#emmatriarchy

I'll behave... Maybe. (Sarah to Sam or Kira)

   Well, this is an awful way to end the evening.

   It started out nice, if a bit awkward, but the awkward was to be expected. Kinda part and parcel when you’re trying to reconnect with someone you practically grew up with and once would have considered a friend. Someone who might have stayed a friend if life hadn’t got in the way with its bullshit. If the two of you hadn’t ended up on the opposite sides of the thin yellow and black and X studded line. A line that increasingly feels superfluous.

   So, yeah. A bit awkward but a couple drinks and some food was nice. No expectations, of course. Just a chance to talk. To see if friendship is still in the cards. David certainly hopes so. He has fond memories of Rahne. Between the horror. And they do have a decent amount of shit to talk about. They do have Moira McTaggart in common, after all.

   Things took a turn a few minutes into the post dinner stroll. You’d think two capable mutants would have little to fear in the dark of night. Especially when one is basically a god and the other can rip a man’s throat out with her teeth, but stupid happens. Specifically human stupid. In this case it’s a group of muggers wielding weapons. A gun here, a knife there. Not entirely threatening to them. Except, that knife is now in David’s side.

   “Fuck!” David hisses, pain coursing through him and blood dampening his jacket. Then he feels it, the snarl in the back of his brain. The feral in his teeth. There is a growl in his throat as he hunches. “Wolf. … Don’t.”

    The Wolf isn’t listening. His eyes go white, his face twisting in a feral snarl as his features start to elongate. A hand lashes out to grab the human by his shirt. David shudders, his body shifting. Bones crack and creak. Muscles stretch and expand. Fur grows out of pours. The human squirms and screams as the skinny guy before him turns into a lean, deadly werewolf. The Wolf raises a vicious claw and swipes it at the stabber’s head, tearing it off. He drops the corpse and turns his gaze to the other humans, teeth bared.

   Don’t run. Don’t run, David thinks. The humans run. Shit.

“ — never heard back from ‘im. I get it — s’not like he’s always got pockets, but it was enough to have me concerned.”

Greer hit the cue ball with precision, watching as the striped green billiard ball bank shotted across the velvet table before landing in the middle left pocket. Green-yellow eyes scanned the table, looking for her next target. The were-woman slinked past the red head on her way to the other side of the table to line up her next shot.

“He did mention having some vampire troubles a bit ago.” Gods, they all seemed to be at the moment, didn’t they? “Figured you might have an idea ‘bout where he might be.”

Spine curved inward as she bent over the table, taking a moment to line it up, swearing shortly after under her breath when she botched the shot. Greer straightened out, leaning on her cue stick with her hip popped; ears twitching from the commotion the two women were inadvertently causing in the dingy dive bar.

Send Ö and I'll reveal a character I'd consider playing! | Still Accepting

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My recent brain rot has been Transformers-- so let's get that out of the way...

Soundwave (Transformers)- We love a man so dedicated to his work that he's often viewed as emotionally stunted. But they're wrong and Single Fatherus Prime is the best boy. I know but he deserves to be

Tarn (Transformers)- So, my favorite characters have turned out to be "Buddy, maybe you should calm down the loyalty to Megatron". I love writing sophisticated monsters and I absolutely adore the designs and personalities of the DJD. My only reservation is I probably don't need to add another Tarn to the multi. ...and The Uncaring will need to be ripped from my cold dead hands (and those of the Marvel afterlife).

Father James Mitchell (Pro-Wrestling)- Since there's been some in kayfabe wrestling blogs on my dash lately. It's been a very long time (TNA Wrestling had an official E-Fed where I was staff and retired from use James and Abyss when I left.) While I would never write Abyss again-- I absolutely love writing James. I love being the mischievous little shit and the devil on your shoulder.

Tokka (TMNT)- That's a baby turtle. You gotta be nice to that precious angel and his wolf friend. The thing holding me back is either I need someone else playing Rahzar... Or I have to play Rahzar and I just... Don't want to.

❝ See you on a dark night ❞

huntress‎ ‎ was‎ ‎ pointedly‎ ‎ not‎ ‎ looking‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ companion’s‎ ‎ way.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ compact‎ ‎ mirror‎ ‎ in‎ ‎ gloved‎ ‎ hand,‎ ‎ hawk-like‎ ‎ gaze‎ ‎ fixed‎ ‎ on‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ own‎ ‎ reflection,‎ ‎ she‎ ‎ reapplied‎ ‎ lipstick‎ ‎ with‎ ‎ unhurried‎ ‎ precision‎ ‎ while‎ ‎ she‎ ‎ stood‎ ‎ leaning‎ ‎ casually‎ ‎ against‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ parked‎ ‎ vehicle,‎ ‎ accompanied.

though‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ eyes‎ ‎ never‎ ‎ shifted‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ right,‎ ‎ not‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ single‎ ‎ word‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ livewire‎ ‎ went‎ ‎ past ‎ the‎ ‎ preoccupied‎ ‎ vigilante.‎ ‎ and‎ ‎ thus,‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ question‎ ‎ landed‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ way‎ ‎ it‎ ‎ did‎ ‎ –‎ ‎ causing‎ ‎ helena’s‎ ‎ eyebrow,‎ ‎ but‎ ‎ not‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ corners‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ lips,‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ lift‎ ‎ up.

“‘bold’?”‎ ‎ with‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ flick‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ wrist,‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ compact‎ ‎ shut‎ ‎ close‎ ‎ with‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ flippant‎ ‎ SNAP.‎ ‎ “oh,‎ ‎ sweetheart.”

baby's first pick-up line,‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ brunette‎ ‎ didn’t‎ ‎ voice‎ ‎ that‎ ‎ part‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ quip‎ ‎ AUDIBLY,‎ ‎ but‎ ‎ it‎ ‎ was‎ ‎ still‎ ‎ implied ‎ in‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ way‎ ‎ she‎ ‎ EMPHASISED‎ ‎ that‎ ‎ term‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ endearment.‎ ‎

‎after‎ ‎ slipping‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ belongings ‎ back‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ where‎ ‎ they‎ ‎ belonged,‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ crossbow‎ ‎ wielder‎ ‎ had‎ ‎ finally‎ ‎ turned‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ face‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ conversational‎ ‎ counterpart,‎ ‎ strong‎ ‎ arms‎ ‎ folded‎ ‎ over‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ chest‎ ‎ in‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ way‎ ‎ that‎ ‎ seemed‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ lay‎ ‎ down‎ ‎ emphasis‎ ‎ on‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ abs‎ ‎ – on‎ ‎ full‎ ‎ display‎ ‎ through‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ WINDOW‎ ‎ curved‎ ‎ out‎ ‎ through ‎ her‎ ‎ purple‎ ‎ and‎ ‎ black‎ ‎ suit.‎ ‎

once‎ ‎ she‎ ‎ met‎ ‎ livewire’s‎‎ ‎ ‎ gaze,‎ ‎ those‎ ‎ infamous‎ ‎ brown‎ ‎ eyes‎ ‎ did‎ ‎ not‎ ‎ waver,‎ ‎ prevailing‎ ‎ and‎ ‎ unmoving‎ ‎ without‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ lick‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ shame‎ ‎ or‎ ‎ fear.

“everybody‎ ‎ always‎ ‎ goes‎ ‎ for‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ eyes‎,‎ ‎ you‎ ‎ know ‎ –‎ ‎ whether‎ ‎ it’s‎ ‎ in‎ ‎ love‎ ‎ or‎ ‎ war,”‎ ‎ she‎ ‎ countered,‎ ‎ voice‎ ‎ as‎ ‎ dry‎ ‎ as‎ ‎ it‎ ‎ was‎ ‎ level‎ ‎ and‎ ‎ deep,‎ ‎ head‎ ‎ tilting‎ ‎ slightly‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ imply‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ hint‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ playfulness,‎ ‎ while‎ ‎ she‎ ‎ continued‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ CHANNEL‎ ‎ NONCHALANCE.‎ ‎ “you‎ ‎ want‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ exude‎ ‎ boldness?‎ ‎ word‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ advice: ‎ ditch‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ NICHOLAS‎ ‎ SPARKS‎ ‎ inspired ‎ clichés.”