Love Me Some Dogs!

 For all the useless waste of air the man could put himself out to be,  now was when he used his smarts the most. Of course, it was to build him up, all while showing off all his little happy little tricks.The boasting of his growing family was to draw him out, like any good bait. It was true what Emmet had said. Strung himself out just to save those blood sucking parasites, even refused to kill on the chance that he might save them- Artemis was proof of that much, at least hadn’t turned out so badly. After all this work to do better by the world, there at least was some result, some happiness, a few lives touched by his hand. Still, forgiveness felt a mile away over hills and stretches of grudges still built up. It’d been good to get out the energy, to exert himself and not worry about the consequences. “  You’re right. I don’t have a reason.” It would easy to make one up on the spot. Mercy was still in him, now, as he deposited a small bottle on the ground next to him, crouching  to where the man’s face was to hand him the handkerchief from his breast pocket. “ Don’t make a habit of this.”

“No harm in... Drinkin’ or smokin’... If you don’t do it on the reg, preacher.” His panting is growing labored. His face is starting to push outwards, the burgeoning structure of a snout, nostrils growing folds and tip of his nose turning a wet black. “I know I cleverly beguiled you an’ all that, but t’be honest, this was just a bit self-serving.”

Amusement clouded his eyes, which are starting to look distinctly more wolfish. He’s having difficulty with pronunciation- a rasp in his throat and lisps more than slurring. “Nee’ed t’see how much of the fuck I could get bea’en out of me ‘fore the wolf comes out t’play. Knew y’could take it. Immortal, teleport-y, all that. You wor’ed off stress, I got a stress-test. Win win.”

A soft groan from Emmet, and he hastily kicks off his boots before the baseball-gloved sized hind paws sprouting from his feet can rip them open. 

“And you thought taunting me would be the best course of action? To make me want to tear into you for this.. Maybe I wanted forget that I was good, just so I could justify doing the world one more favor.”One swift kick to his stomach, as if it would be enough to keep that man in line. Still taunting, still alive and still talking. Why couldn’t this be easy? “Give me a reason I shouldn’t. Two, if you’re feeling thoughtful enough. I want to hear exactly what you think.” His leather sole  pushes at the prone body, daring him to make a move.

Emmet curls in on himself, as men who have been kicked in the stomach are wont to do. There’s a wet-sounding cough and another rippling shudder.

“I think you’re not gonna do it because even though you’ve been a patronizing son of a mo-” A shiver interrupts him. “Son- son of a motherfucker- you did your best with me an’ you did your best for all them brutals-”

He’s starting to lose it again. Panting and huffing, muscles twitching at random- a pearly strand of foamy saliva escapes his jaws. “Y’own all those bastard cats because you’re a fuckin’ softie. You put up with all us assholes ‘cos you’re a fucking paragon, even if ya don’t like it, an’ I’m staking my fuckin’ life on-”

His nails have darkened, curved. Thick, dusty brown hair starts to grow, creeping across his skin like dye in water. 

“Don’t try and turn yourself into some kind of saint, like you’re deterring something from happening by showing up and antagonizing me. You think you’re some-” His lips tightened together, pushing himself off of the body that was bound to start coughing blood, no matter what form he might take. The smell of a dog was rising in the air, and for once it wasn’t the musk of one his pets, stronger than that, and more like meat that had been hanging  out in the open air for too long.  Why had he ever hesitated to do his duty? What was Emmet to another werewolf, another vampire that he’d shot with a silver bullet? He’d let him get close, and then learned his name;Any creature with a name was harder to slaughter. Joseph should have kept that precept close to his heart, recited every day. “ You want to die, don’t you?”

As soon as Pure is off him, he flips on his side- One hand covering his face, the other balled into a fist, elbow propping him up. 

He’s trembling, now, fighting a change that’s desperate to take place. His ears start to lengthen; desperate, steadying gulps of air manage to tide him over and keep it from taking root. His ears shorten, his teeth dull- he is a master of his own form and he refuses to let lycanthropy take that from him. 

“Not that I wanna die,” There’s maybe, maybe a shred of amusement. Face is still mashed to hell, hurts to talk- His smile pulls at burgeoning bruises and sore muscles in his face. “But I know that you can beat me within an inch of my life an’ you ain’t gonna kill me. Maybe you forgot, but there’s a good man in ya, even if he gets pissed sometimes.” 

His head shifts drunkenly, dazed. There’s already redness, swelling. Nothing has cracked and broken, not yet, although a trickle of blood escapes the corner of the sniper’s lips. The strong line of his nose is weakened somewhat by the new swelling at the bridge. It whistles strangely with each light breath. 

“You’re jealous.” A huffing, fluttery laugh. “You know… It’s easier than you think to love someone. A lot easier. I don’t know if you were just skipped when God was handing out hearts to people…” 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, preacher,” He coughs. Blood escapes the corner of his mouth. He licks it up, eyes squinting slightly in pain. A shiver ripples through him, along with a strangled-sounding groan. His pupils constrict, swallowed by the brilliant blue of his iris. “I’m not fightin’... ‘Cos I reckon... You wanted to wail on someone. S’behind yer eyes, in your walk. Been a storm waitin’ to brew.” A slight gasp. “Might as well take it out on someone who can’t really feel it, y’know? An’ you already hate me-” 

Another shiver grips Emmet. He puckers his lips tightly; talking has fully dislodged one of his teeth, and he spits it out with a glob of blood and saliva. It’s long, inhumanly long, and sharp. His stubble has thickened, lengthened. 

His head shifts drunkenly, dazed. There’s already redness, swelling. Nothing has cracked and broken, not yet, although a trickle of blood escapes the corner of the sniper’s lips. The strong line of his nose is weakened somewhat by the new swelling at the bridge. It whistles strangely with each light breath. 

“You’re jealous.” A huffing, fluttery laugh. “You know... It’s easier than you think to love someone. A lot easier. I don’t know if you were just skipped when God was handing out hearts to people...” 

Emmet’s enjoying this. 

He does manage to protect his throat from attack, but the two of them go careening along together until Pure’s momentum carries them into the nearest wall.

“What’cha gonna do, huh? Make a widow? Orphan a child?” 

I’ve got a new blog, @smokingpeacekeeper, and I’m gonna be active on that. It’s for McCree from Overwatch and it’s still in beta so be patient while I tune it up to full

I’ve got a new blog, @smokingpeacekeeper, and I’m gonna be active on that. It’s for McCree from Overwatch and it’s still in beta so be patient while I tune it up to full

I’ve got a new blog, @smokingpeacekeeper, and I’m gonna be active on that. It’s for McCree from Overwatch and it’s still in beta so be patient while I tune it up to full

I’ve got a new blog, @smokingpeacekeeper, and I’m gonna be active on that. It’s for McCree from Overwatch and it’s still in beta so be patient while I tune it up to full