Bite Sized Bits of Fic

DC, Jonathan Crane, releasing the Scare Beast

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Any, any, "What kind of monster would do something like this?"

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Any, any, what lurks in the dark

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The Hobbit, Tauriel & Legolas, along came a spider

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Any fantasy series, any, befriending the big bad monster

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Prodigal Son, Malcolm Bright + any, he wants to know is his father really a monster

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Lucifer, Lucifer Morningstar + any, his devil face

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The X-Files, Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, she knows aliens aren't the monsters, it's the guy next door that everyone thinks is just so quiet and nice

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Angel the series, Angel, Connor + any, coming to terms with the fact his father has a monster inside him

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"Damn." Connor whistled and swung his axe down. Gunn had thrown him the axe as soon as the "heroes" had arrived, but he had not even made one swipe with the blade. In a matter of seconds, the entire gang of Vampires had been disassembled, some with stakes through their hearts, some with their heads severed, and at least one with their arms literally ripped off.

His father stood in the center of it all, shoulders shaking, animalistic snarls coming from his mouth. He turned slowly to look at Connor. His eyes were still yellow, his fangs revealed and dripping bright red blood. Connor's eyebrows rose as he realized that Angel was visibly shaking. It wasn't a big tremble. He certainly didn't appear ready to drop from exhaustion, nor did he appear injured. Yet he was shaking.

"Are you okay?" Connor didn't even have time to blink before his father was there, his real father, the one who had given him life, touching his shoulders, touching his dirt-stained cheeks. "Are you okay?" he asked again. Connor slowly blinked as he recognized the edge of panic to Angel's voice.

"You ripped through them all," he breathed.

Gunn smirked. "The Ripper couldn't have done better."

Connor didn't know who the Ripper was -- not yet, any way. All he knew was that the man before him had just slain thirty Vampires as though they were two. He had been fierce, swift, and merciless. Connor had always thought him a monster. He had just seen that monster in action, but now the man was shaking not with exhaustion or with fear for himself, Connor realized in shock, but in fear for him.

He blinked slowly and searched his father's eyes, truly searched them for the first time in a long time. Angel was near panic mode. His hands were running swiftly over Connor's body, checking for broken bones, a fever, and what all else Connor wasn't sure. But he was clearly panicking and worried over him. He blinked against a strange wetness in his eyes. Holtz had always expected him to fight his own battles, or at least he had ever since he'd been old and strong enough to wield a weapon.

"Are you okay?" Angel asked, and as if from a distance, Connor realized this was not the first time he had asked him this question. "Are you okay?" He pressed his palm against his forehead again, checking once more for a fever.

"You'd better answer him," Cordelia's voice rang through the alley, "before he has an aneurism."

"Are you okay?" Wesley asked, walking quickly to her.

"I'm fine." Her smile was shaking, but she was strong. She, too, peered anxiously over at Connor. "Are you okay?" she repeated Angel's question.

Connor blinked again. His father's expression had changed once more; now he seemed genuinely scared. "Are you okay?" he pressed, clasping his startled face in both hands.

"Y-Yes, Dad, I'm fine!" He pushed away from the Vampire and felt an immediate pang of guilt at the hurt expression on Angel's face. He had flown through that entire clan of Vampires not for Cordelia, who they had also taken, but for him. He had not even been studying his girlfriend but had been focused entirely on him. Connor felt heat crawling up into his cheekbones. He wasn't accustomed to such attention, to such care -- He blushed and lowered his eyes. "Th-Thank you."

Angel suddenly grinned. "Did you just call me Dad?"

"Aw," Gunn interjected behind them, grinning, "it's a Kodak moment."

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"Except Angel doesn't take pictures," Cordelia pointed out. "No reflection and all that."

Connor looked up at his father, at the man who had brought him into being, the man who should not have been able to sire children and yet had. He had had him. He had chosen to have him. And he was still fighting to keep him in his life. He didn't have a reflection. He was cursed with a soul, which had seemed suspiciously absent only a few minutes prior. But he was still his dad. Very quietly, the mortal, Vampire child asked, "Can we go home now?"

Angel's entire countenance lit up. His mouth opened, his fangs still shining in the dark alley way, but then shut his mouth again with no sound having emitted. Connor eyed him warily. "Yes," Wesley spoke behind them, "let's go home." He, Cordelia, and Gunn started the journey back, and slowly, together, Angel and Connor stepped into line behind the other three. It was crazy, Connor thought -- he dared to think, despite all his prior experiences --, but maybe he had found his dad, his home, and his family after everything.

The End

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This is wonderful. Thank you. I like the tentativeness Connor shows toward Angel but the acceptance too.

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So glad you enjoyed!

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Any, any, humans are the real monsters

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tigriswolf

Sidney asks, hesitantly, doe-eyed and horrified, "How do you... gut someone?"

You hold your breath, a quick moment of remembrance, of blood and viscera, of a brief moment of perfect communion, and then you turn your head, to cluelessly answer as if the question wasn't rhetorical, just a desperate attempt to express the unexpressable.

Gaze going past innocent little Sidney Prescott, you say, "You take a knife," and your eyes meet, hold the only other real person in this fucking town, "and you slit 'em from groin to sternum."

Sid and Tate, Randy, they all pause, but he smiles, a small, bloody thing, and then, mask back on, he bites out, protectively, "Hey! It's called tact, you fuck-rag."

The moment passes, and inside, you smile your own bloody smile.

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Goodness! That was so creepy and good! Loving the horror vide, thank you!!

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Any, any/any, teeth and claws

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He's got teeth and claws, and she knows the feel of each. Now isn't the time to be studying such, however. They have a rescue mission to plan, and students to teach. They have wounds to heal, both physical and emotional. They don't need the distractions.

Yet there seems almost to be something on the air tonight. She cannot keep her eyes from trailing over his hard body, cannot keep the lust from her gaze, cannot keep her tongue from touching the back of her teeth. She also cannot keep the air from rising a noticeable few degrees in the War Room as they strategize with their few trusted peers, the air outside from rising in volume as it whisks through the trees and over the fallen leaves across the campus' grounds, or from the single lightning bolt that streaks soundlessly across the night sky.

Logan has always been one to notice the subtle details. Too many people think of him as a man ruled by his animal instincts, but she knows that deep down, he is a man of flesh and blood with a heart that is the reason why he always keeps fighting and is always the last to go down. She knows it is his heart that keeps him going far more than his healing factor, and it is his heart that will never keep him long from the battle, from the seemingly endless war they are constantly fighting to protect the mutant youth. He knows the minute that bolt of lightning cuts across the sky, and he knows what it means.

He waits until every one of the rest of the team have filed out of the room before, with all the swiftness and strength of a wolf, closing Ororo in against the back of the door. He pops a claw and runs it very softly over her dark cheek. "Heard that bolt, babe," he growls lustfully, licking her neck, "sure we ain't got time?"

"Logan," Ororo protests with all the strength and determination she can muster, "the children are waiting for us."

"Yeah, yeah, always gotta be the Queen of us all, putting forward the best foot an' all that." He snaps playfully at her throat before actually sinking his teeth into her neck. Thunder blasts through Westchester County, rattling every window in the mansion; Ororo knows, in the back of her mind, that the entire team will know what's happening the minute they note the change in the weather. "Wear that hickey with pride into th' battle, darlin', an' make damn sure you come to my room tonight."

He walks away from her, leaving her with a gasp. She flexes her wrist, and breezes blow over the bulge in his pants. "Of course I will. But we have to get through this first. We have to save the world first."

"'Course we do. Always," he mutters. "I just had to fall for a Queen who always has to put her people first." Yet, though his voice sounds grouchy, he's smiling as he walks away. He wouldn't have it any other way. He loves his Stormy just the way she is, and all of New York is going to feel the storm tonight before they're over. He grins though every fiber of him yearns with expectation.

The End

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That was wonderful!!

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So glad you enjoyed!! :)

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Babysitters Club (show), Claudia Kishi, sketching monsters

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A shiver crawls down Claudia's neck as she makes quick, jagged lines on her paper. Part of her questions why she makes these sketches every time she draws them, but it's the only way she knows to get these nightmare visions out of her mind. The only people she can safely show them to her are some of the little boys she babysits. Her friends would worry for her if they saw them, and the girl children just think they're gross.

They are gross, she admits, looking at her own drawing with a critical eye, but no more so than they are in her dreams. She's starting to have nightmares every night. She tried to talk to Janine about them, but of course, that was a mistake. Janine is so logically minded and she already thinks her little sister is a fool. She needs to speak with her grandmother, but she's afraid to do so, afraid not just of what Grandmother may think but also of what she may say, of what she may know that Claudia does not to which she can enlighten her to. If there is a reason she's having these awful nightmares every night, Claudia is not at all certain she wants to know.

She just wants to forget them, and this is the only way she knows that she may be able to do so. May, of course, being the operative word, because some of them are so horrible that she doesn't know how anyone could forget them. She hears someone enter the room and quickly covers her drawing with her textbook. She isn't in time, though.

Logan grins at her. "Godzilla's got nothing on that thing. What? Are you hiding a talent from us, Claudia? Are you going to be the next big, bad comic book artist?"

She blushes and keeps the book securely over her drawing. Before she can think of an appropriate answer, the other girls start filing in, and Logan has the common decency not to mention her artwork. She can't tell him -- she can't tell any one -- that these are the visions she sees every night. Godzilla, indeed. The thought burns her cheeks. Godzilla doesn't have anything on the monsters she sees every night, but it's not lost on her that that is the first monster to whom he turned. She's tried so hard to fit in. Girls never fit in with monsters in their heads, or their dreams, no matter how pretty they are. She has to forget these beasts somehow. She has to forget her dreams, or she'll never, ever be a normal girl.

The End

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I don't know the fandom, I somewhat remember the books, but this was a great fill. Thank you!

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I enjoyed the books years ago when I was a kid. I watched the first series and rather enjoyed it but have not seen this new one. Still, I figure the characters can't have changed TOO much to not be able to dabble in the fandom with characters I used to adore. Claudia was always my favorite with Dawn, I think, being a distant second. Or it may have been Stacey. Like I said, it was YEARS ago. Still, glad you liked it.

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Oh man, I loved this. Poor, poor Claudia though. This fic was one punch to the heart after the other.

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So glad it hit home for you! Claudia was always my favorite, hands down.

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Babysitters Club (show!verse), any, going to an Of Monsters and Men concert

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creepy_shetan

author's choice, any, the shadows in a room look monstrous

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creepy_shetan

author's choice, any, their fear of being seen as a monster

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Title: The Face of Fear

Summary: All Gil knows is Malcolm is suffering and he wants to help the boy.

Find the story here. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/34792771)

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AWW, that was sweeet! I love me some Papa Gil. Great fic!

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Thanks. Papa Gil is great

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momma-66.livejournal.com

Any, Any, what does go bump in the night?

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When he was a little boy Dean feared the dark. He knew that was where the wicked monsters lurked and with their sharp fangs, he knew all too well just how deadly the night was.

Now, the night fears him.

The desire for human blood aroused Dean’s senses. His mouth watered as hunger coiled in his stomach. Like a vicious wolf wondering in the forest, powerful body tucked down low to the ground, he moves towards his prey. Within reach, so close, a juicy morsel stood before him. Slow, inching forward, the autumn leaves crackling under his boots. His prey looks up and gazes around, but the night hides him well from her sight.

Dressed in a pretty pink dress that beautiful hugs her curvy hips, long strawberry blond hair pulled up high with a pink ribbon, she looks lovely, sweetly innocent as she clutches her bible. Hunger coils in Dean’s belly, his fangs descending as he can hear her blood pulsing and all he can see is blood seeping into his mouth, her throat torn out, her body laying helped on the fertile earth dirt.

He attacks, blood thirsty and vicious, she never sees him coming. Gasping, choking on her blood as she grips her slit throat, she crumples to the ground, eyes wide and wild, blood dripping from her wound and onto her fingertips.

Dean snarls, lashes out at her while she is weak and vulnerable, lips sealing around the weeping wound. He drinks from her, his wicked deed hidden by the darkness of the night. The blood was warm where it touched his lips and it slides smooth and slow down his throat, like favorite whiskey. He growls, bathing his hunger in her blood as she cries out to God on this cold night.

(END)

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momma-66.livejournal.com

Eeee, yes! Thank you!

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momma-66.livejournal.com

Any, Any, they leave a light on in the closet, the monster that lives there isn't fond of the dark

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canonisrelative.livejournal.com

Supernatural, Sam Winchester (/Sam’s blurry wife if you want), Stressing over the decision about whether or not to tell his son the truth about the family business.

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Any, Any(/Any), The truest monster is human.

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Any, Any(/Any), Monsters feel, hurt, and love, too.

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