OPEN SEASON 2.

[crawly]

1. pick a character.

☛ optional.
☛ character list here.
☛ full list.
☛ specify in the subject line if you want one character in particular.

2. provide a prompt.

☛ image, words, music, whatever you want.
☛ i like to think at least one of my three tumblrs has something interesting. (be warned that all three blogs contain nsfw material, including porn.)

3. gotta go fast.

☛ not actually. this is a permanently open post! tag at your own speed.

previous post here.

Comments

you kno

[ofhounds]

( there's that itch at the back of heine's head, isn't there? that itch that just demands to be scratched--right there, at the base of his skull. aching and wanting and pulsing with every thumpthump of his small, shattered heart. it must be uncomfortable, right? good. that's how it's supposed to be. the ache is still there, of course; the razor sharp pain pulsating under his skin, the bolts digging deep into flesh and bone, gripping into him tight as if there's no other place they would rather be--because there isn't.

here, he's comfortable. here, he's got everything he could need.

and the shadow that calls itself heine rammsteiner? well.

outside this broken, scrawny body, where else would he exist? that itch only worsens no matter what steps heine takes to get rid of it, up and down his spine, as if it's toying with him. trying to piss him off. trying to get those tiny, few hairs he calls eyebrows to twitch in irritation, as they do. tries to get that raise out of him.

he waits, until he's sure it's the perfect moment. the best time--and pulls heine in. under the dark shroud of consciousness, into his own fucking head, because sometimes, he gets bored. sometimes, he really wants to play.

heine just happens to be the best toy available to him, as it stands. thin fingers with blunt nails reach around him, dig into his shoulders, scratch lines across his chest, dig in deep enough to break skin as he leans in, whispers into his ear in heine's own voice: )

Hehehaha, hey. Heine. Wanna play?

inu-chaaaan

[canicide]

[ He has to strike a balance between noise and quiet. Too much noise and the dog gets too worked up, the leash will snap. Too quiet and he'll have nothing to listen to but its shitty voice in the back of his head.

(Sometimes he likes it to be too quiet, so then he'll never forget exactly what he did to Lily and the others.)

He thinks he was on the edge of falling asleep this time. When he realizes where he is, he blinks into darkness, surroundings so black that all Heine sees are the hands of his own body clawing harshly into his chest. ]

Fuck off. [ It doesn't hurt much. Heine twists out of its grip anyway, trying to throw it off with a grunt. ] I told you I don't.

[ofhounds]

( of course that's his response. it always is. heine never wants to play, always wants to push it down, block out it's voice, pretends its not there and that's--just all part of the game, isn't it? heine knows why he's here. how he survived. what makes him special is that voice gnawing at the back of his head.

heine would be nothing without the dog. a loud, chocked cackle sounds just behind him; heine tries to twist out of it's grip, and it just digs his fingers in further, deeper, leans in closer, lips pressing against the shell of his ear. )

Why not? Ya've got the time, don't ya? ( teeth bite down into flesh, tearing at his ear for a moment. ) I wanna play. ( it lowers it's tone a little, scratches deep welts along heine's flesh. ) Ya can push me down all ya want, Heine. But 'm always gonna be here. Watchin', waitin'. 'fter all. . ( another low cackle, hissed between teeth. ) 'm your best friend, Heine-y. 've always been here for ya, haven't I?

[canicide]

[ The dog's fingers press and press. Heine thinks they might pierce through skin and tear into his muscles, rip through the thin wall of membrane that keeps his insides inside. But not yet—all he feels is teeth at his ear and he grunts, jerking his head aside. ]

Shut the fuck up. You're not my friend. [ Losing patience rapidly, Heine moves as if to take a step forward. But when they're weightless and ungrounded, there's no way to escape except to push his dog away.

Turning, he jabs an elbow into its chest again. ]

I said shut up.

[ofhounds]

Oh, but I am. ( who was there for heine when no one else was? who was his strength, when he didn't have anyone else? who helped him free lily? took away her suffering? gave her more freedom than angelika ever would have allowed? who kept his body running after the fall? fights for 'heine', when 'heine' can't quite handle it?

heine may not think of them as friends, but look at all the dog has done for him. the elbow presses into skin, and the dog just laughs again, hissed between teeth as if it can't quite bring itself to release the bit of flesh between it's teeth. heine can push and shove and try to move away all he'd like: the dog just wraps itself even further around him. )

No one will ever be there for ya like I am, Heine-y. ( fingers press in harder, dig into flesh, ripping and tearing to try and get through the fleshy exterior that leads to heine's insides. ) Not that bitch with the sword, not the. . ah, the redhead. 's you n' me, 'til the day this body croaks. Even after they're all dead n' gone, 'm still gonna be here for ya.

[canicide]

[ Heine stumbles, weighed down by the body clinging to him, dragging him down. The bony arms and fingers touching him are too much. ]

I don't want you to be here. [ An ill-tempered snarl leaves Heine and he twists, writhing again, as hot blood begins to well up from the gouging of his dog's fingers. He kicks back hard. ] Fuck off. Fuck off.

[ofhounds]

No. ( this is it's favorite place to be, after all. here, with heine. just like this. heine kicks, and the dog moves a hand out of his chest, it's own leg moving forward to shove his it's into heine's lower thigh to knock him off balance as the dog licks the blood and fleshy bits out from under his nails.

the distraction gives heine room to run, but it's not as if there is anywhere for him to go. they're inside heine's own head, after all. ) Why would I go anywhere, Heine, when I can be here with ya?

[canicide]

[ Heine tips forward, breath escaping him in a loud huff. Shit. He can't run, and he knows it, but he still steps forward, stumbling forward away from his dog with a grunt.

The blood trickling down his chest is warm as it soaks into his clothes. ]

I don't know. Not like you can go bother anyone else. [ He grunts and turns halfway to glare at his dog, even though he only meets his eyes for a second. ] Lucky for them.