#of him standing in the background for every one of puss' deaths | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yuliyaana · 1 year

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— THE ANIMATION AND ARTSTYLE USED FOR THE VISUALS

The amazing use of both 2D and 3D elements mixes perfectly with the animation and the art style and it really reminds me of the animation of Into the Spider-Verse. Everything’s an eye candy and wallpaper-worthy. The vibrant colors and the lighting?? The visuals and the background art, they're just so GORGEOUS! Like you can see those little paint brush strokes on some parts of the film. You know the movie’s gonna be good when they apply this kind of style. This movie is an absolute masterpiece. *chef’s kiss*

— THE WORLD BUILDING

OKAAAAY I WILL NEVER GET OVER WITH THE WORLD BUILDING ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY WENT TO THE DARK FOREST— it’s just so hilarious when Puss and Kitty got depressing and dangerous path/terrains while Perrito got the easiest path because he’s a carefree and cheerful pure-hearted therapy dog who sees the positivity in life (despite his sad “funny story” like he said) and it really shows that whoever possesses the Star Map judges the character of those who holds it.

— CHARACTER DESIGN

Can we talk about Goldilocks’ character design? I really, really love how they designed her— like every details of her design reflects the way she got raised by her bear family. You see those mismatched earrings? They resemble Mama Bears different earrings. Her necklaces? Baby Bear also got a chain necklace. And the faint scar she got on her left eyebrow later on? Now it resembles Papa Bear’s scar on his left eye. Okay I love this her golden blonde hair so much. It really fits her name ESPECIALLY her two huge buns resemble like bear ears! Her outfit got dirtied in the dark forest making it look brown, like her family's brown fur plus she got those little fangs omg. She's so cute but she can also kill you. TvT

Jack Horner, okay this chaotic huge man got pink hair and chubby cheeks. He’s got the perks alright? Hear me out, his pink tie resembles an icing piping cream pastry and he got those small printed pies on his purple vest. He BIG.

And finally, this big bad lobo himself and his name is DEATH, like literally. He’s the Grim Reaper of Shrek Universe. His design freaking SLAPS! Oh man, this brooding wolf deadass got the hardest drip for me ngl. The black poncho fits him perfectly for a grim reaper like him. The fact that his eyes always stand out making him look even more intimidating and menacing. We all know that the universal look of Grim Reaper is a skeleton in a long black cloak with his scythe while DreamWorks made Death as a wolf with his signature dual-sickles (likely as a reference for Grim Reaper’s Scythe), for me it’s an interesting detail because his main target was Puss in Boots coming to punish him for recklessly wasting away his past eight lives mainly because he’s a cat, and wolves are known for being a natural predator. Not to mention, he was always there whenever Puss dies. He was so patient enough to finally get to his prey. Another interesting detail of him is the dark part of his fur in his face, donning a skull-like shape because he’s literally the Grim Reaper. Overall, he’s 12/10 for me and my most favorite antagonist so far.

— THE LESSONS BEHIND PUSS IN BOOTS: THE LAST WISH

Sometimes whenever we wish for something that we want, we didn’t realize that thing we were wishing for was already there all along.

Puss himself already learnt his lesson to value his remaining ninth life at the end of the movie because every ounce of moment in our lives are precious and we need to appreciate them fully. We will never know when our time comes. As Perrito said to Puss, having one life in enough.

Sacrificing your personal needs to save someone you truly love and care about. Like how Goldilocks ditched the Wishing Map when she was one way of granting her wish and instead, she helped saving Baby from disappearing to the Star Wall.

...and they lived happily ever after.

#puss in boots the last wish #puss in boots 2 #puss in boots #puss in boots kitty softpaws #puss in boots perrito #puss in boots puss #puss in boots spoilers #puss in boots goldilocks #puss in boots jack horner #puss in boots death #the last wish #death wolf

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utterlyhopeful-fics · 4 years

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Who is in Control? - Part 2

A/N: Unedited smut because ya girl is ALWAYS thirsty for Henry Cavill. 🔥🔥🔥 Catch up on Part 1 HERE! Masterlist

August Walker x Reader

Also, if I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or want to be tagged; please let know!

Word Count: 2570k

Warnings: dirty filthy CONSENSUAL smut, language (Just don’t scroll past the cut if you don’t want to read smut)

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“FUCK!” Ethan slammed his hands abruptly on the table. “Damnit, we missed him. He’s gone.”

“We’ve searched nearly every smelly crevice London has to offer. We were so damn close!”

“Lane’s gotta be with him. If we hurry, we can still sniff out his tracks.”

Ethan eyed Y/N suspiciously; “Think Y/N. Where would he go next?”

Y/N scanned through every memory she could muster. Her frontal lobe throbbed as she rubbed the spot aggressively.

“Hazlitt’s! That’s where we’d go.”

“You sure?”

“I know it. 100%”

“Why there?”

“I’d read to him when we were in bed together. Hazlitt’s is a hotel. He surprised me when he actually listened one night. I was reading an autobiography about essayist William Hazlitt. He was the one to find out William had died there. My morbid curiosity found his gesture macabre yet sweet. It was his way of showing he’d cared without saying anything at all. And before you say anything ridiculing, don’t.”

“Shit, what the hell did you do to him? No wonder he’s on a damn rampage.”

Dryly chuckling, Y/N didn’t quite know how to follow up, fumbling over her fucked up feelings once again.

“It was our place where we could just be ourselves. Away from the world and constant bloodshed. No alterative motives, no plan of action, just us. If he’s as heartbroken as he’s letting on, I bet that’s where we’ll find him. Besides, who doesn’t enjoy a trip down memory lane, hm?”

“I underestimated you, Y/N. Fucking the information out of him AND tricking him into thinking it was love. You’re a fucking genius.”

She coldly glared at him, her mind already two steps ahead of Hunt pissing him off to no end.

“Seriously. When did it stop being a mission?”

“The SAC told me to keep an eye on him, make sure he stayed in line under a watchful eye. They teamed us together as an experiment. I can’t pinpoint when, it just happened Ethan. I mean we’ve worked side by side in the field for three years! THREE YEARS.”

“He’s scared of you. You’re his one weak link.”

She mulled his comment over. It was a truth she wasn’t quite ready to admit. Yes, she wanted to make him hurt but killing him was an entirely different story. She prayed her strength was hiding, just waiting to surface when called upon.

“Clock’s running. Let’s go.”

So, Y/N followed him through a skinny corridor alley getting to the car at an inhumanely speed.

----------

Ethan and Y/N surveyed the perimeter looking for an obtainable entrance point. The dumbfounded clerk had confirmed a Mr. Patrick Bateman checking in. Taking after his favorite character, Y/N knew what room they’d find him in. His impeccable taste for detail consistently blew her away. Room 916. No doubt in her mind. The day they met, or as he likes to better describe; the first time he ever felt noticed.

“Let me go in first. Try and reason with him.”

Irritation came off him in waves crashing nonverbally disagreeing with Y/N.

“Too dangerous. This isn’t negotiable.”

Undermining his own words Y/N spoke; “I’m not asking for permission, I’m telling.”

Just then, the door swung open, Y/N sauntered towards a seeable back exit adjacent from Hunt’s point of sight. Walls bare of color and life lined the narrow hallway. The dimness bordered into eerie. An unknown sound skyrocketed her frenzied nerves. 913…914…915…

The garish gold numbers stood conspicuously still. Invisible weights kept her place. A knock resonated off the white dilapidated door.

Nothing. No response, not a sense of movement. Can’t fool me that easily Walker.

“I know you’re there—watching me through that stupid peephole wondering what in the literal hell I’m doing here.”

A chain clanged loose as the door astutely opened. Never had she met a man as devilishly handsome before. Towering over her 5ft7 frame, he smirked.

“Don’t give me that look. We need to talk.”

August didn’t flinch a muscle remaining inaudible. All of a sudden enigmatic emptiness consumed her.

“By all means, please come in.”

Good to see his charm and charisma hadn’t yet abandoned him.

“We both know you didn’t come alone. How long I do we have?”

“15 minutes, maybe 20 if you’re lucky. And I dare say luck isn’t on your side today. Why did you leave?”

“Getting straight to the point then my love?”

“Don’t give me that shit, Walker. I’m seriously not in the mood.”

The air conditioner hummed in the background forcing goosebumps to prickle her skin. An unexplainable chill drifted around them; a veiled noose of destruction lingering just out of sight. Y/N walked towards the window gazing up at the luminated stars.

She’d always been fond of constellations and their profound mark on the universe. Heavy footsteps followed making their way to her. His breathe tickled along her collarbone standing mere inches away. His hands reached for hers interlacing their fingers placing a wet kiss to the exposed column of her neck.

“How far are you prepared to go?”

Her neck slanted at him in childish annoyance.

Y/N snorted; “I will go further than you. However, many weapons you’re willing to bring, I’ll bring more. However low you will go; you will never dig deeper than me. I will win, because what this will cost me in pain, I will pay. My resources are limitless, I will always outbid you, and I will never, ever back down. Am I clear?”

The seriousness in her tone amused him giggling quietly. His rebuttal was quick and brash.

“You must seriously hate the person underneath that attractive flesh of yours.”

“Already to the petty part of the evening? Always a sour puss, Auggie.”

Closing the space between them, August pinned his upper body to Y/N’s back. Her head landed powerfully on his shoulder; his fingers brushed her pulse point teasingly.

“Neither of us are getting out alive darling. Have you paid your penance? Shall we be rejoined in the afterlife or reign in hell? I do wonder.”

Ignoring him Y/N pressed further; “Where’s the plutonium? Death is but a ploy of distraction.”

“Clever girl. Reverse psychology won’t work on me, Y/N. Try again.”

His right hand wrapped entirely around her delicate neck into a light chokehold securing her in place.

A hushed rough voice similar to a forgotten whisper slipped through; “You’re the one who has to live with your choice. Everyone else will get over it, move on, no matter what you decide. But you never will.”

His left hand stroked the button of her jeans undoing them in record time. The zipper was the next offensive item to go before he shoved her pants around her wobbly knees. Paralyzed in fear, Y/N didn’t risk moving a single muscle.

“Do you want me to fuck you? Here, now, pressed against this chilled glass, exposed for the whole world? I’ll gamble just one glance from a stranger down below will get your rocks off.”

His next words terrified her; “Only I can make you feel this alive. Tell me I’m wrong.”

She fought the searing intrusion growing between her thighs. He spoke directly to her reflection like he was talking to a ghost.

A concoction of pants and grunts were the only distinguishable noise escaping Y/N. August’s hand slithered underneath her blouse groping her covered breasts. Still she didn’t move to stop him. She was putty in his glorious hands ready to be molded into whatever he needed or craved. immersed terror sent a jolt of unexplainable excitement to her core.

Y/N cowered ashamed of her body’s biological reaction. But something in her brain told her to let him see the demon hiding in plain sight. Suddenly, Y/N reached back fisting the hair along his neck and pulled, hard.

Her behavior shifted on the cusp of absurdity. The ruthless killer long submerged had finally met her match, someone just as vile as she believed herself to be.

“You’re not the only cold-blooded asshole in the world. Hate to burst your villainous bubble.”

“I know, my darling. I’ve waited so patiently to see you in this darkened light of misery. After this, you won’t be able to go back to work without seeing every speckle of shit sprinkled before your eyes. CIA, FBI, MI6, they’re over and you my dear play a dear role in their long-awaited demise. Once you cross this line, which you undoubtfully will, Agent Y/N is dead.”

August swept her hair to one side nipping a trail along her collarbone. Her blood pressure steadied showing him she was calm, in control, and spontaneously impulsive.

Gauging his reaction, Y/N leaned into August; “I know. You’re my Hades and I’m the beloved Persephone. We’re written in destiny, baby. You and me.”

Her voice expressed a detached, cunning, and malevolent mischief. Her words made his skin crawl and cock harden. She was truly magnificent.

“Did you know that I’ve dreamt of your blood spilling while I fucked you raw? Holding a silver tipped blade on that very neck of yours, watching the fear grow as I rode you like a wild stallion. There’s no more denying the predatory urges I desire with you, for you....to you. We could have the world at our finger tips, Auggie. Quite frankly, you don’t scare me a bit and it pisses you off.”

August bit down sinking his teeth into her peachy flesh leaving a crimson imprint in his wake. Y/N yelped; her underwear flooded with moisture. Her feet wobbled closer to the glass as August shoved her forward. With her breasts pressed against the window, she heard the fasten of his zipper undo. Her nipples hardened in response. August’s dick pressed vigorously into her ass cheeks hitting every spot but the one she wanted. A feral growl betrayed her as she pushed back in resistance.

“Mmhm, who’s the horny one now?”

“I’ve grown familiar with villains that live in my bed…”

The lace grazing her hips snapped painfully watching her panties fall to the floor.

“Ouch! Easy asshole.”

“Vile words from such a pretty mouth. Obviously, there’s lessons to still be achieved with you yet.”

“You foolish brute. You should be thanking me for covering your tracks, saving that scrumptious ass of yours. Oh, my pet…when you will realize you are the one at my disposal now?”

Finally, skin to skin August lined up with her entrance. His tip rubbed teasingly against her parted folds pushing in a few inches. His shallow thrusts only spurred her on. He didn’t dare let up on the vice grip of her hips. An unnaturally strained whimper strangled the surrounding room. Pre cum leaked from the tip stirring the aching in their bellies.

“You have no idea how disturbingly gratifying it is to have found an equal, a partner of sorts with a taste for blood and sadism.”

His mocking grew old quickly as his hands continued their firm hold.

“We put Bonnie and Clyde to shame. Pathetic for running, idiotically oblivious to their own demise that lot. They didn’t appreciate the art of murder. The true pleasure of control. No room for impulse or error. Unappreciative of valuing a method to morbid madness.”

Without a word, he sunk in Y/N in one quick push. Her hands jutted out leaving imprints along the steamed window.

“Ah, fuck Auggie.”

Again, August snapped forwards unrelenting in his cruel pace. Y/N met him each and every movement in their ferocious dance of dominance. She squeezed her pelvic muscles painstakingly tight around his cock. August’s eyes rolled to the back of his head attempting to picture anything to keep him from busting that very second.

“Hunt will be arriving soon. We can run, start anew, create chaos elsewhere without any government supervision. Say the word and I’m yours.”

Y/N barely made out his panted speech due to the pounding of blood running through her ear canals crashing like waves. She was too turned on, too lost left unable to process what August was offering instead moaning raucously loud.

Slapping of skin resonated as their ends soon approached desiring nothing more than to cum. His balls slapped against her as his cum dribbled down her inner thighs. He rammed harder causing Y/N to stumble remaining deep inside her. August halted all movements finding a pair of sapphire eyes staring into his. Y/N shifted her hips in hopes of resume.

“Fucking move, Walker. I want to cum.”

“What’s your decision; orgasm or death?”

Silence stilled; August’s patience was disappearing at an alarming rate. He rutted upwards into her forcing an exhale from her lungs.

“You embarrass yourself with the question if you didn’t already know the answer.”

Anger blinded him compelling him to rip her face towards him. In his moment of rage, August thrusted powerfully reading her body like the back of his hand. She was on the cusp of orgasming and he took full advantage of that knowledge.

Barely a whisper graced his ears; “Yes, forever yes.”

Her pussy constricted pulling him in deeper than ever before as they fucked like wild animals. Taking whatever offered succumbing closer to orgasmic ecstasy.

“Good girl.”

August stiffened bending Y/N at the waist driving violently into her dripping cunt. Not more than four thrusts later, August tensed feeling Y/N constrict around his length sending a shiver down his spine. Breathy grunts could be heard through the walls as he filled her with his sticky cum. She devoured every drop placing her hands on his ass keeping him in place at her sweet spot. Her orgasm overtook her like a summer thunderstorm on a midnight sky.

She quivered speechless as she surrendered to his touch. This breath tickled the back of her glistening neck. Hot white emission gushed out of him painting a mural in her womb. They didn’t move from their current predicament still coming down from their highs. All too soon, August removed himself tucking himself back into his pants. Y/N stayed in place untrusting of her jelly legs.

“Shit, I needed that.” A tiny queef escaped her now drenched lips watching in awe as small spurts of his juice ran down her legs like raindrops. She swiped a finger against the white liquid sucking it dry. August felt his cock twitch in his pants wanting to fuck her all over again.

“We need to get out of here now.” Tossing her a towel, she cleaned herself observing August scramble his life remnants together.

“Where to next?”

That devilish smile she so longingly adored frighteningly arose to life, his pupils darkened at her questioning nature, before reaching his hand towards hers. She accepted interlocking their fingers as one. In two seconds, time, August pulled her into his grasp kissing her in passionately. Their kiss was messy, vile, and monstrous. Y/N already craved another round but knew better than to push. After all, they were on a time constraint.

“India. We’re off to India my dove.”

“I hear their Murg Makhani is quite delectable.”

“I have a friend in Kashir but we must move quickly. We need something to knock Hunt off our scent.”

“I’ve just the idea.”

Just one glance was all it took for August to read her mind effortlessly.

“By all means lead the way.”

A wickedly foul smirk scrabbled to the surface, unearthed from a long-sealed lockbox.

“You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.…”

~~~~

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warcraftedtardis · 4 years

Photo

(This is NOT A SHIP IMAGE)

Another updated image from the darkside thumbnails. I completely changed the pose and tone but, hey, now we can see Remus’ face!

@5-falsehoods-phonated, @vindicatedvirgil, @theo-lord-of-love-and-rage, and anyone else who is interested.

STAR-FALL SERENADE - backstory below the cut

Dark. Dreary. Dank. What other d-words would best describe the situation? Remus paced in a tight circle, unconsciously straining against his restraints while his spiked tail whisked back and forth behind him. His horns were itching and his mind was too loud to think--to focus on a way out of here.

The dungeon was musty, slimy, uncomfortable, and there were bones positively everywhere yet none--none at ALL--had any marrow to suck out. He’d checked. Thoroughly. He kept muttering all his thoughts out loud to himself, hoping that by giving them all somewhere to go, they’d drain out of his brain like a bucket with a hole drilled into the bottom. Only this time, instead of water, it was nightmare, blood, and... how would puss flow out of a bucket exactly. Nevermind, the fluid dynamics wouldn’t work.

Around he went again when Roman lightly cleared his throat.

Remus swung his head around to face the tiny tiefling sitting on top of the windowsill some ten feet off the ground. How did he get up there? “You’re spiraling,” his twin supplied calmly to which Remus puffed out his cheeks and tossed the stress-bleached lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Well, at least I’m doing something, Mr. Too-Prissy-To-Get-His-Boots-Dirty.” Remus’ tail slashed through the air, slamming down onto the remains of a skull and shattering the dusty-dry thing to pieces. He watched it from the corner of his eyes and Roman’s attention was momentarily drawn as well.

Roman sighed, flicking his sanguine stare back to Remus with a worried bend to his brows. He recognized that look well enough to guess what was coming. “I’d help you, bro, but mother would be--”

“Mother would be furious, yes.” Remus cut him off with a sigh, slumping against the central pillar to which he was chained. “Mother always ruins our fun, doesn’t she?” He sighed in a long baritone groan, no long putting on the more childish airs as he spoke. His head wasn’t getting any quieter talking with his brother like this, but an aching in his chest eased up a little.

Roman gathered himself from the window and jumped onto the pillar, teetering a bit and causing Remus to jump to his feet in alarm. When the smaller twin stabilized himself and crouched, he laughed at Remus’ concerned expression.

“Please, don’t be so reckless, Roman! That’s my job.”

“Sorry, sorry.” His pinkish skin flushed with laughter and he scratched the base of his left horn, hand hanging down to the metal ring Remus had been dragging around the length of the pillar. They both looked at the restraints again and Roman gasped. While they were looking at the same segment of chain, Remus felt like he wasn’t able to process what he was seeing over all of the background noise in his head until Roman pointed it out. A rusted link. The twins looked at each other and Remus beamed, his mustache scrunching up as he summoned his morningstar into his hands and swung. There was a loud crack and the chains gave way.

He glanced up again but Roman was gone, only for his voice to echo from the other side of the cell door. “Bro, over here! You can use those broken bits as a lock pick.”

“Great idea, Roman,” he chortled while swiping up a could of the metal fragments and using his demonic fire to melt it into a thin strip. On the way to the door he swiped a bone to gnaw on for the hell of it. The pick nearly broke but he was able to get the tumblers a tumbling and the door swung open with a loud creak. Roman was already scampering down the hall, waving him after. “Where are we going?” He couldn’t stop thinking about what Mother would do to him when she found out he’d broken out of his ‘room’ like this. She wasn’t exactly thrilled to have him hear, even after he’d proved many times over that he could do what she asked of him--that he was useful.

“We’re getting out of here, Remus. I don’t want to see you get hurt anymore.” Roman’s voice was serious...or as serious as a twelve year old could sound. Remus caught up to him and grabbed his twin by the shoulder, half leaning down just to do so.

Remus knelt in front of Roman so that they would be at the same eye level. “What are you talking about, getting out of here? And where would we go if we could get out? M-Mother would never let--”

“To Hell with Mother!”

Remus blinked, surprised that Roman had cursed and even more surprised that he’d shouted.

“To Hell with that Bitch who took us away from the sunlight! Remus, you know how to get out of here, we see it every day when we walk by the crack in the castle wall. We’ve always imagined what was on the other side but Mother.... Mother had us too afraid to do anything about it. It’s time we acted on our thoughts.” Roman pushed Remus’ hand off his shoulder and then hugged his twin around the chest. “I want to go home Remus. I want us to both go home.”

His mind went quiet for a moment as the ideas--the ingenious, insane plan formulated in his mind. Just like before, his face bent into a demented, wide-eyed grin. Remus cupped one hand around Roman’s back to pick up his little brother, the morningstar in his other hand and a green-tinted hell-flame in his eyes. “Alright! Let’s make sure we leave with a strong impression, ey Roman?”

The child in his arms snickered, nodding as Remus went charging through the castle. Any guard he saw, he smashed on the head, cackling the whole way. The one he couldn’t smash, he fired off quick spells at as he sprinted, making a beeline for the gap. Roman weighed practically nothing as they went, occasionally shouting out warnings to Remus that someone was behind him. These were never people he hadn’t seen, only those he was incapable of noticing as the noise filled his head again. Remus once again thanked whatever divine could actually give a damn about a being like him that Roman’s voice was always the loudest.

He got to the gap but instead of trying to squeeze through something that maybe only Roman could fit in seeing as he was half Remus’ size, the Eldrige Knight wound up a swing and bashed the wall down just large enough that he could duck inside.

“Hurry!” Roman screamed as more guards rounded the corner. Remus couldn’t stop laughing the whole rampage through and tucked and rolled into the gap, slapping a Wall of Force up behind him so they wouldn’t be followed. The passageway was dark and winding--more like a rodent tunnel that was barely large enough for him. Remus crawled after Roman as they gradually began to climb towards the sky. His hand broke through a layer of thick dirt in some long forgotten graveyard and he hauled himself out of the ground with deep gasping breaths and a slow, rolling giggle. There was a flash of lighting and it began to heavily rain. Roman was already across the walk and under a pavilion, somehow spotless while Remus was fully caked in mud, the bone still clenched in his mouth.

He spit it out and staggered his way under cover. “So, little brother, which way to the Palace?”

“I, uh,” Roman wrung his gold-nailed hands and shivered, scooting closer to Remus who was starting to feel the chill himself but couldn’t bring his exhausted body to react. “I don’t know, actually. I don’t recognize this place.”

“I don’t either... Hope we don’t freeze to death... or get struck by lightning and have our insides explode everywhere.” He paused and then chuckled, “We can always dig up a body for dinner!”

“Gross.” Roman stated flatly, a pout on his face.

Remus sighed and forced himself to stand, leaning on his weapon some. “Welp, time for adventure in the great wide somewhere.” The two turned and left the graves behind, Roman reaching up to take Remus’s free hand as they walked.

#ts remus #ts roman #backstory #remus' backstory #The Friends We Made Along the Way #sander sides au #tiefling twins #angst

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ericareyesexe · 3 years

Text

Listlessly Erica walked through the streets. There was a feeling that echoed through her core. Alec's home was out of the question to her as she was. She could see the dirtying prints she would track on the floor, the smears she would leave on the doors. How did someone even start cleaning up the mess she was? How did you even start?

How had this week gone so wrong?

Even with the political mire going on in the background. Even with Peter Hale and his dead bodies. Shadow hunters and their threats. Being homeless. Hunters and their maiming traps. The nightmares. All of it. It had been good. Being alive. Being back in Beacon Hills had been good.

There had been hope.

Erica had hoped.

Stiles was dead.

Hope lay in tatters around her, frayed and bloodied like the clothes stuck to her form.

Her shirt was probably only still on her because of the mixture of the dried wolf, wendigo, vampire, and human blood that had glued it to her skin.

She was so tired.

A few hours ago, her most prominent worry had been her parents. Just a few hours ago, she had been arguing with a wolf plush that it wasn’t wrong to try and avoid people that wouldn’t accept her.

Yes, her parents loved her, and she still loved them, but sometimes love wasn’t enough. Love was not the be all end all balm to all problems. It hadn’t saved or protected her as a child. It hadn’t forged a power that allowed her and Boyd’s survival from the warpath of the alpha pack.

There was nothing wrong with avoiding people who clearly did not respect her choices. It was her right as an individual to avoid people who didn’t accept who she was.

Then she had smelled the sweet, pungent smell of decay. Everything had started unraveling from there.

Despite everything she had spent the past hours -- past weeks -- telling herself, she had gone to her parents in the chaos. She had fought for them, probably killed to protect them, to get them to the portal they hadn’t even known was their salvation. She had gone to them when she had known that Stiles had needed help. She had abandoned one of the few people that had treated her like a family should. For what? Her blood family that couldn’t look at her right now?

Her love was a curse. A chain. She was weak to it, useless.

Her instinct had been to go to them, to uphold that old beaten love over Stiles.

Her parents saw her as a corrupted thing, someone in need of saving, fixing. The wolf was an addiction, a curse. She was just on a high. To them, Erica had tried to take the easy way out from her disability and gotten caught up in a den of iniquity. And now they had seen her on a bad trip, bottom of the barrel. Her face undeniably inhuman, covered in blood, feral.

That. That was what Erica had chosen over the boy... the man who had saved her a lifetime ago. The one who when she came back had made jokes with her. He had helped her forget the ever-mounting issues the she-wolf faced for just a few minutes. She had been comfortable in her skin around him. There had been no pressure from Stiles. No pressure to join a pack or change something about herself. Erica hadn’t been a mess to him; she had been a budding goddess, a friend. Guilt hadn’t clung to her as she had talked to him. Her Batman.

Maybe her parents were right to recoil.

What had she done?

She didn’t regret what she had done to her fellow downworlders in the chaos.

A blankness was settling over her.

She had downed the creatures indiscriminately, ripping into them as they had her. She wasn’t naïve enough to believe that some of the beings she had downed had survived the chaotic stampede.

Would they look as the body had? Torn and faded, only with added blood spatter. The spark of life drained from their bodies, leaving them inhuman in a way that transcended species, a pile of haunting meat splattered with blood.

She had seen the light leave a woman’s eyes at the beginning of the swarm. A wendigo had sliced weak human flesh, spraying the woman’s hot blood all over Erica’s skin. The blood was still on her face, her chest.

Distantly she could still taste the vampire’s throat in her mouth. Its trachea had fluttered under her tongue, vocal cords vibrating against her teeth as she had pulled, muscle and sinew tearing, undead arteries emptying onto her, coating her.

Drowning.

Erica was drowning and floating at the same time. Was this what death was like? She didn’t remember being dead. Any memories had been stripped from her mind as she had clawed her way up to the surface, a baptism by grave dirt.

No, she didn’t remember death. She remembered dying.

Lying prone, covered with a cold sweat with veins that burned -- cold, sharp fragments of ice piercing at every bit of her being. White spots had appeared before her eyes as she had pushed herself up in a sitting position so that she leaned against a rack in the storage closet. As she had struggled and failed to get back up.

Had the wendigos she trapped in the twisted remains of the Hall of Mirrors done the same? Ground glass instead of poison flooding their veins.

Near her end, it hadn’t been bile or blood that filled her mouth. It had been a thick dark puss that dribbled down past her chin, rancid and saccharine at the same time. Slowly she had lost the ability to cry out, the shallowest of breaths coming out as a gargle.

The wendigo’s had been wordless, near-silent.

Ice had crystallized in her veins, inching forward toward her chest. She had seen it, jet black veins standing out against her pale skin. She remembered watching as the darkness moved, tiny microscopic amounts branching out down her chest. Her heart stuttering. She had felt the count down. She had seen it.

At the fairground, Erica had clawed into body, after body, as she defended her parents, of all people. Blood had pooled around the bodies she felled. Had they watched as their life leaked from them, knowing it was going to end soon or had they been too crazed to realize anything past the feral drive?

What had Stiles felt when he had let out his scream? Had he too felt agony tearing through his body at the slightest contraction of a muscle? Could his human nose notice the acrid smell of fear? Did it linger, sour on his tongue as it had with hers?

She remembered every second. She had fought for so long, desperately hoping she could do something, anything, to help Boyd and Cora. She remembered the final great throb as the wolfsbane had reached her heart, an imaginary arrow piercing her chest. An arrow that, then, started to vibrate its way out of her, slicing anew with each microscopic wobble.

Had Stiles died terrified like her for the fate of his loved ones?

She was haunted by the moment the pain had faded.

There had been an odd rhythm in the closet. Confusing. Slow, uneven. Back then, light-headed and delirious; with a mixture of blood loss and poison, Erica hadn’t realized it was her-- her heart, failing.

How many had experienced that during the massacre? How many at her hand? At someone else’s?

Had Stiles?

Or had it been quick; unconsciousness taking him before his life faded.

How much blood was truly on her hands?

Did it matter?

Throughout all of her history, Erica had never been a soldier. She had faced a wall of guns, stood against a kanima, but she wasn’t a soldier. Erica had been a fighter. What had happened at the fairgrounds had not been a fight.

Desperation, pain, and chaos had enveloped her, soaking into her skin, her core, her soul. For hours Erica had taken it in, absorbed it all into her being until nothing remained, inside or out.

Undead. Fighter. Soldier. Monster. Wolf. Daughter. Survivor.

None of them fit.

What was she?

Lost, Erica stumbled as she continued to walk through the streets, eyes heavy and unseeing.

How could anyone-- how could she accept herself if she didn’t know what she was? If she was nothing.

#Tue1 carnival #tw: death #TW: blood #tw: gore #tw: violence #self para

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