A/N:quick drabble for InuKag Week Day 2: Fear. :) 500 words.
Inuyasha is a monster, and he knows this.
Inuyasha enjoys watching people suffer, he likes seeing the
blood spew from their throats, like a fountain of dark red rage gushing onto
the ground, painting it in the only expression of art he has ever known.
He’d discovered this one day while he was running, running, running, looking for
an exit, a way away from the torture that tailed him, gnashing his teeth and
fangs. A group of boys, trying to be men, had decided to turn him into a game.
And when he encountered a wall instead of the river he was supposed to jump
into and escape, he turned around and watched them come closer. He saw their red
glistening mouths, smiling and excited. He could hear their voices, ridiculing
whispers drawing out to combine in a hiss. The hiss of man-kind. Not that he
has ever known of man’s kindness.
He stares them down until they raise their sticks, and hunches
down until he gets just the right angle to slash with sharp animal claws.
And the voices stop.
“Why are you by yourself?” Comes a voice through the
darkness. “Inuyasha?” The girl’s voice spills and echoes into the foliage of the
“Cause,” Inuyasha says flatly.
“Cause why?” Kagome ventures closer and looks at the back
of his head with imploring eyes that he could almost feel, boring into him like
“I’m a monster,” he says plainly and rehearsed. “You have to
stay away from me.”
Kagome approaches and reveals a scandalized look, like he’s
just said the most outlandish thing. Her large blue eyes reach into him, tears
gathering into their corners like storms in spring.
“You are not a monster,” she frowns, her fingers curling
into her hands in a laughable show of frustration. A wan smile lines his mouth.
“You were just protecting us.”
“Was I?” Inuyasha asks, capturing her gaze and holding it
there. Holding it leveled so she could see his face. Smeared with slashing
stripes of blood, yellow sickly colored eyes, a cold sweaty nose, a face lacking empathy and cheer. He smells the radiating anxiety come off her in little distant waves. “Scared?”
He wants her to see.
Kagome creeps farther into the darkness with him and he
jerks slightly when she reaches for his cheek, pillowing his face delicately
into the smooth palm of her hand. His body falls limp and all thought vanishes
from his mind.
“You don’t scare me,” she says reassuringly, like the breeze
in summer. She holds his jaw in her hand, a place that had only ever known misfortunes,
and devastation, and loss. A cheek that had forgotten softness because it never
served him. Now sheltered with her affection. Her friendship. Terror flushes into him and he almost can’t breathe.
Suffocating under all her acceptance. His hands shake at his sides; standing rigid else he collapse.
Monsters are real.
They are things to be afraid of. Things to fear. He is one. He knows it.
My take on bloodstone, if they werent an annoying weaboo nerd. I saw a post saying that bloodstone could look like a holly blue agate mixed with a jasper, so i went for that with some extra attributes. I wanted to give her some teeth and the red marking around her mouth would symbolise blood, so i guess hes kind of like a vampire lol. Shes an overall asshole and would probrably suck ronaldo’s blood. I also tried a different quartz body type where her arms are still beefly but a bit more slim on the upper arms. I hope you all like it!
“In just three minutes, the girl would collide with the unforgiving cement of East Avenue. But now – her hair whipped up like a banner, the silk dress snapping around the curves of her body, her bright red mouth frozen in a perfect O of shock – now, in this instant, she was more beautiful than she had ever been.”
Being the Jokers rival in Gotham City and him constantly flirting with you
You growled your eyes traveled over to a bulky man with a gun in his arms and a clown mask rest over his face. The masks design familiar and quite interesting, but you wouldn’t admit that to anyone but yourself.
He’s here, just my luck.
It was one of the Jokers goons, probably sent here with some of his other dumb goons to rob the bank that you were currently robbing with your workers. His mask was a clown with blue around his eyes and mouth and red on his nose and lips. The lips were formed into a wide smile that made you want to do anything but smile. Your second in command, a trusted man that you had know since the beginning of your criminal career, spotted the goon in the clown mask and gave you a look that said,
‘You want me to take care of this?’
You just shook your head at the man and told him to tell the others to hurry up so you all could get the hell out of here. You weren’t too fond of the Joker and the fact that now you can’t even rob a simple bank without him showing up really pushed your buttons. The Joker and you were both very well known criminals in Gotham City and you would consider eachother ‘Rivals’ but he always has a different thing in mind.
Your workers started to disperse from the money vault, holding heavy duffle bags filled with cash that should last you all for a while. You decided to do a once over of the vault, checking to see if all of your workers had gotten out. Unlike the Joker, you trusted and cared for your workers; you didn’t just kill them because you were having a bad day or you were just simply bored. You turned away from the vault once you were done checking and saw none of your workers and bumped into a male figure. You groaned as you realized who the person was.
“My, my, lookie what we have here. You left some cash behind for us, what a sweet thing for you to do Tiger; its always nice to see that you care about me sweet cheeks.” The Joker exclaimed, his hands holding your arms firmly, not allowing you to leave. You rolled your eyes at the nickname he used on you, annoyed that he constantly used them on you even if you tell him not too. His signature make-up looked like it was freshly applied, unlike the last few times you encountered him. His tongue poked out of his mouth and licked his lips that were lined with red lipstick and trailed up to his scars making them pop and stand out against his white face. His black war paint was carelessly spread around his eyes making his hazel eyes appear darker than normal and made them more sinister.
“Aw, how sweet! You actually thought I’d do something nice for you! That’s cute!” You told him in a fake cheery voice. His eyes instantly changed from fun and mischievous to dark and angry. His hand quickly grabbed your (h/c) hair and pulled down, probably ripping some hair from your scalp. He growled at me in anger and gave me a venomous look, attempting to threaten you.
“I don’t appreciate your attitude sweetheart. You need to show me some more respect (y/villain/n)” He spit. You just smirked at him, ready for what usually came after angering him, and trust me you needed a good fight and taking it out on the Clown Prince of Crime that constantly pissed you off was like a winning lotto ticket to you; and you weren’t about to let this opportunity pass.
Woah that was longer than usual but whatever, I hope you enjoyed. Please send any imagine/one-shot requests in to my inbox.
(yes! its the first time I've asked/caught the box open >_<) umm, could you please write Zorro,Law,Ace,Luffy, Sanji and Smoker catching their usually quiet/shy s/o singing & dancing terribly?
Roronoa Zoro: The small noise that escaped him when he saw them made them turn around and blush a dark red. He was covering his mouth but the way his shoulders were shaking showed how bad he tried to not laugh at them. He did think they were adorable.
Trafalgar Law: He was surprised at seeing them but he stuck around for a while to watch. Leaning against the doorframe, he tried to hold back a smirk but to no avail. He watched them for a while then left before they noticed.
Portgas D. Ace: He smiled at how cute they were. He watched them for a while before clearing his throat. They blushed darkly and hid from him the entire day. He finally found them and complimented on how cute they were and that he enjoyed the show.
Monkey D. Luffy: He immediately started laughing and his partner turned a dark red. After seeing how embarrassed they were, he calmed down and reassured them that it was okay since he wasn’t that great at singing or dancing either. He suggest they be bad together.
Sanji: When he found them, he instantly squealed and ran over to hug them tightly. He complimented their dancing/singing even though it was bad, he wouldn’t say it though. His partner was embarrassed and decided to be way more careful on their privacy.
Smoker: He didn’t mean to see them. He walked into the room and watched for a while. He sighed and walked out before his partner could see. He would admit that it was amusing and also kind of cute. Seeing them would be his little secret.
He’s the new boy; all white blonde hair and flinty gray eyes, a pointed jaw and pale, pale skin blurred by chlorine constellations as he lingers at the pool edge
“Who’s that?” you ask, press your elbow into Pansy Parkinson’s ribs as water splashes onto the pavement and music bangs against garage doors. “The new boy.”
And you swear that his eyes flicker over to yours, linger for a summer slick second on your skin before darting away again - all live wires strung between your ribs
“Draco,” Pansy says, lipstick smeared around her mouth in a blurred red cloud as she clutches a plastic cup to her chest. “He’s from England - I heard, goes to a really fancy private school.”
“Draco,” you repeat, words dulled beneath top-forty tremors
The name tastes like cherry soda in your mouth
The over-large watch on Pansy’s wrist reads three o’clock when you head home, heart heavy and the straps of your heels clutched between your fingers as the pavement scrapes against your bare feet
There’s a car pulling up behind you, all burnt wheels and Presley on repeat and a voice - all smooth syllables and a thick English accent - calls out, “Need a ride?”
You glance back
See the new boy - Draco - face blurred by headlights and stoplights, all blinking red
A smile playing at the edge of his mouth as he bites on the end of a cigarette
And maybe it’s the burn of vodka, the thrill of the night, the fucking shock at the base of your spine as he stares at you
But you’re saying, “Okay,” and his smile is being eclipsed by a smirk as you slide into the passenger seat, leather sticky against your thighs
“Draco,” he says, taps his finger against the stick shift
“I’m-” you start, are swiftly interrupted by the rev of the car and the green of the traffic light
“I know,” he says -
And it feels like they’re drag racing
So this is how it goes,
You see him again at the beach, waves crashing onto craggy shores and sunburn stinging on your shoulders
He recognizes you, ankle deep in spin cycle sea foam, raises an arm and rakes his eyes over your red-striped bathing suit
Fourth of July fireworks exploding between your toes and hazy days are melding into melancholy weeks; knees knocking as you sit on curbs with popsicles sticky against your fingers, the pink neon sign on the all-night-diner blinking like his smile, flashing like ambulance hearts as he holds a gun to your chest and demands your heart -
You never have had a firm hold on it
and wilting like summer ghosts, lying on the road in the early morning with laughs thick in their mouths and music buzzing in their ears
Liquor stores and drive in movies, hands so close that they can almost touch
So this is how it ends,
Summer drowns at the bottom of a swimming pool and they watch from the top of a creaking ferris wheel
All Draco’s fingers on your jaw and his eyes on your mouth
All notebook hearts with your names drawn through the center and stitched through with an arrow as he presses his mouth to yours -
Skoll has decided that she quite likes it at Hati’s Bar, with Hati’s slavespets Humans. His fire friend made some of the most wonderful food she’d tasted this side of the ocean, and he was cute..
Currently she has her mouth around the rim of a pint, red hair that would usually be in her face (and plate of wings), tied back in traditional braids with beads and feathers and other nick nacks she had picked up during her travels.
There’s a shiver up her spine when He walks in, one that makes her pause, beer still raised to her lips. She’d know the smell of his magic anywhere, after all he is family, but she does not know if he would approve of this form…Hati has had trouble adapting.
So she’ll wait, a grin on her face, because she knows he’ll notice soon, but how long would it take him to put the pieces together?
Imagine Bellamy trying to break you out of mount weather.
You awoke due to the freezing air hovering over your body. Shivers shot the through your body as you slowly woke up. You tossed over and hit your head on a metal bar, instantly jumping up and hitting your head on the top. You were in a cage, like an animal.
You had no idea where you were, last you remembered you fell asleep in your bunk bed next to Fox. Just like the past weeks, this was bad.
You were in a room with a medical bed in the center, there were restraints where the persons hands, feet, and neck would go. Blood was scattered around the room. Fresh, bright red blood. A scream erupted from your mouth, and you kicked the locked door to the crate.
The mountain men were obviously up to come thing heinous. You continued to slam on the crate, you kicked and punched and screamed. However it was just you in a blood soaked room alone, surrounded by a mysterious persons bright blood.
Next, the door swung open revealing a guard. You chest grew tight and your breaths became heavier. You slammed on the crate further ready to fight yourself out of the room. You must have looked like a insane dog with rabies or something.
“Hey, hey it’s me,” the guard said and the voice sounded familiar. But you couldn’t match it to a face. So it was now or never, you screamed a scream that echoed through the whole mountain and slammed on the cage further.
“Y/N it’s me!” The man hushed and removed his mask. It was Bellamy. Your boyfriend who had always protected you Bellamy.
You instantly dropped your ‘brave’ act and dissolved into tears. He was alive, he was standing right in front of you and all you wanted was to hug and hang onto him.
“Oh my god,” he whispered looking at you and that was when the throbbing pain coursing throughout your body became noticeable. The blood covering the room was yours.
“I’ll get you out of here,” he said and closed the door behind him.
Monica asks Joël to come into her office, ten minutes after the start of his shift. He sits, the mingling scents of stale cigarette smoke and coffee and pizza leaving an invisible, grimy coating on his skin. Monica looks apologetic. Monica: Joël, I did something really dumb while you were away. I’m just going to come straight out and say it. I tried to get with Mia.
Joël is only half-listening. The more he tries not to think about doing Anita on Monica’s desk, the deeper the memory impales itself. Her red dress bunched around the tops of her milk-white thighs, her gleaming red mouth. Her breath hot in his ear and her fingernails raking his back… Monica: I called her up. She’d given me her number that night she came here. Anyway, she invited me round to your place. She was only being friendly, but I misread the situation. Badly. I felt like such a fucking idiot. And then she told me that you and she had decided to be monogamous. So then I felt like a sleazeball as well as a fucking idiot. I sort of lost my shit and sent her some pretty nasty texts. I feel really bad about it. Has she said anything? Because I’d really like to send her some flowers or something to show how sorry I am. What do you think? She might think I’m some crazy stalker. Maybe I should just give you a message to give to her- Joël : She went back to Isla Paradiso. He marvels at his ability to make the sentence sound so casual. She went back to Isla Paradiso. He stares at Monica, defying her to pretend otherwise, to yell no no no no no no no and kick a hole in the wall, and then another one because the pain is friendly and familiar and easy to deal with. Monica looks confused, her forehead as crinkly as crepe paper. He tries to talk slowly. Joël: There’s nothing to talk about. It doesn’t matter anymore. She’s gone. Monica: Well, that’s fucked. I don’t get it. Why? She seemed so happy. Joël: You’ve got her number, you ring her and ask her. Can I go back to work now? Martin’s probably out there having a nervous breakdown. He doesn’t wait for her answer. He shuts the door then stops to let her know how he really feels. It’s lucky he doesn’t need words to express himself, because they would probably be lost in the monotonous thumping din of the music.