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CannibalisticKisses
Supernova
- Joined
- Jan 15, 2009
- Location
- Fucksvillleee.
Her heart so dark....
My name is Eva and I'm
I'm literate to advanced, although I'll typically mirror whatever is given to me. I am sort of rusty for monster post cause I haven't had to do any in about a year.
Right now i'm flip-flopping between finding new writing styles so you'll have to excuse that.
I'm really rather friendly although sometimes it doesn't entirely seem like it. Honestly, I am just socially stunted basically.
Uh... I live in the eastern time zone. However, lately, i have terrible A.D.D. and am recovering from speckled hiatus and a wavering muse so I will have to say sorry now if my post are somewhat lagged or change in quality between post.
-This said I will keep tabs and apologize profusely if I take to long or am having an issue staying in focus or interest.
- work exhaust me although i don't work heinous hours.
I'm a nerd and adore fandoms, but don't be afraid to ask for doing an original~
But she taste so ....sweetly....
ᎪᏁᎥmᎬs
Wolf's Rain
Outlawstar
Zoids
Trigun
Elfen Lied
Ginga Densetsu Weed
Darker than black
Attack on Titan
Cowboy Bebop
Berserk
Blue Gender
Vinland Saga
Castlevania [is it technically anime? idk]
Beastars [maybe]
[I need to watch more animes lol]
[hopefully soon to grow]
ⓥⓘⓓⓔⓞ ⓖⓐⓜⓔⓢ
Dead by Daylight
Kingdom Hearts I & II
Fallout [3 or new Vegas or just esque]
Drakengard
Bioshock
Resident Evil
Silent Hill 2,3,4
L4D/2
Dead Space
Assassin's Creed
Gears of War
Far Cry 3
Far Cry 5
The Evil Within/2
The Last of Us
Tell-tale The Walking Dead series
[I play a lot more games than this but I forget which... so. Yeah]
[Ask]
⒨⒪⒱⒤⒠⒮/⒮⒠⒭⒤⒠⒮
True Blood
Hostel
Pitch Black
The Punisher
Sin City
Quarantine
Taken
Dawn of the Dead
Battle Royale
Spawn
Leon The Professional
The Condemned
Repo! The Genetic Opera
Red Riding Hood
Defiance
Eastern Promises
Peaky Blinders
Game of Thrones
The Walking Dead
Outsiders
Sons of Anarchy
The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina
[Ask]
ʘʀɪɡɪήɑɭϚ
Asgardians/Norse Mythology
Witchcraft
Cults
Satanism
Angstyyyy<333
Horror<3333
Slenderman/Splendorman/The Rake
MasterxSlave
Fairy Tales
Kidnapperxvictim
Doctorxpaitent
Pair of sadist
Murdererxmurderer
Torture
Soldierxsoldier/citizen
Werexhuman/were/vampire
Modern-Day Crime
Mafia
Waitress/bartenderxcustomer
Pitfighterxwaitress/bystander
Stalkerxvictim
Dragonxmaiden, peasant girl, princess,female knight
Obsessive/Possessive boyfriendxgrilfriend
certain incest pairings depending on the SL
Pirates
WWII
Medieval
Forbidden love
All that general stuff.
Stockholm
Mental illness/mindfucks
Ransom
Middle Eastern (Aladdin/Prince of Persia like?)
etc.
I like anything that will have dark twist and morbid turns..
Romance is okay if the whole damned thing isn't drizzled in it...
[Ask for more general pairings]
ᏟᏒᎪᏉᎥᏁᎶ
Dragons/Dragons which can assume human form or mostly human form
Horror/Angst
Berserk
Tragic Romance
Abuse
Obsessive/Possessive boyfriends
Something Far Cry 5ish
Pregnancy
Gears of War
the Last of Us.
Game of Thrones Whether canon or non.
true blood
kidnapping
Werewolves
Gears of war
Ask me I might do others...
Here is my f-list, F-list - Warning
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ＳＡＭＰＬＥＳ
What was this awful, dreadful feeling that kept bursting up? That horrid churning of her insides that threatened to consume even her ability to breath. She felt suddenly afraid, but why? There was clearly nothing in the woods but her. No other sounds cut the air but the assortment of twigs, rocks and earth shifting under the movement of her feet. Maybe it was that which frightened her the most… How was it everything had still managed to remain so god damned silent? It was simply inhuman. Something…something had to be out there besides herself. A bird, a squirrel..fucking flies, something!
”It…It’s nothing. I mean there were birds a minute ago… They just got scared away,”, she whimpered in an airy whisper. But that was one of the problems; if there was nothing else, and then what had scared off that many birds in one go? In the end, her attempted words of encouragement only progressed the terror she felt. Her hammering heart climbed into her throat and threatened to choke off every stifled breath uttered.
Monica closed her eyes and attempted to take a deep breath. The voice inside her head had long been screaming to turn upon her heel and simply run until her legs gave out. Something was wrong with this place, and the panicked tone seemed to know more than her brain was willing to believe. That there had been some sort of truth to the widely spread stories that were conjured about these woods. But if it was all so bad, then why did her legs continue to move on forward? It was something not even Monica could understand. It was as if something seemed to pull her forward even if the girl wanted nothing more than to go back.
She almost wished something would show up and break the steady pace of her feet. Be it a carcass or even just a large rock that would trip her up. Maybe a bump to her head would break the odd trance she found herself lapsing into. Every step further filled the teen to the brink with dread and at one point Monica was absolutely sure she had heard a muffled scream bouncing off from somewhere ahead. Yet, her feet kept mindlessly shuffling forward.
That was until the sound of several twigs snapping ahead brought her body into a stand still. Pale-gold eyes grew wide with terror, an ashen flush quick to befall across her pale cheeks. ”W-w-w-who’s there?”, her weak voice stammered out, choking back the urge to simply shriek in terror. Although, truthfully she wasn’t even sure whatever had made the noise was even capable of talking back to her. For all she knew it was simply a passing dog. If only it were simply that…
What came out to meet her instead was something that made her blood run cold. While to have a man step out in front of her wasn’t so much odd… he was creepily thin and also sharply dressed for simply running about in the woods. Slowly Monica’s gaze began to drift upwards, trailing from his endless legs, past his torso and….. Before she could even register it a scream exploded from the girl’s lips, terrified and shrill. He had no face! The poor girl didn’t even seem to want to notice the red which caked and dribbled from the lower half of his featureless visage. And in truth? She didn’t need it to be scared out of her wits.
Filled to the brink with fear and horror, she twisted hard upon her toes, desperately scrambling against the earth to get herself to start running. After a bit of slipping and sliding on the assortment of forest litter, Monica bolted off like a frightened rabbit. For the longest time she took a straight path back, only occasionally glancing around to make sure that horrible thing hadn’t managed to close the gap between them. That…. thing… only seemed to grow taller and taller every time her eyes caught another look at her. It was like a bad nightmare that she couldn’t manage to stir herself from. ”Oh god! Oh God!” Hot tears gushed down, dribbling to pelt along the tops of her breast as teeth snapped firm onto her bottom lip. Even as the footsteps behind her faded into nothing more than eerie silence, Monica kept her panicked sprint. Or rather until a tree root decided to call the chase to an end.
As the toe to her converse caught the lifted root, her body immediately went airborne. Spindly limbs failed desperately through the air as the ground tore past, or rather it launched up towards her with a near bone-shattering impact.
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Nestled comfortably in her bed, Layla hadn’t expected a thing. Or rather she hadn’t until a thunderous crash in the front of the room nearly had her airborne. Like a bolt from a bolt from a quiver, the young mother shot from the tangle of sheets and comforters, her eyes wide with concern. ”What in the hell…?” At first, Layla tried to shake it off as if nothing had happened as the noise had simply been the tail end of a nightmare. However, little did she know that the nightmare was ultimately just beginning for her.
Not until her ears caught the dull thunder of numerous hurried footsteps did panic begin to set. Someone, no…there was definitely more than one person, broke into the room! Numb with shock and panic, Layla attempted to hurry onto her feet. Alas, with the added bump of the baby, although it truthfully wasn’t awfully large, her pace had been slowed down considerably. But even out from the warmth of her bed, feet on the floor, there wasn’t any way to escape except for the one door that lead straight into the living area. She was trapped like an animal, left with nothing to do but slink back to the wall and brace herself. Seconds later the door burst in with enough force to make her teeth rattle. Fearfully Sparrow gaped; her full mouth left open in a thick circle while grey-silver eyes pulled wide with the glint of terror. Even if she desperately tried to hide it and instead forced a growl to bubble forward. ”Don’t you fucking lay a finger on me Templar Dogs!” Alas, the fierce hiss feebly quivered with her delicate and strained tone.
Not that the men paid it much mind anyway. They briskly went about their way; manhandling their way through the room and around all the items Layla desperately kicked or threw at them. One candle managed to thump across one man’s head, slowing him down, but the others were relatively unfazed by the articles soaring through the air. Feeling the fear burning through her belly, Sparrow launched across the bed and attempted to shimmy across in order to gain some distance. However, Frey’s men were rather wise to the desperate assassin’s attempts and caught her within the middle. She cried a loud as they took her small wrist, wrenching hard enough to make stars splash before her watery eyes. Tender skin flushed red as tears spilled down soft cheeks, staining the bedding beneath as her frame twisted and writhed in protest. But try as the young assassin might, nothing kept her body from rolling from the rumpled bedding before thumping against the floor. How fortunately she landed on her bottom rather than the bump at her navel. Didn’t mean that it hurt any less… Pain ravished through Layla’s hips, burning up her core before a scream finally burst from shaking pink petals. How had this happened?! Where was Alistair? Or rather… why was her body not able to do anything in defense?
Sparrow tried to remain as defiant as she could beneath the approaching shadow of the armored clad form. But something about him struck fear immediately in the pit of her heart. Swallowing harshly, a feeble growl shook its way out, only to be broken by a shocked squeal. Her clothes! Suddenly she felt even more vulnerable than before, nearly helpless. Flooding eyes could only watch as the once artful robes were shredded accordingly before being painted in blood. Blood that was thankfully not her own. The act confused her panicked mind—only later would the thought actually make sense—and left her numb to the hand striking out to her chest. Layla thrashed away, attempting to pull the top out of his grip only to have her thick flesh quickly bounce-free, naturally large orbs now near painfully heavy with fresh milk for the incoming child. ”S-stay away from me!”, the youth shrieked hysterically. It did little use. His mouth closed upon her swollen bud anyhow, even as her form began to thrash and buck like an angry bronco. Disgust and shame flooded through her veins, bringing the bitterness of bile in the back of her throat. As he pulled away from the mocking smooch, the assassin made sure to spit the contents of her mouth at his face. ”Keep your fucking hands off of me pig!”
While there was little chance of escaping the hold of several men, even if she hadn’t been so full with pregnancy, Layla intended to make every step of the way sheer hell. The little Sparrow kicked, fought, thrashed and even snapped every step of the way. Often she found herself slumped against the ground, forcing the men to either pick up her petite frame or drag her dead weight across the floor. Other times she slammed into one of the men, smashing him against a nearby wall or fixture. That would typically gain a moment of freedom for a wrist, which by now were red if not thoroughly bruised. But another hand was always quick to latch back on if not to somewhere else before she could manage to palm a weapon. More or less the inn was left a total wreck by the time they had dragged the screaming female down into the city streets. Walls had small holes, everything was knocked over or broken, and there were smears of red upon the stairs from the cut she had gained upon one hip while being dragged along. Pulled unwillingly onto her feet by a thick thatch of hair on the back of her skull, Sparrow hissed in agony, baring her teeth like a wild animal. She indeed did bite as Frey pulled in for a kiss, clamping hard upon the man’s flesh until she felt the copper gush pop into her mouth. Unfortunately, she was rewarded for her efforts with a smack so hard that the next red she tasted was that of her own. Stars twinkled before the youth’s gaze as her head spun with agony, tear-stained cheek swollen and red from the brutal impact.
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Little did the Pyramid know what agony poor Valtiel was currently being put through. Surely if he had, there would have been some chance for the Valet’s salvation. Or at least there would have been someone to ease him through the pain which was to stain his essence for a lifetime… But instead, this creature of Sin was stuck in his own world of frustration and constant agony, driving his own selfish need for release. For his own, if not only momentary, salvation if it could be put as so. In the darkness of the decaying halls, all he had was himself and the pawn beneath his fingers. She would, for now, have to bear the crushing weight until all that seething rage melted away.
If it would ever dissipate.
“You’re not the object of my hate, but you’ll have to do.” Festering bass rumbled thickly from an unseen snarl. The twisting stature between his hips and the wall gave way to a fierce thrash in response. Surely the creature was not the brightest, but even she rather not be on the receiving end of Pyramid Thing’s wrath. Poor bobblehead hissed in reply, thinned shoulders twisting in an attempt to gain her lusted freedom before her end was released. Alas, her efforts were rather futile, welcomed only wither skull being smacked into the crumbling drywall. Webbed digits clenched tight to her wrapped features, twisting into the off-colored tissue and such until she screamed in reply. But such noise wasn’t quite what he was looking for, he needed it to be…more intense. The nurse’s head was pulled back once more to meet into the wall with a loud smack followed by a brilliant smear of darkened ruby.
“Scream bitch.”, he snarled. Bobblehead groaned in reply as her shoulders gave way to a noticeable slump, becoming dazed with all the trauma to her head. It wasn’t good enough to satisfy the dark appetite which had been allowed to flourish. Pinned hips pulled away from their warm confines, rigid length pulling out with a wet pop before falling against his thigh. Hastily the Pyramid spun his prey around, propping her back into the dented wall while exposing her blood marked and dotted breast. The scent of half-rotted copper brought a tingle his loins and roused a mild sense of glee within the pit of his gut. Not much, but it was a start. Mitten clad digits strolled along the quaking curves of her exposed breast, smearing along with the fallen droplets of blood that had taken perch there. After a half-smeared picture was painted, he drew his hand upwards to grasp onto her jawline.
She nervously fidgeted in reply, a static mannered shriek emitting from her unseen mouth. A clear noise of protest…yet he had no intent on freeing her. His release would not come without her sacrifice. His grasp was a first gentle, tilting the other’s head this way and that as if inspecting her features. Then suddenly his grip grew painfully tight, knuckles outlining within the grungy fabric of his glove. The nurse attempted to twist away, releasing a sharp shriek as pain exploded up the side of her head, and the mild sense of tearing erupted throughout her strained jaw. Her eye trained upon him in terror, wide and round. However, the slaughtered lamb look did nothing to save her… Pyramid’s grip placed itself tighter until the flesh bubbled over his prying fingers before his shoulder shifted to begin pulling downwards. As her jaw began to stretch under his tremendous force, his prey began to thrash and hiss. Her sleek body bucked beneath his, shoulder twisting while her lengthy stems kicked and twitched between his spread legs.
Not as if she was about to get loose anytime soon. Haha.
Sinewy muscle stretched beneath his graying skin as his arm steadily pulled downwards. However, his prey’s fidgeting and thrashing had become to be a bit of a problem… The Red Pyramid frowned a bit, free hand rising to slam into her writhing shoulder. Webbed digits pressed firm into her chilled flesh in order to smother those attempts to wretch herself free. Meanwhile, he continued to yank downwards, soon to be welcomed with the sudden noise of tearing flesh as her lower jaw began to disconnect from her head. More welcoming red bloomed into few, painting a fat ribbon across her face before falling down in thick rivers. The poor girl attempted once more to twist herself free but found as her head turned to avoid the strain, which tore the flesh all the more. Soon, with a final bunch of sleek muscle, her lower jaw popped off in a chorus of horror. First came the wet tearing, next a sodden drumming as the free blood dressed a mixture of her trembling breast and their feet, and finally there came a gurgling hiss as her tongue dangled loosely in the free space. Lengthen appendage twitched in shock while her head seized in agony.
Oh, how wonderful.
Poor nurse began to scream the best she could. A rather drowning pitch which was rather queer given the occasional flap of her tongue. Blood spewed free from the ragged flesh, adorning his grimy mitt with lustful dark red. Pyramid shivered in carnal delight before uttering a low groan. How delightful! Lean hips were twisted upwards, lining himself to push that raging rack of flesh back inside her spasming body. But he was nowhere near done… Hungry hands adjusted themselves, one falling upon her throat while another traced itself over her clad navel. Blood-laced digits danced along the grimy fabric a moment while he thrust into his shivering treasure, seemingly amused with what lay beneath the clingy layer of fabric. Finally, he twisted his digits into the dress before tearing it away with a minor snatch. Exposed was the dirt-laden belly of his agonized skank, her faint pulse was felt racing beneath her thin hide. If only for a few moments longer. His hand pressed once more into her shuddering belly, fingers pressing hard into the flesh under it dented under the sheer force he was exerting. His hips began to pick up the pace, thrusting something fierce as her skin gave way under his intruding hand. His grasp was welcomed to a torrent of blood and a wonderland of fleshy innards which he began to eagerly tear out.
His efforts were met with a hellish scream from his victim, dazed eyes rolling down to find a greedy hand stuck into her torso, left to watch as her bowels rolled out. Her hips began to twist and jerk as the shock of impending death began to arise. From beneath the shadows of her attacker’s helmet rolled out a ropey length of black-purple flesh, fleshy appendage rose with an eagerness to swipe across the ragged remains of her flesh. The pointed tip seemed to take the utmost joy in rugging along the torn flesh before painting across her paling face.
Meanwhile, his loins were now dressed with a myriad of red smears and splashes; his feet adorned with a wet pile of this and that… Mostly intestines and a few other things. He did so enjoy the slippery feeling as her organs dangled from their taut connections. Suddenly there rose that intense tingle of pleasure and crippling heat, leading his body to give harsh yet rather slow humps into her slumping corpse. How unfortunate… It seemed just as he was nearing his brink, as was she. It was clear to watch the life leave her body as a final breath was taken, leaving her form to slump against the wall and slide under his own.
“Fuck! Fuck! Don’t you fucking die yet!”
Sinner growled, feeling that rage once more form in his blackened heart. Alas, there was nothing which could be done… She was gone from this world, leaving the Pyramid to pull out with a fierce hiss of disgust. Yet as soon as his juice laced cock popped out, thick strings burst out from the swollen tip, lacing her strewn corpse with hot white ribbons. The monster sneered, rough palm shaking off the excess before twisting upon his heels to take leave. Besides, he needed new attire and there were other things to take care of.
His whore was left there to rot…
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Ellie followed upon Joel’s heel, never much farther than arm’s length. While she was more than assured she could take care of herself, it simply was a bit more intelligent to travel in a tight pair rather than disjointed. As their path began before the sun had even peaked over the horizon, her thoughts picked up their restless pace. The first to arise would of course be about Joel, or more importantly his brother. How had they become so distant from one another? A better question may have been whether Tommy would be glad to see either of them or would they be sent out despite their troubles in trekking all the way there? Cluttered thoughts, dashing and colliding like a meteor shower, were broken Joel’s all too familiar rough drawl. Caught by surprise, silence fell for a time as green eyes snapped under flickering lashes, her cranium quick to snap into the direction that had been gestured. ”If you say so....” , she mumbled in noted uncertainty, features left to crease in doubt. But never would Ellie deny his commands or ever give more than an idle question. Keeping to his heel always proved the safest route and it was not anything the girl planned on breaking soon. With a sigh, sneakers slipped across scoured pavement, feeling tension prickle along in icy points along both nape and spine. As if to just prove a point, which Ellie secured by passing her companion a particularly pointed look, eerie sonar-like clicks filled stale air in ominous rhythm. In sheer instinct, teeth clamped upon pink, chapped flesh, quick to hold even the smallest breath. Clickers were the easiest to bypass, if one was careful, but honestly they had always creeped her out the most. When Joel doubled about to find a less crowded path, the girl near burst in a sprint to reach it, proceeding fast enough to reach it quickly but not enough to draw attention to their movement.
Despite a pressing urge to squeeze by, logic demanded Joel be let in first, in case any infected lay just beyond the door. Upon entering, grim surroundings surveyed the same as many had; decrepit furnishing surrounded by walls swallowed in flourishing foliage and yawning cracks. What little had not been filled by green growth had smatterings of rot and dirt. It would have been beautiful if not for that damned fungi. A frown formed across her pink lips as her brow furrowed. Rather than argue, as she wanted, no more sound than a tense exhale through lightly clenched teeth. Wouldn’t it have been smarter to both search rather than be there like a sitting duck? Nothing more could be done than stand about and keep an eye out. She clenched her knife tight, knuckles flushed a ghoulish white under built grime, twisted tight as a spring. A lump formed as time slipped by, worked slowly into a harder-to-swallow mass. Ellie counted the seconds, then the minutes, trying all the will that remained not to give in an give chase. How she hated being left alone.... capable or not, it was highly unnerving. Through the old walls and darkened halls, a keen enough ear could hear infected move about. Clickers sounded their creepy siren while groans of the runners sang melancholy melodies through the dust-addled breeze and stalking shadow. Keeping a brave front readily became a difficult task. Inside, there was nothing but raw nervous and hectically racing thoughts. By the time he came back, there was temptation to spring out and bleat in joy. But how childish would that be. It wasn’t that bad....not too long a wait. She sank back into place, not less terse than before, kept bristled by various grunts and growls echoing in constant. Outside, obviously, was much worse. A simple glance out one dirt laced window left a shiver to expose itself.
”Oh my god, they are everywhere.”, she gasped aloud, trying to sound more surprised than terrified.
Far too many to walk around. Joel’s voice gained a furrowed brow as her jaws clenched in noted tension. "So many at once? So no one escaped this place... "How horrifying. A sigh answered, thin shoulders left to slump in muted concerns; regardless, Ellie nodded. She caught the phrase but decided against making a comment, the pain was still too fresh... She shrank back initially to allow Joel to open the door, feet inched apart while shoulders rolled to square away in preparation. All the while, a nervous mantra recited itself, trying to incite comfort where bubbling anxiety reigned supreme. Clattering glass brought curled muscle to spring into life. Before Joel could even speak, she was off like a bolt from a quiver, set relatively low to the ground as not to become too much a noticeable target. The putrid waft of fungus and decaying flesh became more and more intense the closer they approached, near suffocating as both Joel and Ellie slipped past the small squad. It took everything she had not to gag or even hurl in response. Instead, nimble feet increased their hasty shuffle until audible chirps and clicks were diluted by distance.
Slowing down to an agitated trot, anxious pants were held behind her teeth, green eyes rolling under fluttering lashes. But to hear the roll of baritone demanding she stay put snapped away any lingering disorientation. ”C’mon ! You can’t expect me to just stay out here. Did you see all those clickers? They aren’t that far away!”, she protested, not that the words even caught his ear. She might as well have been a mosquito buzzing against his ear. Stress and annoyance expressed in a downward curl in puffy lips, brown brows drawn into a tight knit. No point in trying to push, that decision would change none. While Joel slipped through the front door, Ellie stayed behind, curled defensively against a nearby wall. Her eyes may have been swept out towards the road, but her ears were kept trained to even the slightest noise coming from inside. Every groan of wood and slamming door set a deeper sense of worry, leaving insides to twist in painful knots. How long had it been? Was Joel alright? The anxiety was too much to bear, setting feet to shuffle in a rapid pace across the porch. Troubled thoughts bubbled and toiled until their weight became too much to bear. Somewhere there nagged a voice in panicked shrieks that Joel was in trouble.
Once again, Ellie would not be listening to his commands to stay put.
She pushed off with a quickness, sneakers squeaking against wooden floors as the front door slammed opened. Already, the sounds of a shuffle could be hear. A runner’s horrific screech in tandem with Joel’s straining cries. ”Joel!” The cry pierced dusty darkness long before her presence could be scene peaking around the bend. Just when things had seemed to reach their darkness point. The runner smothering and crushing Joel as stained teeth gnashed in inhuman fury, out sprung a thin form clad in a diluted red hoodie and dirtied blue jeans. With no gun to make an easy killl, there was little other choice than to throw herself at the monstrosity with knife in hand. Trembling in both fear and surging adrenaline, steel plunged in rapid succession into any vital area that could be managed. Head, neck, chest. All in such fierce motions that excess gore was left to smatter freckle adorned features, splashed onto the soft curve of her breast and stained light brown locks in sickening crimson smears. Through all violent thrashes Ellie stayed locked, ignoring what pain spurned from being bucked and shaken as if on a bronco’s back. Even when ceased, stabbings continued through panicked pants.
Just a few of my better ones. I can do small post too though.
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These are more recent samples:
They all had to take the damages and loss caused by the high jacking with a grain of salt. Many had been biting at the bit for a chance to sabotage, whether in hopes of sparing those on board or simply thwarting the Peggie’s strategic move. They hadn’t cared that numbers were against them. They were blind to staggering odds for their focus laid only in one thing. Killing every last one of those Peggie sons of bitches until finally the Seed Tyranny collapsed upon itself. Others begged to differ, those with more logic than fire in their bellies, left reigning in their companions like wild horses. Sadie had been one of several with teeth gritted and heels dug firm. How where they supposed to simply lay around and wait when they knew what was about to happen? They knew what the Peggies had in mind and how they worked. They knew what they would do with anyone who failed meeting their standards or stood against barked demands that they repent and join. Those poor people hadn’t an inkling what lay waiting and undoubtedly so many would die for it.
”Who cares if there is too many!”, she had barked, sea foam eyes ablaze, “How can you live with just sitting around while who knows how many innocent people might be killed?” Tired, weary looks spared between grim expressed faces. Some shuffled in place, others stood stiffly around the outer circle, their eyes all but adverting Sadie’s raised voice. Those who shared such concerns voiced their agreement in a hushed rumble. Pastor Jerome, looking far more tired than any, sounded a terse sigh. ”Would you rather risk more people in vain? Say we did go anyway and they shot us all down… Then not only are those on the bus but now we have lost good people as well. We aren’t an army Sadie.”
She had to give him that. They weren’t an army. Most of them were the farthest thing from a soldier. Most knew only how to shoot a gun because of the dangers of where they lived. Bears, wolves, wolverines and cougars were not simply raccoons that could just be sprayed away with a water hose. Some had only recently learned how to shoot properly, leaving them as bigger targets against onslaughts of cultist armed to the teeth. Still, admitting his truth felt like licking sandpaper. It was a terrible truth that, reluctantly, they all had to accept. One tragedy forced from their hands and left slipping helplessly through their fingers.
”All we can do for now is check upon the wreckage and find and aid all the survivors we can and plan for next time.” His face bore a clear grimace as the words formed in strained viscosity. He didn’t like this more than they did, but in order to be able to finally take down John Seed and reclaim Fall’s End, they had to be both cunning and strong. They were not immortal heroes, not everyone could be saved…. If they played their strengths right and with time, however, they could save their future.
In the end, they all had been left with sourness upon their tongue and weight in their guts. Second hand guilt. Rage. Sadness. All they could do was sit back and pack their gear in readiness for a search once the heist had been made. None really assumed there would be anything left. The Peggies rarely left survivors, and they never left supplies behind. A search party felt, to some, like a wasted effort when they should had attempted stopping it to begin with. Still, several of the crestfallen few brazen to go out guns blazing, agreed their help in looking around the wreckage. Sadie, with emotions left broiling, had been asked if she would stay behind should any others decidedly show up. Begrudgingly, she agreed. After all, time left alone was time left for plotting the rescue of her family. If, that was, either was still alive after several months time…
Some hours later all parties had come back, heads hung and their hands relatively empty. Their efforts had not entirely gone fruitless. Word soon gathered around their makeshift Militia that at least one survivor had been raked clean from the area. One survivor, such a bountiful blessing. So many lives for one survivor; it just didn’t seem right. Not to say Sadie wasn’t glad that someone had survived it, jaded she might be but callous wasn’t her by any means. Further frustrated, she sought refuge in one of the few remaining spots where anyone could muster some semblance of normalcy. Or at least they could try unwinding with a drink or two. The Spread Eagle.
An hours worth in, two drinks consumed, she sat at the bar’s middle stretch. With a cheek on a tight fist and lips drawn in idle snarl, collecting thoughts carried Sadie’s focus off into the bar’s dimmed lighting. The aged creak emitted from swinging doors failed in capturing her attention, even as someone ventured through in obvious bewilderment. Mary-May was a bit more reactive. Her eyes sought quickly for a face in the dark, brows upturning upon finding it one which hadn’t been around recently. “Well hey there stranger. You must be that fella they pulled out of that bus fiasco.”, she paused and wiped both palms across ragged jeans, ”Nice to see someone made it out, I am Mary-May.”
Only then did Sadie snap back into reality, drawn in by Mary-May’s words. She looked over as well, brows knotted and lips abandoning their harsh formation. Something oddly familiar struck her about the man. Was it his face or his air? He hadn’t even spoken a word yet… The fist at her cheek smoothed out, fingers curled its apple. Something….. Sadie squinted under the dimmed lightening but offered no word just yet. Just as well, seeing as how Mary-May made certain to cover any slack provided by the younger woman lost in her thoughts. She offered gesture towards Sadie, an idle smirk laid over her lips. ”This here is Sadie Eastmen. She usually is a bit more of a talker but I think the drinks finally got to her.”, she snickered slightly.
Many knew the Mancini name. Some knew it better than they knew their own friends; recited both awe and horror. They were second to none as one of the biggest and most powerful branches of the Italian Mafioso. With their fingers in everything, their lure and power stretched far beyond the seedy world of crime and embedded deep into the state’s government and law structure. Perhaps even the country as a whole. Giuseppe Mancini, known to many as Addetto alla morte or the Death Adder, long proved himself to be cruel and intense as he was crafty and intelligent. Even into his forties, many of those left marked by Mancini for debt or punishment decided it simply better and easier to kill themselves rather than risk what would be in store should one of Giuseppe’s men happen upon them in their wolfish persistence to collect. But loose lips always told there was but two soft spots to the powerhouse’s heart; his wife and his pampered and only child. Bianca. Money, for as long as she could remember, had never been a necessity. It poured in a constant through her life like water from a faucet. Anything she desired, it had been there, offered on a metaphoric—or sometimes literal—platter on a small whim. From Gucci clothing to tray after tray of expensive jewelry, coach bags and lambos galore, nothing was out of reach for the heiress. But as the collection grew through each passing year, boredom began to grow, one that no amount of desired or offered rich could seem to fill.
It all began two years before, late into the twilight hours on a frigid winter day. Drunk and bored after a high-brow party, where all the state’s powerful people touched shoulders and indulged senselessly, Bianca had sped off in one of several brand new lambos that had been purchased by her father not but a week before. The roads were slick and obscured by still falling snow, a hazard in the day let alone at the brink of three am, leaving little visibility. And she, blurred eyed and six cocktails in, could barely sit up straight let alone keep proper focus on the road. Fumbling for her keys, the thought of the danger curled around her drunken haze, and brought a new found and excited hot flutter caressing between thick thighs. Engulfed by its euphoria, Bianca slammed her foot into the pedal, leaving the expensive car to screech in hellish protest before it shot off into the night like a bat of hell. The faster she went, the more that intoxicating sensation grew. It bubbled from her core and swept down trembling legs, breathed between in a sensual swell, and kissed against heaving small breast. It was a drug of the best kind and instantly Bianca found herself addicted to it. Adrenaline. Danger. Better than any diamond or fast car, stronger than expensive liquor and high-class drugs.
She couldn’t live without it any longer.
Racing dangerously soon found without the allure that it first brought along. She tried fruitlessly to spice it up, adding in more dangers and limitations, never quite finding the same sensation as before. Violence had never been anything unknown in the Mancini household. Try as Giuseppe did to keep all punishments, executions and beat downs out from his mansion and far from his precious daughter’s eye, a few simply could not be helped. It was there she found her newest indulgence; in the form of one late night session of tying lose ends. In the garage two men sat tethered to chairs, their faces battered yet firmly situated in a hateful scowl, at their side stood but a lone man armed with a silenced pistol. She knew his face but not his name; often he was called in as a cleaner when things stretched beyond what some muscle of the Mancini household cared to do. In two firm trigger pulls, his face so cool and collected, a quarter sized hole opened in each man’s forehead. As gore and brain matter spackled, sprayed in a grotesque mist against plastic lining that long had been secured for easy clean up, Bianca found her heart rushing once more. She bit her lip in a hushed noise of delight.
Getting to where she was now took not only funds but time. Strenuous hours of training and practice took up much of Bianca’s life. It became an obsession to reach a peak of greatness in order to achieve her coveted new high. With each round fired and each session passed, Bianca found herself submerging with surprising ease. As it had been a secret life calling, intended from day one but delayed in its indulgence. While she would never surpass anyone bred into such a life, or those with a decade of training to their belt, there could be no denial of the Italian Princess’s deadly accuracy. Finding a way into a similar position as the Mancini cleaner proved a far more daunting task. Not many desired a female hitman unless it dealt with a seduction tactic. Even less dared to risk a Don’s daughter, let alone Giuseppe’s daughter. Who could properly blame them? Frustration buried deeper and deeper in every denial she receive. Who dare to tell her no? She had never been told no before!
It took ignorant but desperate foreigners to finally land her first cleanse. They cared little if she was a woman, and after lying about her name, they were none the wise to her heavy heritage. In a hushed rush a contract was struck. It paid shy of what should have been charged for such a chaotic task, but it hardly bothered Bianca. After all, money never had been a issue for her…. Time, however, might have been.
A pointed look cast down to her cellphone, wine-colored lips quickly reeled back in a displeased snarl, as she uttered a thick curse. “Fucking shit. Of course the first thing I am ever late to.” Getting out from her father’s protective eye had proved difficult. Knowing well what parties indulged in his kingdom, Gisueppe seemed surprised when Bianca, fixed up and duffle in a hand, seemed in an agitated race for their front door. Naturally, he drilled on where she was off to. It took several torques of a silver tongue and a battering of pretty emerald eyes to finally convince him that she was simply off to a party in the next town and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. That had been about forty minutes ago. The contract said the other cleaner would begin twenty ago. “Shit shit shit.”, she hissed again and jerked the wheel. From around a street corner, a loud and piercing shrill announced her arrival long before angel-eye headlights pierced like holy beacons through the dreary nightfall. Shooting forward at a breakneck pace, monstrous timbres growling free from the lambo’s engine, Bianca didn’t look as if she intended to stop anytime soon.
Her intentions had never been to rob Yurgi of any pleasure or confidence he had gained by learning to hunt and take care of herself. In the mind of a child, yet tarnished by malice and pain, learning how helped lift the weight from Yurgi’s shoulder. Never had a thought crossed that he liked catering to her every want and need; that doing so gave him comfort and fulfillment. She only wanted not to be a burden upon him but an equal. Strange how little efforts to make something for the better end up damaging in the end. Things were snowballed too far now, nothing done would ever make things quite the way they were. A taste of self-reliance left a sweet taste in the girl’s mouth, one that left a blossoming taste for more as the years went by. Never again to be unable to defend or help herself—or so Tatyana thought. Soon enough, those feelings of being defenseless and helpless would raise their heads again, created by trauma and turmoil stretched within the passing years. By then, unlike their younger years, there was little Yurgi could do in order to protect her not only from their shared tormentor but from herself. The worst monster of all.
But why? A part knew the words were true. She didn’t know what came over or ailed him, sickness or strain, only that _something_ went wrong with him. Whatever it was, it pinpointed right to the point he re-entered the store and saw the heartbreak wrought across her face. For that much known, guilt decided to rear its face again. Another sheepish expression forced itself with slicked lips, exposing too much tooth in more a grimace than smile. “Da.." The pouch pushed furthered into her palms as fingers worked tighter. Her words settled like stones upon the girl’s hectic mind. Maybe now was not the best time to linger around in search for answers. She needed them for closure, but Yurgi needed to leave to keep himself together at the moment. They could always return—or perhaps not. Dread and concern formed Tatyana’s face into a firm pinch. Brows swept down as tension settled into her jaw, teeth ground tight in order to strangle pitch forming deep inside. She knew nothing of officers or law, only the two men emanated trouble in how they approached Yurgi. Stern-expressed with overbearing body language, they read as two wolves closing in on a lost family dog. “What are they….”,she began, shooting Yelena a concerned side-long look.
“Yurgi.” One foot moved forward, mirroring his motion. Something lingered in the air. The sensation of static before horrendous electric storms formed. She felt it, inside and out. Something bad was just about to occur. “Yurgi we….” There wasn’t enough time for the warning to form. It cut sharp from plump lips, replaced in a shocked squeal, as one officer struck Yurgi’s back. “Hey! Stop!”, shrill pitched squealed in horror. Not for Yurgi to stop, at least not yet. “Leave him alone! He did not do anything!” Things stretched far beyond the point of return. Even from where she was, awkwardly stationed between Yurgi and Yelena, she saw the wild look grow in his eye. A look never seen in him, but witnessed before, staring into the feral eyes of an apex predator back in their rural home. “Yurgi do not…” Protest formed in a hushed whisper, knowing it fell uselessly into the afternoon breeze. Even if it carried to his ears, they fell there deafly.
The scene happened in the blink of an eye it felt like. One minute the baton had struck him across the back and the next he was standing there alone once more, features twisted by rage and darkness. And there she stood, useless and frozen, only able to gape on like some dumb animal. Useless again. When reality had set, begrudging eyes dragged their way over towards the crumpled body. Please let him be okay… A prayer that voices chastised, for they again knew better than that. They dragged in hesitance towards gore smeared over the window sill. Then, they worked downwards, set along the smear of dripping vermilion and caught thatches of either fur or hair, finally settling upon the man himself. His fresh, unnatural posture told all; the crooked feeble caused when a creature’s neck or back had been snapped in a struggle. If the blood he spat had not been enough of a death sentence, Tatyana knew his twisted body was.
No time to lament, no time to grimace, although her top lip curled oddly over gritted teeth. They had to leave and they had to leave now. It didn’t take knowing anything about law to figure that someone being murdered in a public place leads to trouble. Nor did she realized him murdering a police officer, accident or not, meant for worse troubles. All Tatyana knew was they were now in trouble and if they lingered for a second more, their lives were being put in danger. Now it was time for her to protect Yurgi; as best she could manage. Footsteps, each feeling clumsy and heavy, rang straight for those outstretched hands. Her palms collided into his, blind to any possibly any danger they contained, and hurriedly interlocked her fingers with his. “We need to leave. We can not stay.” Despite the breathless nature of the words, there resided a strangely affectionate firmness within them. “We are going home.” Without closure, with knowing the hows or whys; with each other, with their gained coins in hand. Regardless if he heard or not, or roused from the berserker state, either hand pulled hard upon his. Every fiber of strength and muscle placed into the assertive tug.
If he delayed too long, his fingers and hands gradually suffered the consequences, even if tree-branch arms decided to combat her efforts. The scant muscle gained in years past expressed itself in this moment. She no longer was the small girl unable to budge her large companion but now a she-wolf with her jaws locked onto an unyielding target.
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Tearing. Tender flesh struggled to push it out. For each bit of their effort, Gustav pushed farther in. At a time she reeled away, finding minor reprieve smashed both by the bed and the wall until he crashed down on top of her. Now smothered, frenzied bleats cut short. Mangled ribs struggled for breath as Tatyana writhed under his bare chest. Hot, so hot. The mixture of scalding flesh and dripping sweat left her feeling disgusting and dirty. Dirtier than the lingering mud residue unwashed by her dip in the river. “Y….you are hurting me.”, she peeped. How calmly he said it. It rolled from his tongue so matter of fact. As if a command so easily attended. Not as if there remained any choice against it. With fingers buried tight into the mattress, strained knuckles flushed a ghoulish pallor. “NO!" Tatyana smashed herself against the wall only to snap back. She instantly regretted it. His harsh tug buried himself deep, pushing strain through swollen walls and slammed at her cervix. Oh, how she began to scream. That was until he pressed them down into the old bed. There muffled they continued until her head spun. What first formed as a trickle around his prick now became a wide ribbon down her thighs. Trembling limbs attempted to squeeze him out. All the while hot pink flesh spasmed around the newfound intrusion. Each movement threatened to either amputate him of his lust or push him out altogether.
This…this feeling curling… What was that feeling? Like pins and needles and warmth it moved through fondled breast. A feeling, Tatyana struggled, she didn’t like nor trust. He didn’t bring these feelings…they… they weren’t for him. Such tenderness was unlike him. It… it. Pressure flared again, cutting through the ripple inside. Too much. He stretched out tender folds and fit silken walls to the point it hurt. Then he grew more until Tatyana barely contained his hot flesh. It threatened to pop out at each slight movement. Uncomfortable. Inch by inch he pushed until there remained no more to give to him. Her hips wriggled in place. Hands crept away from his hungry pawing and ghosted awkwardly. Fingers clenched and unfurled, lost inside corrupted thought. Tatyana watched his hand traverse onto her flat navel where it felt like his crammed prick threatened to push out of. What was he doing? This…this… She stifled a breath. Teeth gathered plump lips’ flesh and bit until they split. Red carved a bold strip down. Instinctually Tatyana flinched upon watching his hand traverse to her throat. Far too many times it bore the marks of his possessive obsession; a collar of bruises that could not be masked. When calloused fingers enclosed, she found a more passionate touch, igniting a spark of pins and needles. The surge ran up her spine and formed a knot as her stomach. What new madness had taken him? She knew only his brutality and fury. Yet, seen through one film and various books, he seemed to resonate a lover’s passion. The thought set her stomach churning again. Those crude words echoed over and over. Captured at her ear’s shell it burned already reddened cheeks. Sick. But… How her chest burned so pleasantly. They ached and throbbed; betrayal. Tatyana scolded herself, fought at it but found lips uttered sweet whimpers. The end. The quick hitch of his breath learned long ago, indicated that. Further repulsion churned filled innards. Free-floating hands found placement at his, lingering as his touch grew tighter around her neck. At least that had been familiar… Heat. Sticky, wet heat. Her fullness grew more prominent, filling any free space left, before seeping free. Down splayed thighs thick, white shame flowed. Captured lips gained further abuse as she tilted away from his lustful affection. What…..was that?
It wasn’t me….
I’m not involved…..
I’m innocent….
It’s not my fault.
Cold. So very cold. Was the cold inside her or in the air? Despite freezing, sweat laced her brow in a myriad of dew drops. Oh those words…. They gave her chills. _That’s a good girl…_ It rolled throughout her scattered thoughts and picked at what morsels of serotonin remained amongst the turbulent storm. Long they became intoxicating. Sweet, perhaps, but not sweeter than the fierce fire ignited by a cocktail of uppers and downers racing through her veins. While the initial high peaked long ago, enough remained to keep her nerves on end and thoughts dancing through a haze. Drifting in and out… Whispers played their opinions between Gustav’s voice. Kill him, kill him…. One rasped. Another chimed in, slightly louder than the first. Aggression and hatred brimmed on the disembodied voice. Kill Gustav…. Kill him for all he has taken from you… Protest moaned beneath them both. That’s a good girl. Chills bristled again as outstretched limbs twitched to his touch. Kill yourself, droned another, sinister and detached. Tatyana shot a side-long look towards her Commander. Heavy. Time and time again one found its way into her hands. Yet, this one felt particularly weighted. The weight of its price threatened to tear her limbs from their sockets. Uncomfortably, she shifted against him, sucking in an unsteady breath. Her gaze returned back to Anton.
Ringed by darkened circles and browned eyelids, they looked frigid and empty. Lost within teal depths, too much drug use left the girl’s pupils permanently pin-pricked. A tell-tale sign. They watched him; the dead-eye look of a shark. Oil and sweat dripped down into one. She ground a palm into it but it did nothing to quell the pain behind it. Burning, irritating, it placed back upon cold steel.
Her eyes were not the only thing changed since Anton saw her last. By three inches she dwarfed Gustav. While less bulky than in times to come, a good of muscle deal clung to an otherwise gangly form. It settled in majority within long legs, plumping her thighs, and toning her calves. A good deal started to form in the wide set of Tatyana’s shoulders. But yet had quite it grown to betray a touch of feminine youth. What did had been hidden for a majority beneath black clothing, peeking only when she shifted or turned just right. Swept between the signs of womanhood dusted a myriad of various healing wounds and old glossy scars. Once waist-length locks were no more than shoulder length and jaggedly edged. Upon a year or so back they had been lopped short and crudely off out of an effort to displace Gustav’s savage attentions. It only made him furious.
Her gaze swept towards Gustav once more. There they lingered, blinking slowly through the corruptive haze. His love? Innards churned as lips pressed tight. When had her heartbeat become so loud? Deafening in fact. Tatyana swallowed harshly and uttered a trembling breath. This wasn’t her first taste of death. Finger trained and waiting. She struggled less with it than with Gustav’s monthly retreats. The first time had been difficult. Between nausea and guilt, Tatyana spent a week reluctant and puking. The second felt easier. Watching the red seep out drained the tension from her chest. As it drained away, as did her throttled emotion. This…. Fluttering eyes fell back onto Anton. He knew her….knew her mother and she knew not how. So many questions would be left unanswered. Killing him killed them all. That, in itself, made for conflicting feelings. All these years and that stupefied, if not horrified, expression Anton gave back then still remained. Why? Why did he look so shocked?
Tatyana gasped at Gustav’s croon. The hair along her arms and nape stood on end. Repulsion, hesitation, reluctance, and intoxication. Desire. Buried deep inside burned a grating need. A need for what? She didn’t know. An itch began in her fingers. Do it. Do it. Such a good girl. Across split lips rolled an equally parched tongue. Why was it so hard?
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