𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄.

" Well, thanks for..helping me. As long as the evidence is safe, it was worth taking a risk." Things were running smoothly as she was getting her hands on what she was looking for, what margo didn't expect was a crazed person in a winged suit coming after her. If it weren't for spider man she wouldn't be so lucky stand in front of him.

She wasn't certain but margo could tell that spider man sounds young or at least younger than her. All of those thoughts paused as she was now standing on top of the tower. It was very long drop and she made the mistake in looking down. Her eyes wide when he held on to her. Hearing his last few words of wanting to help her get the truth out there.

Even before he wrapped his arm around her, Peter knew Margo was afraid. If her wide eyes weren't enough of a giveaway, he could hear the sound of her quickening heartbeat filtering through his heightened senses. With a firm grasp around her waist, he shot a web at a nearby beam and jumped. To Peter, the downwards swing was always exhilarating, though he was aware that not everyone felt the same way.

Trying to keep their descent easy, he timed their next swing as best he could — they were nearly there now. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something flying towards them far too quickly. Not this guy again. Whether the winged figure had heard her scream or simply sensed their movement, Peter wasn't sure. He had hoped they had more time before they were noticed, yet they hadn't been so fortunate.

"Hold on!" Suddenly, he swung in the opposite direction; too late to change course, their pursuer crashed into one of the building's old beams. As he and Margo finally reached the ground, he made sure she had her feet securely under her. "Sorry about that. Evasive maneuvers aren't exactly the smoothest, y'know?" He tipped his head to meet her eyes. "Are you okay?"

Margo did some research before going on this trip, heard the stories and including James Conrad who was more than experienced in what he does. Even read about his last adventure while traveling last time. It was hot, muggy but margo was use to the climate. She was very well prepared to report documents, take photos and study whatever she would find here.

There was close to no proof of any so called ' flying demon' that the village people scared off. That's why she was here, to finally show prove rather they exist or not.

James only gave the briefest shake of his head at Margo's assertion. ' I also know what I'm getting myself into, ' she had said. He'd believe that when he saw it — and he was dubious that he would. In general, people harbored no notion of the genuine threat nature itself could pose; it was indiscriminate, impossible to predict, and deadly when necessary in order to protect itself. Nevertheless, there were facets of that which he had learned to find rather beautiful, in their way.

"I've no intention of keeping you from doing your job. And I'm not disputing any danger you've faced before, but this is different." Not that most were willing to take James' word for it until they were confronted by such peril face to face. Still, the set of his jaw stiffened with irritation at the flippancy with which she regarded it. Bug spray wouldn't do a hell of a lot in a swarm.

As she looks to her left she saw a figure that she assumed was a man but when she saw the figure turn.. her heart dropped. Walking back until she hit the wall she quickly ran back in her office, wandering what the hell was going on. What was that thing? She saw light flashing and in walks Leon s. Kennedy. First time seeing him in person after hearing about him off and on for years. However she looked past him to see more monster like figures walk towards them.

Margo didn't realize she had ask a question until he answered her, confirming what she already knew about him. While margo wasn't percent sure but she did believe he could get her of this. Wait did he just make a joke? She shook herself out of the looming fear she felt in the moment.

Cursed under her breath when there was no lock from the inside office door, she never did like how this place operates and as much as the security seemed tight, the organization was flawed to their already questionable system. Margo took a step back as she saw leon push the desk towards the door as if he was used to doing such things on a daily basis. Honestly she would've been impressed if she wasn't frightened out of her mind.

A taser and handgun sounded promising, until Margo revealed that they were inside her purse, which now lay somewhere in the shadowed hallway. Dammit. Nevertheless, Leon didn't blame her for such a reaction. How could he? Perhaps the horror of it rarely hit him in the field anymore, a product of decades spent confronting bioweapons and the grotesquerie of it all, yet that darkness had irrevocably changed him and — no, he wasn't going to think about it. Not now, and preferably not later, if Leon could help it.

Pulling a short knife from the sheath resting horizontally on his belt behind his back, he held it out to her handle-first. "Take this, then. I don't know how much damage it'll do, or what those things are, but it's better than nothing." His gaze flickered about the room, though it didn't find anything that might be of use to them in fighting off the creatures currently shoving against the door. "If they were experimenting here with shit that they shouldn't have been, this could be the result of that. You'd think they'd learn." Of course, everyone thought that they would be careful, that they would be different. Yeah, right.

100 Favourite Movies Aesthetics 4/100

Constantine (dir. Francis Lawrence, 2005)

"My apologies!"

Says the willow-tree woman; tall, with silk-ribbon hair, long curling tendrils that wrap her as barren black-frosted berry canes. Foremost of her visage is she a darkened creature, depth to her eyes as a lost forest, rimmed in kohl, if only subtly, long eyelashes like tall fence posts in the snow.

It is far more usual for him to carry himself deliberately ( a gait born of both familial expectations and simply his own bearing ), yet his distracted mind allows himself to be caught off-guard. Stumbling back a few steps in surprise at the impact, Wesley hears her apology before he sees her face. When his dark eyes meet hers outlined in black, he wonders whether the look he witnesses there is indicative of the possibility that she too is engrossed in other thoughts. ' I have not my mind, ' she reveals, and he is thus proven correct.

'It doesn't work like that'. A part of Luis knew that already, and hated it. The people making those demands of Leon hadn't been in Valdelobos, had sat comfortably in homes and offices while the man had to carve a swath through a doomed town for a chance at someone else's safety, not even his own. Leon deserved the kind of lush early retirement typically given to those far less worthy of it. But, here he was. Still ready to promise more of his life when no one sane would or should blame him for choosing himself instead.

This beautiful, incredible, impossible man.

Luis wanted to reach out, to offer some kind of touch that might reassure both of them. He kept his hold on the water cup instead, and simply sighed when Leon insisted on being fine. He couldn't help but wonder how true that was, or how long it would be - but he didn't want to argue. When given the same assurance about himself, though, Luis let out his next breath in a quiet wry huff through his nose.

"Kind of you to think so. I'll probably heal, yes; but after that, then what? Not going to prison is the best I can hope for, nevermind having somewhere to live."

The rhetorical question that now hung in the air earned a brief tilt of his head. ' Then what? ' Of course Luis' trajectory was different now than whatever had been deliberated back in Spain, when escaping with Ada unscathed had been the plan; he supposed his presence had royally screwed that up. "I don't think you'll go to prison." Leon sat up again fully now, rolling his shoulders back as he considered this — and not for the first time. "For one thing, President Graham already knows about what you did for me and Ashley. His daughter's alive because of you, and he's not gonna dismiss that." Although Leon disliked politicians in general ( even more-so after Raccoon City ), he had come to understand Graham's mindset after working under the current president for the past few years, whether he always agreed with it or not.

Then, there was the less sentimental angle.

"And if you need another reason, the US government would consider it a waste to throw you in jail. Your knowledge and experience are too valuable, they'd rather use them to stop other groups like Los Illuminados or BOWs." Nothing about what happened in Valdelobos involved compromising information they didn't want spread either, so Luis should at least be safe on that front. "I doubt they'll miss that, but I can vouch for it. They know I have more experience with Umbrella and the kind of shit Saddler was doing than almost anyone they've got."

He paused for a beat, his gaze lingering on Luis. Hadn't the guy been through enough with all of this? If Graham did magically offer the chance to walk away with no strings attached, why wouldn't Luis take it?

"Nay — not asleep," said he. But he did not elaborate. There was still a thick fog through his thoughts as the mind slowly returned to consciousness and attempted to orient itself.

Dirty fingers practically striped with ancient scars from various cuts and blades twitched, and then closed, but not into a fist, as the thumb was not tucked beneath the fingers; and the creature’s huge shadow shifted as he tried to push himself up off the ground.

As soon as he so much as attempted to move his left leg with want to raise to kneel or sit, the manacles binding his ankles stopped him. Their chains jingled as they shifted, then went taut, now a straight line down to their tether, and the leg couldn’t be drawn up any further. Ingvar gasped like he had just been punched and the wind rushed out from his lungs; and his wide eyes darted about, crazed to be trapped. Those bindings upon his wrists he had already known, from both sight and feeling of the cold metal upon his skin, were present. But his ankles? No. Boots occluded his flesh from the cool cuffs. (What was that the human had said — the men who tied him up? That meant there were multiple; that meant when they returned, they'd surely — Oh, Goddess, oh, please—!!!)

He yanked the right arm now, lifting it the relatively short distance until the chain had no slack remaining and prevented the limb from moving any further; frowning, and pressing his lips tightly together, Ingvar attempted to exceed their strength; like any constrained animal, he longed to be free, and accordingly with the panic which came with that desire his heart rate was quicker than the sound of the hooves of a running horse.

It was a panic lessened by the knowledge — or naive hope, perhaps, depending how one looked at it — that the human before him was not responsible, and wanted, too, to set him free. But it was still present, painfully so.

With all this movement, some of the birds left their perches upon his shoulders with annoyed squawks and a flitter of wings. Alas, his struggle, it was no use. He pulled hard against his bindings, but they would not break. He’d sooner break his arm than the metal. Rather defeatedly, he slumped back down to his prone position (save a raised head so he might speak) with considerable softness of sound given the magnitude of the figure doing it.

Before he could inquire further ( his mind was far too curious not to press on ), the giant appeared to recognize the situation for the first time. Instinctively stepping back as the chains were tried to no avail, he felt a horrible pang of compassion for this stranger. In spite of what he had always been told about giants, and the chance of the men returning to find him here, how could Devin walk away?

When the giant abandoned the struggle and spoke to him once more, it was still without malice — a mere plea for aid which quieted any of his residual resistance. Ah, and here he had always told his younger brother to stay out of trouble! Look who had found it now.

"Yes, I'll help you. I won't leave you here." Devin took a tentative step closer, tilting his head for a better look at the locking mechanism on the manacles binding the giant. Naturally, they had been secured with a key, the likes of which were most certainly with the group who had put them to use in the first place. While the choice existed to follow them to their village and attempt to somehow smuggle the key away from them, there were too many reasons that could fail. As it was, he had said he wouldn't leave the giant here, where someone else could stumble upon the scene and use the chains to their own advantage.

His eyes returned to the large green ones staring back at him. "Without the key, we'll need to figure out another way to free you." Suddenly, Devin was somehow even more aware of the fact that this giant could still harm him with very little effort at all. "I'm going to look at these more closely," he said, gesturing to the ankle manacles ( those struck him as the best place to begin ). "Will you promise to stay still?"

(Yes, it seemed he'd been misunderstood. He wanted them to flee. Were they to flee, then there is no fight — and this fellow is safe. His stomach was tightly knotted.)

He must be brave now — oh, he must! Surely, these fiends would gobble up this poor fellow if he did not; he'd heard them plotting the very act. With a deep breath, he mustered his courage. He swallowed the thick lump in his throat, shoved his trepidation from his mind as best he can. Ingvar stooped down, nearly but not quite kneeling, reached down, and held his hands protectively in front of Bilbo, still glaring at the trolls all the while. To him, the trolls were no larger than children, a fraction of his size. Even lesser stood Bilbo, no larger than a doll in front of the shield of flesh and blood held before him. His nostrils flared, and he growled an unambiguous warning, "Be leaving him be, or else be facing my wrath...! Begone!!"

No, this giant was planning to help Bilbo after all! He suddenly felt quite awful for presuming the worst ( although, when you were hobbit-sized, it was a rather natural manner of thinking ).

Through the giant's fingers, he could just make out the four trolls who had accosted him. Despite the shadows cast across their faces, their alarm was apparent; Bilbo lowered his blade, though his grip on its hilt remained tight in the event that they decided to eschew such terror. "I'm not gonna fight a giant for a fourth of a something so small!" said one of the trolls, attempting to sound as if it was akin to deciding that the effort of climbing a tree for a chance at an apple was a bit too strenuous, though the quavering fear in its tone betrayed the truth. The others all nodded in agreement, happy to utilize the excuse for themselves, then dashed off into the trees.

The giant appeared so relieved upon hearing Bernie's answer that it took him aback. Perhaps he had been on his own for too long now, yet the idea that someone who didn't so much as know his name cared to that degree was nearly as surprising as the fact that this someone wasn't human ( okay, so that might be hyperbole, but still! ). Although his gaze darted rapidly across the features staring down at him, he thought he saw a small smile before it contorted into an expression of bewilderment.

The question posed to him sent Bernie's eyebrows lifting. Was the giant unaware of the rumors about this forest? Then again, where would they have been heard from? Shit, all of this begged another question: were all the campfire stories actually about this guy, or had there been something else out here even longer?

"People — uh, people always said that there was something living in these woods. Y'know, that no one knew about for sure." A short, heavy exhale escaped him. "Guess it was someone."

A giant, at that! And, hell, he liked Greek mythology, but fuck the idea of that as his only resource. What about the legend of Matsieng the giant from Botswana, the Patagonian giants, or Fangfeng in Chinese folklore? It sure seemed like Bernie's rescuer was in the vein of these more benevolent ancient figures he had read about, or why bother saving him? At the very least, it wouldn't have mattered if he had been hurt.

There was obvious humor in Jenny's voice, yet Jaime could hear the candor in it, too. In his own way, he understood it — how could he not? "Well, I'll always keep that promise, however I can." Stepping closer, he pressed his hand to the small of her back and gestured for her to put her arms around his neck to hold on once they took flight. "I'll fight like hell to be there for you." Another grin flickered across Jaime's lips. "You'll see. Lo juro."

As Joshua pulled back, Teddy pried his own eyes open once more and met the other's gaze. Already he wished that somehow, impossibly, they could both last the entire night in the most literal sense, that the sun would rise late and give them more time together, that years of fear and judgement and rejection could be wrung from him with enough pleasure. Since none of those could come true, Teddy instead let each moment drag out and linger in his mind. He also let his every reaction be heard, forcing himself past the reflex to stifle it all; the effort intensified the subtle tremors throughout his body. But he'd make that effort. He wanted this too badly, loved every attention too much.

Attentions like the focus of Joshua's mouth and tongue on the head of Teddy's cock, or like the gentle rolling of his balls in the gambler's grasp, all in tandem with those almost-massaging squeezes to one cheek of his rear. He managed to answer them with a skate of blunt nails over neck and scalp, the latter ending with a somewhat tighter hold on Joshua's hair. "Just like that, yeah..." Teddy repeated in a breathy whisper, shoulders hunched and back curved against the wall.

His next moan hewed closer to a whine when Joshua took him in to the root once more. Even with the assurance he'd be coming more than once, Teddy still wanted to last as best he could. What made that maddeningly, perfectly difficult was watching and feeling the older man work him over, groan low around him, without any performative facade. When Joshua swallowed, mouth and throat clenching tightest around the reddened, sensitive head (clear fluid welling at the slit), Teddy's hips pushed forward as if to somehow get even deeper while he swore in a gasp.

Suddenly, Teddy's cock pushed further down his throat, hitting the back of it until his eyes smarted. It was over in a second: no trying to force his head to stay still, no repeated thrusting without asking. Ah, Teddy hadn't been able to hold back after all! Joshua's own arousal twitched with gratification; however, before he could continue, the grip on his hair actually loosened. Teddy hadn't finished, he knew that, so why? What the hell had happened? As the question permeated his thoughts, Teddy's hands slid down to cup his jaw, fingers brushing against his cheeks. And Joshua was only taken aback all the more when what came next was an apology. An apology! Instinctively, he thought it must be a poor show of mockery, asking him if it was ' too much ' and hoping that he would say yes ( someone would have to do more than that, better than that — and even then, he would rather die than give them the answer they wished for ).

Only this was Teddy cradling his face, eyes filled with genuine concern. Concern for Joshua. For a second, he wasn't certain what to do, stricken with a bewilderment that settled into something he didn't quite understand in his chest. Pulling his mouth off Teddy's length, he shook his head. "Not too much." Joshua's voice sounded faintly hoarse from their prior activities, but he hoped that Teddy wouldn't interpret that as bad. Subconsciously, he let his head tip into those gentle palms for a beat, his gaze studying the visage looking down at him. "You won't do too much. You wouldn't." Although the degree of his own surety rather alarmed him, he knew it to be true.

"You wanted my mouth so bad, you couldn't stay still." Joshua leaned forward to press a kiss to the base of Teddy's cock. "I know you tried. I felt it" Another kiss to the shaft. "But you couldn't help it, huh?" He breathed the question right by the flushed head, followed by a soft groan. "You've got no fuckin' idea what you're doing to me, Teddy." Trailing his tongue over that reddened crown again and again, he drew it past his lips to suck on it for a moment before pulling off. "I like that your legs are shakin'." Joshua resumed rolling Teddy's balls between his fingers. "I want it to take everything you've got to keep still 'til you can't do it no more." He gave Teddy's rear a firm squeeze. "Then you're gonna break for me 'n I'm gonna catch ya."