Stripes Snippets

Hello everyone! Allow me to introduce myself! I am Stripes and am the creator of this lovely blog! It is here that I shall be writing different things. Most works will be fiction and involve my own OC's.! But not always, sometimes there will be other characters. But for the most part, here is my warning: Not everything I write will be age appropriate. Theme's may include: death, suicide, drugs, alcohol, sex, incest, homosexuality, excessive cursing, and gore. Please heed this warning, it's not here to look pretty. Thank you for reading! ^^ Please have a nice day and I hope you enjoy my writings!

[deadshotmccree]

A/N: I love the idea of Gabriel adopting Jesse when he’s still a kid. So just have some mindless DaddyGabe fluff with his kid.

“Jesse? Jesse, where are you?” Gabriel called out, looking under the bed for his adoptive son then stood and scratched his head. Now where could he have gone off to? Just moments ago, Gabriel had given the kid a cowboy hat and a sheriff’s badge to Jesse’s extreme pleasure. The kid had basically screamed in delight when he saw them then ran off saying he needed to get ready. But as Gabriel waited, the boy didn’t come back so he went to look for him.

“Reach for the skies!” Gabriel froze before putting his hands up and slowly turned to face the ten year old who grinned at him, a toy gun in his hand. “You thought you could get away with robbing all them banks, didn’t you? But you didn’t think of ol’ Sheriff McCree.” Gabriel had to tamper down the smile that was forming on his lips. “You’re right, I didn’t. I forgot he was the best and most bravest sheriff this side of New Mexico.” Gabriel said, then narrowed his eyes. “But you forgot that Bandito Reyes was the best bandit around!” Lifting his finger in the shape of a gun, Gabriel darted to the side, ‘shooting’ his finger at the kid while making ‘pshew!’ noises with his mouth. Jesse blanched and rolled out the way, lifting his own toy gun. “You dirty bandit! I’mma put you away fer good!” Pulling the trigger on his gun, it clicked with each time the revolver spun. Gabriel then gasped, clutching at his heart. “I’m hit!” He shouted, dropping to the ground dramatically.

Gabriel writhed around, rolling from side to side in pain. “You got me, Sheriff! Bandito Reyes couldn’t stand a chance against you.” “Yer darn tootin’!” Jesse grinned and ran over to the fallen man, putting a foot on his chest victoriously. “And now that I’m done with you I can take out the rest of yer gang.” “Ugh…you win for now, Sheriff…or do you?” Gabriel smirked at the child who’s eyes then widened in confusion. “Huh?” “You’re forgetting one thing, Sheriff McCree. When Bandito Reyes dies…The Reaper comes out to play!” Gabriel said loudly, sitting up and swooping Jesse into his arms. The child squealed and wiggled in his father’s grasp, his hat falling from his head. “My hat!” Picking up Jesse’s hat, Gabriel placed it on his too big head then set Jesse down. “If you want it back, you gotta come get it!” He told him before running out the room, laughing like a madman. Jesse clicked his gun as he ran after him. “I’mma get you Reaper!”

[stripessnippets]

A/N: This is seriously nothing more than mindless self indulgence. Because I am McReyes trash. NSFW content below the cut.

He gasped softly, trying to take in as much air he could despite the belt tied around his neck, being pulled by his commanding officer. Jesse’s mouth hung open, drool sliding down the corners, tongue lolling out. Down on his knees and hands tied behind his back, he shuddered and looked up.  Reyes stared down at the boy, man now(Jesse was no longer than seventeen year old he picked up) a look of almost boredom on his face as he pressed his foot between Jesse’s thighs, putting pressure on the bulge in his pants. The younger man gasped and groaned, rutting against Reye’s foot like a dog in heat. Reyes narrowed his eyes, the only indicator that he was getting any kind of pleasure from the act.

“What else do you want?” Reyes murmured softly, grinding his foot down harder. Jesse hissed in a quick shallow breath at the movement, hips jerking.

“...tighter.” The cowboy whimpered, face flushed red. Wordlessly Reyes obeyed, pulling tighter the belt around Jesse’s neck, watching the buckle that held the word BAMF on it dig into his skin. Jesse’s hips moved quicker against the man’s foot, eyes fluttering to a close. He wanted to moan out but with his air sealed off he could only manage a choked breath. He was so close. He was trembling, his world beginning to darken with the lack of air. But it felt so good. “Ah…”

Reyes removed his foot as Jesse came, watching the man’s muscles tighten, watching his head lean back as he tried to gather air uselessly, hips shaking before his head fell forward. He dropped the belt and crouched down, allowing Jesse to lean on him as he took in giant gulps of air and coughed. He waited until the younger man calmed down before he spoke. “You okay?” He said softly, reaching behind Jesse to untie his wrist. Jesse nodded silently, not trusting his own voice at the moment. “Good. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up, cowboy. You still got training tomorrow.”

[stripessnippets]

A/N: So it’s been literal years since I’ve written fanfiction of any kind. But for the last few days I’ve fallen into an Overwatch hole and learned that I really like McCree and Reaper. I wish I knew more about their Blackwatch days. But anyway, I decided to make a little prompt for myself. McCree accidently knocks off Reaper’s mask and the face staring at him was one he thought to be dead and gone

Too many questions swirling in his head. McCree needed to leave before anyone else came and saw him so...vulnerable. He should have still been on high alert, Reaper could come back at any minute to finish the job. With a sigh, the cowboy set the shotgun down and stood up. That face...those eyes...was The Reaper really Gabriel?

It had only been a handful of times that McCree had faced off against Reaper singlehandedly. Each armed with their own gun, it was never hand to hand like it had escalated to now. The men had both managed to disarm each other, resulting in a series of McCree throwing out punches, only for the Reaper to dissipate into a fog of thick black smoke and reappear behind the cowboy, delivering a well aimed blow before McCree could turn around. It was beyond frustrating.

“Listen here! Stop yer hiding and fight me like a man!” McCree shouted, turning quickly, satisfaction shooting through him as his fist finally landed on the black cloaked figure, the bone white mask falling to the floor with the impact. ‘Got ya!’ He thought, looking up into Reaper’s eyes before his victory was cut short. “What…?” He mumbled in confusion, hesitation in his features, before a solid fist connected with his jaw, sending him reeling back to the floor. He grunted, stunned, and watched as black smoke swiped the mask from the floor, red eyes once a familiar chestnut brown giving him one last look before The Reaper disappeared.

McCree slowly sat up, using one hand to push himself up and put the other to his aching jaw. No...that couldn’t have been. His mind had to have been playing tricks on him. The room was dim and not very well lit, it couldn’t have been Gabriel. He tried to think of every excuse under the sun as to why the face that belonged to Reaper was also the face of his old friend and mentor...who should have been dead. Gabriel had died years ago, there was no way he was still alive. But he had also thought the same of Jack Morrison before news came that he was alive. Did that mean it could be possible?

His head was reeling, from both the blow and his confusion, as he stood up and retrieved his Peacekeeper. He glanced over to the shotguns also littered on the floor then slowly went toward them, hesitant as though they would shoot even without their owner. He had always been a pretty good shot when was he was still running with the Deadlock Gang, but Gabriel helped him perfect that. Some of his favorite memories were of Gabriel taking him to the shooting range and doing target practice. They’d each brag they were the better shot and making stupid bets that lead to both of them losing a decent amount of money.

That just couldn’t have been Gabriel. The man he had come to know and respect, who became the family he never knew, the eyes of The Reaper weren’t Gabriel’s. Those eyes were dead, soulless, piercing in a way Gabriel’s never could. But that face...McCree bit his lip and bent down to look at the shotguns, reaching out a hand and grasped one. Gabriel should have been dead...but so should Jack. So if one of them came back from the dead, would it really be that surprising that the other did too?

[stripessnippets]

Elton’s Pride

“Sir? Are you sure? I could-”

“Yes, Kaleb, I’m sure. I know you have much to teach him but I’m going to train him myself.”

“...yes, sir.”

Ethan....Elton...he was Elton now. Named by his new owner only four years ago. He reacted to the name as easily as he did his real one. But he would never forget it, it was apart of the old life he once had. Before him and Lily -- and the others...he tended to forget about the others that had been abducted with them -- were taken to this home and brought into a life they could have never dreamed of. He was only eight at the time and as the years went by, he felt so much older than twelve. And today seemed to be the day he was going to age again.

Mr. Maestri had taken him into a training room, one he had come into many times before to clean and to bring the adults refreshments during their sparring sessions. But not one he had personally used, at least not until today. “Elton?” His head jerked up as Mr. Maestri spoke.

“Yes, sir?” An automatic response now.

“Hit me.” It took him a moment to access the command in his brain.

“...what?” This was a trick right?

“Hit me. With everything you have.”

“But-” “Do it!”

Elton flinched at the harsh command but obeyed -- his master’s words were law. Balling up his fist he threw out a punch, one Mr. Maestri caught easily. “Again.” At his word he tried again, once more having his fist caught. “Again.” He tried a kick this time, only to his have his leg swept out from under him and found himself flat on the floor.

“Stand up.” Elton stood and brushed himself off. “Hit me.” Mr. Maestri commanded again.

“I can’t.” A resounding slap sounded in the room and Elton gasped, holding his face and held back his tears.

“Elton, when you are in this room, I have but one rule. Don’t you ever say you can’t. You are old enough to start this training. To live in this house, to serve under me, you will know proper combat training. It will not be to the extent that Neron and Kaleb have, but you will be able to fend for yourself if you were ever under attack. Now I’m going to say it again. Hit me.” Elton sniffled, staring at the man, before wiping his nose and took a step back.

Like a bull, he slid his feet to the ground before rushing at his master, ready to tackle him to the ground. A lone hand knocked him down, falling to his back again, harder than before. He took a pained breath then stood, looking his new opponent up and down. Ready for a new attack, he threw out his fist quickly before it was caught then pushed back. “Good.” Mr. Maestri said, nodding to him. “You went after my bad leg. Zone in on your opponent's weakness and use it to your advantage. Try it again.”

---

Elton took a deep breath as he wiped the sweat from his forehead then stood up shakily, once again having been knocked down. Not once had he been able to land a hit on the man, each of his attacks easily blocked and himself knocked back. And though Elton was tired and his back was beginning to hurt, Mr. Maestri hadn’t broken a sweat and looked almost bored. It was...frustrating.

“...you’ve done good, Elton. We’re done for today.” ...He did good? “But I didn’t hit you like you wanted.” Elton said and rubbed a shoulder.

“Obviously you didn’t. You weren’t going to be able to. And you won’t be able to for a very long time. But you tried and only once did you say you could not. Therefore you did good. Now go shower and rest. Lily will handle dinner tonight. I’ll call you here again tomorrow at the same time.” With those final words, Mr. Maestri left out the room, departing to his office. Elton stood a moment longer, the man’s words echoing in his head. He did good…

A light smile played on his lips as he left the training room, head held high. His back and his head hurt and he knew he was going to be feeling worse tomorrow. But he could almost feel something else boiling up in his...something that felt like pride.

[stripessnippets]

From shadows to light

...it's been some time since I've last told anyone a story. I remember it used to be one of my favorite things to do. I thought myself an adept storyteller. Maybe I should get back into the habit. So allow me to tell you a new story of myself. I died once. Death is not familiar to demons. At least not such a finite death I had suffered. I had my life's source energy drained from me from a creature I had perceived as a being of light and goodness. He made me believe in just such a short time that everything would be alright. That the whispered words he had for me could release my sorrows and start me anew. I should have known better but I didn't think of anything else...and I didn't trust who I should have. And because of my foolishness, because of my nievity and my lack of trust, because I believed I had found salvation in a creature disguised as light and purity, I died. During my death I had forgotten. I forgot all things near and dear to me. I forgot the things I stood for, the things I stood against, I forgot about the people I loved and I cared for. I forgot about myself. And when you forget yourself, you feel as though you're falling into a empty black hole, as dark as the pit your memories have fallen into. And in that pit there is no light, there is no one there to save you. You continue to fall in hopes that the menory you have will be enough to save you. That the one name on your lips will catch you and bring you back to the surface of your mind. And so you focus solely on that name. And so I did. I remembered his name, I remembered two names. His and hers. Creatures that I loved so dearly, I died for them. But really who could blame me? Angels were marvelous creatures that even a demon born in shadows could not help but bow to their beauty. Could not help but to want to fall at their feet and beg that they shined their light on you. And in my death, I suppose some of that light they possessed did shine through. For my reincarnation was another task I must been through to. Sad to say I don't remember what happened during my trial of reincarnation. I remember gaining my memories back. I remember the feeling of deep guilt for not believing my best friend. I remembered the sorrow I'd felt for leaving my child. I remembered the anguish that gripped me upon the realization that the one that brought me to my death was not as it seemed. Pain. Shame. Guilt. So much guilt. I remembered it all. And I relished in these feelings, because I was me again. If just for a little while. I could remember everything and I was no longer falling into the black abyss of my own mind. And though it hurt, I wanted this pain. I wanted the feeling of being me again. I wanted everything. And at that moment, pain was all I felt and all I was. And I wanted nothing more. A darkness clouds my mind when I think of my reincarnation. Only to be broken by the tinkling of bells and a giggle of a woman that could be described as nothing more than chimes clinging in the wind. She offered me another chance at life, a chance to do something with myself and these memories. Strange, how easily you take your memories for granted until they're pulled from under your feet and your falling face first into the ground. I remember, she had a beautiful smile and a lovely voice. I could say she seemed delicate, as fragile as a glass ball, her skin porcelain and her eyes a vast, dull blue, as though the sky itself had planted it's horizons within her. But I would be lying. On the outside, she looked frail. But her voice spoke of years of wisdome, of tales of beauty and of horror, of sights I could only imagine within my minds eye. Her laughter was chimes, but her voice was a steel gong, strong even after years of abuse under a ruthless muscian. And this woman spoke to me. And to me she said, would you like another chance at life? To which I heard “would you like a chance to live and to right your wrongs?” And to her I spoke. And to me she smiled. And I had clarity like I never knew before. Today I sit in this room that now belongs to me. I sit on this bed and I stare at its celing, and I repeat to myself “This is mine. I'm alive.” Alive is such a strange concept after death. My heart beats, my blood pumps, my eyes blink, and my chest rises and falls with each breath I take. And I remember: once upon a time I had no life. I took no breaths. I had no blood, I had no heart, I was not me. I was pure and simple nothing. And out of that nothing formed a shadow, and from that shadow formed a demon. And that demon took shape, took a name that shall be no longer be uttered from these lips. Then that shapely demon took a new life, took a new name and a new identity. Took up an instrument and never put it down. Took the love of angel and never looked back. Took a soul that slowly replaced the shadows it had once been born from so long ago and shone a light so brilliant it was sure to blind those that looked at it. And from that light, the demon was no more. The demon, with only a name he remembered, denounced his true intent and nature of the world he had once known. And embraced who he had become. And the new name he had taken, that he held close from one life to the next, that would be spoken time and time again for many years to come was simply known as: Gullius.

[stripessnippets]

Musings of a Writer

So for the past few days I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with this new character of mine, Mikjal, and how to incorporate him into my worlds. This guy who was a human and who’s greed angered those around him until he became a dragon. And this dragon that became obsessed with his own greed and eventually turned into a god. The living personification and embodiment of greed and obsession. I think I’m going to make shorts with him, but I don’t even know where to start.

[wanderingcorvids]

So I’m listening to Phantom of the Opera and I realized I really like obsessive love. Not in that I think it’s romantic, but I find it so interesting. From’s a writer’s stand point there could be so many reasons why another person would become obsessed with someone. So much so that their object of obsession is the only thing on their mind. They’ve made a new world in their head where they love and are loved in returned. They’ll do anything to achieve this goal, whether it to be to kill their obsession’s partner, kidnap them, whatever it takes. Their ultimate goal is be loved in returned. But if their object of affection/obsession does not return that love, things can always turn worse than they planed.

So yeah. Just some thoughts. Obsession is never romantic(it can trick you into thinking so) but it is vastly interesting. 

[stripessnippets]

“Neron, I’m fine really.” James mumbled with a pout as he sat in the tub, knees pulled up to his chest.

“Hush.” The redhead said, gently scrubbing James’ scarred and bleeding back. The blond sighed and leaned his head forward. The two had just returned from a recent mission. One that James didn’t fare well with since their target was another bomb user. Momentarily distracted, the blond  found himself being blown back and into a building, passing out from the impact. Thankfully, he woke up seconds later, soon enough to witness Neron blowing their target to bits. The moment they got home Neron carried him upstairs and set him in the tub to wash off the debris and clean and examine his injuries.

“Neron-” James muttered, closing his eyes at the stinging pain on his back. “I said hush. You’re not fine. Just look at you.” Neron said, a growl in the back of his throat, hands shaking. That bastard had the audacity to try to blow up his husband and thought he could get away! The redhead was glad the blood on his clothes wasn’t his own. He huffed, concentrating on being gentle as he washed James’ skin. It probably felt worse than it actually looked. It didn’t seem like he had sustained any real damages, maybe to his head but Venus would tell look at that when she arrived from the hospital.

“I can’t look at myself right now, love. I’m blind.” James piped up, glancing over his shoulder to give him a half hearted smile, wanting to calm him down. Neron huffed again, not amused at the man’s attempt at humor. “Really. I’m fine. It was just a little blow to the head and I’m probably not bleeding anymore.” “Yes, you are. And you have shrapnel in your back. And it looks horrible-” Neron was cut off as James grabbed his hand and kissed it. “We both know I’m alright. I promise I’m not leaving you just yet.” The blond said softly then kissed his hand again.

James knew him all too well. Yes, Neron was worried about the injury...but he was even more worried about possibly losing him. Seeing James passed out on the ground for even those few moments was enough to set Neron’s heart beating erratically for the rest of the day.

“...I almost thought I lost you back there.” Neron mumbled, pulling James close to hug him softly. “Well you didn’t. You should know by now a little explosion isn’t going to do anything to me. That pretty scar on my shoulder is proof of that.” The man looked to the scar in question, one made by him years ago out of hatred and anger. He kissed it gently then sighed as a hand stroked his cheek. “I’m right here, love. Don’t go planning my funeral too soon.” “I wouldn’t think of it.” Neron said quietly then tilted James’ head back to kiss him.

A/N: It’s been some time since I posted anything with James and Ron. So have both!

[stripessnippets]

Sin: Felicie’s interlude

I felt so...dirty. So disgusting, so unclean. I hated it. Ronmorrel looked so satisfied with what we did, and...and though I enjoyed it for that moment in time, as I returned to my own home the next day I knew what I did was wrong.

When I came home, my first instinct was to wash myself. I striped and turned on the bath water, ready to cleanse myself when I caught sight of my face in the mirror. I looked like a horror story. The scars that littered my face were bleeding, like each and every one of them had opened. I panicked.

I put my clothes back on and hurriedly put my mask on- I had this mask since I appeared here but didn't use it very often then I rushed out the door, running back to Romorrel’s home. He was smart, he would know why I was suddenly bleeding. I burst through the door and called out for him, feeling the blood leak down my chin. “Ronmorrel!”

“I'm coming, Felicie. No need to yell.” He calmly walked down the stairs, still shirtless like I left him. “Now what's wrong? Why…” He stopped as I pulled off my mask and showed him my face.

“Ronmorrel, what's wrong with me? Why am I bleeding?” I asked, my voice cracking in fear that something was terribly wrong. Was I dying again? Was this God's way of punishing me for the sin I committed?

“That...does seem to be a problem. Follow me to the kitchen. Lock the front door.” Ronmorrel instructed, still calm, always calm. How was he always so calm and collected? I did what he asked and followed him, allowing him to lead me to the sink where he instructed me to wash my face. “When did this start?”

“I...I think when I got home. I was going to take a bath when I noticed...am I dying again? Has this happened to anyone else?” He had to know something. He looked at me and softly touched my face, fingers going over a scar.

“...for once I have no answers for you, Felicie. I've never seen this condition before.” I whimpered, feeling tears in my eyes. If Ronmorrel didn't know what was happening then something was definitely wrong. “Now, now. Calm down. I doubt you're dying again. We've only been here for well over two months, maybe this happens to someone else as well. And besides, it looks like it's stopped for now. You're not bleeding anymore.” Oh thank God.

I sighed in relief and dragged a hand over my face, watching it come back with a little blood but not as much as before. “Y-you're right. Maybe this just happens…” Or maybe God truly had been punishing me. I wanted to go and read through my bible again, to see if there were other mentions of people bleeding from their faces. I would ask Ronmorrel but after last night I was too scared to bring up religion again. He didn't like it and I didn't want to upset him again. But I was also too afraid of going home in case this happened again. “May I stay here for the day? I don't want to go back home yet.” Ronmorrel smiled and I felt a little better.

“You know you are always welcomed here, Felicie.”

I wish I had known then what I do now, about this condition of mine, and what Ronmorrel would do next on his way to “break” me, starting with the abuse of my scars.

A/N: So here’s a small interlude by Felicie. Poor guy doesn’t know what he’s in for.

[stripessnippets]

Trust and conquer

A/N: Uhm warning. I’m not sure what to put here. Like...it’s not rape but I guess it could still be considered a trigger. Just...be warned.

Felicie trusted me wholly, with every fiber of his being. The little tests I gave him, my little “mistakes” I caused for him, he always forgave me. I was his friend, his mentor, his everything-Except his God. Within his studies of medicine he came across religion. I was not a religious man myself, never in life and surely never after in death. But Felicie was fascinated by everything. I made the mistake of showing him the bible, an older version than the more modern I’d seen. Every word he drank up, deciding he too would follow these teachings of God and his son...I still regret it to this day. But in a way, it was good timing. I could give my pet a test bigger than before. One that could truly test his trust in me.

“Felicie?” It was a quiet evening, Felicie had chosen to stay at my home for the night. He had his nose buried in his newest possession-the bible I gave him. Glancing over to him, I saw him underline words and I craned my head to see at least what chapter he was on.

“Yes?” Felicie smiled to me, such an innocent smile coming from such a large man.

“What are your feelings towards sexuality?” A random question for him that had a deeper meaning. In the past weeks I found myself attracted to Felicie, deciding I was going to bed him. But it was more difficult than it seemed. I had to wait until a good time came to strike. For me, sex was a common occurrence. I had already found a few bed partners in this new home of mine but for Felicie, just seeing me without a shirt on was enough for him to turn away from me. I had a feeling he might be gay, other than prude. Now was the time to find out.

“Sexuality?” Felicie questioned, a blush rushing to his cheeks. Ah, so he did have those thoughts. “...I...have no definite thoughts on it. You seem to enjoy flaunting yours.” I grinned at him and he blushed further.

“That I do. And what do you think of me? Would you consider me sexually attractive?”

He froze, eyes wide, then looked down to his book. I immediately knew his thoughts. “...If I did, that would be a sin. God frowns upon-” “I know what God frowns upon,” I stopped him and lifted Mundy up. What fun to have symbolism for a tail. “I’ve read that book multiple times, in multiple languages, cover to cover. I’m going to let you in on a very well kept Christian secret. God is a hypocrite. But he instills fear into the hearts of his followers so well, they mistake it for love and cover up his hypocrisy so no one will question it. That book is full of God’s lies and his follower’s devout opinions of him. I want to hear what you think, my gentle black bird. Do you consider me sexually attractive?”

A myriad of emotions played across his face before he looked to me, a lie clear in his irisless eyes. “No.” I smiled. I thought it was a normal smile but I could feel my lips pull back across my teeth like an animal and Felicie shuddered.

“So you’re saying you would never have sex with me?” He hesitated, most likely fearful of the expression I was making but stood his lying ground. “No, Ronmorrel, I would not.” Felicie had never rejected me. Everything I said was law, everything I said was right, was just; my words were his holy word before that bible. And here he was within in my home, sitting in my chair, in my bedroom, reading the book I so graciously gave him-rejecting me.

I laughed. No I did not laugh. I cackled. For I could do nothing but that. I cackled and I howled and I knew Felicie was utterly terrified at the sight of me. “Felicie,” I said, once I calmed down from my hysterics. “Put the book down and come here.” He hesitated but slowly complied. Once close enough I grabbed his arms and threw him on the bed. He squirmed as I crawled over him, pinning his arms above his head. He was stronger than me by far but fear locked his strength. “Felicie, do you trust me?” Of course he did. Even with me holding him down, scaring him to a second death with my sudden laughter, he trusted me.

“...I trust you...not to hurt me.” “Then you should trust me enough to give yourself to me.” “But God-”

“God is wrong!” I howled. I didn’t expect to lose my temper over this but I couldn’t help it. I was not going to allow some mythical god creature to control my pet with some stupid book! “There is no possibility that he is even real! But I am, Felicie. Show me that you trust me, that you trust me more than some man that you have not met. That damned you to this purgatory, with no heaven or hell in sight.” I wanted him to treat me as though I was his God. No...I wanted him to worship me like I was his God. I wanted him to give himself to me, to praise me, to see that I was what that mythical man could be.

“I...I...I…” He stuttered, fear coating his tongue. What did I look like in his eyes right now? With a face red in anger, horns like a demon, pupils contracting like a snake’s. I must have seemed more like the devil incarnate than the god I wanted to be.

“Or do you not trust me? Is that it? Or do you find me disgusting? Your book says two men shouldn’t be together so suddenly I’m appalling to you.” “N-No.” Felicie squeaked and I growled at him, causing him to flinch back. “If that’s not it then are you really going to let some book control you?” That wasn’t allowed to happen. Only I was to control him. He was only to obey me. “..N...no.” He shivered and tears began to run from his eyes. I let his arms go and in return he hugged me, burying his face in my chest. “I’m sorry...I don’t want you to be angry with me.” Just like a child, he wanted my forgiveness for angering me. Even to this day, I wonder where Felicie’s innocence truly ended. I stroked his hair back behind his ears and whispered to him. “...I won’t yell anymore. You’re upset and I scared you...continue to read your book.” I paused, letting him calm down then looked to him.

“...I don’t want to read anymore.” Felicie whimpered, gripping the fabric of my shirt.

“No, go on. Books are good for you.” Even religious drivel like that. He sniffled then looked away for a moment then back to me and bit his lip. Just say it, Felicie. “...I trust you, Morrel. You...are obviously more experienced in life than I am. I’m sorry I said no.” He was giving himself to me. A smart person would have taken the offer. A wise person knows when to take the offer but give something in return.

“Thank you, my little bird. It’s quite alright. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I want you to continue enjoying your religion. I’ll even show you how you can make amends to your Gods for the sin you will be committing.” “...you will?” I smiled to him, much more gentle than before and stroked his face with my finger.

“I will indeed. And he will forgive you...for that’s what he does. He forgives all...even when they commit a dirty sin.” Such a dirty sin it was. If only Felicie knew what I had in store for him and his new religion. “Thank you, Morrel.” Felicie smiled in return but I could see it didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t want what I had to give, he believed too fully in that book. That was fine. That would make my conquest and my subsequent plans for him even better.

“No, thank you Felicie. You really are too sweet for your own good.”

A/N: Poor poor Felicie. He just wanted a friend. He got Morrel.

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Control and trust

As I first suspected upon meeting Felicie, he was truly interesting. Even though I poked and I prodded and I endlessly questioned him, he could not remember anything of his past other than his name and this vague desire to help people. In many aspects he reminded me of a child. So confused yet so curious about the world around him. He’d reach out and touch everything, from plants to animals, no care if it would cause him harm or not. I, on one hand, felt like a parent, trying to keep my new “friend” out of trouble. On the other hand, it was amusing to watch him explore. Everything was like a first experience for him. It was almost...endearing.

“Felicie, I have yet to ask. Can you read?” I asked him one day, about two weeks after our first meeting. I’m actually surprised it took me so long to realize I never questioned him on this.

“Yes, I can. Why do you ask?” He cocked his head to one side as he looked at me. When he did that he always reminded me of a bird, perhaps that is the reason why he came with that mask. He imitated it very well. “I want to take you to the library. It’s full of books, maybe something there will spark your memory.” He grinned brightly and nodded, already standing up. I have to admit, he was at least enthusiastic about gaining his memory back. He seemed to think one day he’d remember something important. But after two weeks of nothing but a name, I was beginning to doubt he would ever fully recover it. Nonetheless we continued to try. Yet, if I were being truthful with myself, I almost didn’t want him to gain it back.

As our friendship progressed these few weeks, I’ve found that Felicie has a certain amount of dependency on me. Almost every morning like clock work he comes to my door, ready to eagerly try and answer any questions I have for him and to help me setup my home. At first I found it annoying, he was a lost puppy without a home and adopted me as his master. But I quickly changed my mind when I noted that Felicie obeyed my word without hesitation. He believed any and everything out of my mouth, whether lie or truth. I found I had control over him but decided to test that theory.

After our trip to the library proved fruitless in Felicie remembering anything(yet he did leave with a book about medicine; medicine and health fascinated him it seemed) we took a trip to the forest. In my living days I always liked to keep a certain number of plants with me, ones with different properties that could be used for medical purposes. I learned that even though I was dead now I still could get hurt and this strange forest was very useful, holding a number of plants and herbs that I needed. It was also a good place to test Felicie’s loyalty.

“Felicie, pick that plant for me.” I instructed him, pointing to a plant I knew to be poisonous. I had taught him early on in our trips to the forest that he was not to touch that plant, he would become very itchy and uncomfortable. But he looked to it and cocked his head like the confused bird he was and spoke. “Didn’t you say that was poisonous?” “No, I didn’t.” Twice, in fact, I had told him it was. “You must be mistaking it for another plant similiar to it.” Cocking his head to the other side, I could see him trying to rack his brain if that were true. But of course, Ronmorrel would never lie. He was a friend. He was a good friend that took care of Felicie and taught him what he did not know. Obviously, that plant wasn’t poisonous. I could only grin as he reached out and grasped the plant, putting it in his harvesting basket. “My mistake,” He said, giving me a innocent smile and continued on collecting. He would feel the effects of the plant soon and I had to control myself as to not laugh.

This poor man...he had no idea that I had found myself a new loyal pet. He truly would believe everything I told him. I could already tell later on, he would just nod when I said “I’m sorry, I was the one that mistook that plant for another. You’ll forgive me won’t you?” Because I was only a person, I made mistakes as well(which I don’t very often mind you). I would continue to test his trust in me slowly, tentatively, only in things that could be construed as a slight miscalculation or a memory lapse of myself. But I will see how far he was willing to go for me.

A pet must be trained, taught, and taken care of. Only then can you test it’s limits on how hard you can beat it until it bites.

A/N:  Poor Felicie was so trusting of Morrel in the beginning. He considered Morrel his friend, his incredibly knowledgeable friend who only wanted his best interest. How wrong he was.

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I’m new here

I had been here for less than a week, arrived dazed and confused as all new citizens were. Though by my fourth day, I had become accustomed to the village known as “Amari”. It was a peculiar town and though I had learned by my second day I was something called an “Inferno”- who ever came up with these names for our alignments had a very strange sense of humor-my questions were answered and I was directed toward a place I could possibly make my home. Living as a wanted vagabond in my old territory, I learned quickly how to adapt to my settings and was delighted to see that even people here were swayed with charm and wit as easily as the one’s I had known.

On my fifth day, having settled down in what I hoped would become my new house, I had taken to exploring the woods. I heard they were dangerous but I feared no danger. I had already died, what was there to fear? Other than these so called “Hell hounds” as the villagers called them. Large creatures with a pelt as black as tar and eyes as red as the fires of hell themselves, ready to drag the impure away when they least suspected it. I would assume them to be fairy tales made by superstitious grandmothers but...I was an afterlife unlike the one I had been taught My mind was open to all possibilities that anything could be real.

Including a very large blond man trapezing through the forest, looking as lost as the day I came here. “Good sir? May I help you?” I called to him and he stopped, turning to look at me. Upon his face sat a very interesting mask, one akin to the doctors that took care of plague patients. Only it was a tad smaller and decorated more for a Venetian Ball than to help treat ill strangers. He stopped as he heard me then slowly took off his mask, revealing scars littering his face and eyes with neither iris nor pupil, just a pure white sclera that aided in his ghastly appearance. He took a step back as he “looked”(for I wasn’t sure if he could in fact see me, perhaps he was blind?), muttering something that was too low for me to make out. “Excuse me?” “...where am I?” He asked, slowly coming forward, keeping his mask in hand. “What is this place?” “You are new as I am,” I told him, looking up as he stopped in front of me. Upon closer inspection, it looked as though his lips had once been sewn together, scars appearing like stitching around his mouth. He must have lived a horrendous life to be scared so badly. “My name is Morrel and you are walking within the forest of Amari. There is a village not too far away. Who are you?” He opened his mouth, ready to speak then closed it and shut his eyes. “I...I...don’t quite remember,” He told me, scratching his head with thick black claws. “I...I don’t remember much of anything.” Oh? Well that was peculiar. “Nothing at all? No name? Not where you came from?” He shook his head then stopped, eyes squeezing together in concentration. “Wait no...Th...no no, Felicie. That is what is coming to mind. Felicie I think was my name.” Felicie. Similar to the word felicity, meaning happiness or joy. “And that is all you remember? Just a name?” I asked, putting my hands behind my back as I examined him. He was dressed very well, the cape he wore adorned with patterns of leaves and flower, material obviously of higher quality than the clothes I wore myself. A nobel in his time perhaps? Yes, just my name...and...I’m quite sure I’m dead. I remember one other thing. It was very dark and...I wasn’t afraid of dying.” A very smart man or a very dumb one. I wasn’t sure.

“You’d be correct. You are in fact dead. Follow me out of the forest and I shall explain to you the circumstances you have found yourself in. Maybe I can help you recover your memory.” I offered, motioning for him to follow me. Already, I found Felicie interesting, much more interesting than the other denizens of this village. No one else had spoken of such a large memory gap, only a few like myself unsure of their death. Maybe Felicie could tell me of his own, though I do wonder what life will be like for him if he didn’t remember his past. Difficult perhaps? Confusing obviously. I do know, with the scars on his face and the claws on his hands, the mask, the cape, I would keep him around for an extended period of time. Confusion can lead to remarkable discoveries and I planned on discovering what Felicie held.

A/N: Some background for Morrel an Felicie. I have some more wrote out but I wanna make a whole background story for them. They’re all mainly going to be from Morrel’s pov with a few excerpts by Feli. Hope you enjoy.

[stripessnippets]

In search of Raine

Even though I have Faraine back I still have nightmares of her death. I never saw her face when she was alive but I remember the feeling that will haunt me to this day, like I was drenched in ice cold water and shoved into a fire at the same time. I remember the scream that filled my mind for hours as I searched for ways to bring her back. I remember my own anguished crying as I held her body close, praying and begging for her to come back to me. She was all I had left in this world when I cut off ties with my parents. I couldn’t afford to lose her. She was my everything. But she was gone.

I fell in on myself on the years that passed. I became a recluse, a shadow that merely lurked in the home that had once been filled with love and laughter. To dull my pain I practiced my magic, I read through Faraine’s Book of Shadows and attempted to bring her back. With each failed try I could feel the hole where my heart once was grow darker, colder, shrivel up; I did not know how I endured the pain as long as I did. With a sick sense of morbidity and hope, I took Faraine’s head and used her skull to channel my magic. I thought perhaps using it would allow me a better chance to bring her back. It didn’t.

Desperate I became. I searched for all manner of items that I could use in my quest to return Faraine to me. Slowly my home became filled with a menagerie of magical objects, lining the walls and shelves first of my basement before making their way upstairs into the halls and various rooms I could fit them in. Collecting became an obsession of mine, something to fill my grief riddled life. Something had to bring her back. I wouldn’t give up until it did.

In my search I made useful acquaintances, hunters and witches alike, dark and light. All were useful in their own way, supplying me with things I could use in exchange for my spiritual prowess. In this time I learned people would go to many lengths for a chance to speak with their loved ones again, even going against their own morals to help one they perceived as ‘dark’. I sympathized with them but that did not stop me from using them until they had no more use. Most went their own way when the deed was done, but a few were like me. Obsessive in their ways of communing with the dead. Perhaps I was jealous they could easily speak with their passed love one while as hard I try, I could not retrieve Faraine from wherever she went in death. Or perhaps, their obsession was so different from mine that it annoyed me. They would continually come back, try to use me as though I were just a puppet to speak for the deceased, while I could not bring myself to seek out another medium. If I could not speak with her, I would not let anyone else do so for me.

Those that obsessed more than I did, those I felt most jealous of, were disposed of.

Years went by, my hope slowly dwindled, the memories I had of Faraine I cradled along with her skull that stayed close to me. I had no pictures of her to look at, I only had the memory of her voice speaking to me that she loved me, the feel of her soft, naked skin against mine in moments of tender passion, the scent that lingered on her clothes that I could still smell when I opened the closet. No pictures, only memories that I was afraid would fade in time. “Do not let me forget.” I would whisper to her head during the countless sleepless nights I had. “Do not let me forget her.” If I forgot her then what would I have left? Clothing that should have been thrown out long ago, a book that should have been burned within the first week, and a polished skull that silently reminded me that I was indeed a dark witch and that I had no one left for me. You don’t cherish your memories until they are all you have.

When it seemed all hope was lost, that my dear darling Faraine would never return to me, a light broke through the darkness of my heart. Once again I was attempting to bring her back. I held her skull close to me, I whispered to it as though it and not her were my one true love. I caressed it with tender words, lulling it with a spell I made myself, perfected over the past few months. I kissed it and I begged for my Raine back...and finally the magic obeyed. As I opened my eyes, for the first time in my life, I saw Faraine. She was beautiful and she smiled to me. And though it was not perfect, for she would never truly return to the body she once inhabited, I was happy. She was back and the hole where my heart once sat, disappeared. Replace by the loving gaze of my Raine.

A/N: Ahhh bad puns. But yeah, this is my character Fenrir. Normally an elf I joined a group on DA and turned him into a witch. He’s blind but can see spirits.

[stripessnippets]

Blood dripped from his fingers, the metallic smell clinging to the walls, washing over Felicie as he backed away into a corner. “M...Morrel.” He whispered softly, squeaking as the man turned to look at him, pupils dilated into tiny black slits, the green of his eyes taking over. He grinned to Felicie, licking his lips that were coated in red and stalked forward. Felicie whimpered then yelped as his back ran into the wall, no more space to back up. “M-Morrel.”

“Shhh...hush now, pet.” Morrel said calmly, grabbing Felicie’s face and leaned in, standing on his toes. His breath smelled of death and carnage and the sticky wetness of his fingers dribbled down the doctor’s cheeks and soaked into his shirt. “M-morrel...please.”

“Hush…” Morrel hissed, pulling Felicie down by his face so they were closer. “Don’t worry, Felicie. My sweet sweet, bird. I won’t hurt you.” His tongue slithered out, ghosting over Felicie’s lips and Morrel chuckled as he felt the man tremble. “But you tell no one. Understand?” The blond nodded. “I said do you understand?” Morrel shouted.

“Yes!” Felicie answered loudly, flinching away from the voice. “Yes I understand!” Once again Morrel smiled and dragged his fingers through Felicie’s hair, petting him gently.

“Good. This is why I like you, Felicie. You’re always so good to me. You always do what I say. Such a sweet doctor you are.” Morrel leaned in, kissing Felicie then let him go and spoke softly. “No go...before I change I mind on not hurting you.”

Not wanting to be told twice Felicie scooted out of his corner before turning tail and fled the room, heart pounding in his chest. Behind him he could hear the loud cackling of Morrel, echoing through the house, bouncing from wall to wall, chasing Felicie. Reminding him to say nothing...tell no one...Morrel would know.

A/N: I was in a bad mood so I made this. Not canon but it could be.

[stripessnippets]

Hitori’s date

She was nice enough I admit. Funny, a nice smile, a pretty laugh. She was good looking. We had went out for dinner in the city and Jesus, I didn’t think I’d be that nervous to just go out with a woman. But I...I guess I had a good time. We shared a few drinks during dinner and I guess that helped me loosen up but halfway through the date she asked about Lily. Of course, I could go on for hours about Lily. She is the most precious thing in the world to me, she is my world. But maybe it was the alcohol, as I started talking about her I started thinking of Asia. Maybe this is why I don’t drink.

I’m going on and on about Lily before I start talking about Asia. How Lily looks so much like her, how I wish she had gotten to spend more time with her, how Lily asks about her sometimes. I didn’t even notice how awkward she was growing until I stopped talking. I knew it was time to go by then. Fuck...I thought I could do this, I really did. She really was a nice woman and I hadn’t meant to start talking about Asia. Of course one of the first dates I go on in years I fuck up...oh well. I can just try again later...a lot later.

[stripessnippets]

A/N: Not only am I updating this blog with porn, but with crack porn because screw it. So this has been your warning.

“You know for a demon I expect you to have more stamina.” Morrel purred, grinning at the demon then hissed as he bit into his neck, drawing blood then slowly licked it up. “Shut up, Ronmorrel. Or I will strangle you.” Alu growled, lifting his head and put a hand around Morrel’s neck, squeezing lightly. The redhead arched into him, digging his fingers into the mattress in anticipation.

“Do it. I want you to.” Morrel said, closing his eyes and took in a gasping breath as Alu tightened his grip on the man’s throat. Alu rocked his hips violently, staring down at Morrel who gasped and panted, face slowly turning color at the lack of oxygen.

“I think I prefer you like this, Ronmorrel.” The demon hissed, using his free hand to stroke Morrel’s hair before wrapping it in his fist and pulled it. “You’ve finally stopped speaking.” The chimera threw his head back, hips bucking erratically before he went limp. Keeping his hand on Morrel’s throat, Alu cocked his head to the side, amusement in his eyes. “Don’t die just yet...I’m not done with you.”

As Alu released the grip on Morrel’s neck, the redhead gasped then moaned out hoarsely, head thrashing from side to side before coming, eyes rolled to the back of his head. The demon growled at the tightness, thrusting quicker into him and put his lips to Morrel’s ear. “What were you saying about stamina?” He hissed, only receiving a pleasured moan in response. Alu then cracked a small smirk, chuckling. “That’s what I thought…”

[zettastash]

Writing: Learning to Live

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Prompt Response: AU of initial starting point of Handler and Bodyguard

Ben - @xaisen​

Brandon - Mine

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