#full frontal fish
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Reticulated Hillstream Loach (Sewellia lineolata)
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quit staring at me with those big ol eyes
#txt#🐚#my aquatics#fishblr#fish#cichlid#shell dweller#neolamprologus multifasciatus#fry#full frontal fish#low quality
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Goat Island.
Aaaaaaaand, I got back in.
The sun has been beautiful. I had to drag myself to the water, but it was totes worth it. T’was practically tropical (give or take 10 degrees). Such a buzz to have a clear day to take photos.
#sea clearly#visibility#fish photos#full frontal fish#snapper#marine reserve#ocean beauty#fish are friends#goat island#aotearoa#freediver#underwater photo
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he is so funcking ugly look at my child 🤧
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Another Acotar Hot Take
I think tamlin has the potential to be as powerful as rhys, in terms of actual magic.
We’ve barely seen his shapeshifting put to use—we’ve seen Feyre use it in a myriad of ways, but with him we only ever see him as Fae or beast, which isn’t really all that special given that all the high lords have a beast form. So we haven’t seen his full potential with his Main Power, but he also has other powers.
Like, air manipulation. It sounds like Rhys and most other high lords have some level of telekineses, but I feel like full on air manipulation is like a whole different story. Could he fly without wings? Could he lift up huge objects into the air using the air itself? Is the air manipulation what causes stuff to shatter around him when he can’t control his magic? When his powers get out of control stuff literally EXPLODES around him. Imagine if he could focus that power? Just fuckin…exploding shit with his mind?? Not to mention the fact that he can make OTHER PEOPLE shapeshift. What are the limits of that? Can he force other people to shift or is it only a power he can bestow upon willing participants? Cause if not, that dude could be turning soldiers to fish on the battlefield or some shit. Like he may not be able to get INTO your mind but he COULD turn it into a piece of coal, or give you gills instead of lungs, or if we’re talking mind shit, he could shift one’s brain just enough that it could be rendered completely useless (ie changing someone’s frontal lobe beyond repair or something).
Plus, he’s literally like trained all his life as a warrior, which like yeah so has Rhys, but I’m just saying like put all this stuff together PLUS him being a skilled swordsman, likely prolific in hand to hand, and someone whose been training for battle for their entire life…like if he wasn’t so depressed I’m sure he could learn how to really hone all the stuff he can’t control, and I think if he did that he would be just as powerful as Rhys.
#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#tamlin#tamlin acotar#a court of thorns and roses hot take#acotar hot take#Rhys#rhysand#rhysand acotar#sarah j maas
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Was talking with @anniilaugh about would be the funniest/stupidest reality tv shows for Sanji and Zoro to meet at so here’s a few ideas and please feel free to add your own lol
The Bachelor: hopeless romantic Sanji as the bachelor being courted by Gin, Pudding, Ace, Pedro, Violet, Katakuri, etc (all the other ships) as well as a debt-ridden Zoro who was pushed by Nami to sign up to try and get prize money (in this instance you can get a lot of prize money if you’re chosen by the bachelor and leave, or you split with him if you stay or something?) the ANGST as Zoro gets a very bad first impression but fights to stay on (for the money) and tries to charm his way into Sanji’s heart, only to start falling for him too . Sanji would struggle SO much deciding who to give roses to lol. pudding would be sweet and kind to him but calculating/ manufacturing drama behind the scenes.
Survivor- now you’ll tell me how dare you put Sanji on an island to starve again and to that I say- this time he’s prepared and he’ll forage and fish and is doing it to prove to himself he can/that he’s over his trauma . He and Zoro are on opposing teams at first and then get to know each other at reunification
A baking/cooking show for non-professionals, with Zoro as a contestant and Sanji as a chef judge . Alternatively, Sanji as a contestant on a pro one and Zoro is a celebrity guest with the difficult palate they need to please
Fort Boyard: Sanji freaking out with the bugs and spiders, the team losing their mind because all the instructions they scream at Zoro through the door are being carried out in the exact opposite manner, both parties impressing the other with their feats. Fort boyard is a show for half-famous people so it could be fun if they’d heard of each other before/are each others celebrity crushes
Mister Universe- mister France and mister Japan meet and fall in love Ehehe
The bi life/any dating by the pool type dating show: Sanji is a hopeless romantic and Zoro got signed up by Perona. They butt heads at first
The Amazing Race: established relationship ZSZ , fan favourites, always arguing and getting lost because of Zoro, the underdogs
Love on the spectrum: Zoro, swords and sword fighting special interest guy meets Sanji, romcoms and cooking special interests guy
Too hot to handle : Demi!Zoro signs up thinking it’ll be a piece of cake since there’s no way he’ll develop feelings for superficial people like the ones that usually come into that show, he’ll manage to stay celibate no problem and get away with the prize money easy . Enter Sanji, and all his plans go to hell
Queer eye: zoro is the « hero of the week » and Sanji is the food and wine expert, need i say more?
L’amour est dans le pré(love is in the field)/Farmer wants a wife husband: farmer zoro and city boy Sanji
Naked attraction: this would actually be super hilarious if for some reason one of them didn’t fully read or understand the concept of the show being full frontal nudity as the basis for selecting a partner
My mind is going wild with the possibilities but you get it lol- what shows did I miss ??
#reality tv au#zosan#zoro x sanji#zosan fic idea#sanzo fic idea#zosanzo fic idea#zosanzo#sanzo#one piece zosan#one piece sanzo
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One of the most interesting things to talk about with others who enjoy chonny jash is how heart was blinded. From what I've seen, there's 3 main ideas. Mind did something that led to heart being blinded, heart blinded himself, or soul blinded heart.
There are, of course, infinite little intricacies on who did what and how that effects the lore of the album, and I am going to talk about MY specific details. Before I start pulling out medical textbooks I would just like to add that I personally believe that HMS cannot really die, but they sure can suffer! If this were to happen to a real person they would 100% die instantaneously. So don't uhh.. blind ur friends with a trident in an act of poorly placed rage.
Generally, I like to think that heart was blinded by soul using his trident. Now, given the general size and shape of the trident there is no way this thing is easy to use. Traditionally, tridents had a few uses, but were generally a one handed weapon that was used in gladiator fighting and fishing. I like to think that soul's trident is a two handed weapon that is used mainly for show, and when needed, an example.
Now, when attacking with a, somewhat comically oversized weapon, you have to plan in advance on how to deal with their disadvantages. they are typically hard to carry, hard to use, and they have a weird amount of weight in hard to balance areas.
Large weapons usually rely a LOT on gravity and well calculated movements to really do their job. This makes them effective and actually useful. Soul did not really care about anything effective, and was generally just doing it in this horrific fit of rage.
The main issue(s) is that soul didn't really calculate for ANY of the disadvantages. When he drove this horrific mass of metal and hatred into Heart's skull it wasn't elegant. He nearly falls and pushes his full weight against the trident. This means that he not only slammed this thing into his face, but it also means that he MOVED THE TRIDENT AROUND THAT WAS INSIDE OF HEARTS BRAIN. This horrific fuck up of an attack actually ends up making the damage much more intense, not just because of the brain damage, but also because soul 100% broke his skull open and fractured multiple bones in his face.
In most cases of people getting stabbed and sustaining damage to their brain there are no long term neurological effects (given it was just. Knife into brain and then out. Doesn't account for those who we're stabbed multiple times in the head/those who sustained more damage than the initial wound.)However, Heart cannot be so lucky. Given the forcefulness of the injury, and the elongated Spear on top of the trident's three pronged blade, this is not just a stab wound.
He would sustain a lot of trauma to the frontal lobe. I will be using this umbrella term of "Frontal Lobe Syndrome" to describe a lot of the damage heart took. Generally he would have brain damage, I just want to use something more specific that I believe encompasses most of what I am saying?
The trauma he would experience would not just be due to the initial stab itself. Taking out the blade would most certainly cause more damage. The curved prongs only go in one way, and by the time it's pulled out, there a good change that the violent push and pull to wrench the thing out of his head with cause EXPONENTIALLY more damage than the initial blow.
Frontal lobe syndrome is a term used to describe the damage of higher functioning processes of the brain such as motivation, planning, social behavior, and language/speech production. Now! Every case is very different, but for heart I will highlight a few things! First off, his optic chiasm was definitely damaged. Along with this! I feel as if his prefrontal cortex would take the most damage, but the frontal eye field would get messed up as well just due to the shape of the trident's tips and how they were pulled out of his head
This means that the biggest impact this blinding would have brain-wise (other than the complete / near complete loss of Vision) is that heart's emotional regulation would be extremely limited and he could experience a variety of symptoms from a sort of pseudo-depressive state to violent outbursts.
Besides the emotional implications, there is no way heart kept both of his eyes. In the best case, he might be able to see out of one of them, but even then, with the damage to the complex optical nerve connections, who's saying what he could see out of the remaining eye. If he were to see, there's a good chance that at least half of his vision would be completely dark, and that it would be fuzzy and.. almost like the cornea was taken out of eye, just darker and much more limited due to the brain damage.
#chonny jash#chonnys charming chaos compendium#cccc#cw gore#cw eye trauma#cw brain injury#death cw#rambles#can u tell I like heart#long post#autism won today
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gurl🤣 @kitxxb1ch let's start with diet... it also depends on what type they are - which is related to the climate/environment the mermaid lives in. They don't eat at all like we humans do, they could hardly digest most of the things we eat (processed, oily and sugary food etc). What they eat is very natural and organic, basically what they find in their environment! They definitely eat a lot of fish. Vegetarian diets are not really durable, as they need lots of protein especially when they swim long distances. The freshwater ones sometimes go for herbivore diet but it's not soo common i think. As you might know, mermaids are good hunters (fast and flexible like dolphins) and they most often hunt in groups. Except deep sea water mermaids, all other kinds usually live in pods. But back to the diet, seaweed is always a go to snacking option, kelp, kale, and wakame are extremely healthy and full of vitamins and proteins. But also crab/lobster/shrimp meat and all the different kinds of the local fish in their environment can be eaten (obviously all in raw form). I think those in tropical regions are also used to eating fruits every now and then.
regarding the other topic... is that so necessary for u to know before u shift there?🤣 I don't really wanna talk about 😭but ...ehm i'll do it but only very briefly 💀 if ur under the age of 16 please read some other posts .. pls :|
anyways so about the reproductive organs ... for mermen the p is internal and it emerges from a slit in the front side of the tail when aroused. For the female, as mentioned in the other post as well the opening is also in the frontal slit in between the pelvic fins. It is covered by large, flexible scales that are connected to the tail. This prevents water from flowing inside and causing infection. These flexible scales can be moved out of the way during the deed, and the p can be inserted there. The womb is located pretty much in the same place as for humans. Pls don't ask me for more info🤠
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Happy Fossil Friday!
Who: Anomalocaris canadensis
name meaning: "Odd shrimp" "from Canada"
pronunciation: Ah-nom-ah-low-care-iss can-ah-den-sis
What: A Dinocarid, radiodont arthropod with two long grasping appendages and large compound eyes. A ray of wing-like projections along the trunk and fish-like tail.
When: Cambrian Period (Anomalocaris sp. ranged 516 to 505 Ma)
Where: Burgess Shales British Columbia, Canada. From the Stephen/Burgess Shale Formation.
Fun fact!: A. canadensis is the type species for the Anomalocaris genus within Anomalocaridae and bonus fun fact: Since Anomalocaris are soft bodied organisms, they do not preserve well (usually) in the fossil record, with the exceptional cases of place like the Burgess Shale in BC. For many years, palaeontologists believed that Anomalocaris was actually three separate organisms, due to the poor preservation of the "softer" portions of the body, making it seem like the frontal appendages, mouth parts, and trunk of the animal were from different creatures. Exceptionally preserved specimens like the Left image above, show Anomalocaris in full form.
(def: the "type species" is the species upon which a genus's description is based and for which the genus is named and associated with).
Why are they cool?: Apart from the charismatic (in my personal opinion "adorable") visage of this tough little arthropod, they could use their long, segmented frontal appendages to curl and grasp prey, pulling it under to the mouth to be eaten, one of the first predatory creatures to emerge during the Cambrian Explosion.
Here is a link to a video showing Anomalocaris canadensis in its natural habitat from the wonderful Burgess Shale website, for those interested, check out their other videos on Burgess Shale/Cambrian fauna.
Image Credits: (Left: Fig. 1 - Daley, Allison C., and Gregory D. Edgecombe. “Morphology of Anomalocaris Canadensis from the Burgess Shale.” Journal of Paleontology 88, no. 1 (2014): 68–91. https://doi.org/10.1666/13-067. Right: M. Cross)
#palaeontology#paleontology#fossil friday#fossils#paleo#anomalocaris#cambrian#cambrian explosion#burgess shale#canada#british columbia#arthropod#anomalocaris canadensis
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Mukbang Part 5
“Oh, this food sure is filling me up! I can feel myself getting heavier and rounding out much more. *Gropes belly* And it’s getting grumbly. Can you hear my belly crying? I bet it’s still hungry for some of this scrumptious food, wouldn’t you say? *Scans the table*
I think it is time to eat these donuts, don’t you? *Holds dish up to show camera* They are so soft and slathered with rich, decedent icing! Please excuse me; I simply must try a bite. *Eagerly bites a donut*
Hmmmmmmm…. I was correct. This sure hits the spot! It's so sweet, and that cream filling is divine! Gives it a nice zing! But let’s take another question, shall we? *Looks at data pad* Ah, another shy anon. You guys are great, by the way. I may not know who you are, but you ask such fun questions. I don’t mind hiding behind an anonymous identity as long as you aren’t feeling uncomfortable. There’s no need to be. We are amongst friends, right? But anyway, this ask reads: “Oh, you’re looking quite big already; where are the best spots to rub you? Wanna put my hands over that soreness and rub it away.” *Smiles dreamily and polishes off a donut*
I could use a tummy rub right about now! To tell you the truth, I am feeling the ache begin, mostly right here. *Rubs the front and sides of the paunch* The aches started out front but have moved to the sides a bit. I imagine those are from the stretching of my plating. *Shyly smiles before shoving more donut into his mouth* Man, I am getting very round! Where you all planning on telling me how much I blimped out? But I can feel the throb of fullness starting on the insides. And it feels good to have this upper frontal part rubbed. *Playfully pats selected area*
That would be the best place to have you give me a rub down, huh? But it would be tough to decide. It feels nice having this lower chub groped or even the side flab messaged. Oh my stars, I would love to have a pair of hands rub all over my tummy! *Smiles dreamily as he gropes his own belly*
But enough of me touching myself. *Optics open wide, cheeks flush* Oh my, that sounded so wrong! *Laughs* But it would be heavenly to have belly rubs right about now! I can’t wait for Rat/chet to get off his shift…. Hopefully he’ll give my sore belly a rub!
But these donuts sure hit the spot! *Shows empty plate* It’s a shame they were so small. Can you imagine whole plate-sized donuts? But what shall I try next? How about the cyberfish? *selects said dish* This is salmon, one of my favorite fish dishes. *Licks lips* Its flavor is rich, but it does have a slightly oily profile. This is smoked, so you have that nice smokey yet savory flavor to go with it. And the crystal asparagus… hmm hmmm… goes so good with this dish! *takes a bite* I wish I could share this with you all!
But let’s continue on before I just talk about the food I am pigging out on this entire video. *Shakes his helm and smiles* Here’s a thinker. Alcorian asks: ‘Out of all the planets you’ve visited, where has your favorite place been?’ This one is kind of hard. To tell you the truth, almost all the planets I visited were for business, not pleasure. Sure, I can take moments to enjoy the planet’s beauty, but I mainly focused on accomplishing my task. *Continues to eat dish*
But my favorite would be New Crys/tal City on the planet Theo/phany. Yes, the planet itself is a barren rock land, but you are hit with such beauty upon entering the underground city. *Bites lip* Although I may be biased simply based on this place changing myself for the better.
Wi/ng made me see things in a different light, helping me release all my inner anger and turmoil. *Sighs, feeding himself more food* Wi/ng was a patient teacher. *Shakes helm* And I was such a bastard to him initially! Oh, he would tell me on a daily basis how stubborn I was. At the time, I was so clouded with rage and hate I couldn’t see it. *sighs* But I eventually saw the light. Once I did, my optics were opened to Pri/mus's mystical teachings!
I do not wish to get too religious on you all, but opening my spark to Pri/mus was very…. Hmmm… what’s the word? Uplifting? Releasing? Invigorating? *Face deep in thought* I cannot truly find the words to describe such an enlightened experience, but I could see my path in life much more straightforward. I was able to focus on my problems with more introspection. Gone was blaming others for my situation in this life, and instead, I focused more on what I had control over and how I could change things for the better.
Wi/ng saved me. *Looks sad* And I am forever grateful for his teachings. And how tasty this cyberfish was! *Shows empty plate* But let’s move on. I do not wish to dwell on such a bitter-sweet topic. *sets the empty plate down and selects a plate with two chicken wraps* Now, this food looks so fresh and inviting, wouldn’t you agree? We have some crispy cyber chicken tenders bound in a thin lithium-based wrap. We have some crisp cyber lettuce; of course, it is drenched in yummy ranch dressing! *Smiles* I bet this tastes amazing! *Takes a bite and face lights up with glee*
Oh, I was so correct! It's super delicious! I just love ranch dressing- it’s so creamy and has that tang of buttermilk! I wish I could give you all a bite! But I can give you another ask. We have another Anon send in, reading as follows: ‘As you’ve been talking, I keep getting glances of your pearly fangs. I bet those are really useful for cracking open meals.'
Ah, so you like my chomper’s don’t you? * Opens wide, tracing his fangs with his tongue* They do come in handy at times. Easy to rip meat off bones… can open canned energon as a party trick… and they come in handy when needing to bite things! *Bashfully smiles* Like Ra/tty….*Laughs* Oh, how he yelps when I nip at him, but it’s so fun! Biting has his neck cables really gets a reaction out of him!
But yeah, I don’t mind them, but they tend to give such a fierce presence. *Finishes off one wrap, then grabs the second* Back in the day, I immensely enjoyed the fear they evoked in my enemies. Nothing like flashing my pearly whites and making other mechs go wide opticed in fear. It was easy to intimidate them into giving me what I wanted. *sighs* Plus, it came in handy for siphoning… you know? Kinda easy to pierce energon lines with a set of fangs.
However, things have changed now. I want people to be at peace with my presence and feel comfortable. Not scared. I’m not flashing the fangs much anymore, but if I give a hearty laugh or am working on eating, mechs get a glimpse. *Takes another large bite* And I hate it when people recoil. I know I’m not the only mech created with chompers like these… anyway. I totally bit my way through these wraps, yeah? *Rolls his optics.* Yeah, I know, that’s corny. But I am so ready to devour this cherry pie. Doesn’t this look tasty? *Picks up the pie*
This is a delicious recipe. I snagged it from Rat/chet. *Looks a bit sheepish* Sadly, I think he is expecting a slice upon coming home. I’ll try to save him some, but you know what it’s like sometimes with good food: Once you start, you simply can’t stop! *Stabs a forkful and eats* Ohmystahs *Swallows* Please pardon my poor manners! But this crystal cherry pie is to die for! So sweet and tangy! But anyway, it's time to move on to another question.
Another anonymous user asks yet another hard question. ‘Do you feel you get treated differently on the Lost Light since you used to be a Decep/ticon?’ To be fair, I feel I get treated differently regardless of where I am. And I cannot fully blame others for feeling that way. I mean, I sure wasn’t a pleasant mech to be around in my earlier years. The violence was a turn-off for sure. *Eats more pie* When I joined the wre/ckers, there were a lot of sideways glances thrown my way. However, I remained focused on my missions and proved loyal to them, so the crew seemed less critical of me over time. *Belches, then covers mouth* Please excuse me! I don’t know where that came from! *stifles more burps* Man, it seems to be freeing up some room, though!
But honestly, there seems to be a lack of trust even long after leaving the Decep/ticons and changing my ways. If you are observant enough, you catch that flinch or moment’s hesitation when mechs interact with me. *Shrugs* Sure, with some, it fades over time. But other’s there always seems to be that shadow of a doubt in the back of their processor.
Take Ult/ra Mag/nus for example. There is a mech who will never forget my criminal record. *Nervously laughs* I swear he analyzes my every movement about this ship, insisting I have hidden intentions or something. But not everyone is like that. *Scoops up more pie* Obviously Rat/chet isn’t, though; he questioned my logic with why I joined the ‘C/ons. And believe it or not, Rodi/mus really hasn’t been all that judgmental either. I mean, yeah, we had a serious talk before leaving Cyb/ertron- at least as serious of a conversation our dear captain can have. And since then, he hasn’t really brought up my past. Sure, he cracks some jokes, and while some aren’t really that funny if you think about it, I can tell there’s no actual malice behind it. *Wipes mouth*
You know who else is pretty chill with it? *Eats another large chunk of pie* Fir/st A/id. He actually never brought it up. At least, not on his own. But that mech is just so sweet- never judges people and always sees the best in things in everything! *Smiles*
But I try to just go about the ship like normal. I cannot hold a grudge against others for their mistrust; I just do my best to prove myself worthy of not being feared and disliked. I’m sure they will see I am no threat… and perhaps they will start to see me in a better light with time. *Smiles as fork scrapes empty plate, then looks shocked*
Oh no! *Looks at empty plate* I ate it all! You guys should have stopped me so my Con/jux could have had a slice! Why did you let me eat the whole pie like such a hog? *shakes helm* But it was just too good to stop! I’m sure he’ll understand. *Licks his lips and sets the empty dish down* But there are still more dishes to taste and more time to chat! *Belly grumbles* I just hope there is enough room left in my tummy to clear this table!
… ……
Still taking on more askes! So, if you have a question for Dr/ift, send it in! You can send multiples. Also, if you wanted to ask as another TF character- just state so! Let’s keep this mukbang going and see if our dear sword/smech can handle all that food infront of him
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Kuhli Loach (Pangio kuhlii)
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hi hello food time?
#txt#my aquatics#full frontal fish#fishblr#fish#eel#spiny eel#worminator#was trying to get pictures of the cool amano shrimp molt but worminator decided it was time to beg for shrimp wbsnwjsf
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Challenge day 207 (total days 211).
Round the back of the island this morning at Matheson B. The vis was still marginal but there is always something to see. Lots of Champia laingii (the iridescent blue/purple seaweed) which is a red algae that glows in the light - so pretty!! Do you get this stuff @rudebisco?
And a very tiny Common Triplefin (Forsterygion lapillum), who swam up and sat on a rock to take a good look at me (pic 3) <3
#iridescent#algae#winter light#moody ocean#marine invertebrates#full frontal fish#(all be it a tiny one)#underwaterbeauty#its good to back in the water
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for some reason, 11 for eight & theron is speaking to me
11. Fixing each other's clothing (lost the prompt list)
Theron had no time to dodge. One minute he was standing on solid ground, the next--
Take it from him, getting hit with a full-frontal force blast felt like being rammed by a speeding hovertrain.
Right. in. the. gut.
He must've blacked out for a few seconds, because when he came to, he wasn't standing in the same spot he'd been prior. In fact, he wasn't standing on anything at all.
Huh?
Where's the ground? He thought, too stunned to fully comprehend the situation.
"Theron!" He heard Lana shout over yonder, a frantic edge to her voice that made her sound oddly concerned. Concern. That was a new one. Must be serious to make Beniko worry-
Theron nearly choked on his own cut off breath. Something yanked the collar of his jacket up like a noose, granting the spy a severe case of whiplash and a healthy dose of dangling like a fish as he sputtered and kicked for air, his trusty red jacket now a functional death trap cutting off his oxygen. He glanced upwards, turning red in the face.
Eight, with eyes wide, stared down at him as he clung onto the lapel of his jacket with his teeth, fangs scraping at the crimson leather.
It was then that Theron realized: he was dangling over empty air by his jacket and Eight's bite strength. The yawning abyss waiting below beckoned to him. Theron paled.
When Master Zho called it a lucky jacket, this wasn't what he had in mind.
"Pull me up!" He yelled, his desperate shout causing him to swing haphazardly over the gap.
Riiiiiiiiiiip.
Theron froze. Eight heard it too. They locked eyes.
Theron fell a little lower. He felt the stitches coming loose, the fabric fraying as the article standing between him and gravity began to tear. On the inside, he wept a little at the decaying state of his jacket-
Theron stifled a scream as he fell again. Stitch by stitch, he was going to fall. Eight struggled to pull him up, but the combination of sharp teeth and fraying fabric turned out to be not a hot idea--the jacket was coming loose where his fangs met the leather, ripping sharp holes in the racer jacket that Theron knew no amount of patchwork would fix.
Eight swung him with last-ditch herculean strength back onto solid ground. But as he did, Theron heard the final piece of his jacket tear away from the rest of its main body. He fell with an oomph, pieces of red and black fabric scattered all over him like truly pathetic confetti.
Oh, his poor jacket. And his poor life, of course.
As he cried on the inside, Theron lamented both.
-/-/-/-/-/-
The next day, Theron waited with a perplexed expression outside of his own Alliance chambers. Eight had asked to meet with him, but he couldn't possibly be...
Theron nearly jumped out of his skin at the tapping on his shoulder. He spun around, and sure enough, there was Eight, looking sheepish.
"Do you always have to sneak up on me?" He asked, only to receive a slightly innocent look in response. Liar. He returned a bemused expression. Imperial agents and their bad, bad habits. "You're...doing it on purpose. Anyways, what's up?"
Eight glanced around as if checking to make sure there were no other witnesses, then once at Theron, then once at the ground, before pulling out...
"My..."
Theron was truly speechless. His red jacket, once destroyed, now remade in the flesh.
Covered in cute little patches of assorted kiddy animals holding it together like the world's worst Sith chimera experiment.
Theron covered his mouth before a laugh could escape it. As bummed as he was about his favorite jacket being utterly annihilated...the gesture was touching. Truly.
Eight refused to glance at him still, perhaps out of embarrassment for his botched attempt at reviving the iconic racer.
Theron smiled and took it from him. "Thanks, Eight."
#swtor#swtor fanfiction#ask meme: answered#theron shan#oc: orradiz#WHEEZES. i havent written in so long i decided to just write something short and funny#probably not what askee had in mind but i enjoyed it#admin writes
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I'm gonna need pre-release media to stop telling me that there will be dick in a movie where there is no dick to be found
listen I don't need cinematic cock, I can go on the internet and see all the sausage I want
But when you tell me that I get to see the fish man's fish cock in The Shape of Water, and then you don't show it to me, then I've wasted the film in anticipation of the money shot that never comes
Or when interviews about Oppenheimer said Cillian Murphy would have extended full frontal nude scenes. I'm not desperate for that, I've already seen it in 28 Days Later, I don't care if I see it again or not, but you can't give me expectations and then fail to deliver
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hitman on vacation/catboy blues
(or the unexpected virtue of sheer apathy)
cowriting and editing credits: @finalgirlcock
tw: gore, drug use, violence, sexual material, general strangeness
a foreword about setting:
st. vermangud is the last city on earth. after countless climate disasters, all of the planet is considered a disaster zone besides a 400 mile stretch in the balkans known as "The Goldilock."
advancements in quantum processing and energy development has enabled all of earth's refugees to survive in this zone. 100 years pass. the population of the earth reached 23 billion; every soul contained within the maw of st. vermangud.
bionic and genetic modifications are commonplace; leading to sharp population increases of homeless beastlikes as pets are abandoned and reproduce in litters.
part one
it took a hot second to get the top off, the blades of your ancient can opener were wearing out at this point. usually it’d be sloppily opened with the edge of your service blade, but you wanted to retain the juice… keep the edge softer and less jagged. this meal wasn’t for you. after the can’s top was removed and tossed into your garbage can, you made sure your pockets were full, before stepping to your doorway, and letting the autolock handle the rest. as the machine compressed the hinges, you took a look left and right; an old combat habit.
steps towards the alleyway, which was down a level, and to the right of the parking lot. your current temporary domicile was a shifty motel room on the eerily quiet side of st. vermangud. mostly old cryptocurrency mining plants and seedy backdoor operations made to suite your type. you sighed, before speaking outloud.
“jez, engage headset, resume playlist”
the neural mesh lining the top of your frontal lobe sung to life; literally as music started playing indiscriminately. not in your ears, just… in your head. as if you could perfectly remember every beat and lyric of a song. you stepped down concrete stairs, and hummed along, scanning the parking lot for any movement. it was dead still, which is what you liked about this area. being put up here meant that the boss wasn’t planning on using you any time soon. but it also meant he wasn’t planning on killing you; which was a good thing.
for now, things stayed sickly quiet. you knew it was illusory; you were sure people were probably being tortured in the basement of this place, still. it was a comforting illusion. especially with a decently priced dispensary a few kilometres down the way, things were simple for now. most evenings were simple. you were a nightcrawler, came with the job… and the viral blood disease. nonetheless, you usually rise around 7 PM, smoke a few joints, take a shower, and then start your ‘morning’ ritual. which is what you found yourself doing right now.
you hooked right, onto the sidewalk, but then another right: behind the u shaped motel complex. it was a line of alleyways that connects a few roads, parking lots, and service tunnel access points; hugged by buildings and warehouses on all sides.
you weren’t sure where he was coming from each night. you would wager the tunnels. those tend to stay warm during the winter (that is if you don’t mind the chance of getting caught and skinned by feds: especially being a feline.)
you left the can of tuna on top of a transformer box, before stepping to the opposite side of the alleyway, and fishing a cigarette tin out of your old service jacket. you opened the tin, sliding the top just to the right enough to reveal the filter ends of several cigs, joints, and spliffs. most hand rolled. you fished a spliff out of the tin, and put it to your lips; closing the tin and pocketing it in one motion. raise your pointer finger to the end of the spliff. your two trigger fingers were replaced; both mechanical now. this is a combat mod but it has a simple bonus; the tip of your point hinged off, and a small butane flame lit the tip.
you shook the flame out, the tip of your finger closing back up. after a few starter drags, the spliff was lit. lean against the brick wall behind you in half-hearted victory, before looking up.
two amber reflective circles shined at you from the dark; retinas of a night creature’s lens. you almost jumped, but your intuition spoke louder than your physical reaction. his eyes blinked at you, staring deeply. you catch yourself staring back for a second, (the old habits of a creature that spent centuries as prey to big cats) before prying your eyes away. eye-contact made felines uncomfortable.
a few moments of awkward staring passed before he slowly started moving towards the tuna. two bandaged feet stepped into view of the streetlight. the pads of his foot-paws were exposed, but the soft parts were wrapped in layers of grimy wrapping. following were two long, emaciated legs, wearing shorts and scrappy fishnets, so rummaged that they barely maintained enough to stay on his legs. he was coated in rainwater, damp and dewy. it had been storming earlier tonight.
his small but long torso followed in, with his head full of grey locks on top. his ears were perked upright, tufts of grey tabby hair wildly at their base; fully alert as he made his way towards the can of tuna. you shift on your feet, and take a puff of your spliff, and his ears turn towards you, his eyes remaining firm on his target. you could barely see his face; the streetlight behind him was making him a silhouette of a shadow twink, creeping in darkness towards you. his arms were wrapped in similar bandaging to his feet, which wrapped around his wrists, and to his hands and fingers. he was wearing a band shirt, but it was particularly more shredded than the last time you remember seeing him.
usually he didn’t approach til after you left. he must of been hungry today. you watched him slowly, hesitantly approach the can of fish in front of him. it was in arms reach, and he slowly grabbed it, before quickly stepping back into the dark part of the alleyway. you giggled a bit, the tension of the moment boiling into steam, drifting into laughter.
“you’re welcome.” you mutter under your breath, taking another puff. you could hear him digging in, sipping the reserved juices from the side of the can with pursed, plump lips. a few exasperated mouthfuls and moans; and he had finished (but not before licking the inside of the can clean.) he let out a content sigh, leaning over and gently setting the can on the ground. you watched his shadowy frame from a distance, fully expecting him to turn heel and scamper off like he usually did. but he didn’t. instead, he just stared at you, as you stared back, puffing on a smoke.
“c…” he started to vocalize, but it sounded like it hurt. like he didn’t ever use his human voicebox. hoarse and dry and lower in octaves than you originally imagined he'd sound.
“can...can i…?”
your eyebrows tilted downward, and you had to stop yourself from going ‘awwww’ outloud. you nodded.
“yeah… you can have a whole one if you want…?” you offer, reaching for the tin in your pocket.
he nods, as he starts to approach but… he hesitates, taking another step back.
you slow your movement a bit.
“i’m not gonna hurt you.” you say, slow and quiet.
he bites his lip like he wants to believe you.
“....h-how...how do i know…?” he asks.
you bite the inside of your cheek. that broke your heart.
“i’m not that type of person…”
“w-why...why would you leave food..?” he raspily whimpered.
“i just…” you hadn’t really answered that part to yourself.
“i-uhhh... i dunno.. i noticed you out here a lot.. you’re cute, and … you look underfed soo..” you rambled a bit.
you looked up to see him approaching. as he got closer, you realized the awful smell that was coming off of him. not like his musk or any dirt… like rot.
he got within arm’s length, and you jolted back to life; realizing you had zoned off in the scent. you reached into the tin, and pulled a joint out; just weed. you didn’t want to give the poor guy nicotine for the first time and have him puke or something. plus, he sounded like he could really use it.
“how do i…?”
you giggle, and take it back from him. slowly, you reached out, making it obvious that your hands were moving towards him. he tensed up, but allowed you to. you put one hand on his shoulder, and realized how small he really was. the other hand moved the joint, filter-first, into his pouty lips. he smiled for a split second before it settled back into worry.
“now just… suck in, okay?” you ask, putting your pointer finger to the tip of his joint.
the butane torch lit it, and illuminated the front of his face. his lens reflected the flame’s light, and you looked up at his features; a thin nose, pointed jaw, moist dewy skin. his eyes are wide and sad: deep bags under them from sleepless nights. sick aswell, pale skin and a feverish look about him. look up, and realize there’s a loosely wrapped bandage around his crown, there was a big brown spot on the left of his forehead. your heart dropped.
he sucked in, and the joint lit up. you zoned off, staring at his wound, not realizing how big of a hit he was taking. after a second too long, you realized, looking down.
“w-wait! l-let it out!” you plead.
cue lungbuster
he tries to blow out all of the smoke, but it was far to late. he starts to cough and hack, and you quickly grab the joint from him, as he doubled over; choking on smoke.
“oh my god, babydoll, i’m so sorr-”
laughter. he started giggling, loudly. your concern melted into a quaint grin. it didn't take long for it to devolve back into coughing.
you reach a hand out, instinctively going to rub little circles into his spine. you touch the small of his back, between shoulder blades, and he's too busy hacking up a lung (making hairball joke seems tacky) to protest or flinch away. you massage out a few knots with the fat part of your palm before the coughing stops and the purring starts. it's sort of a fugue state, almost. for a moment, the two of you just crouched there in that alleyway, as you pet him. the smell of rot is still permeating everything, which is concerning, but you can practically see tension upon tension being relieved under your hand. the purs are deep and reverberating, and you can't help but picture him all warm and purring in bed; laying on top your muscular and scar-covered body. you restrained yourself from biting your lip.
then; suddenly, he's across the alley and your hand is gone from his back. he's crouched on all fours still, alert with his back arched. you freeze, scared to startle him any further. the feral catboy stares at you, eyes… impassioned. this time, you can't tear your gaze away. you aren't sure if he's terrified or confused or turned on, but it's probably all three. your spliff is still dangling from two spare fingers, ash trailing long and limp. you tap it absentmindedly, eyes firmly locked on his.
"i'm sorry." you say, putting your hands up in a placating gesture. "i won't touch you without asking, again."
you hold out the joint to him. his eyes dart from your hand, to your face, to back again. he looks over his shoulder, and back to you. padding towards you a step at a time, wincing at one point as he steps on something sharp. it hurt to watch a little. you could relate all too well to this type of desperation.
he takes the joint from your fingers and settles back on his hind legs, non-dominant hand supporting himself, some sort of animalistic slav squat. you watch, still cautious; and both of you wide-eyed, as he takes a much smaller drag. you, for some reason, nod. the catboy blushes at you, and your fingers brush as he hands you the joint back.
"t-thanks…" he says, giggling a little and covering his mouth with his hand.
I can't not fuck him. you think.
"yeah." you say, like an idiot. you take a drag of your weed.
"so, like, uhm-" jesus christ you sucked at this. you still can't look at him directly. "i've got more tuna?"
his eyes light up, pupils dilating and he bites his lip a little as he bobs his head up and down.
"please." he says a few seconds into this.
you catch yourself nodding a little too, keeping pace with him. the two of you lock eyes again, and you turn away before you can make him uncomfortable.
you move towards the motel's side door, stopping as you wrap your fingers around the bar. there was an ambient hum and a faint crackle up your forearm as the door scanned the surface level of your skin. dead cells, microbiology, ambient particles and more, all taken note of in an instant, millions upon millions of uncountable factors taken into account; just to unlock a door.
lean into the door, hold it open and look back over your shoulder at your newfound guest. he was still lingering several feet back, uncertain.
"c'mon," you smile, trying to be disarming. "i won't be hurting you."
he looked behind him, out into the cold night. the air was damp and humid, charged with static; a thunderstorm was due any moment. he grit his teeth.
“i-i have c-claws and i-i can… i can hurt you if i need to i-i’m… n-not some...dumb animal i-”
you nod, looking away from him.
“i understand. you have every right to defend yourself.”
you look back to him, and warm tears are flowing from his eyes.
“h-hey, baby…” you say, raising your eyebrows in sad confusion.
he shys his gaze from you, and looks low.
"listen... i have... been low. before i joined the military i was exactly where you are. i've had to defend myself from rapists and scum of all sort."
you stop, pacing yourself. you rarely tried to achieve this level of genuine emotion in conversation. it was hard.
"i'm not going to hurt you. and if i try to, you have every right to kill me."
he was staring at the ground, but he nodded.
you stepped back from the door frame, and he darted through, getting out of arm’s reach. slowly close the door behind him. he stays about 10 feet in front of you until you reach your room; to which he darts in quickly, once more. he was stood in the corner, in front of the mirror before the room that held the shower. he was still holding his joint, and taking anxious hits every few seconds, but he seemed more preoccupied with darting his eyes around the room to make sure this wasn’t some elaborate trap.
stuck alone in a room with him, the smell of his headwound was exacerbated. it was hard not to gag, the mixing scent of weed smoke was not helping. in the light of your room, you could see his festering, poorly wrapped wound. brown stains and crust surrounded it. you winced a bit.
“baby, what happened to your head?”
he looked at you with widened eyes. panic? his eyes shot around the room for an exit.
“i-i’m sorry! i-i di-didn’t w-want to h-h...hurt him!” he said, curving his back and flatting himself against the wall, staring to see if the window opened. it didn't.
you raised your hands above your shoulders.
“doll, i-it’s okay, what do you mean?”
“y-you’re with them, aren’t you?” he asks, following the statement with a long airy hiss.
“baby, i’m not with anyone that’d be after you.”
he looks at your face, scanning you. felines weren’t great at reading expressions; only body language. some rely on people’s words, but that only gets you so far before someone wants you dead.
“seriously. you are safe here.”
he’s huffing deep breaths, looking around the room desperately.
“baby, what you are smoking can make you paranoid, okay?”
“o-okay…”
“s-so why don’t you just take a seat and… let me take a look at that..” you ask, gesturing to your own forehead.
he nods a bit, you nod back. he takes slow steps to the bed, and slowly sits on the plush mattress. it seems to take him off guard; how soft it was. he grinded his hips into the surface a bit, getting himself comfortable as his tail flicked out behind him.
“i-i trust you.” he says.
you slowly step over, and make your way to the sink; underneath was a duffel bag. unzip it, and shove past a few deconstructed assault rifles to find your old military first-aid tin. steel alloy shell with compact medical supplies inside; factory mass produced for the resource wars of 2043. luckily, they made well past excess of the ugly pale blue tins, and you can buy them in bulk for pennys on the dime. you almost step away, until you looked left; seeing a few cans of tuna sitting by your food supplies and coffee maker.
you brought a open can of tuna and the tin over, and handed him the can. you had heard him perk up as soon as he could smell the fish; which again, wasn’t helping with the gross smells in the air.
“eat some, and try to ignore me, okay?” you ask. he nods.
“y-yes, ma’am.”
you can’t help but laugh a little.
“ma’am? that’s a little cordial.”
he blushes deeply. a little too deep.
“oh?” you ask. you couldn’t help but push it; the lazy domme in you was showing.
you let him be, shifting your attention to the poorly done headwrap.
“did you clean this yourself?” you ask.
he nods no.
“no, ma’am. s-some… human wrapped me up.. h-he was homeless, i-i think…”
you nod, smiling a bit.
“and what about the people that hurt you?”
you started to unwrap the wound. you were expecting some deep puncture from a catclaw that turned into an abscess or something but…
you peeled back goey bandages, and tried hardest to keep a poker face. you could see fucking bone. worse; it was cracked, callus forming between the fractures. this was a few weeks old. he could be facing brain damage, and that’s a best case scenario.
“who the fuck did this to you?” you can’t help but spit.
it was blunt force, like a board or a hammer; something awful of the like.
“s-some c...cruel men b-by the riv-river…”
you peeled the bandage away, revealing the festering hole in all of it’s awful glory. the smell of rot filled the room. if you weren’t combat trained, you would be gagging right now.
“this is… this is really bad, baby.”
green and brown flesh showed necrosis and decay. he was literally rotting. festering headwound; infection had already set in. around the wound was red, irritated skin. it was puffy as all hell too.
“t-they t..took a video o...of me…”
something snapped; you couldn’t keep your hands steady anymore, your breathing and heartrate was picking up. breathe, soldier, you told yourself. 8, 5, 8. you took a deep breath, let it out, then took another deep breath.
“do you trust me?”
he looked up to you. he looked somewhat unsure but..
“y-yes, ma’am.”
“can i take you to a doctor?”
“i-i d-don’t h...have a-any… social security o...or m-money o-or-”
“i know a girl… i can pay” you say, not fully sure if you had the money to pay for something like that right now.
he nods, a semi worried look on his face.
“i’m gonna have to put you on a leash, okay?”
“w-what?!”
you swallow hard.
“i-it’s the law, baby… city ordinance… i-i don’t have any papers for you, so i can’t risk a CO pulling us over…”
“i.. y-you… t….”
you reach out and pet his head, scratching softly behind his ear. he loosens up a bit.
“what’s your name?” you ask
a gentle blush reaches his cheeks, and he turns away.
“d-dot…” he says.
“that’s a pretty name; my name is rami.”
he nods and smiles a little, looking back to you.
“th-that’s a really nice w-word…” dot says.
you hook up a titanium collar with a chain leash: dot looked at you funny when you brought it out of the duffle bag.
“don’t...don’t ask questions.” you beg.
you lead him out of the room, doing a check to make sure your taurus eidolon was strapped to your hip. you had a jacket pocket full of 7.62 for it, and a few heat sinks too. you’d need them for later, dealing with a few cruel men. dot took a few steps forward, and the chain yanked suddenly. you looked up to see:
“i-i hate this collar!” he says, huffing, his hairs standing up. He was reaching at it; the thick metal bar was keeping his neck straight in an uncomfortable. unluckily for him, you don't have pets; this was mostly used for interrogation purposes.
“i-i know baby, i’m sorry.”
you took him down the stairs, the autolock sealing behind you. you tightened the hawaiin shirt over your tanktop. it was going to be a very long night.
dot was hiding behind your shoulder, quivering uncomfortably and looking at you with sad eyes. you frown a little. even a pet store collar would have given him sensory issues, let alone this heavy hunk of metal.
"it won't be long." you let yourself brush his cheek with your palm for a moment. "the doctor only lives a few blocks away."
dot nods, determined like a widow at a wake. you try to be reassuring.
save for a few catcalls (ha-fucking-ha) the two of you make it there without incident. the smell of dot's head wound invades your nose. now that you know the scent, you can't escape it. your blood boils thinking about the kind of people who could do something like this. people in this city did depraved things for pleasure already, but assault always got under your skin. it always felt like a waste to you, needlessly cruel and misguided. there were plenty of people to pick fights with who could actually fight back, after all.
the sawbone's "office", which is a generous term, is located out of an old condemned day trader office space from when the stock market was still open to civvies. it's untouched and dusty, only left undemolished because it costs more money to tear down than to let rot. you lead dot around the back of the warehouse and down an alley. there's identical rows and rows of warehouses and working spaces here, all closed off and left to their own devices now. if you activated the highly sensitive mics in your ears, you could probably hear vague activity, faint music, the whirring of a power tool, screaming. cops didn't come here often.
around the back of the building is a bunch of caution tape and old 4x4 boards and wooden pallets. a couple empty barrels. pry under a pallet covered in tape and red spray paint, revealing a hole in the wall big enough to crouch walk through. every other entrance to this place was welded or barred shut. nobody really came around here, but it paid to be cautious.
"c'mere." you tell dot, though he's already standing well within your personal space. you gently turn him around by his slim shoulders, twisting the latch behind the collar once, twice, until it popped loose. dot scrabbled to get it off, scuffing his head wound a little and wincing. he shook his head and then his whole body, like he was getting something filthy off of himself.
"I hate that collar…" he says again, pouting a little. you swear you can hear your heart snap in two. you wrap your arms around him, collar and chain still in one hand, and squeeze him gently. he shudders into you as the cold titanium touches his back, and you cringe as the scent of rot fills your nose. it's still sweet though.
"I'll get you a softer one." you find yourself saying. "until I can get you leashless certified."
you feel him gasp a little, his shoulders hitched up. you've gone still as well, both of you surprised by your commitment. you'd never really been a pet owner, you didn't even have any plants for Christ's sake. you didn't know what it was about this stray that made you feel so protective…
when you first saw dot, a few weeks ago, you'd watched him trodding for gutter fish in a canal near your apartment. you'd been out on the fire escape, smoking after a job. you always reevaluated your shots and compartmentalized any ugly details after a job. weed and nicotine helped.
he'd stripped half his clothes off, almost literally dressed in rags, and he was crouched and still, legs submerged in the murky water up to his knees. his tail and his ears were quirked at odd angles. legs long and slender and heels arched in an inhuman amgle. you'd zoomed in with your bionic lens, interested now, and saw the way his claws glinted in the scarlet sunset light. they had looked beaded with fresh blood then. you'd been amused until a few street cops on patrol showed up. he had to run off and leave his clothes behind, but the cops were easily lost. dot moved like a fucking movie character. he leapt on top of a parked trailer, took a running leap onto a fire escape, and running up the stairs and out of sight.
an hour later you had his clothes neatly folded and washed, with a can of tuna resting neatly on top, waiting for him in the alleyway next to your motel room.
dot's not moved an inch in your arms. he's barely even breathing. you're about to open your mouth when-
"w-why are you…" his head is tucked under your chin. his voice is quavering. "why are you doing this?"
"i don't know."
"you're… it's not a trick?" he looks up at you with a fierce gaze and furrowed brows. there's tear tracks on his cheeks. he looks deadly serious, but he can't meet your eyes. he's staring at your chest.
"no!" you say. god, why do you sound so sincere? "I just… want to help."
he sniffs. you smile at him. dot looks at your eyes, then down at something, your chin, your lips? he looks like there's something he's going to say. his gaze relaxes, and he finally meets your eyes for a moment before he shys away, burrowing his face in you. you squeeze him a little, baffled and horribly, horribly endeared.
"i never thought i'd be adopting a stray." you chuckle, running a hand over his hair. it's knotted in an awful way, but thick and oily in a natural, "i don't use shampoo" way. you wish you had a brush, or even your comb.
he laughs a little too, a little sad. he's still hiding his face from you.
"so…" his voice is muffled, tickling your armpit. "i-i'm… yours now?"
"yeah." you say, breathless and pants tight. your head swims a little. christ, you needed to get laid more. "you're mine.”
he squeezed you a little tighter, a deep purr permeating from deep in his chest. you bit your lip.
"now c'mon, the doctor's waiting, and she's not a patient woman." you say, finally breaking the embrace and forcing the two of you back on track.
dot looks at you with flushed cheeks and nods, staring at the floor as he slips by you and languidly passes through the entrance to the warehouse.
"there's a bunker entrance in the floor back here." you explain, moving the pallet back in place behind the two of you. "the actual office is down there."
it's dilapidated here. with the entrance covered, all the light comes in through windows caked over with dirt and broken parts of the thin metal roofing. it's enough to see almost clearly, but the dust in the air and haphazard piles of old scrap makes the place inhospitable. even the underground organ harvesting blood bank had a better vibe.
dot hooks a palm through the hatch, and pulls. he’s almost strong enough to pull it open by himself, which makes you smile proudly. you step behind him, and grab it; pulling it open with a few fingers. the hinges are rusty, but decently maintained. you let dot step down first; he tended to like to lead the way.
“rami, is that you?”
you laugh a little, awkwardly fiddling with the dog tags looped around your necks.
“yes, ma’am.”
“is that a god damn cat?”
you nod your head, stepping into the hatch, and pulling it closed behind you. dot, on the tips of his paw pads, was skulking around the corners of the room, sniffing around.
“yes, ma’am.” you repeat yourself, as you duck under a low hanging steam pipe.
the bunker was surprising well maintained and sterile looking; fluorescent lights reflected off of linoleum tiles. there was a few stained glass dividers, hiding hospital pods and iv-drips. all stolen and jailbroken from the medical industry. just like xhen.
xhen was a shorter girl, maybe twice my bodies’ age, with light wrinkles and huge tits to show. she was milfy in every means of the word, wearing sweaters under her stained surgical sleeves, pencil skirts and tall heels that clacked loudly as she approached. her hips swayed gently towards you, and you had to bring your eyes to face level.
“you never striked me as a pet-owner.” she says, lips pursed and eyebrows cocked high.
for a second you don’t know what that look is for. then, you remember you still owed her for last time. Fuck. you reached into your front pocket, pulling out a leather USB sleeve. slowly open it, and take the usb out.
“do what you gotta. i don’t wanna know how much i’m bleeding tonight.” you say. she smiles widely, purple lipstick stained lips.
“yes, ma’am.” she mimics you, swiping the stick from you before you could regret it.
“whose the stray? and…” she sniffed the air.
“christ, the fuck is that smell?” she asks.
you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose.
“that’s dot.” you say, looking over your shoulder.
he was curled up under an operating table, staring out from the corner of the room. his ears were raised high, mouth open and panting; he was getting nervous and strung out in the presence of xhen.
“he got a nasty headwound, some… voyeurists or something awful.”
she nods, letting out a empathetic noise.
“it’s pretty bad. like… callus and rot… it might be brain deep.” you say, taking another smoke out of your tin. xhen plugs your usb into her system, eyeing one of the several monitors ahead of her; the bigger one, with HD. she whistles.
“damn, babydoll, you’re running dry.”
you turn your head slowly and painfully. less than 8 whole CheirCoin left in your wallet. ouch.
“damn… boss got me on retention.”
“that usually means he’s planning something awful.”
“awful means high value in my line of work, xhen.”
she grins a little.
“i’ll take two whole; that covers your tab and a little over half of whatever fuckery this’ll entail.”
she vaguely gestures to the shivering catboy in the corner of her room. you nod. she was being insanely gracious. you know you had owed her more than she was letting on.
“thank you xhen, i’ll pay you back as much as i can later.”
“i know you will.” she said, eyes hungrily at your crotch.
it seems you weren’t the only one thinking about your dick. it twitched again, and you quickly moved your leather USB wallet to the front of your jeans. you take a few steps towards dot, and squat in front of the table he’s under.
“c’mere, baby…”
you coo a few times, rapping your fingers against the tile. his ears shoot back, and eyes widen; entering predator mode. he gently pounced forward, latching onto your hand with his paws. after a split second, his eyes narrowed again. he laughed dryly a few times, blushing deeply.
“s-sorry..” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. you gently grab onto his spare hand.
“nothing to be apologizing for, dot.” you say, petting the back of his hand.
his blush deepens even more, and you smile sorely.
“where are the people that did this to you?”
there’s an awful, lingering silence.
“the canals… t-that brick building with th...the metal stairs… that old government housing building...i-i’m… i-i’m sorry i d-don’t remember m-much...”
the fire escape. your heart snapped in half. you had watched him climb into the jaws of something vicious the first night you saw him.
“i know the place.”
you kiss the back of his hand.
“xhen is gonna take care of that for you. she’s a good woman, and i trust her. i’ll be back, okay?”
he looked like a car was coming or the boat he was on had a leak. he clung to you a little too tight. after a gutwrenching silence, you looked down at him and sighed.
“will you hurt those men?” he asks
you nod.
“i will.”
he leans his head into your shoulder. you could feel his breath get heavy and dampen with the weight of a sob. you placed a hand on the back of his head and neck, and scratch gently.
“it’s gonna be okay dot.”
...
your feet carried you across the country sickeningly fast. you were thirsty. you had a rage fang-boner and you were craving a fight. you hadn’t had a good one in weeks. your head throbbed with high blood pressure and the punk rock screaming and thrashing that was blaring over your neural mesh. as you stepped close to the apartment building, following the canal to your own old apartment that you had to quickly flee, you stepped by a construction site.
this was the seedy part of town, so automated construction was far too expensive. you stepped past a chain-link fence, and snagged a hammer and a box of nails from a tool box laying nearby.
you approached the brick apartment building. out front there were two men, sitting with ak-141s and modified ARs tucked next to their folding chairs. they were obviously fleshy, at least no mods you needed to worry about. you sighed, and dug into your driving jacket; pulling out a few nails and the hammer. you placed a few nails between the knuckles of your left hand, and then a few sticking out of your teeth.
you stepped across the canal, splashing water with your boots and making slow strides in the dark towards them. you were hungry as hell; as gross as it was to rely on 40-something year old military academy dropouts for food. that's having a hemasynthetic replication disorder does though. you should be so lucky it's not rats for dinner.
the steps you took towards the two felt slower than possible. you took a deep breath, counting to eight; then releasing the same breath, counting to five. your feet brought you even closer. you took one more deep breath in.
with a firm a movement, you kicked the folding chair out from underneath the man on the right. he tumbled to the ground. he was a large man with an olive tan and a heavy brow. facial ID recognition software pegged him as ryan dukovisky, wanted felon and ex-military. no mods, so he must of been an angry desk jockey. with nothing to lose and too much to prove, he found himself under your heel, throat first.
you bolted, crushing the windpipe of ryan as you bounded towards the second figure; who was wearing a ski-mask. who he was didn’t matter much as you smack a hammer backhanded across his bottom jaw, tearing tendons on the right side and spilling bloody teeth and phlegm across the alleyway concrete. he must of had a biodampener installed; for anyone else, that would of knocked them unconscious.
as the man in the ski mask tumbled, you grabbed the patchwork ak that was within arm’s reach, and dropped the clip on ryan's head; before chambering the one bullet out of it. you weren’t worried about ryan doing anything other than choke on his own blood, but the other still potentially had a lot of fight in him.
you tossed the ak aside, and crossed a kick across ski-mask’s face so hard he rolled over onto his back, spitting fragments of whatever used to be his mouth. the black fabric surrounding his face seemed constricting for him now. you kneeled over his arms, pinning them, and lowered a nail to his forehead. his heavy breathing turned into a gurgly whine as you placed the nail close. you slowly turn around, as if forgetting something, and look at the door. there was padlock with a number code keeping the iron outer door sealed.
“use your fingers. the code to the door.”
his left hand slowly raises, as you look left. four fingers, four fingers, two fingers and…. his right hand raises, and you have to turn to look at it under your right knee. eight fingers.
“4418, that’s right?” you ask. he nods and whimpers.
“thanks.”
you blow the nail straight through his frontal cortex, pinning his ski mask to his skull.. his squirming will stop in a few minutes. you stand up and step over to ryan. he’s barely clutching onto life, his gasps for air were getting more gurgly and desperate. you took a nail, and lined it up to the right side of his forehead. you put it straight through, with a solid blow to the nail that bruises and rips the skin around it somewhat.
you stood upright, and rolled your neck a bit. the two bodies next to you twitched and gurlged as you approached the door and entered the code. it popped unlocked, which made you smile. poor guy really thought he was gonna make it out alive.
none of us do.
you quietly entered the apartment building.
....
....
[GOOD MORNING]
#writing#creative writing#original character#science fiction#weirdcore#catboy#splatter#soft gore#part one#smut#short story#splatterpunk#sex and drugs#head trauma
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