with emotion and life, but now the only remains I see is a lifeless pearl that can't shine anymore. It was slashed with so much hatred that wrath was buried underneath its scar, which ran from his left eyebrow down to the jaw.

"Cragger… look, it's been quite some time since we last met, right? We can talk it out, solve this problem and… Maybe make things clear?", I mumble whilst my arm trembles as I try to reach out to him, "I need to know what happened. Why did you do this?"

The struggle Chima had with the Wolf Tribe put everyone under stress, and that made the demand for Chi more intense than ever. Each tribe became more wary of one another…

"I know that the conspiracies surrounding you are false. You didn't know that Wilhurt was there. We fell into an ambush… nothing that happened during this was your fault!"

They made him expect forgiveness for something out of his control. They thought that my friend caused the incident, that he was responsible for everything that happened to me.

I am not like that, and I will do anything to prove this.

One slow step at a time, I expose myself, opening my arms, at risk of any attack.

We're at the Forever Rock. Cragger and I would play here almost everyday, and yet this is where I first see him in five years… five years since he was attacked, right here.

I glance at the old, discolored blood stains that mark the dry dirt beneath our toes. Although we are surrounded by bountiful grass and near a stunning crystal-clear lake, it is impossible to distract ourselves, with the miracle of nature, from the unnecessary trauma and misunderstandings.

The crocodile backs away, his claws clutching onto the shiny, gold crystal Chi, and on the other hand, his double sided sword. A long shadow, projected by his body blocking off the sunlight, occludes the Forever Rock, gatekeeping our lovely days behind grudges.

His single eye twitches, trying to pay attention both to the crystal in his grasp and me. His nostrils flare, he clenches his big, impressive crocodilian teeth.

"Laval… Don't- don't come closer, don't even think about reaching me. This might be the end of us." He warns me, slowly pointing his sword at my direction, "We shouldn't have met each other…"

His body begins to give up on him, weighing him down on his legs, but he resists his weakness and maintains balance.

His pupils constrict, "No. I shouldn't have met you, disgraceful lion! Ever since we became friends, your tribe has changed my life for the worst.", he kicks the ground in frustration.

To my dismay, Cragger stabs the soil multiple times. Not just once, but twice, thrice— I can't count how many times he shoved his weapon deep into the ground, but he repeats this brute movement with exceeding passion.

The sword is thrown downwards, and, finally, gets stuck in between dirt's crevice. Cragger grabs the handle that's sticking out like a sore thumb. He wiggles the object in despair.

I can't stand up, but I slowly approach my friend, wobbling short hops with my right foot.

"I… understand it now. It's all politics— my childhood was just a tool. Like my status as prince."

I couldn't even reach him…!

No… no, no! Where did I go wrong— what didn't I do right? If my words were unable to reach him, then what am I supposed to do now?

He collapses onto the floor, sobbing from between his fangs, pleading for help. Tears flood from his right eye and rain on top of the dead, soulless ground, although it's not those crocodile tears that they have been mocking ever since the incident. These are the purest of waters, able to revive even the driest of land. Even if it means to add salt to injury.

I try my best to convince him to let go of the Chi. He's still too young to use it. No one his age should ever need to become stronger; a chemical this powerful will only bring harm.

He gazes at the orb surrounded by his fingers. One misstep and it will ruin our lives. Without his sword, the only way to hurt us would be—

"You foul lions never stop telling me what to do!… My childhood's blood spilt on this very soil and you scums call it a 'sense of justice'!"

I rush to Cragger as fast as I can, with all of the strength I can muster from my legs. My lack of coordination makes me trip. He, before my eyes, propels himself, and, without giving me time to even react, bashes his head onto me.

A blunt pain spreads throughout my entire chest, almost constricting my lungs, or so what it feels like, unabeling me to breathe properly. The grass flies towards me and barely softens my fall, but the aching on my back and gut now become one and the same as a sickening and paralyzing numbness.

Within my desperate and shallow panting, I'm able to hear Cragger's voice, but I can't understand what he's talking about.

My eyes keep closing while I try to stay awake. I can't breathe nor see properly… the only thing I feel is someone grabbing me and—

Is that water entering my lungs?...

I failed.

This is our story; of Laval, the prince of the Lions, and my friends, overcoming obstacles of misery and tragedy. A story of friendship, but also war, destruction, selfishness, and, amidst it all, a sprinkle of hope and kindness that made everything here possible. A prince who overcame violence without picking up a sword. And, before that, it started right at our childhood.

These are… the Legends of Chima.

As the moon rises, it reflects its light onto the nearby lake that surrounds us, forming a perfectly circular shape, only to be distorted afterwards by the water. My tiny lion cub body appears in the picture of the reflection as I try to get closer to the reservoir. The water here is so clear, to the point that its entire ecosystem, from plants to small animals, are visible. Ironically enough, the images mirrored on the liquid block the view of what's on the bottom. I lift one of my legs and I shake it left and right to mess with the image.

Suddenly, the water starts to tremble, deforming my mirrored self and the moon near it. A dark green monster rises to the surface… is it a swamp monster?

"Caught you! I win, I win! Scaredy cat!", Cragger growls, "Don't mess with the Master of Stealth!"

Water sprinkles over my fur and drenches my blue tunic… which is terrible! My body flinches in agony by the feeling of a night breeze hitting my wet coat.

He grabs my hand and climbs over to the surface. An euphoric grin surges on his face, his slitted eyes widen. Our friend group gave him a nickname due to his amazing ability to hide around here, in addition to his long win streak on these types of games. Cragger's dark green head is able to camouflage between the plants, and his olive green torso becomes invisible amongst the algae. Not only that, he's able to climb trees and hide himself there.

I rest myself on the surface of the Forever Rock after this long session of hide and seek with my friends. I leave space for Cragger to cut another line on the stone, marking his new victory.

Unfortunately, not everyone is content with his achievement. Our youngest friend, Worriz, is fuming with rage, hopping around, making the funniest faces during his temper tantrum.

"I am serious!", he swears from the top of his lungs, "Why should I play this if Cragger can just hide himself in water?! That jerk knows we can't swim properly!"

Worriz comes from the Wolf Tribe. He inherited his great sense of smell from his father, one of the wolf elders.

Cragger marches towards the pup. Mighty stomps tremble the dirt. He stands his ground, and pushes the fluffy little guy with his chest. They exchange glares and they clench their wrists.

Worriz shoves his paw onto Cragger's torso. "Unfair! I expected better from a… modest prince!"

The crocodile flares his nostrils and raises his eyebrow. He touches his moist, torn red loincloth, then, he proceeds to giggle.

"I bet you're just jealous that you can't 'swim properly'. Fight someone your size, you pa- pathetic puppy!"

The wolf snarls and begins to swab his tongue on his snout, over and over again. It seems that standing on his toes is not enough to make him look bigger.

"Learn to speak properly before starting arguments!

Worriz' pelt sprinkled with dirt emits a nasty, sickening stench, mixed with the muggy scent of adrenaline coming from the sweat dripping between Cragger's scales, like rain on a hot summer day.

I observe Cragger's face being showered by tears as they inevitably join the sweat on his tense body. I feel his indignation – no, even worse, his pain, his wrath. Worriz always had a sharp tongue, but this childish quarrel has escalated into a disaster of targeting someone's dignity and adding salt to their injury. Cragger fought to be able to speak, he overcame his difficulties so that he could express himself–

"You, Worriz, don't know how much he bore. You do not have the right to judge someone for the way they were born.", words escape from my lips.

Before I'm able to notice, my friends are staring at me.

"Hey, hey!", I intervene, "It's… it's not like my friend is innocent anyways! He also can't judge Worriz' height!"

I snatch my best friend's cold, thin arm. I cling onto him, but he pushes me away… and, in a matter of seconds, between our mutually fleeting gaze, he faces the forest behind us and propels his olive green scaly body in the direction of the bushes. The leaves rustle with his rapid steps until he disappears between the plants. My muzzle opens wide; how could he run away like that if all I did was attempt to help him?...

No… Did I hurt his feelings?

Worriz barks at me, puffs up his chest and repeats the words, "Ooh, my bestie ran away! What am I supposed to do?", with a mocking melodramatic tone of voice.

I glance at Worriz; I know you're trying to insult me. And this is your last straw.

I chase after my friend, going through the same bushes as he did, almost tripping over on the fallen sticks scattered around the ground. Beyond this direction are roads that cut throughout the tropical forest, leading to the entirety of the lands west.

He's already fled with his Speedor. Mine and Worriz' stone unicycles are parked near a big tree trunk.

I hop onto my vehicle and, at maximum velocity, I track down the marks left behind. The nature around me becomes blurry as I continue down the path facing left, on a precipice trail curved inwards. My surroundings change drastically from grass to dry soil. The rapid transition is nauseating—

Whoa!

My body flings forward.

The speed of my unicycle had decreased in the blink of an eye. I had forgotten that Speedorz don't work properly on lifeless terrain.

This is the Great Divide, an arid, mountainous land. It's called home by the Eagle Tribe, and this is where their domain, the Eagle Spire, is located; it's the summit of this thin, gray block mountain. The area here is covered with sharp peaks that scatter even throughout the horizon. A few greens appear here and there, but there is not much life here because rainfalls are scarce in the Great Divide.

The road is slowly getting thinner, and it's becoming easier to notice the elevation between the ground and I. I glimpse at the road track left previously by Cragger.

Wait… it seems that—

He made a sharp turn towards The Fangs!

I follow the curve with a heavy drift. Parts of the cliff tumble down behind me– I swear I could've fallen too.

My Speedor bumps into piles of debris. The stone unicycle rattling is unbearable. My wheel is chipping with the slightest collision. I should be more careful with my driving skills.

The sky is closing by the minute and I'm barely able to see where I'm going. How could someone be this reckless to run into the Fangs? He's risking his own life because of insults!

Everything is now black and white. The moon coats the land with light, and it bounces varying tones of gray into my eyes. Sharp, fang-like pinnacles are dispersed everywhere and form an disorganized barrier around the region. Not so far away, a slim and animalistic silhouette is leaning down near a crocodile head shaped Speedor. A silhouette so bright it could bear the appearance of a spirit.

I decelerate my Speedor and brake all of the remaining momentum by piercing my hind claws into the solid dirt, then I proceed to hop off my vehicle. I have finally found Cragger, but there is no time for relief now. My next move might put us at any risk. Of course, I still wish I could run after him. I can't leave him alone like this.

Step after step, I get closer to Cragger. He notices me, still upset from the moment before, and at this point we are at a comfortable distance away from each other.

"Cragger… None of us were expecting Worriz to act the way he did. I promise this won't happen again; I'll sort things out with him, and maybe he'll get grounded for what he said.", I murmur, "Please relax, okay?"

The crocodile hesitantly opens his mouth, and tightens his shaking hand.

He musters the courage to reply. He groans, "I'm trying to, Laval… I'm trying!

"D- do you think it's easy to let go of things like that? Or that words simply dissolve into the air like they're nothing? Tell me!" He covers his head with his hands.

His cry launched itself from left to right, jumping off one pinnacle towards another. If someone was here, they would've certainly picked up on our presence.

"How're you able to simply 'sort out things' with him? Did– did you even understand what he said? Or what he meant? He insulted the effort of my parents– if it weren't for them, I would've been mute, or even dead!", he shouts again.

Words leaked through Cragger's lips; waves after waves of uncontrollable anger rose high until they hit the ground. I never expected anything like that to happen.

His grunts start to fade away, as my mind boils with intrusive thoughts; dead… what could this mean? Why was there a possibility of Cragger being dead, why would that even happen? What would I be without him, how would I live without his audacity distracting me from rigorous royal rules… How would his parents react to their sweet child dissolving into the air—

A petrifying chill rushes through my nerves; both of my shoulders stun by the pinch of a scaly pair of hands. In the blink of an eye, my entire body is shaken viciously. The constant brute movement mixed with the intense emotions make me dizzy. I'm unable to react properly; everything seems fuzzy, my head feels light, my body starts numbing.

"Silly lion, when will you stop freezing like a cub and come back to reality? Toughen up a little bit!" he cackles in a sudden change of mood. Perhaps I lost the notion of time's passing.

My eyes widen and my muzzle droops into an awkward expression, though I can't stop myself from laughing too, "Haha… I don't know– do I really paralyze that often? Well, it's surprising how much you tolerate me", incomplete syllables mumble from my mouth due to my dizziness.

I sigh, "... I'm glad you aren't strict with me. My dad is already too much."

I stretch my arm onto one of the sharp pinnacles, then I firmly close my eyes.

"Just breathe, aight… You'll be fine, because I'm your friend! Friends are supposed to help each other.", says Cragger.

I've got my friend's back. Now, maybe we could travel on foot towards the Eagle Spire, get help there and go back home. Staying up late alone is not safe. Cragger stares at the moon. It's full, and nearby where we are rests the Wolf Tribe's outpost, which changes location ever so frequently. He points out that it looks quite purplish tonight; I can't see colors at night, but the moon's appearance is darker than normal. Strange.

I stick up my neck and look at the sky. Right now, it feels like a pitch-dark void is covering us. From sight alone it emits a silky, soft feeling on my paw pads. The round, allegedly purple moon stands out like a sore thumb.

Oh—

My ears turn sideways. Screeching noises, like claws scraping on rocks, buzz inside my eardrums. The high pitch of these sounds itch throughout their way into my ear canal.

This disjointed sound pulls the trigger of my anxiety and the adrenaline rush pumps throughout my veins.

I'm fed with these obnoxious panics of mine, but it unleashed a gut feeling I can't pinpoint properly. My body drowns with nausea; fired up aches spread inside me a bit, I sense some kind of dampness that flows from the stomach to my mouth. It's weird and uncomfortable, but I hope it won't last for long.

Argh! Hoarse cacophony vibrates all around the vast land. I… I can't keep up for long!

I move towards the sound, folding my ears to avoid hurting my eardrums. Everything's blurry again, and I'm unable to hear my surroundings. Far away, I glimpse at a shadow near a rock. Is it the same rock from the noises?

As I get closer, a strange ringing becomes stronger. The shadow's long, thin body twitches in my direction. Huh?

It dashes. Straight to me. Out of nowhere.

I let go of my ears for just a second, long enough to hear:

"Get away from my friend! Now!"

Cragger pushes me aside and I fall head first on the ground; there, I squint my eye for a last second, as I fainted, and the shadow wasn't gone.

My eyelids slowly open, my vision starts to regain strength. After a little bit of effort, I see two lions staring at me, their eyebrows raised and lips drooping down.

The lion on the right… is my dad! His shiny gray mane, meticulously separated in half into sleek bangs, is covered with expensive insect wax. I could define his expression as priceless. Though I'm barely recovering my consciousness. In fact, maybe I'm in deep trouble, as his sharp and well cared for teeth are exposed.

Besides him is my uncle; he has a blond, voluminous, messy mane, unique for a lion his age, with a mullet. His dark brown fur, tan caramel muzzle and paws make him eye-catching compared to the rest of my family. His tall and slightly muscular build stands there awkwardly as Dad's small eyes widen, placing his paws gently on my face.

Dad folds his muzzle into a big snarl. Even if I'm feeling kind of disconnected from reality, I know for sure he's ready to spill an hour long lecture. He's the King of the Lions, after all.

"Oh, thanks Mount Cavora, you're finally awake! I'm unable to believe you would get into such a mess, my son.", Dad sighs in relief, "Your arm was deeply clawed; all of that would've been avoided if you had called us. I taught you how to roar, why are you afraid of communicating with us?"

This is too much to process…

Dad continues, "Lavertus. An atrocious attack was targeted towards my son– the prince of the Lion Tribe, my heir, my future! Please, go forth and investigate the area. Search for eyewitnesses and identify this abhorrent criminal."

My uncle shrugs his shoulders, visibly confused. I imagine this is too much for him, just like it is for me. An attack… seriously? I don't remember much, but I can feel my arm numbing.

I try to get up, leaning forward. I place my left arm onto the comfy bed, but pain soon emerges and I'm forced to fall back. My dad's right, he's always right…

Lavertus leaves the room, and now it's just Dad and I. He sits besides me, on my right side, grabs my hand and holds it fiercely. He doesn't know what happened before this accident, that I rushed after Cragger without hesitation. He's unaware that I almost fell off a cliff. I wished only time would tell, but shouldn't a prince always be honest?...

"Laval", Dad pets my forehead, "tell me what happened. I can't help you if I don't know what you went through.", he whispers.

"Cragger and I were suddenly attacked at The Fangs. A shadow scratched a rock with his nails and jumped on me…"

He itches his lion chin,

"I see. However, something doesn't feel right. How did you get to such a dangerous place, and were you near anyone besides him?"

I stutter in hesitation; how should I explain what happened? Dad's slim body is relaxed, but his eyes still leak concern. My answer was too vague, but I hope he understood what I meant. He needs context to help me.

"My friends were playing together… I was with them. It's just that Worriz insulted Cragger… and he fled to The Fangs. Oh– I almost forgot to tell you that the moon was purple that night.", I added, as my awkward voice trembles.

Dad gets off the chair, then tilts his head to the side, laying his index finger on his mouth. The balcony of my room is bright because of the sun. The sun, that's where my Dad's looking at.

He marches to the door.

His tone of voice settles down, and as he takes his leave, he takes a moment to speak, "I think I've got it. I'll talk with the Eagles, as this incident is quite peculiar and I need an outside perspective about this. They live near The Fangs, so perhaps they can help us. I'll see you at night."

The wooden carved clock, sculpted by my friend Eris, ticks a soothing rhythm each passing second. I follow one of its pointers with my eyes as it slowly circles around, passing by the time markings beneath it.

I hover my head on top of the wound; it's still fresh and shiny, even though it stopped bleeding. The bed sheet I'm laying on top of, covered with red light due to the harsh sun rays hitting my bed curtains, isn't dirty either.

Dull stone walls cover my room, with a few triangular arches carved on them. At least I'm able to view Mount Cavora from here.

My dad really likes you, Mount Cavora. Even if you're a huge, floating mountain, you brought us life, you brought us Chi. The stone heads that bless us with Chi are what brings us all together, whether past or present, same or different species. Lions, Crocodiles, Eagles, Wolves… Ravens, Gorillas, Bears and Rhinos– we would not be what we are today if it weren't for Mount Cavora. The Great Story is a tale of old, marked by the Chi birthing a new civilization, and that's why Chima got its name– Chi knows it all; or that's at least what my dad says.

Steps reverberate all across the circular stairway up to my room. A shadow seems to emerge before the open door. My body jumps in response, dragging the curtain to hide myself and I end up squirming my injured arm.

The stranger moves towards my bed, as the light hits their body, projecting their silhouette on the bed curtains; they appear to be tall yet soft, resting their closed wings behind the back. I sigh in relief, because this animal does not look like the other shadow that attacked me. I shiver while opening the curtain. Mouth open, inhaling deeply.

I stick out my muzzle, and I am greeted by an eagle.

"Oh no! Please pardon me for startling you. That was quite rude of me.", the bird whimpered, "I'm the nurse your father entrusted to help you. My name is Ehboni."

She holds onto the curtain with her yellow scaled hands, adorned with black feathers that cover her wrist. Now that the blinds are open, I can clearly observe her appearance: her entire figure is covered by well-preened and smooth feathers, but they're quite dark, which made me mistake her for 'the' shadow. An expensive silver necklace, with sapphire jewelry, hangs by her fluffy neck. She smiles, opening her yellow beak.

Ehboni crouches near what looks like a box of medical equipment, and then opens it.

"Come closer, Laval. I need to inspect your lesion.", she whispers while organizing her materials.

I sit down on the edge of the bed, then she holds my arm and looks at it. After that, she picks up a medicinal leaf, lays it on top of my wound and bandages it.

My ears fall down, my eyebrows frown; I won't be able to do much for some time, but Ehboni says that it won't take long for me to recover.

"Just make sure you don't put strength on your left arm, okay?", she pets my shoulder.

"Alright… but– did you discover anything about my injury? Is it serious?"

Ehboni puts away her utensils, gets up, and says, "Don't worry, sweetie! You didn't suffer any major damage. I'll let Lagravis know the rest."

She leaves before I can react.

Argh! What is this 'rest'? She barely answered my question. The cut's shape seemed suspicious, yet I'm not supposed to know what it is? I fall on my bed and close my eyes shut in frustration, though I don't pretend to sleep anytime soon. It's still daytime.

I– I don't want to stay all day inside my room because of an accident. Even if I need to, at least tell me why!

I squint my eyes to check out if there is anyone else here. The room is quite empty, especially when my toys are all back in their place. I jump out of bed and go to one of the wall's arches, ready to admire the view again.

Someone knocks on the wall.

"Silly Laval, did you think you were going to be alone all day?", a soft voice murmurs from behind me.

I turn around, realizing that the voice comes from my friend, Eris. I'm confused on how she got here, although I don't doubt her sudden appearance is very convenient. Eagles are quite smart, so it's fair to assume that she somehow snuck into the temple.

She rests her elbow on the arch and leans her head on her wrist. Eris is a little older than my friends and I; her previously stippled bright blue feathers molted and she's starting to grow new white plumes. The sunlight irradiates her, smoothening her body into a cloud, free as the wind, going wherever she pleases.

Her light yellow eyes shine with brilliance.

"Oh, hey, Eris… It's nice to see you today.", I fiddle with my fingers, looking at my friend with an embarrassing smile, "What a coincidence. I just saw another eagle leave my room."

"That's the reason why I came after you. I overheard the conversation your dad had with mine. Ehboni was there too.", she lets go off the balcony and pets my head.

Oh. So she knows what happened. Great. Never mind how she got inside the Lion temple; I now need to discover what's going on, and why is Dad so secretive about all of this.

"Do you remember what the conversation was about? What did my dad say?"

"Okay… so, they were discussing how to gather information about this case. Lagravis speculates that what happened might've been a targeted attack against you, and thus ordered Ehboni to inspect your injuries."

That's really a lot to digest– it kind of makes sense, and I understand that this situation is serious, but… Why would anyone attack a child? Is that the reason that I'm supposed to not leave this place?

"Eris… would you mind giving your opinion about the situation?"

She shrugs her elbows and bows her head; perhaps asking a tween to dissect a possible hate crime is too much of a stretch. 'Tis too soon to make big assumptions, although the best ye could do is not stay outside at night, she adds in a bittersweet tone.

My best bet would be to observe my surroundings and piece any clues I find. If my dad's suspicions are correct, I'll end up face to face with that shadow again. Let's go to the Fangs!

I hold Eris' arm and tiptoe downstairs.

Eris and I are driving our Speedorz on dry land. The sky darkens as the sun is shining less, but it is not nighttime yet. Pinnacles of stone remain in their place, sticking out of the earth in a pattern similar to a ribcage, more so than fangs.

"These natural structures curve inwards into a shape that facilitates the propagation of sound", Eris whispers. "If anything happens here, we'll be able to hear it clearly."

We are near the area of the incident; amplified noises of chattering and footsteps reach us, which means that my uncle, alongside lion guards, are investigating the scene. We park our Speedorz near a 'fang', and spy the animals there.

Lavertus is crouched, observing the bloodstain my injury left on the ground. A lion guard with light brown fur and long canines analyzes the claw marks of the damaged rock from before. Another lion with an orange mane is taking notes of every minor detail pointed out by his co-worker and captain.

"Interesting. The slash left by the culprit has a distinct quirk– if we connect the scars, it forms a narrow curve", says the brown-maned feline. "The depth and position of the scratch hints that force was concentrated on the entire hand and arm, which means that they are not a lion."

My uncle replies, "I thought so, Longtooth. We put most of our pressure on our tendons to grip; my nephew's arm was hacked, and blood was drawn from him. We lions don't do that, neither do we hit arms."

Wind weaves the dust away, diffusing along the way the unnerving scent of blood– my blood. The shine no longer descends from the beyond above us, as mist starts to veil each of its rays. The shadows that hide our colors in blue are but a speck of our melancholy.

My blood's smell enters my lungs at every breath.

Each. And every. Breath.

I take it. Inside me.

Who–

Who is that? Near the blood?

Is that Laval, crouching near the pool of blood, hiding his wound from the monstrous creature? An unrecognizable monster, shadowed by malice?

Its eyes ooze with a purple vapor. How dare it reach towards the innocent prince, with its open mouth, drooling without self control. Maybe it has self control– it has malice. Malice.

The moon blinds me with a dark orchid colored light.

Now… white. All is white. I am not dead, at least. Something yellow is a little too close… is it the sun?

"Laval! Wake up!", that yellow thing screeches, "Wake up! Please…"

Eris? Is that you?

I latch myself onto her before falling.

It appears that a lot of time has passed– surrounded by a bunch of wolves, and Eris, I scream from the top of my lungs.

I anxiously whip my tail behind me and I end up hitting someone.

"Ouch! You idiot, watch what you're doing! You slapped my face!", Worriz barks.

The wolves distance themselves from me.

Ahh. I feel much better now… the atmosphere, although humid, stinks no more. It freshens my insides. I let go of Eris, then I examine my surroundings.

This is the Wolf Lair; a giant truck-like vehicle, built out of metal, with a cockpit shaped like a wolf head.

I always knew that wolves didn't have a fixed home, but I underestimated how much space they lived in, and the amount of tonnage space they used.

"Pesky eagle! You came all the way here just for us to pity your friend? We don't have time for trivial incidents like this.", Worriz turns around and stares at me. "I'll tell my dad you're the one bothering me, Laval!"

A door of the Wolf Lair opens, revealing a gray elder wolf, trembling his hind paw to reach the ground. Worriz sprints at the feeble senior to hold his hand and help him gain balance.

His face is wrinkled all around his muscles. His bean eyebrows, due to old age, have loosened into a pitiful expression, accentuated by his dirty tear ducts. His white muzzle is unkempt, falling down on his chin, with long unused whiskers. Even though it's natural, the sight of the natural physical deformities that come with age is saddening. Most of the time, they're not fatal, but you can see the effort it takes to remain alive.

Their tight bond is enough to show that they're father and son.

The wolves around us whisper, "Wakz! Wakz!"

Wakz smiles with his weak lips, while his son scowls with his teeth exposed.

"Oh Laval… are you feeling better now? Your friend brought you here, away from the scene. My people told me everything– I am deeply sorry for what happened."

I itch my eyelid a bit. A scene?... Ah, that scene. Of course, I came here to understand what happened. Maybe asking Wakz about it could help me reach a better conclusion? We aren't far away from the area of the incident, therefore it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to get information from him…

"Yup… I'm fine, feeling better right now– and, about what you said earlier… Has anyone in your tribe seen something like that? Or did something suspicious happen before that?"

He turns his head and faces the crowd before him, sulking his already gloomy face. To shun your own pack, huh…

"Quite some time ago, there was a wolf. A big, bad wolf. Unfortunately for us, we didn't know how he became like that, nor why. He was a silent killer, taking others' lives without leaving any trace behind. However… I have yet to find any news of him in more than years.", Wakz grunts, as his voice sounds more frustrated than normal, slouching his body forwards. "I suppose this might help you. Take care, young one."

The elder returns to his base, followed by the others, in a single linear formation. I wonder if they're some kind of hive mind, given how they act like an ant colony. Though I doubt that they would call themselves a colony, and that's because they aren't one.

Eris and I stare at each other in confusion; is this a mystery worth uncovering, or is it just a dangerous dead end? We could come back to Lavertus and ask about what he found.

Weird enough… I was close to the shadow before fainting. Yet… I wasn't able to see it. It's frustrating– if I knew what trait the culprit had, I would've had at least one clue to solve this mystery. I need to find out who committed this crime against me; why would they do something like that, what happened to them? Are they the wolf Wakz mentioned?

Eris covers her beak with her delicate talons, masking her smile. What's all that giggling about? I hold her wrist with my two paws and hover it to me. She, using her unoccupied claws, points behind me, with an adorable expression on her face, almost ready to burst out laughing.

Ugh! This is no time to laugh! My life might be in danger… What are you thinking about—

My ears! Ouch!

I let go of her hand and a firm grip pushes my ears down to the ground. My thump mixes with her laugh and Worriz' barkings. The sounds spread all along the area.

The fall hurts my arm a bit, but I don't mind it, as long as I have my friends with me, seeing their mindless quarrels, funny pranks, crazy adventures...

...Friendship is truly something magical, and I believe we should try to be together as much as possible, because I don't know when it's going to end. Eris lays down on the floor next to me, chattering about the stars, her new discovery about water… She talks about gravity, and that she saw the water following along with the movement of the moon. Amazing isn't it?

I lie sideways, gazing at Eris while she continues her incessant ramblings, explaining how she likes to study, her major interests such as technology and culture of her tribe. She's truly a beacon of knowledge, and I admire her for that.

Moments of peace never last forever; Worriz groans and pushes us around like little toys.

"Oh, hey? What about me, huh? You lovebirds need to listen to others too!", he whines, "Do you guys not know who Wilhurt is, like, seriously? I mean, he hasn't been seen in ages… but if you ended up having your ass beaten by him, then, it's on you. Not my fault you ran up to that guy."

I let out a heavy growl. Why did I invite Worries to play with us in the first place? He's a bratty troublemaker. He bullied Cragger– if it wasn't for that, we wouldn't be here in the first place. Though, he's kind of right, because our fight doesn't have any correlation with… Wilhurt?

Never heard of that name before. It might be important later, though, so I'll keep that in mind.

Shaking movements alert us to three Speedorz approaching the Wolf Lair; they're Lavertus, Longtooth and the orange haired lion from before.

My uncle runs up to me and hugs me. We need to head back home now.

For anyone who reads this until the end: I hope you enjoyed the first episode of TFLOC! I was struggling with how to end this episode, especially because I noticed that I was losing my momentum on the pacing.

Sorry if the formatting of this post is a little different from the first full sneak peek. It isn't possible to copy all of the paragraphs and paste them into another post, and I don't have the patience to copy each and one of them individually. :(

Please reblog to share my work :D

#writeblr #writing #tfloc #the forgotten legends of chima #writers #writers of tumblr #writerblr #legends of chima #lego legends of chima #lego chima #cragger the crocodile #laval the lion #eris the eagle #worriz the wolf

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sassenach77yle · 6 months

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Here, Dr. Randall.” Joe leaned over and carefully placed the skull in my hands. “Tell me whether this lady was in good health, while I check her legs.” “Me? I’m not a forensic scientist.” Still, I glanced automatically down. It was either an old specimen, or had been weathered extensively; the bone was smooth, with a gloss that fresh specimens never had, stained and discolored by the leaching of pigments from the earth. “Oh, all right.” I turned the skull slowly in my hands, watching the bones, naming them each in my mind as I saw them. The smooth arch of the parietals, fused to the declivity of the temporal, with the small ridge where the jaw muscle originated, the jutting projection that meshed itself with the maxillary into the graceful curve of the squamosal arch. She had had lovely cheekbones, high and broad. The upper jaw had most of its teeth—straight and white. Deep eyes. The scooped bone at the back of the orbits was dark with shadow; even by tilting the skull to the side, I couldn’t get light to illuminate the whole cavity. The skull felt light in my hands, the bone fragile. I stroked her brow and my hand ran upward, and down behind the occiput, my fingers seeking the dark hole at the base, the foremen magnum, where all the messages of the nervous system pass to and from the busy brain. Then I held it close against my stomach, eyes closed, and felt the shifting sadness, filling the cavity of the skull like running water. And an odd faint sense—of surprise?

“Someone killed her,” I said. “She didn’t want to die.”

I opened my eyes to find Horace Thompson staring at me, his own eyes wide in his round, pale face. I handed him the skull, very gingerly. “Where did you find her?” I asked. Mr. Thompson exchanged glances with Joe, then looked back at me, both eyebrows still high.

“She’s from a cave in the Caribbean,” he said. “There were a lot of artifacts with her. We think she’s maybe between a hundred-fifty and two hundred years old.”

“She’s what?” Joe was grinning broadly, enjoying his joke. “Our friend Mr. Thompson here is from the anthropology department at Harvard,” he said. “His friend Wicklow knows me; asked me would I have a look at this skeleton, to tell them what I could about it.” “The nerve of you!” I said indignantly. “I thought she was some unidentified body the coroner’s office dragged in.” “Well, she’s unidentified,” Joe pointed out. “And certainly liable to stay that way.”[...]

“Oh, de headbone connected to de…neckbone,” Joe sang softly, laying out the vertebrae along the edge of the desk. His stubby fingers darted skillfully among the bones, nudging them into alignment. “De neckbone connected to de…backbone…” “Don’t pay any attention to him,” I told Horace. “You’ll just encourage him.” “Now hear…de word…of de Lawd!” he finished triumphantly. “Jesus Christ, L. J., you’re somethin’ else! Look here.” Horace Thompson and I bent obediently over the line of spiky vertebral bones. The wide body of the axis had a deep gouge; the posterior zygapophysis had broken clean off, and the fracture plane went completely through the centrum of the bone. “A broken neck?” Thompson asked, peering interestedly. “Yeah, but more than that, I think.” Joe’s finger moved over the line of the fracture plane.

“See here? The bone’s not just cracked, it’s gone right there. Somebody tried to cut this lady’s head clean off. With a dull blade,” he concluded with relish.

Horace Thompson was looking at me queerly. “How did you know she’d been killed, Dr. Randall?” he asked. I could feel the blood rising in my face. “I don’t know,” I said. “I—she—felt like it, that’s all.” “Really?” He blinked a few times, but didn’t press me further. “How odd.” “She does it all the time,” Joe informed him, squinting at the femur he was measuring with a pair of calipers. “Mostly on live people, though. Best diagnostician I ever saw.” He set down the calipers and picked up a small plastic ruler. “A cave, you said?” “We think it was a…er, secret slave burial,” Mr. Thompson explained, blushing, and I suddenly realized why he had seemed so abashed when he realized which of us was the Dr. Abernathy he had been sent to see. Joe shot him a sudden sharp glance, but then bent back to his work. He kept humming “Dem Dry Bones” faintly to himself as he measured the pelvic inlet, then went back to the legs, this time concentrating on the tibia. Finally he straightened up, shaking his head. “Not a slave,” he said. Horace blinked. “But she must have been,” he said. “The things we found with her…a clear African influence…” “No,” Joe said flatly. He tapped the long femur, where it rested on his desk. His fingernail clicked on the dry bone. “She wasn’t black.” “You can tell that? From bones?” Horace Thompson was visibly agitated. “But I thought—that paper by Jensen, I mean—theories about racial physical differences—largely exploded—” He blushed scarlet, unable to finish. “Oh, they’re there,” said Joe, very dryly indeed. “If you want to think blacks and whites are equal under the skin, be my guest, but it ain’t scientifically so.” He turned and pulled a book from the shelf behind him. Tables of Skeletal Variance, the title read. “Take a look at this,” Joe invited. “You can see the differences in a lot of bones, but especially in the leg bones. Blacks have a completely different femur-to-tibia ratio than whites do. And that lady”—he pointed to the skeleton on his desk—“was white. Caucasian. No question about it.”

Cap 20 diagnosis ~VOYAGER

#outlander #outlanderedit #the frasers #outlander series #outlander starz #outlander fanart #outlander books #claire fraser #dr claire randall #claire beauchamp #caitrionabalfe #outlander season 3 #outlander 3x05

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justanotherblogger · 2 months

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Shadow Trails ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-- TW kinda detailed gore/violence and death ahead --

The being got pelted with rain as it walked along the sidewalk, trying to find some proper shelter. The rain never ended as it shivered in its torn clothing.

It briefly inspected its surroundings as it walked, seeing how the rain turns yellow and sizzles when it touches anything. Its brown clothes started to gain small burns from the downpour after a while.

The sidewalks were cracked with unknown stains, burns, and fluids stuck in the gutters. These discolored the puddles and small streams from the storm, making everything seem polluted and unsavory.

Everything else looked like your average town back in New Oreans, but something was off about this place. Everything seemed uncanny. Where small details should be, there were slights in what its memory provided.

It eventually found something when it passed a boarded up speakeasy with the name 113 Club. It had an alley with stone steps leading up to a side door, with a small awning it could probably fit under.

It immeadietly ran towards the awning before crouching down at the top of the stairs, barely staying out of the acid.

As soon as it no longer felt the burning sensation, it sagged onto the stairs slightly. It started to breathe slower and closed its eyes for a second of rest.

Then it opened its eyes again, seeing this place now with focused vision. It now realized what it had found odd about the place. The building had sharper angles and desigbs than what it had remebered, with many shades of red and black coloring the entire area.

Even the plants and sky were red from what it could see through the storm clouds. The clouds themselves seemed darker than usually possible, not even mentioning the precipitation that came from them.

It leaned back onto the locked door, feeling the rough wood and peeling paint against its back. It tilted its head up, looking towards the clouds.

'How did I wind up... here?' It thought. Closing its eyes, it tried to recall the events leading up to this, but all it turned up was blurry visions and static.

The being tilted its head down in thought, trying to think of anything from before it got stuck in this place. But its mind seemed scattered; as only bits came back to it.

It started to get irritated. 'Why can't I remember anything. What... happened to me.' The rain seemed to fall harder, hissing as it hit the ground more and more, becoming unbearable to the beings' sensitive ears.

It huffed, putting its head in its arms. Gritting its teeth, it tried to think back again. Anything to try and-

*BANG*

The being snaps its head up, ears flicking in alert. It looked to the sky.

*BANG*

Lightning strikes the open street, thunder crackling to life a second later. Its pupils turn to pinpricks, with the shadows lashing out, tearing up the wall behind it.

But the being didn't notice, as that strike finally jogged its memory.

A gunshot. It remembered a gunshot.

It... He was running. From who, he didn't know. He could only feel his shoes imprinting onto the soil as he fled.

He remembers hunting dogs barking in the background as he tried to escape; bullets flying past his head as he weaved through the dense forest.

His pursuer was never far behind, though, as the noise of the dogs seemed to only get closer and closer at every second.

He ran and lightly jumped over the protruding roots and shrubs that covered the familiar forest floor, some lowering or diverting their branches to make an easier path.

But the pursuer was never slowed down, it seemed, as the weighted steps of the hunter were still heard behind him.

Even when he was weaving between thick trunks and sheltered by the shadows cast by the moon, the hunter never let up. He supposed he could respect the tenacity.

Bullets often shot into nearby trees, throwing debris in every direction. He occasionally got nicked in the neck, arms, and torso, but nothing was too severe; he had to keep running anyway.

Yelling could suddenly be heard, curses of every scale being spat out in anger alongside the furious howels of those beasts the sloppy hunter had brought with him.

A certain click from reloading was all he got before he had to dodge again, bullets whistling by as he laughed at the absurdity, the noise echoing through the trees.

His grin grew as the soil turned to mud: signifying that the bayou was getting close. The smell of musk and stale water filled his nose as a strong breeze blew throughout.

His dress shoes were probably completely ruined by now: the mud sticking to his soles. The ground is now filled with small, muddy puddles as he kept going deeper and deeper into his bayou.

He could feel his power slowly growing; shadows flickering at the edges of his vision. Water splashed up to his pant cuff as he crashed through progressively bigger puddles.

Almost there. Another bullet whistled by his head, lodging into a tree a couple of inches away from his head. Just a bit more.

The footsteps behind him suddenly became silent. A sense of unease filled him as he continued his pace. He wasn't going to stop just because some Joe decided to-

*BANG*

White hot pain suddenly shot up from his left calf, causing his leg to collapse at the shock. He quickly had a face full of dirt, his brown framed glasses shattered on the ground.

What just happened.

He felt blood slowly run down his leg and onto the ground. He tried to stand up, but shots of pain from his leg quickly threw him back down again. Ha! It'll take more than that to keep me-

The world started to spin around him, the shadows from the trees growing in size as he failed to pull himself forward.

Then thosewretched dogs found him; they rushed at him with immense speed.

He felt the teeth sinking into his flesh, tearing out the muscles with ease, taking chunks out at a time. The pain flashed up in waves as he felt more and more blood flow down his limbs and soak into the mud.

He clenched his jaw, throwing his body, trying to get the dogs off of him. With the little strength he had, he was able to pull out a knife from his belt and slash one of the beasts across the stomach.

It fell back, and he focused his slashes onto the second dog. He was able to strike two of its legs before it finally staggered away. He took a quick breath, the comforting smell of murky water and moss helping clear his head slightly.

The mud stuck to his skin as he crawled forward. He was so close now. He just needed a bit further. He needed to get to the water.

He dug his hands deep into the earth, pulling himself forward again. But the pain from everything became too much; his vision becoming cloudy from the blood loss.

The blood created a dark trail as it colored the soil he was laying on, the deeper slashes on his left arm giving most of the scarlet liquid away. The scratches and bites on his body became almost unnoticeable.

He could barely see the swamp up ahead. The still water brought back some determination as he tried to crawl through the pain.

But he was never that lucky.

He remembers the boots stepping in the mud behind him, leisurely walking up behind, the hunter taking his precious time, as to drag on this entire dabacol.

He couldn't see the pursuer clearly, as his glasses werent for nothing and the blood loss obviously did some things to his vision. The hunter had pulled him to lay on his back, staring him down.

The hunter suddenly stepped onto his right leg, using his full weight until the bone snapped. He never screamed, though. Only an annoying grin plastered on his face with bloody teeth.

He cackled once again. That was a good show. A daring chase throughout his home territory, real riveting! He saw how the shadows crept in on the man, who stared at his face unknowingly.

His grin stretched farther. Oh, he had the urge to laugh right again! But, he couldn't without it becoming repetitive-

*Snap!*

A branch cracked in the forest. The shadows scurried away as the hunter jerked violently, seemingly out of whatever trance he was in.

The grinning man quickly looked to the sound. A deer stood tall bathed in moonlight. Staring at the duo with blackened eyes. His eyes widened.

The man had barely any time to react before cold metal collided with his temple, pushing his head back into the cold, smooth mud.

*BANG*

Another strike of lightning, the thunder echoing through the alleyway. It was farther away this time. The rain had let up a bit since he had been, well, reminiscing.

His breathing was heavy, body now rigid from the rain, mostly. He stared at the downpore; wondering. 'I... died.'

He closed his eyes once again, the notion absurd enough to be featured on one of those radionovelas he'd heard about.

'Beloved radio host, actually the Bayou Butcher of New Orleans, killed in bayou where he buried his victims!' He could imagine. He huffed out a shallow laugh.

The acid rain had let up almost entirely, leaving the slight smell in the air after a downpour. He looked out to the street again, seeing all the boarded up doors and windows and cracks on the buildings. His stomach twisted.

He huffed before standing up once again and walking back out onto the street. He smoothly jumped over any overturned concrete or piece of rubbish in his way, as he went in a random direction.

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

The hotel had been going a bit slower than Charlie would have liked. A week after that incident on 666 News and not even one sinner had come asking for more details!

She even got Husk to help remodel the hotel a bit. Even if there was more green and purple than she would've liked in certain rooms.

Angel complained about the noise, saying he needed his beauty rest in order to keep the bucks flowing in. That caused Husk to mutter something she couldn't hear, and all of a sudden, she had to tear the two away from each other before furniture went flying.

They stayed away from each other the rest of the remodeling process.

Nifty also helped in the past week! Just, eh, in her own way. She was always skittering around the halls, stabbing the carpet after any remaining bugs. There was never any lasting damage to the floor, though, and all the dust and cobwebs were gone!

Now, besides remodeling, Charlie made many different posters for the hotel down in the lobby, just to stick all around Pentagram City and get the word out.

She obviously gave her drawing expertise to the design, but she almost always forgot to put the actual contact information, focused on the happy picture. So, she asked for help from Alastor, and he agreed! He never left the front desk, though; drawing and sketching on the bar counter.

However, he always forgot to put her phone number on there and kept writing 'Hazbin Hotel' instead of Happy Hotel. Whenever she asked, he just said, "I would never endorse those frivilous, jumbled picture cards! Anywho, the name is for your branding! No sinner with self-respect would go to any establishment called the 'Happy Hotel'. The other name fits the image of this city much better!"

She never really got what he meant by that. This was a place to help sinners gain happiness and reform from their sins to stop the extermination! But, she didn't change any posters out of politeness.

Vaggie was annoyed at her decision and started to grimace at the front desk whenever she passed through the lobby. She told Charlie that he was mocking them, but Charlie saw the effort Alastor put in to color and draw each poster for her.

So, when all of them were done, she called everyone to come to the lobby lounge for an important discussion.

"Ok! So, the hotel has been up for a bit, and no one seems to have noticed our hotel yet." Charlie starts, matter-of-factly to the group of people in the lobby.

Angel snickered at his perch on the love seat, with Husk giving a skeptical expression towards Charlie on the armchair.

Vaggie clenched her fists, narrowing her eyes beside Charlie, who seemed undisturbed by the feedback. "Now, I have made pairs to go out and put up posters up in the streets for the hotel. I will also be counting this as a bonding activity!"

Charlie poofed up some flashcards from a wave of her hand. "I'll list the pairs, and then each pair can go grab a stack to stick onto windows, walls, or electric poles." Charlie stated. "And only those things." Vaggie then emphasized.

A scoff from Angel is all they got in response.

"Ok, so the pairs start with me and Nifty, Husk and Vaggie, and lastly, Angel and Alastor." She read flipping through the index cards.

No groans sounded, so Charlie took that as a win, but Alastor did speak up. "Charlie dear, I'm afraid that at least one of us should stay at the hotel. To make sure no sinner tries anything while we're away."

"Oh, uh, that's a good point..." Charlie seems to think it over. Vaggie started to open her mouth, but Alastor cut her off.

"Well my dear, I think the best course for us is to leave the staff out of this little excursion." He casually suggested, eyes intently focusing on the glass he was cleaning.

"That does make sense... ok, that means that only two pairs will go out to put up fliers today. Vaggie and Husk can go to the west side, and I am now with Angel in the east side since Al and Nifty will stay at the hotel. Any objections?" Charlie asks.

No one put up any major fuss about the pairings, mainly waiting for Charlie to continue. Charlie seemed pleased with the results.

"Ok then! Let's go out and put up some posters, people!"

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#angle dust #alastor #charlie morningstar #vaggie #husk #nifty #hazbin hotel au #shadow trails #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel nifty

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