If you want something done right...

It was the strangest thing I had ever seen, with tubes and wires coming out of its every nook and cranny. Steam circulated through its copper veins and escaped through its metallic mouth, as it pronounced the name of its master, over and over. It slowly dragged itself towards me, its multiple limbs wobbling around awkwardly, scratching the floor and the walls with a screeching sound. And I just stood there, admiring it. The work of a mad man, a scientist, a genius.

A rival.

And that’s when they hit me. The creative juices, that is. Ideas raced through my mind, designs, wrench sizes and bolts! I had to construct. I had to build. I had to create life. I knew all too well that it was pointless to resist this urge, even in a dire situation like this one, where I may very well get my skull bashed in by this… this excuse of an automaton.

Yes, yes! I could now see its flaws. The leaking pipes, the lack of oiling in the joints, its weak knees and elbows! I could make it better, I could make it PERFECT. And I had all the tools I needed.

Without a second thought (second thoughts are for fools!) I leaped onto the beast’s back, wrench in hand, genius in mind, and began my work. It struggled, of course, but how could it hope to resist my intellect when even I could not achieve such a feat? Nuts to bolts, screws to threads, clanking and puffing… and I was done.

I was done and all I could do was laugh. I laughed and I laughed until I couldn’t laugh anymore… and then I laughed some more.

“Now then,” I patted the beast’s head as it howled my name, “shall we pay a certain someone a visit?"

Sleepers

The summer sun shone on his face, its warm light completely enveloping him as he sat on the wooden park bench.
Her hand brushed over his before holding it firmly, so as to never let go of it. Her blonde hair reflected the sunbeams as she smiled, and planted a kiss on his lips. The grass tickled her feet and she let out a short laugh. They kissed again.

Ragnar Wolfsbane, Of Gods And Ashes

The deer was still breathing when Ragnar approached it. The arrow had pierced its heart, leaving the animal in agony.
"A perfect shot", he thought before slicing its throat and ending the beast's suffering.
It twitched a few times and finally gave in to death, letting out a big sigh, its blood tainting the snow around it.
The hunter overlooked his prey. He had tracked it for hours, fighting through the cold and fatigue armed with his determination and courage. A single arrow is all it took for him to claim his trophy. He put the corpse over his shoulders, and hurried back to the village for the scent of the deer's blood would surely attract wolves and other undesireable predators. The myst caused by the recent snowfall would not let him see very far, but the village's ever present smoking chimneys let him find the way back, even over the tall mountains surrounding it. The sun was closing on with the horizon when he finally reached his wooden cabin on the border of the village's valley, quite far from the rest of the houses and much closer to the woods than its safe to be.
He sat down at his table, breathing heavily. It pained him to see his body being past its prime. This brief moment of peace was interrupted by loud banging on the door, however.