#I don’t want to bloat the tags so uh

[nerdranttheories]

I got to meet Justin Cook today, so I drew a Two Heroes fan-poster idea I had last night for him to sign! He’s super sweet in-person, meeting him was a joy!

[albatmobile]

The Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds Chapter 24

𓅪 After not hearing from Roy or Jason for five years, you suddenly find yourself taking in extra income as a babysitter for Roy and Jason's child.

𓅪 Rated: M | 4k  includes: morning after w roy, skipping, romeo and juliet kiss

fem!Reader x Jason Todd x Roy Harper [masterlist]

Chapter 24: Love Story | ao3 - wattpad

THEN

The next morning, Roy knocked on your door.

“There’s breakfast down here if you want anything, princess,” his low, morning voice stirred you from your sleep.

When you arrived downstairs, you were met by stacks of burnt pancakes, an assortment of breakfast meats and a heaping pile of over-scrambled eggs. All of this to say it was a far cry from the luxurious food you were used to from Alfred at Wayne Manor.

“Mornin’,” Ollie greeted you with a tip of an invisible hat. Dinah was absent, meaning it’d been Ollie and Roy behind this catastrophe in front of you. “Dig in, there, kid.”

You sat down and Roy quickly set about making a plate for you, shocking both you and his dad. He blushed as he handed the plate back to you. You took it from him with a confused quirk of your brow.

“Uh, thanks, Roy.” 

“Yeah,” he responded in a restrained manner, bowing his head so that his red locks concealed his face from view.

“Well,” Ollie cleared his throat, clearly amused with the hormonal situation unfolding in front of him, “I’ve got to be off for a product review meeting. Would you believe they schedule me meetings on the weekend?” You shook your head ‘no’ at his question to be polite. “Well, they do and they fucking suck for it… But,” he held up a pointed finger, “I’m going anyway because I’m an adult and sometimes I do adult things for money.” He seemed to ponder his statement before retracting it, “No, that came out wrong. I mean, yes, they’re paying me, but the ‘adult things’ in question are strictly businessy…” he trailed off as if realizing that this explanation wasn’t any better. “Never mind. I’m out!” He shot a pointed brow Roy’s way. “Don’t do anything I would do.”

You laughed. Ollie was definitely odd, well, at least odd in a different way than Roy. That was for sure.

With a wave, he was off, leaving just you and Roy alone with enough breakfast to feed the entirety of Wayne Manor. 

Speaking of the manor…

“I’m gonna head over to the manor after this," Roy said, watching as you inhaled your plate with a breathy chuckle. You’d never drank liquor before, only watered-down piss that constituted beer and the cheap Moscato that one time. As such, you were incredibly hungry the day after the college party. “When you’re done choking on that shit, you wanna tag along?” 

Roy at least seemed happy you were enjoying his cooking, though you’d never tell him it was only because you were still slightly tipsy and had gone to bed hungry. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Damian mentioned training today,” you said with a shrug before pushing away your empty plate and rubbing at your full stomach. “I really don’t know how I’m going to get through it when I have this food baby, but I doubt he’ll take it as a viable excuse.”

Roy didn’t laugh at your attempt for humor, only stared at your bloated stomach, then up at your eyes like he was considering something.

“You should hang around him more,” Roy said distractedly. He seemed to ponder his words further because he then nodded like they’d just reminded him of something.

“Not this again,” you could hardly contain the annoyance from leaking out into your tone. “Is it about the kiss?”

He stilled, seeming to stop his breathing at your words. “You were drunk,” he attempted to play it off. “That’s all it was. Promise I won’t hold it against ya, princess.”

This time, it’d been you who blurred the lines of the boundaries you set. Roy was just being a good friend by following through with them.

“I’m sorry,” you said, not knowing what else to say. You’d completely fucked everything up. “I didn’t plan to-”

He suddenly cut you off, “Where’d you get the condom from?”

Why would Roy care?

Last night was blurry, but you still remember the blonde.

Was he seriously jealous of you?

“Uh,” you blinked owlishly at him, “I don’t really remember.”

He bristled, standing up from the table to approach you, “Did someone touch you?” You watched as his hands closed into fists as he peered out from under the tendrils of his greasy locks.

“No, no,” you were quick to reassure him. You placed your hands over his fists to cement your point further. “I don’t think it was anything like that.” He seemed to calm down, though he still seemed tense, becoming even more so at your next choice of words, “You were the, uh, only one.”

“The only one to what?” He appeared concerned again.

“The only one to touch me, Roy.” 

“Shit,” he cursed. “But last night, I thought you said-”

“The kiss, I mean,” you stopped him in his tracks before he could freak out any further. “Just the kiss.”

“Oh,” he stopped for a moment before exhaling, “okay.” 

You couldn’t help but wonder what exactly he did remember. “So, you really don’t remember much of the party?”

He blushed before shrugging. “I always pregame hard,” is all he offered.

“So, you don’t remember ditching me?”

“Listen,” he rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck, “that was a mistake.” So, he did remember. You squinted your eyes at the table in front of you, feeling jealousy boil back to the surface. His freckled fingers delicately grasped your chin, lifting it to face him dead on. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he looked… pained. “When I start drinking like that, it gets all fuzzy.”

You couldn’t help but quirk a brow as you questioned him further, “How so?”

“It’s like,” he sighed in frustration, allowing his hand to fall from your chin to rub at the crease between his brows as if his hangover had returned. He tried again, “It’s like there are blurry moments and then flashes of clarity where I remember nearly exactly what happened. In the end, though, it all ends up just feeling like some fucked up dream.”

“So,” you trailed off dubiously, “you blacked out and ditched me?”

Roy appeared genuinely sad. “I didn’t mean to.”

“And you’re telling me that your moment of clarity was when you got whiskey dick?”

You watched the way he seemed to internally argue with himself about what to say next. Even though you were hurt, Roy’s concentrated, read: constipated, face still managed to stir some amusement from within you.

“It wasn’t whiskey dick,” he admitted. Roy then looked away as if he was never planning on revealing this information to you. “When I came to, all she was doing was bad-mouthing you,” he sighed, still refusing to make eye contact with you,“and I couldn’t really even remember leaving the dance floor, so I just got up and left to find you and… yeah.”

Through the lingering dregs of pain from the party, your heart swelled after hearing he chose you. No, even better, he didn’t even remember that rude bitch. 

The walk to Wayne Manor was odd, to say the least.

For some reason, Roy seemed completely shy when it was just the two of you and you couldn’t help but find it cute. Either it was shyness or his hangover, but you were determined to think it was the latter. The last thing you wanted to allow yourself to think was that this was all because of the kiss…

Roy was quick to split away from you once you reached the gym, not even bothering with a goodbye before leaving you with Damian.

Even he noticed.

“What’s wrong with Harper?” You and Damian stared after his hastily retreating form.

You met his questioning look with a confused one of your own. “Probably nothing,” you said.

“Well,” Damian tapped the tip of a wooden practice sword on the ground twice, “I need you fully present for our lesson today.” With this, he drew you toward the center of the mat, where a tiny satchel sat in the middle. 

“Am I finally learning how to use weapons?”

Damian scoffed, “Your body and mind are the only weapons you’ll ever need.” 

“Why?” you questioned him.

“Because,” he rolled his eyes as if it were obvious, “they’re the only ones you’ll always have in your arsenal.”

You snorted, “Deep.” 

You were circling each other at this point, though he still seemed like he wasn’t ready to make a move quite just yet.

“Shut up,” he said, smirking at you. “I’m going to show you your strength through the art of illusion.” 

Damian then used the remote to turn on a lighting function in the room. 

The entire room was cast in darkness until, suddenly, bursts of blinding strobe lights affronted your vision, leaving a filmy glare over your sight. Your eyes winced at the harsh lighting effects going on, but Damian appeared entirely unperturbed.

He advanced on you easily through the pitch-black. 

The sporadic flashes of light stunned your vision, leaving you feeling off-kilter. You definitely weren’t prepared for an attack like the one he dealt you.

“Dami!” you exclaimed as he got another swipe at your head. Panic began to set in. “I don’t think I’m ready for this.” You attempted to dodge the wooden blade by rolling to the side, but he still ended up smacking it against your back. “I need more training,” you tried to barter with him, feeling the dregs of a panic seizing around your throat, “Damian, please!”

“Training means nothing,” another slash from his sword, “but will is everything.”

“Will?” you questioned frantically as he made to hit you again.

“The will to act,” he swiped at you. This time, however, it merely grazed you. “My grandfather taught me that.”

This time, you pushed down your anxiety as you allowed yourself to feel the atmosphere around you.

You felt him behind you and readied yourself for his attack pattern. When the attack inevitably came, you dodged and pushed against his body, sending him rolling backward into a tumble. Or, at least, you think he tumbled. The strobing lights made it so you were only ever able to see a flash of random colors every few seconds or so.

He let you catch your breath for a second, allowing you to finally ask what you’d been thinking, “What do these seizure-causing lights have to do with ‘the art of illusion?’”

“Illusion is wanting your enemies,” he cleared his throat, “attackers to think one thing when it’s actually another. Every plan incorporates this art.” He started toward you again. “Well,” he corrected himself, “every good plan, at least.”

A plan?

Your mind raced back to the bag in the center, wondering if that was how you could gain the upper hand.

It was worth a try.

“Sort of like Batman?” you asked, trying to distract him while you looked for a way to get back over to it.

“Sure,” Damian lunged with his wooden sword poised toward your stomach, “whatever works for you in that weird brain of yours.” 

You leapt up from the floor, landing on the sword and breaking it upon the impact of your full weight. The pieces of the sword clattered uselessly to the ground just as the lights fully came on for a few seconds.

You used the clarity to race to the center for a bag and tossed the powder inside to the ground. All around you, small explosions and smoke scattered across the room, coating it in a mist of smog that allowed you to sneak up behind Damian and finally manage to tackle him to the floor.

“Woah,” Dick’s voice sounded from deep outside the fog, “what kind of rave’s going on in here?”

A heavy body bounded into yours, throwing you off Damian before being assaulted by slobbery kisses from Titus. 

“You recovering alright?” Babs smiled at you.

“For the most part,” you nodded, putting a tentative hand to your head as the lights came back on for good. “What’ve you two up to?” you asked, ushering Titus over to his owner before getting off the ground to greet them.

“We just got back from chasing Titus around the back lawn,” she nudged you. “Had to find a way to work off these hangovers and all that good stuff now that we’re fucking old.”

You laughed. If 23 was considered old, you weren’t far off from being just as ancient as them.

“Don’t worry. Next time, we’ll throw our rager on a Thursday or something so you can come too, Dami.”

“Why can’t you do the weekend?” you asked, looking at him curiously. Instead of meeting your gaze, he busied himself with shooting a sheepish-looking Dick his signature death glare.

You had noticed Damian was usually busy during the weekends, especially at night, but it was always because he was with Bruce. You’d never thought too much about it until now.

“Previous obligations with father,” was all he said. “I do not need to go to college functions to get my thrills, though, anyway,” he nodded at you. “Good work today.”

Then, he was off.

“Dami’s a tough nut to crack,” Dick sighed and rubbed at the back of his head diffidently. “But it seems like you’re really getting through to him.”

“Maybe it’s the other way around,” you offered.

Babs laughed, but Dick looked genuinely pleased by your answer.

“Maybe it is.”

•

“I need two people to volunteer for Act I Scene 4,” your English teacher said as he scoured across the room at all the avoidant faces. “Anyone? Anyone?” His face landed on you and Jason, who was determined to stare out the window to avoid his fate. “You, you,” he said, pointing between the two of you. “It’s a short scene. Make haste!” He clapped his hands together dramatically to silence the whispers that began to circulate throughout the room. “I won’t hesitate to hand you a one-way ticket to detention, guys. Try me.”

Hushed murmurs of annoyance swept across the classroom, though they soon died down when he went around his desk to pull out the hall pass. 

You ignored all of this and opened to the beginning of the sonnet, looking down in disbelief. “But this is a kissing scene,” you protested. 

Not to mention the first time they’re meeting… You know… at a ball.

The gala stung painfully into your mind.

Regardless, your complaint landed on deaf ears. “A bit of a spoiler,” your teacher seemed amused with you, “but go ahead.”

You turned to Jason, who’d yet to so much as open his book, let alone look away from the window.

“Someone else should take my part,” you insisted with a shake your head. You couldn’t embarrass yourself in front of these upperclassmen who already had enough to say about your involvement with the various Wayne boys.

Nope. Not doing it.

“Jason,” the teacher silently warned him to begin.

He sighed beside you, taking an obnoxiously long time to open his book to the right page and even longer to actually begin reading. 

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand  This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand  To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.” 

His voice was like silk, suffocating every part of your being.

As you listen, you realize Romeo is essentially convincing Juliet of the purity of his intentions. The whole scene is a balance between sex and religion. Sex being the want; religion being what ultimately stops them from going further.

You couldn’t help but relate. Excuses based on quite literally all of the above, boiling down to social constructs coming between you and… 

You were so enraptured you nearly forgot it was your turn to speak.

“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,  Which mannerly devotion shows in this;  For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.” 

Juliet coyly responded to Romeo with a metaphor of her own, assuring she knew exactly what he was insinuating.

You could feel Jason’s stare on the side of your face, but you were blushing far too hard to ever be able to meet it.

“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?” 

You had to remind yourself he was reading. He wasn’t actually fucking speaking to you.

You began, gulping as you did.

“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.” 

Jason hesitated, seeming to read, then reread the words in front of him as if they’d somehow magically change.

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.” 

If prayers were a kiss, then their want and what was stopping them were one and the same. 

You’d always considered Romeo and Juliet to be trite, but reading this scene now, you saw it in a new light. Their love was serious to them, regardless of their age, regardless of their families- regardless of everything, even life itself.

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.” 

His eyes seared into every fiber of your being. This time, you met his gaze head-on as he delivered the final line.

“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.” 

The obnoxious group of jocks in the front began to tease the two of you, chanting, “Kiss, kiss, kiss!”

Soon, everyone was joining in, laughing obnoxiously as they pointed at the two of you.

You’d been a punching bag this whole school year, but for some reason, this was all too much. The walls began to close in and, ultimately, your fight or flight instincts kicked in.

You stood up abruptly and left, refusing to be the butt of a joke.

Before you made it out into the hallway, you chanced a look back as if subconsciously seeking out Jason’s reaction. The sight that met you was Jason’s usual RBF, though, you noted guiltily, that underneath his typical scowl was evident hurt.

You didn’t want him to think you were abandoning him, so you swiftly nodded at him to follow.

He did.

You didn’t stop walking until you reached the art wing on the complete opposite side of the school. If you’d stopped any sooner, you were sure that the tears of embarrassment you’d been holding back so meticulously would betray you.

When you finally did stop, Jason silently followed suit, dropping both of your bags to the ground as he did so.

You slumped against a wall, sliding to the ground with a pout.

Jason had yet to speak, only continued to analyze your every move.

“That whole thing was so dumb,” you sighed, knowing he was waiting for your explanation. “I don’t even know why he picked me for the part, anyway.” 

Jason seemed to consider your words before responding, moving to sit right beside you, “Probably because you’re the only one who can read with an ounce of inflection to make that shit tolerable enough to listen to.” 

You snorted. 

Of course Jason would take issue with something as classic as Romeo and Juliet.

“And what Shakespeare play would you recommend reading instead?” you rolled your eyes. “Don’t tell me King Lear or Much Ado About Nothing, Jason.” 

The bell rang and you hurriedly motioned for Jason to follow after you.

Luckily, he didn’t question anything. Instead, he picked up the conversation right where you’d left off as you dodged in and out of pedestrian traffic.

“You know, you’re never going to impress me no matter how many classic titles you pull out of your ass.” 

“So,” you turned around, flashing him a shit-eating grin, “you were thinking The Tempest, then.” 

He laughed lightly, “Where are we going, anyway?” 

“Anywhere but here,” you said, dodging a rogue group of stragglers as you made your way into the back courtyard. “If I’m going to kiss you, it won’t be in front of any of these heathens.” 

“Oh?” You searched Jason’s eyes for any further indication that he was into the idea, but he offered none. 

Instead, he merely helped lift you over the ivy-covered wall before joining you on top of it. He dropped down first, probably assuming you’d need help, but you shocked him by standing up fully on the wall.

“Watch this!” you suddenly exclaimed.

“What are you doing?!” Jason hissed, looking at you like you were crazy. “We’re both going to be stuck in detention if you keep being obvious like this, dumbass.”

“You worried about me, Jay?” you teased with a smirk, turning around to backflip off of the wall just as Dick had shown you. You beamed when you realized you’d landed perfectly on your feet.

His mouth was on the floor, though he quickly schooled his expression. “Come on,” he turned around with sharp eyes, “and don’t call me that shit.”

He pushed past all the prickly bushes until you finally reached the tree line next to the parking lot. Here, the melodic chips of birds, complete with the serene sound and smell of trees blowing in the growing heat, overtook your senses.

You tried to gauge his reaction as you followed behind him. 

You were definitely beyond the sight of, well, anyone, but he seemed as put together and unaffected as ever, leaving you to falter a bit. 

Had you entirely misread the situation? 

“So,” you cleared your throat, kicking lightly at the ground as you continued along, “do you believe all that stuff?”

“What stuff?”

“About, you know, purity and all that,” you trail off, refusing to maintain his eye contact.

Your vulnerable question seems to catch him off guard. “Why?”

Your kiss with Roy, no… your night with Damian. 

You were proving the rumors spread about you to be true and you hated how you cared what Jason thought about you.

Would he still want to kiss you if he knew?

“As much as that shit was about religion, it was just as much about their love overcoming all of it, regardless. Purity’s all bullshit, anyway,” he shrugged as if he hadn’t completely bestilled your beating heart. 

“Jason,” you turned to him, taking his hands within your own.

“What?” he asked breathlessly like he didn’t already know exactly what you were about to ask of him.

“Kiss me.”

He didn’t respond, only took a step toward you. His hand cradled your cheek as his eyes took in every inch of your face, giving you the chance to back out.

Blurred lines be damned.

He leaned down and planted a chaste kiss against your expectant lips, “Always.”

•

“You’re graduating in three weeks,” you sighed, plopping down next to Roy on one of the couches in the game room. “It’s not fair that you’re going to leave me all alone with Jason.”

They shared a look that left you internally panicking.

Had they seriously already told each other about the kisses?

Oh, fuck. 

“Try not to sound too excited, princess,” Roy said with a wink. “You’ll break my heart and all.” He threw his arm around the back of the couch and, coincidentally, around your shoulder. “‘Sides, we at least have to have one last rager.”

You shifted excitedly beside him. 

“And what does this 'rager’ include?” you said with air quotes around the word, causing Jason to roll his eyes.

“You’re not invited if that’s how you’re going to act,” Jason drawled, you pouted, looking to Roy for backup, but his eyes were on Jason. “I’m just kidding, babe.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, leaving both of them to laugh at your annoyance. You knew you’d miss this banter once Roy went away to… “Wait, where exactly are you going again?”

You remembered that he’d said he wasn’t going to college right away, but his plan always seemed to be changing.

“Taking a sabbatical to stay with my old tribe for a bit in Arizona. After that, well, who knows what,” he beamed widely. “World’s pretty much wide open for me, beautiful.”

Your eyes flicked across his verdant ones, inadvertently leaning into his earthy scent. Roy let you get close and was about to tease you when Jason cut in.

“Back to the rager,” Jason interrupted the steady building tension between you and Roy. “I really want to go to this one club, but I need to make sure the paps can’t see me.”

Paparazzi had been an unexpected byproduct of hanging around the Wayne’s. 

The first time it happened, it’d been with Jason and Roy at the diner while you’d been skipping.

 At first, you thought it was lightning until the unexpected questions started.

“Jason, how do you feel about the allegations that this mystery girl has moved on from one Wayne brother to the next?” 

“What do you have to say about the comments that this mystery woman is a gold digger for hanging around both the Wayne and Queen heirs?” 

Roy muttered something under his breath and the three of you left before you could be flanked by three other reporters.

After that, it was like some sort of Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon.

Weeks later, you were getting snacks with Damian and Tim at 7/11, quite literally in the middle of the night, when they showed up.

The now familiar flashes burned your retinas, though this time, you were at least aware that it was a media ambush.

“Damian, are you hoping to fill your father’s big shoes one day and follow in his footsteps?” 

“Tim, are you and Stephanie back on, or have you really moved on to Bernard?” 

“Follow-up question: how does Bernard feel about you hanging around a girl with her reputation?” 

You then understood why Bruce had you media prepped for the gala, insisting you feel confident should you be approached. And, boy, had you been approached.

“Who are you wearing?”  

“Who’s your date for tonight?” 

“Better question, will they still be your date next week? Are the rumors true that you’re a homewrecker?” 

You could definitely understand why Jason wouldn’t want to put up with that if you were going out to celebrate.

“So, what are you going to do?” you pondered how Jason could get out of being seen. “Dress in drag and do the hula?” Apparently, neither of them had seen Lion King because the reference went straight over their heads.

“Honestly,” Jason nodded his head, staring up at the ceiling as if considering your idea seriously, “that’s not such a bad idea.”

“Seriously?” you looked at him incredulously.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Well, not the hula part, but the drag part seems like it could work.” The raven looked up at you somewhat timidly. “Do my makeup?”

Meanwhile, Roy remained completely stunned by recent revelations.

“Always.” 

His eyes twinkled at your response, “Cool.”

“Cool,” you replied with a smile, ignoring how Roy’s eyes seemed to analyze the entire situation.

And thus, your plans for a dragged-out gay club rager were born.

A/N: this is the last 'then' chap. it's supposed to loop back to the description of the gay club in the first chap :D

[next]  ||  masterlist ||  pinned || ways to support

[pokemonxhyperfixation]

Sorry for uh… bloating the oil fire tag with shit for a fan fic I only will PROBABLY start EVENTUALLY. But hey, I’m an indecisive fuck.

So, my idea for the fic is that Sanae is going through the gyms, and Tsukasa is just tagging along as emotional support. Given that the winning region as of now is Johto (and Johto is just the region I’m heavily leaning towards in general), I want to decide a rival to add more consistent conflict. So…

Before I explain the choices, I want to call out why Reimu is absent. It’s mostly because I want a Fire starter from ONE of the region choices (gen 1-4) to fit on their team. Problem being that I don’t think any of them fit on Reimu’s. Okay, explanations:

Silver is just a lazy-ish option, since a fire starter is easy to throw on one of their teams.

Marisa is in a Reimu adjacent role, but I think feels more fitting as a rival trainer. Marisa feels like a Charizard or Typhlosion kinda gal.

Mokou is here for just… Raw fire. She’s THE fire trainer choice lol. May end a bit too mono-typed tho. She’s strikes me as a Typhlosion or Blaziken type.

Biten is funny since it’s a character Sanae has shown synergy with, also easy Infernape addition. Easily the most friendly of the rival options.

[frogs-in3-hills]

hey do y’all remember when i said i might post that crimeboys & bedrock bros avatar fusion AU i’d written like 2 yrs ago? because. i might have just impulsively decided to clean up the first of two chapters and. yeah.

short disclaimer: i’m not in the dsmp fandom anymore, i don’t fully remember how to write these characters or even entirely where i was going with this fic, so don’t expect a continuation. sorry!! i'm just posting this for the sillies and for the couple of people who said they were interested. also, obligatory apology for referencing the gene yang comics in even the vaguest of senses…. i like the general conceit of the promise way more than uh... what they actually did with it.

---

Safe Return (11,240 words) sorry about the length but y'all know me :|

Characters: Tommyinnit, Wilbur Soot, Technoblade, Captain Puffy

Tags: Avatar: the Last Airbender fusion, Tommyinnit-centric, angst and fluff, alternate universe, Wilbur and Tommy are brothers, found family, unhealthy relationships, no beta

CW: fucked up immigration policy and a few stomach/gut-based analogies that may trigger emetophobia. also be aware of very lightly implied exile arc and briefly referenced suicidal tendencies.

Summary: Wilbur enlists the help of a stranger in the hopes of getting safely into Ba Sing Se. Tommy is not very pleased with this development, but they both know he'll follow Wilbur anyway.

---

“Names?”

“Wilbur, ma’am. And he’s Tommy.”

Tommy flinched a little as Wilbur placed a hand on his shoulder. It was loud. They’d been standing underground for a few hours now, and before that they’d been waiting in the line trailing outside of Full Moon Bay since the early, early morning. The air was unpleasant in the same way it feels gross to hold a raw egg in your hands, bloated with sweat and the quiet shuffle of feet. The sooner Tommy was out of here, the better. 

The woman before them had a perpetual pucker to her lips, as if she were holding something sour between her teeth. She raised a thin eyebrow.

“Hm… those are some unusual names. Where are you from, Wilbur and Tommy?”

Wilbur’s grip tightened slightly, and Tommy shuddered, worming two fingers into his pocket to fiddle with a loose thread.

“Well —” Wilbur started, but he could barely be heard over the hustle and bustle. He cleared his throat. “Well, we hail from Yu Dao, but we’ve been traveling north longer than we can remember, so we…”

Wilbur trailed off. Despite having asked, the woman looked uninterested in their story. Tommy could practically hear the social-interaction-cogs turning in Wilbur’s head. Distantly, he recalled a few minutes ago when Wilbur had begged him to “be civil” when they talked to the immigration officer. 

Well, Wil had been too distracted to notice he never actually agreed to that, so he didn’t feel that bad for glaring daggers into the woman’s eyes. It was the least he could do, really. 

“I see,” she drawled. “Passports?”

“We’re just humble refugees seeking asylum and work in the great walls of Ba Sing Se, ma’am,” Wilbur said.

“Either of you boys have an education? Or any in-demand skills?”

Wilbur sucked in a breath and his hand left Tommy’s shoulder. His words were familiar, a few short sentences having been practiced a hundred times over. “Both Tommy and I have a unique skillset from working a variety of jobs. I have political experience and he’s well-versed in agriculture and animal care. And we—we’re both young and can pick things up quickly. I’m confident we can—”

The woman raised her hand and Wilbur’s mouth clamped shut. The sight of it made Tommy want to strangle both of them. He wove the thread in his pocket so tight that it threatened to cut off the circulation in his fingers.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Wilbur attempted to continue. “…We can be of value to this great city’s community if… if you would lend us the opportunity…”

Oh my god, shut up! Tommy thought. This was it, wasn’t it? Their entire lives basically ruined in thirty seconds. Wilbur was bungling it, wasn’t he? Tommy should… Wil just needed a bit of inspiration. Right. Tommy gave him a gentle and motivational stomp on the foot.

Calm down, idiot, Tommy attempted to communicate to him through eye contact alone. He wasn’t sure if it worked. Wilbur only responded with a series of difficult expressions, all layered thinly under his best imitation of a more pleasant kind of human being, which made it hard to tell.

The woman sighed, sounding sort of dissatisfied, and then her eyes turned sharply to inspect Tommy.

“Show me your hands, little boy,” she said, her voice pitching somewhat as if she was trying to sound more approachable. Tommy felt butterflies rear in his stomach, anyways. He swallowed back the instinctual “I’m not a little boy, I’m fifteen!” retort and slowly presented his hands.

They were bony, nimble, fingers sprinkled lightly with scrapes and small moles. On the back of his left hand, a burn scar trailed from just under his sleeve and all the way down to his elbow. His nails left four angry, crescent-shaped indents in each palm as he unclenched his fists.

She reached out and snatched one of his hands.

Tommy hissed, immediately trying to yank it back to no avail as she ran a scrutinizing thumb over the tips of his fingers. 

“What the fuck?” He shouted, the crude words slipping out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Don’t touch me!”

Her fingers felt soggy, like when a grandma kisses you on the cheek but without any of the affection. After a moment of tug o’ war, the woman, seemingly mollified, let go. Tommy stumbled backwards into Wilbur. Two warm, steadying hands met both his shoulders, and this time, Tommy wasn’t even sure if it felt comforting or restricting.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am, he didn’t—” Wilbur started, attempting some damage control. Tommy would normally have been offended that Wilbur wasn’t taking his side, but the protective grip on his shoulders told him that Wilbur was just as upset as he was.

“Save your breath, young man,” the woman interrupted, then gave them a little lopsided smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I can’t admit you. Look at all these people behind you, they’re hard workers, and they have nowhere else to go. You tell me this kid’s a rancher of sorts, but look at his hands; he hasn’t worked a day in his life. We simply don’t have room for everyone.”

“Please, you need to understand—”

“I’ve worked! I’ve worked fucking plenty, bitch!”

“Denied. Next!” the woman called, waving a hand at them as if dismissing servants from her court. Tommy thought, optimistically, maybe she was just tired. Maybe he was just tired and none of this was actually happening. But then he blinked, and when he opened her eyes, her face was painted with cruelty instead. Maybe.

His stomach ignited with anger, but Wilbur reigned him in. “Tommy, we can’t—look, there are guards all around. Let’s go.”

It was true. Tommy glanced up to see that a group of women in guard uniform were standing in a group near the wall. One of them met Tommy’s eyes, but she didn’t seem like she was gearing up to drag them out or kill them or anything. For a moment, Tommy was distracted—they all looked extremely cool—but another tug on his arm reminded him of the situation.

“Ugh, but Wil—”

“I’m afraid we have no more business here.” The finality in Wilbur’s voice shut Tommy up long enough for him to twist around, practically dragging Tommy with him as he began to powerwalk to the exit.

Well, it was more like he was confidently squirming through the gaps in the crowd. Tommy pressed closer, growing ever more conscious of the mass of people in the huge station. The rumble of chatter soaked through his ears and into his brain. He could barely think. He was gonna—it was ruined. Everything had gone wrong.

Tommy made an effort to step on Wilbur’s heels as they walked, trying to distract himself from the fact that he wanted to spew his guts all over the floor or something. 

But Wilbur just ignored him. His entire body felt too light, like butterflies but worse. Like if all the butterflies had turned to worms and they were eating him from the inside out now. 

Still staring straight ahead, Wilbur’s grip slid from Tommy’s forearm down to lace with his fingers. Tommy tried not to rip his hand away.

They eventually made their way out of the cove. It was bordering on late afternoon, the sun low enough to cast long, dark shadows but not quite tired enough to set. Outside, something of a town had formed, though still innocuous as to avoid raising suspicion from the Fire Nation. The trailing line was shorter than it had been when they’d arrived, and Tommy reveled a little in the fact that he was right that they hadn’t needed to wake up in the asscrack of dawn and stupid Wilbur was wrong. 

The two went to sit, finally, against the side wall of a small shack. As soon as Tommy felt like he could breathe right again, he yanked his hand away from Wilbur’s and stuffed it back into his pocket.

He could tell Wil was looking at him, probably something very interesting and complicated happening on his face. Eventually, he turned away to face the rocky shore, murmuring, “That was it, then.”

Tommy felt his throat do a laugh-so-you-don’t-cry thing and he kicked his heel against the wall, which was only a little better than just stamping his foot like a child.

“I don’t know what the fuck they’re looking for in refugees if not—if—I don’t know how we didn’t—!” he started to ramble.

He looked back at the lines of families, waiting so patiently, only to be turned down like them. Some were injured or ill. There had been women holding their children close to them, people from all over the Earth Kingdom come to escape the war.

“Yeah,” Wilbur said, morosely shoving his stupid beanie back over his stupid hair.

Tommy felt warm tears building in his vision, so he wiped his eyes roughly with his sleeve. “Haven’t worked a day in my life—like you—like she can tell my whole fuckin’—a guy’s life story just ‘cause he likes to stay moisturized! Seriously, it’s such bullshit, it’s—it’s—but it’s fine, ‘cause we can just—we’ll just—we—I can, like, I can pretend to be sick and we’ll go back. And they’ll say oohh, we’re so sorry for doubting you Tommy, you’re so sad and destitute and Wilbur is so bitchless, I’ll be a little soggy, they wouldn’t dare—I reckon they’d let in a soggy little man like me.”

“There’s no need for that, Tommy,” Wilbur sighed. “I don’t think having any transmissible diseases is going to help our case anyway. Look, the ferry was our best bet, but it was never our only bet, okay?”

Tommy scoffed. “Oh! I guess now you wanna go with old Tommy Scammy’s plan of forging our passports, great time to get on board, Wil. We already—they already fuckin’ turned us down, alright?”

“No, dude, I mean my plan. The back-up plan.”

Ugh. The backup plan again. Sometimes Wilbur could be so fucking vague with things, always thinking he was the boss and Tommy was just a little kid following along. Making decisions without him and not telling him like he was doing Tommy some big favor. Every time Tommy asked, he was met with a dismissive “don’t worry about it” or an “it won’t even come up”. Clearly, it fucking did, and now Tommy had no say in their next move even though Wilbur was barely older than him. Probably. Well—five years wasn’t that big a gap, was it?

“Well apparently, it’s our plan now,” Tommy corrected. “It’s not the fuckin’ Wilbur Soot show. It’s not—it’s not all about you, you prick bastard.”

Wilbur’s hand juttered between five different motions, like he was trying to exhasperatedly rub his temples and fidget with the hem of his coat at the same time. “I—Tommy, would you say I’ve been self-centered in all this?”

Tommy pressed his lips together. “Fuckin’ trick question.”

He’d meant the whole thing to come off as a joke, or like, one of those things you can take seriously if you agree with it or take it as a joke if you don’t. But he could tell by Wilbur’s wince that maybe he hadn’t gone with the joke interpretation.

“You’re right,” Wilbur said, turning away. 

That made Tommy feel kind of bad, but… it’s not like he was wrong, really, and he wasn’t in the habit of enabling Wilbur’s chronic flirtations with his impending emo arc anyway, so he swallowed the vague apology that had begun to form in his mouth. It went down like chalk.

“You’re right about that,” Wil repeated. “Look, I’m just thinking… I know someone willing to guide us. An old friend.”

“Who? Where?” Tommy asked.

Wilbur chewed idly on the broken upper clasp of his coat before muttering, almost as if he was ashamed of the words, “through the Serpent’s Pass.”

Tommy’s breath caught in his throat.

“You want to—the—Wilbur, we—The Serpent’s Pass? What do you mean? We can’t—Wil, we’ll fucking die, Wil.”

“No, we won’t,” Wilbur responded, obviously trying to be firm, but his voice teetered off at the end like he wasn’t so sure. 

A flame of frustration bloomed in Tommy’s stomach. “Oh, fuck off, bitch, you—ohh, are you fucking kidding me?! Now, I don’t—I don’t know about you, Wil, but I—I remember what happened last time you wanted to meet up with an old friend. What, you’re risking everything—risking it again because you think—you fuckin’ think some stranger will save us? Yeah, that’s great Wilbur, real great. The fact that it’s called the fuckin’ Serpent’s Pass isn’t springing any red fuckin’ flags in your head, man? Y’know, serpents?! Does that seriously sound like a nice friendly little creature to you?”

“Tommy!” Wilbur hissed, shoving a palm over Tommy’s lips.

“Fucking what?!” Tommy snapped back, though he instinctively lowered his volume to a whisper, following Wilbur’s lead.

Wilbur pressed his hand closer over Tommy’s mouth. “You’re smoking, you brat, that’s fucking what!” 

Tommy’s eyes widened as he caught a dark trail of clouds puffing through the gaps of Wilbur’s fingers.

Immediately, Tommy glanced out towards the sparse group of people exiting the cove, probably having been rejected just like them. None of them looked all that interested in the two, nor did anybody seem to notice the tiny plume of smoke wafting out from the top of the small alley they’d settled in. 

He had to admit, breathing smoke whenever he got pissy was damningly quirky. And a little inconvenient to the whole secrecy thing.

“Sorry,” Tommy said insincerely, his voice muffled. He reveled in the halfhearted glare that Wilbur sent in return. Tommy licked his hand for good measure.

“Tommy!” Wilbur cried, yanking his hand back. 

Hah. Loser.

Wilbur heaved the world-weary sigh of a man who’d been forced to tow around an Innit child for the past three years. Tommy folded his arms and leaned back, satisfied with the amount of annoyance he’d caused within the past thirty seconds. (And maybe feeling a little better now that he’d gone and screamed his frustrations out. Just a bit.)

“I know you and I don’t have the best track record with this kind of thing, but I—I promise this person isn’t like—like. Y’know.”

“Okay, Wil,” Tommy said, really genuinely trying to sound like he believed it even though he didn’t. 

It wasn’t like they had much of a choice now. Beggars can’t be choosers and all.

Wilbur studied him for a moment before pointedly turning on his heel, focusing his attention on forming a plan. “This alley might be a good place to settle for the night.”

He wasn’t stupid enough not to notice the transparency of that subject change, but maybe Wilbur was stupid enough not to notice that Tommy noticed? He frowned, picking at the edge of his sleeve. “This is a transport hub. Surely there’s—I reckon there’s somewhere that refugees gather and like, set up little tents, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Wilbur said absently, then turned back around. “Oh. Yeah, you’re right.”

Tommy snorted. Wilbur rolled his eyes.

It felt so achingly close to normal.

Still, they needed to find some food for the night and see if they could find some other folk to sleep near. They still had a few copper pieces and a silver split between them, and food would likely be cheaper at Full Moon Bay to accommodate for the constant influx of poor customers.

In Tommy’s mature, humble opinion, most Earth Kingdom food couldn’t hold a candle to Yu Dao cuisine. Wilbur was lucky—his favorite food had always been crab puffs, which, while not common, could still be found in other parts of the Earth Kingdom. But no amount of squeezing lemons and sprinkling chili flakes into a bowl of soup would ever come close to the suan cai yu back at home.

They eventually found a cheap place and brought a bowl of possum chicken noodles along with them as they perused the barely-existent streets, pretending to be tourists. As was routine, Wilbur took the bowl first, adding some chili flakes from the jar they always kept in their bags, then picking out most of the vegetables Tommy didn’t like. Once he’d eaten half, he handed it off to Tommy, who snatched up the chili flake jar and shook it violently over the leftovers until red became the dominant color in the bowl.

They came across a small encampment of people who hadn’t had time to depart from the harbor before nightfall, or who had arrived in advance and would be trying their luck the next day. And everyone was nice, too. Tommy didn’t even have to watch Wilbur grovel too much trying to get in. He saw one of the cool guard ladies there, but it didn’t seem like she was there for work; she’d shed the outer layer of her uniform to offer as a makeshift dinner plate for some other refugees.

They settled down in a corner against the earthen wall of a tiny house. A few struggling bushes kept them out of sight from most of the other folks, but it wasn’t solitary enough to be rude about it. As soon as they set their packs on the ground, Wilbur was already on his hands and knees, examining the stony slab.

“I think this was earthbent,” he beamed. “Look, you can even see where these pieces of limestone were split.”

Tommy was temped to do his due diligence and call Wilbur a nerd or something, but it was kind of cool, so he figured it wouldn’t be so bad to indulge the guy every once in a while. He still managed to slip in a few insults between Wilbur’s interesting bending facts.

It didn’t take long for most everyone to settle in for the night. Tommy could hear low murmurs drifting from various groups, but didn’t bother to parse what they were saying. It was getting too dark to tell who was who, anyway.

“Y'know, I wanted to ride the ferry,” he remarked, pulling a thin blanket from their pack. "It seemed nice, right?"

Wilbur, who had been scribbling something into a journal, dropped his quill and looked at Tommy. His face twisted into something unidentifiable.

Right—of course—that was childish. The fucking ferry ride to Ba Sing Se, yeah, that was the biggest blow to their plans by far. 

Tommy glanced away, worrying the blanket with his thumb. 

Obviously he liked acting like a brat, otherwise he wouldn’t do it so much, but he wasn’t an idiot, either. He knew tagging along made things harder for Wilbur and that’s probably the reason he hasn’t gone off to, like, study something awesome or enact political change and stuff. Whatever he wanted to put his big fucking head to. He knew if they’d stayed in Yu Dao, Tommy’d have been drafted a year ago. He was old enough to fight, but all Tommy could think about was boat rides, really? He was…

“Tommy,” Wilbur said, in that way he does when he’s trying to be embarrassing, but there wasn’t anything playful in his voice.

He frowned. “What's up, Wil?”

Then Wilbur was reaching out, his hand hovering over Tommy’s shoulder. “Can I—?”

“Yeah, sure,” Tommy said, quickly ducking his head and pulling his friend into a hug. His ratty wool coat was rough against his cheek. It smelled bad, too. Sweaty and kind of like smoke (ugh).

“I’m sorry,” Wilbur sighed.

“Wha—Wil, it—it’s okay, it’s just a boat ride,” Tommy replied, brows furrowing.

“I…” Wilbur paused and sniffed quietly. “Can I be real with you?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

Wilbur was silent for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice came out a little less watery. “That… you said that, and I… it’s like a switch just flicked in my brain. Y’know, I fuckin’ wish we could’ve. You deserved to get to take the ferry and have something fun for once. And yet, I…”

Tommy heard the note of frustration building in his voice, and his body went cold. He wanted to break free from the hug, but before he do anything about it, Wil pulled away first. Worst part was, it didn’t make him feel any less cold.

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal,” Tommy mumbled, but as soon as he got done saying it, he realized that wasn’t even the point.

Wilbur chuckled weakly. “Believe me, I know you don’t like to be coddled, Tommy. I like to think that, y’know, you don’t feel like I’m ever looking down on you. But you know you’re still… I think of you as—”

“I know, Wil.” Tommy said, then glanced over with a wry smile. “You don’t have to say it. I know you’ll cry.”

He knew Wilbur was blaming himself over their encounter with the border lady, how it ruined everything they’d been working towards. Really, it was Tommy’s fault for freaking out—but, well, that wasn’t all that unreasonable of him, was it? It was that they hadn’t been good enough. Not needy enough. Wilbur could have—why didn’t he plan this out more? Why—?

No, that wasn’t fair. That lady was just an asshole.

“It wasn’t your fault. Dickhead,” Tommy said, an edge of finality in his voice.

Wilbur sighed, in that annoying way when it was clear he was doubting Tommy Trusty’s words of wisdom.

“Alright, brat,” he finally said. After a moment of what looked like calculating hesitation, he reached out and mussed up Tommy’s hair.

“Fuck you!” Tommy cried, shoving Wilbur away (and then immediately felt bad for yelling when people were trying to get some shut-eye).

They settled down the way they always did: doing their best to share a blanket between them, with their pack of supplies kind of smooshed between their heads like the world’s most ineffectual privacy partition.

Tommy was often the first one to fall asleep, but not tonight. It was only the turn of spring, so there were still some vestiges of the winter chill clinging to the darkness like a spider to her web. Tommy tried to salvage some warmth by tugging over a little more than his allotted 50% of the blanket, but even then he could still feel himself shivering.

Every time he looked back out into the dilapidated streets of Full Moon Bay (Shit name, by the way, it was clearly a waxing crescent tonight), his heart jumped a little. Like they were being watched or something. Flashes of light disappeared and reappeared in the distance like fireflies. Every time he caught one, Tommy shut his eyes tight and prayed they would disappear for good when he opened them.

He tossed and turned—well, as much as one could when sleeping next to somebody and still not be a dick. He considered waking Wilbur up for about two seconds before deciding that was baby behavior and it’d probably be the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to him.

He didn’t know how long he laid there, but at some point he realized he could still hear a little conversation from the other refugees.

“I just… don’t know where we’re supposed to go from here, dad.”

A pause, then a second voice answered quietly.

“Listen, dear, if you really think we’ll be safe in Ba Sing Se, we could try the other way.”

“Do you mean the Serpent’s Pass?”

Tommy’s toes curled at the mention of that name. The place Wilbur wanted to take them. Because he was a fucking wrong’un and an idiot.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, guys,” someone new whispered. Tommy realized it was that guard lady, which meant the other two were probably the woman and her elderly father he’d seen earlier. “It’s one of the most dangerous passages in the world. On foot, at least.”

“But, haven’t you heard, young lady? They say there’s a half-spirit who guides people along the pass.”

“A half-spirit? What, like the Avatar?” The woman scoffed.

“Who’s to say?”

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed at that. Wilbur had been talking about an old friend who might help them on their own journey, but Wilbur definitely wasn’t cool enough to know any half-spirits, let alone the Avatar.

“Dad…”

Another pause. “Oh, you’re too serious sometimes.”

“I’m really not trying to lower your mood,” the woman sighed, some bitterness in her voice. “I just don’t think it’s worth putting all our hope into any spiritual business.”

“Oh alright, I understand…”

“Actually,” the guard lady cut in, “I’m kind of curious. Seems like you know your spirits, sir.”

The old man laughed. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I’ve heard many different rumors. That he was once an assistant in the Spirit Library, or that he’s from another world entirely…”

The guard hummed. “You’re talking about The Blade, aren’t you?”

In the dark, Tommy’s eyes widened. It’s not like he really thought they were the same person-spirit-thing, but if this somehow turned out to be Wil’s guy, Tommy was gonna fucking strangle him. As if accentuating this thought, Wilbur did a stupid little snort in his sleep.

“Oh, yes, that was his name.”

The daughter chuckled a little. “Sounds friendly.”

“I don’t know a lot about him either, but I think he was around when Avatar Kyoshi was alive,” the guard remarked. “But I’ve also heard he doesn’t show up for just anybody, so… I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t bank on it, either.”

“Don’t apologize, dear,” the old man said. “Jia Li and I will be alright, one way or another.”

The rest, Tommy supposed, was too private for words, because after another moment of listening, he didn’t hear anything else after that. 

Well, it sounded like he and Wilbur didn’t need to worry about any “The Blade”s trying to come and murder them or anything like that. Not like Big Man Tommy Innit was gonna be scared off by a spirit who probably didn’t even want to help out perfectly nice people like Jia Li and her father. He scrunched his eyes shut once again, trying to calm down.

But his thoughts wouldn’t stop racing. The Serpent’s Pass kept jumping to the forefront of his mind—what it was like, whether Wilbur really seriously wanted to go, all the potential ways they might die there without anyone finding their bodies. That kind of thing.

And it was so. Fucking. Cold.

As slowly as he could, Tommy tilted his head up to see if Wilbur was asleep yet. In the faint light, he could tell his brother’s face was slack, peaceful. But the lines of stress and deep bags under his eyes were still there. They could almost make Tommy forget that the man before him was only twenty years old.

But he was asleep.

Quietly, Tommy took a deep breath. It was shaky at first, so he curled tighter around the feeling in his gut, willing his fears to melt away. Buzzing energy gathered inside him.

He breathed out.

It was as if he was holding a pile of kindling. It started with with a speck of red, barely even hot against his palm.

A little fire grew, swaddled in Tommy’s hands. It was warm. Not as big and burning as he would’ve liked, but still warm. He held it close to his chest so none of the light would flutter out from behind him.

He breathed deeply, in and out, until he, too, finally managed to fade into the restless night.

---

Wilbur did, in fact, really seriously want to go.

“So. What’s this—this old friend, what’s he like?” Tommy asked, trying to suss out Wilbur’s real feelings towards their new… route. If you could even call it a route. To Tommy, it obviously seemed more like a suicide wish. He didn’t want to wonder if that’s why Wilbur liked it so much (he really, really didn’t want to think about that).

Wilbur sighed a little and shifted his pack. “I always knew him as Techno.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Real shit name, innit? How do you even know he’ll help us? Or even fucking be there?”

“I mean…” he trailed off.

“Wilbur, you—are you—!” Tommy groaned. “You have got to be fucking kidding me, man!”

“Oi, he is gonna be there, alright? He will. He just—he’s always where he needs to be. That’s what he does.”

“Oh, so what, the little birdies whispered it in your dumb oversized fuckin’ ear. You want to go on—” he recalled what the people from last night had said—“one of the most dangerous passages in the fucking world, because that’s the vibe?”

“My ears aren’t oversized,” Wil protested.

He looked vaguely unhappy with the direction of the conversation, so Tommy broke eye contact and began to focus on the path ahead of them: a long stretch of rocky earth, speckled with sleepy anthills and crusted with slabs of limestone emerging from the dirt. The Serpent’s Pass couldn’t have been more than two day’s determined travel from Full Moon Bay, but he still wasn’t excited for the short journey.

Especially since they’d be meeting with this “Techno” at some point. Allegedly.

Tommy just wanted to get to Ba Sing Se, where the war couldn’t touch them, where—where that tyrant freak couldn’t touch him, where he could go on pretending there wasn’t any Fire Nation in his veins, and where Wilbur could do… well, whatever he wanted to.

Tommy also wanted to not fucking die. And, if he was being honest, he wasn’t exactly keen on some random stranger barging in on his and Wilbur’s dynamic, either. Didn’t he know that an extra party member always ruins the vibe? Obviously not, the bastard.

So. If Wilbur didn’t like Tommy being a bitch about the whole thing, then he would just have to fucking deal.

“Look, Tommy, I know you don’t like this,” Wilbur started, a little undiplomatically. “But you need to—I need you to give him a chance. He’s done this before. You can trust him. I’m afraid we don’t have many other options.”

Tommy pointedly kept his gaze to the ground, dodging another anthill as they trudged along.

“Fine. What’s he like?” Tommy asked again.

Wilbur told him. Apparently, Techno had been close to Wilbur’s father, but eventually grew to care for him as well. Tommy thought it was stupid that Wilbur refused to call him dad anymore, but he also kind of got it.

“So they were friends?” he asked.

Wilbur’s nose scrunched up a little and his glasses bobbed stupidly with the motion. “I guess. I—I mean, it was perhaps more than just being friends, I would say.”

Tommy snorted. “So they were—they were in love? They made out and stood on furnaces ‘n’ all that shit?”

Wil briefly made a face like he was going to throw up, but less in a grossed-out way and more in a I-hate-my-life-way. “No, I… don’t think so.”

According to Wilbur, the guy was quite easygoing, preferred things to go his way, awfully stubborn, and criminally funny. Tommy scowled at the description.

“What? What’s that face for?”

“Nothing. I trust him,” Tommy lied.

“Tommy…”

Tommy had some trouble reading the tone of that one. It was a little drawn out, but exasperated didn’t seem quite right. He somewhat prided himself on being able to read Wilbur when others couldn’t, but sometimes he was too much of a closed book even for Tommy’s magnificent, gargantuan mind.

Suddenly, Wilbur gasped.

“Awwe, Tommy…”

Oh, he knew that one well enough.

Wilbur grinned. “Are you fucking jealous?”

Immediately, a flame of embarrassment licked at Tommy’s cheeks and he halfheartedly shoved Wilbur away. “I’m not — I’m not jealous, dickhead.”

“You’re jealous! You’re fucking jealous!”

“No, no, I’m not! I’m not! I’d never be—I’d never be jealous of—of—I’m not jealous!”

“It’s okay, Tommy, it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed!”

“Mmm! Mmm! Mmmm… Can’t hear you, can’t—shut up! Humina humina humina humina…”

“Look, you’ll like him, it’ll be fine! Don’t worry, Tommy, I’ll still pay the most attention to you,” Wilbur crooned. 

“Dickhead prick bastard, you’re unpleasant to be around, you—you’re the worst person to be born, Wilbur, ever. Fuck you.”

The two walked on until night returned, taking little breaks to rest. They hadn’t fully restocked their waterskin—for the billionth time, Wilbur passionately expressed how much he wished he was a waterbender so he could pull water out of thin air for the both of them. Tommy figured if it was that easy then every waterbender would fucking be doing it. But go off, he supposed.

This part of the Earth Kingdom was a different type of cold than they were used to, a thick humidity permeating the air. It was the worst kind of weather ever. Now that they were back on the road, they could at least set up a real camp. The sun’s last dredges were about ready to fade behind the horizon. Instead of forcing him to help like usual, Wilbur got busy pitching the tent, letting Tommy watch the sunset bleed out.

“Wil,” Tommy said.

Silence.

“Wilbur.”

Wilbur’s finally glanced at Tommy.

“Wil, I heard some of the other people talking last night.”

His mouth popped in an “oh” shape. “What did they say?”

“They said—well, there was that really pretty guard lady and they were talking and all, and they were talking about—they said that on The Serpent’s Pass, there was some kind of spirit.”

“A spirit?” Wilbur perked up.

“Or like, a half-spirit, I don’t know,” Tommy amended, “like the Avatar ‘n’ shit.”

Wilbur frowned. “The Avatar isn’t a half-spirit.”

“Oh my—whatever, you fucking nerd.”

That made Wilbur laugh, which made Tommy feel about 2% better than he did before.

“So, who’s this half-spirit?”

“Well,” Tommy started, trying to remember. “They said it, like, helps people across the pass, but I guess only certain people, like some kind of fuckin’ capitalist or something. It’s called The Blade or something stupid like that.”

“Oh,” Wil said, “That’s Techno.”

“What the fuck?!”

Tommy gaped as Wilbur started laughing again.

“Your friend is a fuckin’ spirit?!”

“No, no,” Wilbur attempted through his stupid fucking giggle fit. “He’s just a guy. Like, he’s just a dude. That must be some kind of rumor.”

“Oh my god.” Tommy put his face in his hands.

“I bet he’ll be pleased to hear he’s got a reputation, though.”

“Oh yeah, he sounds like a right fuckin’ egotist—I mean, like, a fuckin’ bastard.”

Wilbur made a little "pffft" sound like he kind of agreed, but didn’t say anything more, so Tommy turned back to the sunset and hummed to himself for a bit.

“Wil,” Tommy asked approximately two minutes later. “There’s nobody around here, right?”

A short silence followed before he heard Wilbur call back, “No.”

“Let me set up a fire?” 

Tommy’s heart stood still as he waited for the reply with bated breath. Wilbur must have been expecting the question, though, because he just smiled. “Sure, king.”

“WOO! Fuck yeah!” Tommy cheered, bouncing up immediately. No sleeping cold tonight!

He was able to gather some firewood fairly easily. Some of the twigs and branches Tommy found didn’t feel quite as dry as he would’ve preferred, but he’d been getting better with his control, so… At the very least, he was just quick enough that by the time he’d wandered back to the camp, some residual heat from the sun was still lingering in the sky.

Wilbur was sitting outside the tent on their ratty blanket. He watched silently, seemingly absentmindedly, as Tommy began to make a small firepit.

“Now,” Tommy boasted, “the moment you’ve been dying to see! Gentlemen…”

He looked to Wilbur, then all around the desert, then back to Wilbur. “Wilbur.”

He snorted. “Child.”

“Fuck you,” Tommy dismissed, then continued on with his exciting performance. “Please pay attention now, keep your eyes peeled all the way open like an orange. The Great Big Tommy Danger Hands, sleightest of fingers, Breaker of Chains, will demonstrate his finest and most manliest trick, which all the women love and they drool over him and try to marry him constantly… as he now delicately starts… a fire!”

He plopped down into a low squat, like he’d seen in the picture books Wilbur used to show him before they got banned from the Yu Dao library (Admittedly, that was Tommy’s fault). It was technically an earthbending form, but Tommy figured it didn’t matter that much. It wasn’t like he had any other old masters to teach him.

He could do this.

Breathe in.

Tommy felt the air hum and pulse with warmth. Something buzzed alive inside his stomach.

Breathe out. 

Energy flowed through his breath and a wave of heat curled from the firewood.

Breathe in. 

A few bright sparks whistled around the sticks, and Tommy had to quickly calm the rush of excitement he felt so he wouldn’t lose control. He was going to do this like a real master.

Breathe out. 

A little flame sprouted and affirmed itself like mushrooms rooting into a tree stump, stretching its tendrils into the clouds above.

Breathe in.

He opened his eyes, and the light caught on the edge of the scar on his hand.

(“I thought we were friends, Tommy,” the bastard said.

Tommy said… Tommy said—

Everything was really hot suddenly. He looked down, and he saw red, and he wasn’t scared. He wasn’t…)

Stop, stop, stop! Tommy gasped as his little fire crackled burst into a roaring blaze.

“YOO!” Wilbur cheered from the other side of the firepit.

He blinked, suddenly aware of the tension in his knees as he held his squat. He was…

Breathe out.

The fire shrank down from its outburst, fluttering pleasantly in the air like a lovely dancer. The tinder and logs shifted a little as smoldering chunks fell to the bottom. Right. He was…

Right.

He watched Wilbur lean in, excited. Flecks of light danced in the reflection of his shitty stolen glasses like confetti. Tommy could feel the heat pulse through his arms, both from the fire and from his own energy, but it was a pleasant sunbathing warmth instead of the cold, mango-sticky feeling they’d been trudging through all day. 

Breathe in. What was he so freaked out about, anyway?

With the final bit of air in his lungs, Tommy slowly pushed out the rest of his energy into the fire. 

Breathe out. 

A golden glow lit up Wilbur’s face like a firefly hovering in the night. It caught against every early wrinkle and stray hair on his cheeks and cast long, somber shadows on his face. His smile brightened as he watched the flame bloom.

Tommy bit his lip, feeling ashamed for some stupid fucking reason.

“Dude!” Wilbur cried. “That was fucking amazing!”

Tommy glanced down at the fire, popping gently, a product of his own soul and practice and care. He sank into the dirt, watching it for a second and muttering a string of astounded curses under his breath. 

A tiny laugh radiated from Tommy’s chest. It was beautiful, this thing that he made all on his own, and a lightness rose in his throat like a bubble of mucus, but in a good way. It was alive.

“Yeah—yeah—I fuckin’—that was so fucking cool!”

They both cheered, Wilbur bestowing Tommy with a searing high-five, a communication of only the utmost respect. Even though it was nearly too dark to see past their little circle of light, everything somehow felt brighter than it had in days. 

All the times Wilbur had to shove a blanket over Tommy’s emotionally reactive firebending in public felt so worth it just for this moment. Tonight, they would fall asleep with warmth and light in front of them, backs unguarded in the open field. The boiling weight in Tommy’s lungs would be forgotten.

---

The Blade was late to their rendezvous. You know, the one that only existed in Wilbur’s head.

Wilbur seemed to know Techno lived somewhere around this little port down near the start of the Pass, but nothing more than that. He’d seemed confident that they would just… run into him, or something like that. Apparently Wilbur has sent the guy letters before, but never got a message back, which meant either Wilbur was fucking wrong, or Techno was fucking rude.

Tommy, the self proclaimed “polite one” of the two brothers, bit back about six “I told you so”s throughout the morning. It wasn’t much, but it was honest work.

At first, Wilbur didn’t seem too stressed about it, explaining that Techno was just trying to maintain a cool and fashionable facade, but after about an hour of walking around doing nothing, he’d started to pick up on Tommy’s antsiness.

“Technolate,” Wilbur said.

“Technolate,” Tommy agreed, not feeling the least bit smug about it, as was the kind and brotherly thing to do.

After another hour of wandering and playing various word games—that devolved not once, not twice, but three times into promises of future violence—the two decided to wander off in search of cheap food. Considering this was a fishing port, it didn’t take them long to find somewhere near a dock on the shore.

A slightly older looking woman with a mane of thick, curly hair was unloading a small fishing ship. Tommy made eye contact with Wilbur for a second before bounding over the sloped ground towards the boat.

“Hello? Hello?” Tommy asked, fingering their remaining coins in his pocket.

“Oh! Uh, hello, friend.” The woman startled a little, nearly dropping a crate she’d been heaving onto the dock. Tommy heard Wilbur walk up behind him at a leisurely pace, and the woman smiled. “…Friends.”

Tommy opened his pitch with a dazzling smile. “Well, miss—?”

“Puffy,” the woman supplied.

“Miss Puffy—you are incredibly beautiful, by the way—”

“Tommy,” Wilbur groaned. He went on, probably needlessly apologizing to Puffy like he always did when Tommy started talking to strangers, but Tommy decided not to comprehend it.

“My brother—my big brother Wilbur and I, we—we’re very poor and sad. We—we’re impoverished, we scramble around on the floors and we—and we eat up all we can like little mice. We came down to the lovely town of—?”

Puffy laughed. “Well, it’s really more of a club than it is a town, but—”

Wilbur straightened up, trying to dominate Tommy in the conversation, and cried, “well, we love your fishing club!”

“Yes!” Tommy agreed, doing everything in his power to resist the urge to jab his thumb into Wilbur’s belly button. Instead, he gestured out into the barren land of the cliffside. “It’s like—it’s like a fancy little forest! With little fish just—little fish swimming around and being… delicious.”

“Goods! Fish! Your wares are available for purchasing?” Wilbur added, sounding more embarrassed with himself with each new syllable.

This seemed to break Puffy, as she immediately sputtered into a round of buoyant laughter and pressed her face into her hands. “I’m—I’m so sorry you two, but I—”

“Look, look, Wil—now’s the—now’s our chance. Let’s steal her wares. She won’t see a thing,” Tommy conspired unsubtly.

“What?” Puffy asked. It sounded more like a wha-ha-haaat? because she was laughing still.

“Tommy!” Wilbur groaned. “You are the worst salesman I’ve ever seen, and every time you open your mouth your ineptitude fucking spreads to me like a disease.”

Tommy sighed. “But I’m not selling anything, Wil, except—except for my winning smile and my vivacious abs-sculature. I’m a Crime Boy, I’m a Dirty Crime Boy!”

“I regret passing that title to you every fucking day.”

Puffy, with a lingering grin on her face, cleared her throat. Tommy and Wilbur’s mouths snapped shut. She was not laughing anymore and the jig was up because Wilbur was afraid to take action in the moment of truth.

“Look, I’m really sorry you two, but I’ve honestly been struggling to get by with the whole, uh, fishing thing myself. Serpent and all,” Puffy admitted. “I’m actually trying to set up shop somewhere else right now, and I’ve already sold all the good fish.”

“Right. The Serpent.” Tommy shot a glare towards Wilbur.

Wilbur ignored him. “We’re okay with the bad fish, too,” he negotiated, overeager.

Puffy smiled apologetically. “I hate to break it to you, but this lil’ shack is fresh out of fish. But, I mean, if you two need money, I wouldn’t mind having some helpers on the boat. In fact, uh, I picked up someone like you a few hours ago for the same reason.”

“Oh, sorry, we’re looking for someone today”, Wilbur replied, raising his arms purposelessly then letting them awkwardly fall back down. “We appreciate the offer, though.”

“Wil,” Tommy protested, “You don’t even fucking know where he is.”

“I know he sticks around these parts,” Wilbur spat back, but he sounded unsure.

Suddenly, a heavy clank rang from the back of the fishing boat. Puffy didn’t seem too alarmed.

“Hey Captain, remind me exactly how much of this ya need me to carry out?” A voice called from inside the cabin.

From the corner of his vision, Tommy caught Wilbur’s eyes widening. “What? What?” He asked, ramming his elbow into Wilbur’s side.

“Uh, just one or two boxes,” Puffy replied, then turned back to the two. “That’s the guy who’s been helping me today.”

On cue, a hulking figure stepped out of the cabin, carrying a large crate with a line of slime dribbling from one of the bottom corners. Peering over the top, Tommy saw what he was pretty sure was maggots squirming around inside. Cute.

The man was wrapped in a thick, woolly cloak that looked like it could have cost more than twice Tommy’s lifetime earnings, but it was so worse for wear that he wasn’t entirely sure how the man could even touch the thing without it dissolving into a pile of thread. Like Puffy, he had a mane of brown hair, but his was streaked with pink, like how middle-aged ladies sometimes have a salt-and-pepper greying thing going on.

Most interestingly, he wore what looked like a thoroughly cleaned moo-sow skull over his face, obscuring most of his features and making him look both batshit crazy and indescribably awesome. 

“Holy shit!” Wilbur said, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Uh…” The man set his box down—yep, definitely maggots— onto solid ground. “Wilbur?”

Wilbur’s shock quickly transformed into a bright grin. “Techno, my man, it’s good to see you again!”

Oh, Tommy thought. Great. Wilbur's mysterious friend actually did appear.

“Ha, you still have those old glasses! Nerd,” Techno said, stepping over and immediately wrapping Wilbur in what looked like a warm, crushing hug. Tommy grimaced and looked away.

It was kind of funny how Wilbur clung back to him though, like a weird little stick. “We were looking for you, actually.”

“Oh, right, ‘cuz—”

“Did you get any of my letters?” Wilbur asked.

“I got, like… three.”

He frowned. “I've sent more than that. Which ones got through?”

Techno freed Wil from the massive hug, patting him hard on the back and causing him to let out a sharp oof. “Well, there was the one about that girl who dumped you, or you dumped her, I didn’t really get it, honestly.”

Wilbur’s frown deepened. “Other than that one.”

“Well, I got the one where you adopted, like, a raccoon child? That was cool.”

Tommy decided enough was enough.

“AHEM.”

“Oh, Techno—” Wilbur, presumably, began to introduce him, thank god.

“Oh, riiight,” Techno cut him off, “and I got the one from a month ago saying you might want some help up The Serpent’s Pass. I don’t have anythin’ to do right now, really, so that’s fine.”

What?

Tommy clenched the edge of his shirt. “Excuse me. Excuse me.”

“Oh,” Techno said. “Hullo.”

“Wilbur, you—” Tommy said, feeling kind of ill in a flippy way, like when you spin around in circles for too long. “You’d already told him to come?”

Wilbur sighed. “Tommy, listen, I was just letting him know it was a possibility.”

Techno tiled his head curiously, but that ridiculous skull mask made the gesture look predatory instead. “Oh yeah, Tommy, that’s right. The raccoon child.”

Tommy tried to stab him with his eyeballs. “And you’re Techno. The Blade.”

“Yep,” he said, unbothered.

Wilbur straightened up, obviously trying to take control of the conversation from there. “Now, there’s no need for hostility, you two.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna be honest, I’m feelin’ kinda attacked right now, don’t know why though. Definitely some sort of wave of antagonism coming from… about this direction,” Techno said, gesturing towards Tommy.

Tommy bristled. Before he could say anything, though, Wilbur pushed forward. “I’m sorry it’s sudden, Techno, but we’re just trying to get to The Impenetrable City. It’s important.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I was kinda prepared for you to be here, like I said. And I owe ya one, anyway.”

Wil shot him a little smile. “Planning on putting us through Serpent’s Pass boot camp or something like that?”

“Eh. Sounds like a lotta work.” Techno said. “I mean, you guys’ll be fine if you just listen to what I tell you out there. Not to brag or anything, but like, I kinda know my way around.”

“I know it might not be a big deal to you, but this really means a lot to us,” stupid Wilbur said, speaking for Tommy like he knew what he was thinking. “I failed to get us a ferry in, so now I’m afraid we have to take the next-best option.”

Tommy was… he was pissed. Actually pissed. Not fake-pissed or funny-pissed. Miffed, one could say. Fuming, even.

First off, he told the dipshit it wasn’t his fault, but there Wilbur went putting it all on himself like it was nothing again, like he was just that used to covering for Tommy’s fuck-ups. It was humiliating. It was wrong. And then he decides to pull some stupid stunt and pretend that’s what he meant from the very fucking beginning? And he wanted Tommy to just go along with it, his stupid Tommy, his Right-Hand Tommy. His—whatever. 

“Well, I think it’s a fuckin’ horrible idea, if either of you give a shit,” he declared. Just because he was still gonna stick with Wilbur didn’t mean he couldn’t be a bit of a dick about it. Had to keep his brand image and all.

“Tommy,” Wilbur said, frustrated.

At that, Puffy stepped forward with an air of authority. “Okay, I guess today’s been a weird day for everyone, and I don’t exactly know what’s going on, but I’d like to remind everyone that this is my dock. So I think we can all be chill, right?”

Tommy leaned back against the shack and crossed his arms. “‘M not trying to start shit,” he muttered. Honestly.

“I’m very sorry about all this, ma’am,” Wilbur said.

Puffy waved him off. “Hey, no need for the formality. I appreciate it, it’s just that Techno’s been helping out on the boat all morning. And when I’ve got someone working with me, I don’t let anyone bother them, you get me?”

“Yeah,” Techno said. His voice was lighthearted, but the animalistic appearance to his mask made it feel shallow. “I didn’t expect to get all caught up with this, but it turns out Captain Puffy here is kinda based. Makin’ a real connection out here.”

“Oh, well, that’s good,” Wilbur said.

“Yeah, turns out we have a lot in common,” Puffy smiled, “like having surprisingly compatible political beliefs.”

“And havin’ similar hair problems,” Techno supplied.

“And we both think eggs are only okay.”

“We’re basically besties now, is what I’m sayin’.”

Tommy huffed to himself, thinking that was kind of funny but not wanting to show it.

Techno’s gaze fell on him.

“Uh, so I’m kinda feelin’ like we got off on the wrong foot. Maybe a bit of a misunderstandin’ between you two, I dunno.”

“Well—I think this has been just lovely, Techno-Blade,” Tommy said, making sure to emphasize how stupid the man’s name sounded.

“Uh, that’s not—” Techno started, then interrupted himself with a huff. “So… I’ve heard a bit about you.”

“I most certainly—well, I certainly do not fuckin’ want to know what you’ve heard,” he lied.

“Nothing good, don’t worry,” Wilbur rolled his eyes.

Techno looked somewhat uncomfortable as he wiped his hands against the front of his pants, leaving a subtle stain of sweat in their wake. He reached up to twist a strand of hair between his fingers, but he’d already dropped his hands again by the time Tommy had the brilliant idea of making fun of him for it.

“Okay, cool, ‘cause this is like, really awkward,” Techno said, and despite looking mildly weirded out by the whole thing, he somehow seemed above it all at the same time.

Something bubbled inside Tommy’s gut, and he didn’t feel like examining it. This Techno guy was obviously fucking with him, and Wil wasn’t even saying anything!

“I do not—okay—I do not fuckin’—Techno-Blade, I’d like to have—I would like to have a talk with you. A private audience. With you.”

Techno simply stared for a second, then shrugged before shambling off to a nearby tree. He glanced expectantly at Tommy to follow.

“Tommy…” Wilbur said.

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Puffy. Mr—Mr. Soot. I’ll be—I’ll be right back,” Tommy said, straightening his back in mock politeness. Wilbur looked—well, not upset. Tommy couldn’t tell. He hated it when he couldn’t tell.

Tommy stomped towards Techno. 

“Alright, listen here, The Blade. Real shit name, by the way.”

“Hey, man,” Techno protested. “I’m literally just vibin’ here, I—”

“You—you think—you think…” Tommy trailed off.

He couldn’t identify the feeling burning inside him. It wasn’t quite anger, since he really was just trying to annoy Wilbur’s friend. Make a good impression. Nothing personal, right? And Techno was obviously trying to troll him back. Nothing personal. Tommy didn’t know what he was planning on saying.

“…Wilbur likes me more??” was what Tommy decided on.

Techno did something of a half-laugh. “I’m not tryin’ to, like, imply anything here, but you honestly don’t seem sure about that.”

“Fuck off!” Tommy hissed. “That’s not what I fucking meant. You’re like a little snap pea to me. You’re a little ant. And there’s like, a fuckin’ million of those per anthill, so you’re not even, like, a special ant.”

Techno leaned back against the tree, contemplating that mind-shattering insult—the whole thing bent a little under his weight, and it pissed Tommy off so bad because he couldn’t even tell if it was an intimidation tactic or the guy wasn’t even aware of how fucking massive he was.

“Alright, we got a firecracker here,” Techno said slowly. 

“Don’t condescend to me, bitch—!” he started, but Techno cut him off and Tommy snapped his mouth shut without meaning to.

“I’m gonna talk to you the way you want to be talked to,” he rumbled easily. “So if you’re gonna act like a brat, then that’s how I’m gonna treat you. Uh, no offense.”

Sore luck for you, then, Tommy thought bitterly. Because I’m always a fuckin’ brat. 

 “So here’s the deal. I don’t—” Techno’s mountainous shoulders raised in what Tommy guessed was some facsimile of a shrug— “I don’t really get why you’re beefing with me so hard, it’s honestly kind of sad? Again, not to imply anything…”

“Oh my god, you are actually a fucking asshole,” Tommy blurted.

“Oh, but I’m an asshole for a really good reason, Tommy.”

Something cold ran swiftly through Tommy’s veins, and for the second time in just a few minutes, he was embarrassingly shut up without Techno even having to raise his voice. 

“You’re tryin’ to go down the Serpent’s Pass?”

He glanced away. “I don’t fuckin’—I dunno, I don’t fucking want to.” 

“Sure,” Techno agreed, “But are you gonna?”

Fighting the urge to make myself smaller, Tommy nodded ever so slightly. “Yeah. What of it?”

“The Serpent’s Pass is a dangerous place. People die here, kid. Sometimes people die even when I’m supposed to be there, protectin’ them and guidin’ them along the way. And ya know why that is?”

Tommy clenched his teeth, raising his head to look at The Blade through the eye socket of his moo-sow skull. “Why?”

“Because they thought they knew better. They didn’t listen to me when they needed to.”

“…Prolly ‘cause you’re a fuckin’ asshole,” Tommy said, raising an eyebrow.

To be honest, Tommy didn’t know what he was expecting when he said that. He thinks he maybe wasn’t expecting anything, like a dumbass little kid who doesn't know how to think ahead. But he was still surprised when Techno planted a goodnatured hand on his shoulder.

“Pffft. Nah,” Techno said flippantly. That light tone carried into his next words, foreboding as they were: “‘S ‘cause they just saw me as a tool. Y’know, like a carriage or somethin’, just a way for them to get from one place to another. They never really trusted me. Tommy, you know the story of Orpheus?”

“Fuck is an Orpheus?” Tommy scoffed. 

“Dude…” Techno muttered to himself, scratching his neck. “I keep forgettin’ people in this world don’t have Greek mythology.”

“What? What’s that mean?” Tommy asked. He remembered what that lady and her dad were saying about The Blade—he was some kind of half-spirit, or maybe not even from this plane of existence. But there was no way that could be true, because he was friends with Wilbur. Cringe…

Techno folded his arms. “Well, the story goes somethin’ like this. So there was this guy named Orpheus who lived a long time ago. He had a wife, Eurydice, she went off to dance with nymphs one day, but while she was doin’ that, she got bitten by a snake and died. And now, Orpheus was a bard, so all he could do to cope with how much he missed her was to sing, and sing, and sing for days straight.

“And he was so upset that he went all the way to the god of the underworld to ask for her back. His song of grief was so moving, so rich with the deepest feelings of love and loss, that even the god of the underworld decided to humor his foolish request. He said that he could lead Eurydice all the way back home, and she’d get to stay alive—as long as he could manage one little thing. Orpheus couldn’t turn around to look at her until they made it out of the underworld. Not even once.”

“But then he wouldn’t be able to tell if she was following,” Tommy argued. “That’s a shitty thing to make him do.”

“That’s true. But that’s how it goes when you’re dealing with the gods,” Techno tilted his head back to rest against the tree. “So Orpheus leads his wife all the way out of the underworld. They climb up together for hours and hours, passing by all sorts of dangerous things, but Orpheus managed to hold on to his faith that his true love was still following. But just when they got to the exit, Orpheus realized he couldn’t hear her footsteps anymore. And so—”

“Shut up, man!” Tommy interrupts, his heart racing. “I—this is fuckin’ stupid, I get it, alright? You’re a real bastard, y’know that, Techno-Blade? That’s—shit name, by the way.”

Infuriatingly, Techno chuckled. “There ya go. Guess you can figure out what happened yourself, huh. You’re obviously a smart kid, Tommy—”

“Stop fuckin’ patronizing me, bitch!”

“—So,” Techno emphasized. “I think ya know what I’m tryin’ to say. Those guys who died out there on the Serpent’s Pass died because they didn’t trust me, they trusted their instincts. Or maybe they just took one millisecond too long mulling it over… guess it ends the same both ways. Anyway, I’ve been doin’ this for a while, so you’re gonna have to listen to what I tell you when we get out there, Tommy. You’re gonna need to trust me over yourself, and over Wilbur. ‘Cause I have the skills to get through this place and you don’t. That’s all I’m sayin’, alright?”

This guy was a real piece of shit, Tommy decided. 

“Are you fuckin’...” He hissed under his breath. Down at the dock, Wilbur was talking with Puffy about who-knows-what, doing that thing where he just kept kind of walking between a few points as he talked, which he only does when he’s nervous. Tommy watched out of the corner of his eye for a moment, but twisted back to Techno just as Wil was about to look up.

“This is stupid. I can’t believe I’m about to go on a fucking field trip with you,” Tommy told him.

“I think it could be kinda fun,” he replied, right back to being weirdly laid back.

“I tell you what, big man. Here’s the thing, I don’t—I don’t know why you think I’m gonna trust you when I don’t even fuckin’ know you. I look at you, and I—do you know what I see? I see some fucking weirdo who thinks he can never be in the wrong. If you ask me, kinda seems like—sounds to me like maybe you’re more like that Orpheus fellow, and those guys only died because you weren’t paying attention, and listen, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but that does not inspire confidence, man.”

At that, Techno just stilled, but Tommy just kept going. “But I trust Wilbur, I fuckin’—I fuckin’ guess, and he trusts you for some reason, so—listen, that means you get a little baby shred of my trust, but not a lot. It’s gonna, like—it’s like secondhand trust. And secondhand trust isn’t good for you, it—like, it wiggles all up in there, Mr. The Fuckin’ The Blade, but it’s what you fuckin’ get, alright? So my suggestion is, you make it work.”

Silence. The moo-sow skull hanging from his face went very suddenly from vaguely creepy to… Actually Really Threatening.

“Fuckin’. Uh…” Tommy said awkwardly, not sure if he should attempt to retract what he’d just said, but Techno was still chewing on it so he just kept insulting him. “Dick bastard son-of-a-bitch. You fucking wrong’un. Shit.”

Why did he say any of that again? He kind of thought it would be funny, but maybe it… wasn’t.

“Maaan…” Techno sighed, and his whole stature kind of drooped like a deflating balloon. “You sure are Wilbur’s little brother.”

A few questions flickered through Tommy’s mind. The first ones to rise to the surface were what the hell does THAT mean? and why is Wilbur friends with him again? But in the end, the thought that won out was great, so he isn’t going to murder me?

“So you’re not going to murder me?”

“Wha—no,” Techno said. It was offputting. He spoke with a janky, dispassionate intonation, like he was reading lines from a script. “Did ya think I was going to—dang. I was kinda trying to stay light here, like, keep it PG ‘n’ all, ‘cause, y’know.”

“…Oh my god, you are fuckin’—you are being for real right now,” Tommy laughed. “Techno-Blade, you are fuckin’ nuts, man, you’re worse than Wilbur and he’s like—well, he’s not crazy, y’know, like he’s—but it’s—listen, look, it’s like—fuck you even mean I’m his little brother, anyway? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Techno raised a hand to his neck again. “Nothin’, you just… he made you out to be so nice and all, and then.”

Tommy made a face. “No he didn’t.”

“Heh. Nah, he didn’t, really…” With a grunt, Techno lifted his weight off the tree (the leaves rustled a little from the weight of the movement). “But what he did write makes ya seem like an angel now that I’ve actually met you. Anyways, uh.”

Tommy took the smallest step back as Techno stepped forward. Not because he was scared, honest, but the guy was just so big it just felt right to give him some space. Techno stretched a hand towards him and his heart jumped a little. But it just stayed there, hanging between them, not doing anything.

“Hope we can work well together, Tommy.”

Right. 

Tommy shook his hand like an idiot. 

Fucking prick. 

---

“Hope you didn’t scare him too bad, Tech,” Wilbur remarked as the two of them returned, Tommy trailing quietly behind Techno, whose cape he could now see in all of its disheveled glory. The fur lining that poked from the edge was so caked with grime it was hard to tell what color it was originally. Against the rail, Wilbur was tapping out a nervous rhythm with his fingers.

Tommy clenched a fist in his pocket. “I’m not fuckin’ scared.”

Tommy could feel Wilbur watch him for a second, but when he looked up, his brother was narrowing his eyes at Techno instead. 

“What’d you say to him?”

Techno didn’t look like he noticed anything out of the ordinary, or maybe he just didn’t care. “Nothin’ special. Just levelin’ expectations, y’know how it is.”

“Cut it out, Wil, I’m not a baby,” Tommy said, walking past Techno to join Wilbur at the railing, turning his back towards the sea. It was strange, because for the one second he stood between the two of them, he’d almost felt like he was defending Techno. 

“Child,” Wilbur retorted. 

“Bastard.”

Near the entrance to the boat, Puffy cleared her throat. “Sorry, whatever you guys are talking about… this something I need to know about?”

Techno turned to her, and from a profile view, Tommy could spot the faintest curve of some kind of huge tooth peeking from behind his moo-sow skull. “Aww, nah, Captain, I’m just takin’ these guys up the Serpent’s Pass tomorrow. Didn’t mean for you to feel left outta the conversation.”

“Oh. So you guys are really serious about that, huh…?” She put her hands on her hips. “Not that you don’t look capable, but like, that seems… misguided. Y’know, the Serpent herself has been kinda aggressive lately, from what I’ve heard.”

Wilbur stood up, clearly trying to be polite (Tommy, of course, knew such a thing wasn’t possible). “Please don’t worry about us, Captain Puffy. It’s the best option we’ve got. Right, Tommy?”

It’s the ONLY option we’ve got, fucking apparently, Tommy thought sardonically. Not like his own ideas were any good.

“Yeah. We’re sure,” he agreed, standing up next to Wil. 

“Well, alright,” Puffy said, shrugging a little. “I get it if you guys need to head off soon, but if you’re planning to stay a little longer, I’m still happy to throw some compensation your way if you still wanna help out on the ship.”

Tommy glanced towards Wilbur, who glanced towards Techno. 

“Uh…” Techno seemed to wilt a little under the attention. As much as someone built like a rock could wilt, anyway, which wasn’t very much at all. “I was kinda planning to stick around a little longer and finish up with ya, but I mean, I can’t speak for these two nerds, so.”

“We’ll join you,” Wilbur decided, placing a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Thank you for the opportunity, Captain.”

“Hey, I like the extra company,” Puffy smiled before turning to lead them inside. 

Wilbur’s hand was only lightly resting on top of Tommy’s shoulder, never wanting to touch too much without permission, but Tommy shook it off like it was burning him anyway. 

This was gonna be a rough few days, he thought, but Tommy Trusty’s made it through worse before.

---

since this is already so self indulgent, i thought it’d be fun to leave a more in-depth AN here. i’d set up a lot of backstory details to be explored in chapter 2, but that’s ofc not happening, soo… yeah! no need to read all this. hope you liked the fic! :)

chapter 2 was going to be about our boys’ journey along the serpent’s pass. techno would reveal himself to be an earthbender and offer to teach tommy some bending basics. you see in this chapter that tommy has a complicated view on firebending due to his trauma, but he still obv thinks it’s cool and wants to learn. learning from techno lets him get in touch with his earth nation roots and maybe even start to get through his firebending block. they would eventually make it to ba sing se and part ways with techno, with tommy and him having become friends. we also would have seen more of wilbur’s motivations, how everything he does is for tommy and how he struggles with the aftermath of his own traumatic event in which he feels he “should have died”. but most of those feelings would remain unsaid, only gleaned from his actions and loyalty to tommy.

on to some fun commentary:

wilbur lies to the immigration officer quite a bit. he says they’ve been traveling for as long as they remember, but him and tommy only left yu dao 2-3 years ago. his “political experience” also comes exclusively from reading history books, and tommy’s skill with “agriculture and animal care” is derived from the fact that he loves animals and was a fire nation soldier’s gardener back in yu dao. but we’ll get to that more in a bit.

the reason tommy and wilbur want to get to ba sing se so badly is because tommy dodged the draft lol. yu dao is a fn colony, so there’s a lot of cultural mixing—tommy and wilbur both feel more earth nation and are treated as such (ie. extremely poorly), but tommy is also a firebender. he feels a lot of guilt for dragging wilbur along to escape his own problems, but he also kinda feels like wilbur’s dragging him along, too. 

if you’re thinking ba sing se probably isn’t a good place for either of them, you’d be right. wil’s interest in politics, tommy’s trouble-magnetism, and their combined tendency to start drug empires would have the dai li on their tails eventually. it’s almost lucky, then, that i see this story taking place during the very beginning of avatar’s season 2, only a few weeks to a month before the drill and the following fn takeover. tommy and wilbur still have a while to go before they’ll be truly safe.

a few times, tommy and wilbur mention another “old friend” with whom things didn’t go down too well. this friend is eret, of course! up to interpretation whether she is connected to wilbur’s above-mentioned traumatic event.

i decided it wasn’t unreasonable that tobacco might exist in the avatar world, so wilbur’s canonical smoking habit gets to stay.

yes, the guard lady tommy thinks is cool is a kyoshi warrior! she knows “the blade” was around during kyoshi’s era because he shows up in some of the historical texts she’s read about kyoshi. that means the blade was around at least 200 years ago, probably longer.

wilbur is very insistent that techno is just “there” whenever he needs to be. it’s completely up to interpretation whether techno is a god, a spirit, a human, etc… it’s not even clear who the blade is or whether it’s really techno. so do with wilbur’s claims as you will.

so, tommy mentions he wants to get away from a certain “tyrant freak”, and later has a flashback to something burning and a man calling tommy his friend. this is a reference to the exile arc equivalent in this AU. dream was an accomplished fn soldier who’d been released from duty due to an injury that prevented him from bending for a long time. he lived in yu dao and hired tommy as his gardener. eventually he found out that tommy was a firebender and threatened to send him to the fn army if he didn’t cooperate. the rest, i think, can be extrapolated.

the bit where tommy is upset about wilbur having sent letters to techno about the serpent’s pass was going to be a whole thing in the second chapter, but i don’t really remember where i was going with it.

wrt wilbur: techno does not, in fact, owe him one. he thinks phil would want him to help, though, so that’s basically the same thing.

techno telling the story of orpheus is where i picked up on this draft after like, two years of not touching it. so if it feels a little janky from there, it’s because i don’t really remember how to write these characters, lol.

thanks for reading all this way!

[hxnmas]

Consequences

Foul Legacy!Childe x f!reader ft Zhongli

Tw: dubcon, cuckolding, monsterfucking, use of ‘princess, sweetheart, girl’, cumflation, gaslighting (?), slight mind break

A/N: Foul Legacy!Childe been on my mind so here you go~

“P-Please! Do-don’t look!” Honestly, it’s almost pathetic to see how an all so power archon frozen in place like this.

Teeth gritting as his eyes are fixated on nothing but you, the way your cunt drools and swallows every inches that he gives you like it’s nothing— like you’re actually enjoying this. “What’s wrong, Morax? Is this show not to your liking? Does it leave a sour taste to your tongue?” The beast mocks, not once did he slow down nor did he loosen his hold on your waist. It looks so fragile and breakable compare to Childe’s inhumanly large hands, sharp nails digging into your sides close enough to draw blood.

Zhongli have no one else to blame but himself for agreeing to this contract, he should’ve known what ‘anything’ meant when it comes to someone as cunning as Tartaglia. Someone who values victory and enjoys the thrills of duelling, he should have known his eyes have been on your all this time. Morax’s only weakness, “C’mon, archon. What’s the fun in this if all you ever do is look away?” Childe’s voice is deeper than usual, rough and taunting. You can feel the way those soft mouldable spikes drags against your sensitive spots over and over again, nudging at every place possible inside before repeating its action. “Isn’t she beautiful? Such a good girl too… there aren’t many that could take me in this form… though, I must thank you, Morax. For agreeing to our contract, how does it feel to be the losing side? To watch your beloved get ruined like this? Must be hard huh?” He doesn’t even try to hide his smugness or devilish grin behind that mask, only thrusting harder until Zhongli’s fist tightens again at the way your belly swell with his cock. Blissful expression is written over those delicate features he loves, kisses in the morning and caresses.

It wasn’t as if Zhongli had his voice taken, he simply couldn’t find the words. Shameful and guilty for putting you in this situation, he was positive that he would be the winner of their battle but it would seem like the ex archon have underestimated his enemy. “Z-Zhongli…” Your voice is weak and hoarse, lost count of how many times within just the hour Childe had made you cum from just using you much like a fleshlight. A long snake-like tongue licks over your jaw and neck, sneaking its way around a nipple to earn a squeal from your lips. “Uh uh, attention on me, princess. Go on, tell him who’s making you feel this good? Say it.”

There’s a obvious pause from you, gulping at his words before your hazy eyes looked between Childe and Zhongli. “Y-You…” Logic and sense is long gone, pleasure taking its place whilst you desperate wanting to feel the way fill and flood your womb with nothing but cum. “That’s a good girl… you’ve been waiting for this haven’t you? Then let me grant your wish, girl.”

Perhaps you should’ve to rethink this before pleading for him to flood your inside, thick ropes of cum continue to pour in until a little while later when your stomach is bloated with it. Sweet whines and moans fall from those kiss swollen lips whilst Childe coos at you with this cunning smirk, he knows this foul legacy foul doesn’t last forever and the first thing Zhongli would do is to tear him from head to body. “Until next time, sweetheart.” And with that, Childe was gone. Leaving you and Zhongli in this awkward silence, “Don’t… Don’t go…” Is the first thing you mumbles when the former god rushes over to you, holding you close with apologies falling from his lips.

But it would be a lie if you say you didn’t enjoy that. “Don’t hurt him…”

Tagging: @trueshellz @laudthingcat enjoy hehe ✨

[secretobsessionstuff]

Blair's Night Out

Sober, they took an uber to the bar. The plan was to not be so sober on the ride home. Mateo and Shawn successfully went through with this plan. It was a different story for Blair and Dakota.

Sober and sick, Blair rode back with her head in Dakota’s lap, completely aware of every sensation unfortunately. She would have much preferred the blissful buzz from a few drinks, but she never got around to taking the first sip. Her churning stomach dragged her to the bathroom the moment the four of them arrived at the bar.

Dakota and Blair thought it would be fun to tag along with Mateo and Shawn whiled they checked out the newest bar in downtown Toronto. Dakota certainly thought it would help him feel more alive after one exhausting week of work. Blair too thought it would be a good idea to have a night out. She was wrong; it was not a good idea.

As soon as they sat down at their table, Blair excused herself with a hand on her middle. She felt bloated and sweaty in her dress, and so not in the mood for a fun night out. She had hoped that her stomach-ache from that day would go away in time. It didn’t. The nausea was still lurking around when the sun went down. Nonetheless, she joined her boyfriend and their friends because she told herself she could ignore it.

The plan to ignore the nausea went out the window when the loud music and the smell of booze hit her senses. She gave Dakota’s leg a squeeze under the table before going to the bathroom.

“Hey, wait.” Dakota grabbed her wrist before she could leave. For a moment Blair thought that he was about to make them leave. She thought for sure that he saw the way she wrapped her arms around her torso or the fact that she hadn’t said anything in a while. But then a foolishly large smile spread across his face. “You look really pretty, tonight.”

Not for long, Blair thought as the contents of her stomach sloshed around inside. She pressed her lips into a thin line. “Thanks.” Oh, Dakota was the sweetest, but sometimes he could be really oblivious. She thought about telling him, but she wanted to give her stomach one more chance to calm down.

She didn’t feel pretty as she stumbled her way to the bathroom. People must have thought she was already drunk. Ugh, the idea of drinking anything stronger than water made her want to retch.

As expected, the girls in the bathroom were unbelievably nice. They complimented Blair’s hair and dress, obviously not seeing the grey tincture to her skin or the sweat on her brow.

Blair stood in the stall instead of dropping to her knees like she wanted to. Maybe if she calmed down and didn’t give in to the feeling, then she could rejoin her friends in the bar. She took several deep breaths, amazed at how fast she felt worse. Minutes ago, she was only a little shaky, and now she was struggling to hold down her dinner.

Eventually she gave up this futile fight. She took off her shoes, knelt on the ground and allowed the saliva accumulating in her mouth to drip into the toilet bowl. An awful tasting burp escaped past her lips before she could swallow it. It made her gag. She moaned miserably, knowing what was about to happen.

Why did she have to get sick tonight? This was their opportunity to be fun again. She and Dakota had gotten so comfortable with each other that they never bothered with clubs and bars anymore. They were becoming an old married couple at the speed of light, and they weren’t even married yet. Compared to Mateo and Shawn, they were boring.

There was no more time to mope about this fact because the food in Blair’s stomach rushed up her throat. She held the disgusting toilet while the force of her heaves pushed her forward. In a stream of pale brown, the sick splattered in the bowl for all to hear. She kept going because she had no other choice.

A knock at the stall door startled Blair enough to give her a break. “Sweetie, are you alright in there?” It sounded like the girl who complimented her hair when she first came into the bathroom. Blair could only see her shoes under the door. They were nice shoes. “You must be a lightweight because it’s only 9’oclock.”

Blair groaned and spat into the toilet. “I’m a little sick.”

“I can hear that,” the girl said from the other side of the door. “The whole bathroom can hear that. Do you need me to get someone for you?”

Blair thought for a moment, trying not to look at the vomit in the toilet. Screw this, she wanted to go home to be boring and sick. “Yes, please.”

…

Dakota was almost excited at the prospect of being hit on. The woman walked right up to him. He thought he was going to have to turn her away. The ‘I have a girlfriend’ line was ready on his lips. This was why they came out in the first place: to feel like they were back in college. Dakota was probably a little too eager to break some hearts.

He did not expect the woman to start by saying: “Are you Dakota?”

Usually, the pretty girls at the bar didn’t know his name before talking to him. Usually, the pretty girls looked less worried than this one did. She wasn’t smiling or touching his arm. The unexpected turn of events made Dakota short-circuit. Somehow, he managed to stutter out, “Uh yeah?”

“Your girlfriend is puking her brains out. She should probably slow down.”

“Wait…What?” Did he hear that correctly? This woman must have been mistaken. Some other girl in this bar must have a boyfriend named Dakota. Still, he had to make sure because his girlfriend had been gone for a long time. “Are you talking about Blair?”

“I don’t know. Platinum blonde, blue dress…”

“Yes, yes, that’s her. She’s sick? But we just got here.”

“Then that was some pre-game because she’s asking for you. Are you coming or not?”

Of course, he was coming. He followed the woman as if it were a police escort. There was minimal protest from the other girls in the bathroom. Dakota would have gone in even if there were because he could hear how horrible Blair was feeling before stepping into the stall.

Before kneeling next to Blair, Dakota thanked the woman who helped them. When she and most of the other girls left, Dakota directed his attention to his poor girlfriend who was retching on the floor.

“Oh, Bee.” He put his hand on her back. “What happened?” She obviously wasn’t drunk.

“I don’t know,” she said after spitting a string of saliva into the toilet. “I thought it was just a stomach-ache, but I think I’m sick…Sorry.”

“No, that’s okay. Don’t be sorry.” Dakota rubbed big circles on her back. “You must have caught a stomach bug.”

There was nothing else to be said after that which was good because Blair felt her stomach rising in her throat once again. This next wave of vomiting was slightly better than the last now that she wasn’t alone. Dakota’s hand was cold on her bare back where the dress didn’t cover, but that didn’t matter. It was better than suffering alone and embarrassed. She burped up a mouthful of sick, watching it splatter into the water below. With each spasm, she moaned in pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby,” Dakota said softly as he kept up the gentle rubbing. His go-to move of holding her hair back was not an option because someone had already given her a hair-tie to make a ponytail. The only thing left to do was hold her until she felt well enough leave. “I’ll get us an uber home,” he said, remembering how they got here in the first place. It certainly didn’t sound fun to be sick in a stranger’s car, but he had to get her home soon.

…

So, Blair rode back home with her head in Dakota’s lap. They sat in the backseat, hoping that the driver wouldn’t notice that Blair took off her seatbelt to lie down. Sitting up and watching the city lights go by in a blur wouldn’t help her situation at all. Besides, she liked the way Dakota played with her hair. It almost lulled her to sleep. 'Almost' was the key word because she never did fall asleep. Her sour stomach kept her awake.

Dakota could hear her belly gurgling. With his hand that wasn’t playing with her hair, he gently rubbed her middle. Oh, her stomach sounded so upset. He wished he could make it go away. She curled up tighter, bringing her legs closer to her chest. Her constant moans of pain were breaking Dakota’s heart.

“How are you doing, baby?” Dakota asked, knowing that the answer would be worse. He could feel the turmoil going on inside her belly.

In reality, Dakota didn’t get the exact answer that he was expecting. Instead of mumbling something about the pain, Blair simply groaned into his lap. He felt her body tremble. “Oh, Bee. What can I do? Do you want the window open?” The cold breeze would make Dakota freeze in the car, but it felt like Blair would benefit from being cooler. Her skin was already hot and clammy.

Blair squirmed out of discomfort. She didn’t want the window open. She needed to not be trapped in a car. “Make it stop,” she mumbled, too afraid to open her mouth very wide or lift her head out of Dakota lap.

“You know I would if I could.” Dakota traced his fingers along her bare legs. Only soft touches. “It’ll be better at home. You can change into pajamas, and I can get a pillow to put—”

A spasm went through Blair’s body just before she pushed herself up from Dakota’s lap. Another tremor rolled through her shoulders as she gagged into her hand. In between gags she managed to say, “No, make him stop.” And pointed to the driver.

That was when Blair lost the fight with her stomach. The vomit came pouring out between her fingers and dripped onto her boyfriend’s legs. She couldn’t move away fast enough. Even when she did lean over the seat, she was still vomiting all over someone else’s car.

“Oh God,” Dakota said, feeling trapped with no way to help. Trapped…and now damp. He awkwardly held her body while she heaved over the seats. “Pull over!” he called to the driver.

The car swerved as the driver was startled by the noise. “What the hell? You said you weren’t drunk.”

Dakota wanted to growl at this man. “She’s sick, asshole. Stop the car.”

When the car came to a stop by the curb, Dakota helped his girlfriend out. With a hand still over her mouth, she stumbled to the pavement and heaved up what was left in her stomach.

“I’ve got you,” Dakota said, literally holding her at the waist. He ignored the car as it drove away. They would get a better ride because Blair was in no shape to walk the rest of the way.

“Oh fuck,” Blair said while wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist. There was a pathetic splatter of puke on the sidewalk but a more impressive splatter on Dakota’s pants. “I tried to hold it. I really did. God, look at you, I’m sorry.”

Dakota did look down at the mess on his pants. It was only very gross, but he wouldn’t tell Blair that. She no doubt already knew. She was feeling gross herself. “Yeah, you got me pretty good, didn’t you?” He held her against his body as she started shivering in the night air. “We might have a hard time finding a ride now.” He forced a laugh to lighten the mood. “We look like two alcoholics wandering the streets.”

“Ugh, this is all my fault. I just want to go home.” Blair said as Dakota hugged her tighter against his side.

“We’ll have to become hobos or hitch-hikers.”

“I’m serious. I feel really bad.”

“I’m serious too,” Dakota said with a grin. “We’ll have to sleep under a bridge, and I’ll nurse you back to health with nothing but rainwater.”

Blair weakly hit his arm. “Okay you made your point. Call us a ride before the nausea comes back.”

“Fine.” Dakota kissed her on the head. “I’m sorry you feel so crummy.”

She waved her hand. “At least we’ll be the best dressed hobos in the neighbourhood.”

[jungshookz]

ok so like y/n hanging out with her friends at an ice cream shop and super cute employee kook so happens to make y/n very nervous

➺ pairing; jeon jungkook (birthday boy!!!) x reader

➺ genre; marshmallow fluff level fluffy!!!! if u have a sweet tooth then this drabble is for you, jimin and taehyung are nightmare friends and i don’t know why u insist on hanging out with them all the time, *clown nose honk* 

➺ wordcount: 3.5k

➺ what to expect;  “i’ve been giving you free ice cream for the past four months, y/n. you really didn’t think, at any point, that i liked you like that?”

                                      »»————-　♡　————-««

“oh, god. i think you’re going to have to roll me into the car.” you groan as you place a hand over your bloated stomach, “also, i’m… pretty sure i’m nine months pregnant.”  

whoever came up with the whole ‘all you can eat buffet!’ concept must’ve been a psychopath because you feel like if you take another step you’re going to projectile vomit all the way across town

you let out a huff as you bend down and place your hands on your knees

jesus

you’re going to be siCK

“no one asked you to eat like seven servings of mac n’ cheese balls.” jimin raises a brow before rubbing your back in comforting circles

“i’m sorry, do you not hear yourself?” you twist your head before looking at him as if he just sprouted two heads on each shoulder, “mac n’ cheese balls. deep-fried balls of macaroni and cheese. all you can eat deep-fried balls of macaroni and cheese. with a tangy chipotle-ranch dip on the side!”  

“alright, i get it.” he snorts before rolling his eyes, “i’m guessing this means you’re not in the mood for dessert anymore?”

you immediately stand up straight before giving your stomach a couple of pats, “where are we going for dessert??”

you’re ALWAYS in the mood for dessert

your first stomach might be full of food but your second stomach is completely empty

the monster inside your second stomach demands something sweet!

“well, scoops is right across the street. i heard the ice cream there is pretty good!” taehyung chirps before pointing at the ice cream place

you immediately feel your heart fall out of your ass

you usually never say no to ice cream but uh

there’s one reason why you’d prefer to go someplace else

jimin glances back when he notices you’re not following them to cross the street

he raises a brow before tilting his head, “if you actually need to puke, the garbage bin is right the-“

“i’m fine, i just-“ your voice cracks and you clear your throat quickly, “why do we have to go for ice cream?? there’s a frozen yogurt place a couple blocks away… and frozen yogurt is just as good!”

jimin and taehyung exchange glances before the two of them look back at you

“weren’t you the one who said that frozen yogurt was just a sad, watered-down version of ice cream and that the day you asked to go for frozen yogurt was the day we should execute you via cruel, unusual punishment?”

“yeah, and the cruel, unusual punishment was to force you to eat frozen yogurt?”

you poke your tongue against the inside of your cheek

damnit

they’re right

you friggin’ hate frozen yogurt

“ooh, check it out!” jimin gasps, his eyes lighting up, “strawberry-rhubarb pie. i wonder how they turned a pie into an ice cream flavour!”

“uh-huh, yeah…” you mutter absentmindedly, eyes flitting around behind the large counter

okay

okay!

this is fine

everything is fine

maybe today is his day off something!  

hopEfully today is his day off because you are literally about to pop a button on your jeans and the last person who you’d want to have witness that would be-

“good evening, folks!” you practically jump out of your skin and you instinctively duck behind taehyung when he seems to pop out of thin air

he smiles brightly as he props his arms up on the top of the display case, “just give me a holler whenever you’re ready.”

okay

we should probably rewind a little bit

‘he’ would be… well, the person you’re currently hiding from.  

you don’t know much about him besides the fact that his name is jungkook (the name tags here are comically large, by the way. it’s actually a little ridiculous. it’s like the employees think all the customers are blind and that’s why they made their name tags the size of a baby’s head.) and every time you come here he gives you extra hot fudge on your ice cream and also he’s very veRY cute

you usually come here after you finish submitting an essay or doing a live presentation as a way to reward yourself

because why live life if you’re not going to treat yourself every now and again??

you started this tradition at the beginning of the year and originaLLy you went to the only ice cream place on campus

unfortunately, the ice cream place on campus isn’t super great

their waffle cones are always stale and the ice cream pretty much melts as soon as you take a step outside of the store

and you werE going to give up and just find another place (your second option was the ice cream at mcdonald’s but that’s actually kind of sad now that you think about it) but!!!!

you felt like you deserved to have good ice cream!!!

so you googled the best ice cream parlours in the city and scoops was one of the only ones that was the closest to campus

only a ten minute bus ride away and you didn’t even have to transfer to another bus or anything

it was pretty much a dream come true!!

and you still remember the first time you wandered in here because you were greeted veRy enthusiastically by jungkook

you were pretty much the only person in the store on that day because it was like 2pm on a tuesday which made it hard to believe that this place was as popular as it sounded

to be fair, 2pm on a tuesday isn’t really the normal time to grab a cone of ice cream so there’s that

“you’re not striking me as the cookies ’n cream type. that seems a little too basic for you…” jungkook mutters as he stroked at his chin thoughtfully, “and i’m not getting a rocky road vibe from you, either…”

“is that so?” the corner of your mouth twitches in a smile and you cross your arms as you begin to make your way down the counter, jungkook slowly following you from where he’s standing, “what kind of vibe are you getting from me?”

“red velvet cake!” jungkook stops in his tracks to point at the tub of red velvet ice cream sitting in the display case, “in a brownie waffle cone… with hot fudge on top.”

your brows perk up in interest

red velvet cake ice cream

in a brownie waffle cone

with hot fudge on top?

…that sounds like something you’d devour in three seconds flat.  

you obviously ended up enjoying the ice cream, and from that moment on, you promised yourself that this would be your place to celebrate your little victories

so, yeah!

the ice cream was good and the cute boy was just a bonus

of course… there is one tiny detail that has to be addressed

if it wasn’t already painfully obvious by now - jungkook makes you extremely nervous.

you’re not sure how it started, because you were literally fine when you first met him

the nerves appeared without warning of any kind!!

it was very strange

one day jungkook’s smile suddenly made your heart skip a beat and you had nO idea why because it had never done that before

and another time, when he told you that you were his favourite customer, your stomach started doing somersaults which was also something that your stomach had nevER done before

ooh, AND that one time when he said that he’d make a fresh batch of brownie waffle cones just for you… well, you were pretty much ready to marry him right then and there.

sure, when you saw the occasional attractive person on the street, you’d have the usual ‘oh, they’re pretty cute!’ thought, but that’d be it and then you’d never think about them again

but it was different with jungkook

it was more intense with jungkook

this wasn’t just a little schoolgirl crush.,,. this was,.., this was a schoolwoMAN crush

you initially thought that all these brand new feelings combined with the tingly feeling of chocolate syrup pumping through your veins should’ve been enough to scare you away from scoops forever, but…

the only reason why you keep swallowing your nerves and coming back is because the ice cream is really good here (five gold stars on google reviews!!) aND you can’t say no to extra hot fudge on the house!!!

sometimes jungkook surprises you with a couple brownie chunks or marshmallows or even cheesecake chunks on top without ever charging you which is also really nice of him

not to mention, on the days that you end class a little earlier, you like to come here to get some studying done

you have your own little table in the corner and jungkook always brings you a little treat to enjoy during your study session

nothing huGe like your usual red velvet brownie waffle hot fudge combo because you told him that you were only allowed to eat that if you were celebrating something, so he usually brings you a little cup with a random flavour of ice cream in it

strawberry shortcake

cinnamon toast crunch

banana milk is a really good one

and you can’t noT mention the chocolate-covered strawberries ice cream

the ice cream is a tangy strawberry base with swirls of dark chocolate in it and it is truly.,,. truly one of the best things you’ve ever put in your mouth

you just don’t understand why your knees get so wobbly and your palms get sO sweaty every time he flashes that handsome smile of his in your direction

you see plenty of attractive people every day on campus!

you see plenty of attractive people every day in your lectures!

your two friends are a couple of attractive people as well!!

at one point you even had crushes on boTh jimin and taehyung!! 

(you will be taking that information to your grave because if they find out.,,. you’ll never live it down)

so why is this any different??

“so, i’m gonna go with the strawberry-rhubarb pie in a cup… and-“ jimin turns to look at taehyung (and you, currently peeking at jimin over taehyung’s shoulder), “what are you guys getting?”

your eyes widen and you duck down again when jungkook leans over to look at you and taehyung

“i’m gonna go with… the dark chocolate and caramel swirl… in a plain waffle cone.” taehyung nods affirmatively, “yeah. take the order now before i overthink it.”

“one strawberry-rhubarb pie in a cup… one dark chocolate and caramel swirl in a plain waffle cone…” jungkook mumbles to himself as he rinses the ice cream scooper in the little bucket of water before tapping it off on the side, “-and one red velvet cake in a brownie waffle cone with hot fudge on top, right, y/n?”

boTh taehyung and jimin’s heads nearly snap off when they turn to look at you

taehyung steps out of the way and you freeze like a deer in headlights

maybe if you just… stay very still… jungkook won’t see you…

a good two seconds ticks by before you figure that you probably look like an idiot right now

“um-“ you straighten up a little before smoothing your sweater down, “i… yep! that… yep. sounds good.”

jungkook smiles brightly before nodding, “alright! just give me a couple of minutes to get that ready for you guys.”

your heart starts to drum away in your chest as you watch the back of jungkook’s head

even the back of his damn head is attractive

it’s not fair!!!!

“…i feel like there’s something we’re missing here.” taehyung is the first one to speak up and you force out a chuckle before shaking your head

time to do what you do best

D E N Y

“there’s nothing you’re missing here!” you snort, “he just- i’ve been here like, once or twice, so-“

“red velvet cake in a brownie waffle cone with hot fudge on top sounds a little too specific for you to have only been here once or tw-“ jimin pauses and his eyes widen to the size of saucers, “oh my god.”

your brows knit together in concern, “wh- what?”

a smile begins to creep onto jimin’s face and your mind begins to race with what he could possibLy be thinking when suddenly- “you slept with him!” jimin gasps before whacking tae’s arm multiple times, “she slept with him!!!”

“wha- NO- no, i did not sleep with jungk-!” you lower your voice when you realise that there are children in here and you lean in, “i didn’t sleep with him. i just- i come here a lot, and- i don’t know. he’s nice! a-and he’s cute. he’s- he’s nice and he’s cute. and he gives me free things, sometimes.”

“…yeah, i think she’s telling the truth. she definitely didn’t sleep with him.“ taehyung shakes his head and you let out a sigh of relief

at least someone’s on your side here

you jolt when taehyung suddenly gives you a hearty sLAp on the back, “she’s just in love with him and doesn’t know how to tell him-“

OH my go-

“hey, your ice creams are ready for you!” jungkook, once again, seemingly pops out of thin air and the thrEE of you immediately split up the mini football huddle, “i have them for you at the cash register if you wanna come over and get them! y/n, i tried something new with your cone - i wrapped marshmallow fluff around the top and then caramelised it so it’d turn into, like, a s’mores situation-”

“y-yep! i’ll be right there-“ you hold a finger out and jungkook nods before heading over to the cash register

you turn to look at jimin and taehyung and scowl when the two of them begin to make kissy noises at each other

“oh, y/n, come to the back so i can show you my cone-“

“you can fluff my marshmallows any day of the week, jungkook-“

oh, god

see????

this was exaCTLY why you didn’t want to come here!!!!

in case this happened!!!!!

“oh my god, lemme drizzle my syrup all over your face, baby-“

“okay, c’mon, that’s enough-“

“roll me up like how you roll those waffle cones with your big, strong arms-“

jesus christ

children!!!!!!!

they are both chiLdren!!!!

boys are so GROSS

jungkook waits patiently by the cash register as his fingers drum against the marble countertop

he leans over to peek at you and your friends and smiles lightly when he sees you whaCk at one of them

to be honest, he liked you the moment you stepped into the shop for the first time

he still remembers how excited you were when you were looking at all the different flavours

according to the company policy, customers are only allowed to try four samples but jungkook’s pretty sure he let you try twenty samples on that day

after the first time you came here, he was actually pretty worried that he’d never see you again??

he was pretty bummed about it for a while because he wished that he would’ve asked for your number or something while you were here but he was too busy trying to be the charming ice-cream boy anD he was also pretty busy admiring your cute face

so he was very much pleasantly surprised when you came back a week later and was fully ready to let you go ham on the samples again

>:-)

but, again, he didn’t ask for your number that time around either because he couldn’t figure out a smooth way to ask you

and he wasn’t worried about you noT coming back because you seemed like a pretty big ice cream person

the point is: jungkook’s had plenty of opportunities (practically handed to him on a silver platter) to ask for your number so that he can finally ask you OUT and… he hasn’t.

but today!!!!

today will be different!!!!

today he’ll finally make his move!!!

he’s not giving himself an option!!!

he actually wasn’t expecting you in today because you usually pop up every two weeks or so and you came in last week

at first he thought that maybe you were dating one of the boys that you came in with but from the looks of it, the vibes are very much platonic and not at all romantic

so he thinks he’s in the clear here

jungkook straightens his posture and puffs his chest out a little bit when he sees you walking over

okay

operation: finally ask y/n for her number, you pussy is undERWAY

“well, i’m going to go and pay for your guys’ ice creams and you can just continue to make fools of yourselves-!”

by the time you make your way over to the cash register, jimin and taehyung are stiLL going at it but you’re hoping that jungkook won’t pay it any mind

“alright, how much do i owe you?” you ask as you pull your debit card out of your wallet, “this ice cream is the only thing i’m willing to break my wallet over-“

“actually, all of this is on the house today.” jungkook bounces on the balls of his feet for a second, “it’s the special birthday discount!”

?

you tilt your head

what special birthday discount?

“birthday discount?” you ask dumbly, “it’s not my birthday, though.”

“no, it’s not your birthday… but it’s my birthday.” jungkook clears his throat, “and… you know, i wanted to do something nice for you!”

“okay, well, first of all- happy birthday!” you smile brightly before that smile immediately drops from your face, “and, second of all- i can’t take this for free, jungkook- you even sprinkled those fancy toasted pecans on top of taehyung’s ice cream! i have to give you something-“

jungkook swallows his nerves

it’s now or never!

“there is… one thing you could give me…” he trails off, his voice starting to grow a little quiet

okay

the confidence is beginning to dwindle a little so he should probably get to the point 

“yeah, i can think of one thing- like money??” you stick your debit card out again and jungkook rolls his eyes playfully before whacking your hand away

okay

just say it

just say it!!!!!!

“no, not money…” jungkook swallows thickly before shaking his head, “i was thinking more along the lines of… you know, your number.”

you drop your debit card on the countertop with a clatter

“my-“ you cut yourself off mid-sentence and you feel your cheeks immediately turn bright red, “you- you want my number?”

jungkook… jungkook wants your number?

you feel like money would be better than your number, but that’s just your humble opinion

“i mean- you obviously don’t have to give it to me if you don’t want to! i-i’m not trying to imply that you owe me anything, i just-“ jungkook pauses for a second and his tongue pokes out to swipe over his bottom lip nervously, “i just, um, i don’t know! i… i really… enjoy your company, whenever you come in for a visit, you know? and i think you’re really pretty, so there’s that. i dunno.”

well, he can safely say that his self-proclaimed boyish charm flew out of the window as soon as he opened his mouth

why’s he so nervous all of a sudden??

he’s practiced this in front of the mirror a doZEN times

and every time he hits on himself in the mirror he’s tempted to give himself his number

that’s how good he is at flirting!!

but here he is!!! 

fumbling over his words!!! 

shoving his clammy hands into his pockets!!! 

diverting his gaze from the pretty girl who he’s been dreaming about ever since the first time he laid his undeserving eyes on her!!!

“no, no-! i just-“ you smile shyly as you slide your debit card back into your wallet with clumsy hands, “i would absolutely love to give you my number! it’s just that i- i didn’t- i didn’t think that you… liked me like that.”

jungkook looks up at you before scoffing playfully, “i’ve been giving you free ice cream for the past four months, y/n. you really didn’t think, at any point, that i liked you like that?”

you press your lips together before flashing a sheepish smile at him, “i mean… i was probably paying more attention to the ice cream than to you.”  

jungkook snorts

he should’ve seen that coming. 

(p.s. he heard every single word of what your friends said earlier and this is just his dumb icky sleazy boy brain speaking but he’d be down to drizzle his syrup on ur face if you allowed him to) 

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

[songbirdsingingthings]

Lovely Night - Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS, THEY BELONG TO KOHEI HORIKOSHI

This oneshot was inspired by the song Lovely Night from the musical La La Land. It’s such a cute and funny song that I thought it would work perfectly for Bakugou and a reader who are not super fond of each other, but figure out they have feelings for each other. I put a lot of hard work into this oneshot and I’m super happy and proud with how it came out. I hope you all enjoy! And, if you would like, feel free to open up youtube and listen to the actual song while reading, or look up the lyrics to see where I used and or changed some of them to fit within the story! So, without further ado, ENJOY!!! 

WARNINGS: Realistic Fluff, Some Swearing

Word Count: 2608

It was no secret to the rest of Class 1-A. Y/N L/N and Katsuki Bakugou just could not stand each other. Y/N hated how loud and abrasive he was, and might she add that he was like that for absolutely no reason. She hated how much he would boast about his quirk - I mean seriously, it was like he was six years old and he was talking about the expensive action figure he got for his birthday! But, most of all, she hated how attractive he had to be. There was no denying that he was strikingly handsome and had a very well toned body, but something about the way that he actually took the time to make himself presentable struck a chord within Y/N. Of course, Bakugou’s parents were fashion designers, so maybe he was just conditioned from a young age to look presentable. 

Bakugou hated how structured and uptight Y/N was. He genuinely thought the girl had a stick up her ass for the entirety of her life. To him, she was like a drill sergeant, dictating who should go where in a team takedown. Granted, she was right almost all of the time, but that didn’t stop her from being annoying about it. Although, however much he hated her those previous reasons, he hated her the most for how undeniably gorgeous she was. She, unlike some of the other girls in class, wore little to no make up during the day - which he himself thought was a smart decision, who knew when a villain could attack and cause sweat to make your mascara run? Her Y/H/L Y/H/C hair was always in a style that he found incredibly flattering on her and her Y/E/C eyes were just striking. 

Their conflicted, no matter how strictly negative they tell themselves they are, feelings for each other caused quite a few ruptures in group activities. Whether it was going after each other in laser tag - even though they were on the same team -, not cooperating on group projects for school, or making a huge mess in the dorm kitchen trying to prove to the other that they are the superior chef, they were at each other's throats. The latter wasn’t so bad for the class, they actually made some really delicious food, but Aizawa was pretty mad about the flour on the carpet and the dried batter sticking to the walls and stovetops. 

Coincidentally, the entirety of class 1-A was at a group dinner this evening, celebrating their completion of their final written exams. Jokes and anecdotes were exchanged as waiters brought the class delicious food. Y/N’s eyes lit up as a woman brought over a platter of Y/F/F. Eagerly, she piled 2 or 3 servings onto her plate.

“Oi, L/N, stop loading up on the Y/F/F, you’re not the only person here! Besides, you’re gonna look like a stuffed turkey by the end of the night!” Y/N had to admit, the last part of his insult did sting a bit, but she couldn’t give him an inch.

“Oh, bite me Bakugou. Besides, isn’t it past your bedtime?” Y/N said, smirking at him with a sassy look in her eyes while pointing to an analog clock that read 9:30 p.m. . Scowling, Bakugou just turned his back towards her and started chatting with Kirishima instead. 

“Nice one, Y/N.” One of Y/N’s best friends, Jirou, said as she gave her a high five. Feeling very accomplished, she smiled. 

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t Y/N’s best idea to have that much food to eat. Y/N’s stomach cramped pretty badly - so badly that she had to thank whatever godly force was looking down on her that made her wear a pretty fit and flare dress to dinner. If she were wearing regular pants, that material would not feel great against her somewhat bloating stomach. Excusing herself to the bathroom, she relieved herself and thankfully felt much better afterwards. Y/N straightened out her pretty yellow dress and ran a hand through her hair, making sure to comb out any knots. As she made her way back to the table, only a couple people remained. Everyone must’ve gone back to the dorms already, Y/N thought. Of course, she thought as she found the one person who walked back into the restaurant. Everyone had left except for Bakugou.

“Where the hell did everyone else go?” He asked, clearly pissed. Rolling her eyes, Y/N crossed her arms. 

“If I had known everyone was leaving I would’ve gone with them Sherlock. I was in the bathroom so I didn’t see them. Where were you?” Y/N asked.

“I was outside taking a call. Dammit!” He cursed, grabbing the jacket on the back of his chair and pulled his arms through it. Sighing, Y/N took a look at the clock. It was 12:30 a.m. . You have got to be kidding me, she thought. “Well come on. Let’s get going before it gets any later.” He said bluntly, walking slowly out of the big glass doors.

“What do you mean “let’s”? Y/N asked, kind of shocked that he implied that the two of them would be walking back together. Now it was Bakugou’s turn to roll his eyes.

“I’m not going to let a girl walk alone at this time at night, no matter how much I might hate her guts. Who knows what creeps are out there. Now, let’s go.” He says a bit more sternly this time. Y/N quickly grabbed her little white purse from the back of her seat, swung it around her shoulder, and walked out after him.  The only unfortunate thing about going to the restaurant that the class decided to go to was that there wasn’t a cab in sight. The class decided to take the bus which by now had left hours ago. That meant that Y/N had to trek back to UA in heels that pinched her toes. Trying not to make a sound, she clenched her jaw and her fists and forced herself to keep walking on the hard concrete. However, about twenty minutes into their walk, Y/N accidentally let a little squeak of pain slip out of her mouth. Bakugou, who was a little bit in front of her, turned around to get a look at Y/N. 

“What the hell was that?” He said, stifling a laugh that wanted to make itself known. To him, this was kind of hilarious. Never had he heard Y/N willingly show any sign of weakness, and here she was literally squeaking in pain because of her damn shoes.

“Nothing, come on let’s keep walking.” Giving Y/N an unbelieving look, he led her over to a bench that overlooked much of the city. He had to admit, it was a pretty spectacular view. It would have almost been romantic - the stars were shining down on the sparkling city, lights that worked so well together. However, it was absolutely not romantic, because he was here with Y/N, and it wasn’t some other girl and guy. 

Y/N was sat down, slowly taking off her heels to reveal several nasty blisters. She hissed as the cool, almost chilly, night air met her marred skin.

“Why do you girls wear shoes like that if they only make your feet hurt like hell.” Bakugou said. Y/N sighed as she began to take off her other heel, this time on her right foot.

“Because,” she said as she gritted her teeth, “I think they make my legs look pretty freaking hot.” Finally, she pulled the second one off and set it next to its partner. “Also, I didn’t think that I would be walking a lot tonight.” Bakugou did have to admit - the shoes really did accentuate her legs in a very attractive manner. He also noticed, don’t ask him why, that she had taken the time to shave her legs. 

“Well it’s just the class, why did you feel the need to get all done up?” Bakugou’s question struck a nerve within Y/N. She felt her face heat up. Why did she feel the need to get all done up? She would have looked perfectly acceptable in a nice shirt and skirt, maybe even a cute little romper with sandals, but instead she went for a pretty dress and white heels. Then, it dawned on her. Oh my God, I did this all for Bakugou, she thought . Underneath all the layers of competition, disdain for his habits that weren’t as annoying now, and arrogance, Y/N liked him. She found herself noticing more of his other positive habits. He made sure to walk her back home, even if she wasn’t his favorite person, made sure to make her take a break when something was hurting her, and now, asking questions that weren’t aimed to make her look like a fool.

“I-I uh…” Y/N didn’t really know how to answer Bakugou’s question. What do you say to a boy that you’ve basically hated for an entire year that you now have a crush on?

Woah, Bakugou thought, did Y/N actually just stutter? And why was it kind of… cute? Bakugou thought to himself. Nah, I don’t feel like that. It’s just really late at night and I’m sitting next to a pretty girl on a bench that basically overlooks the stars. I do NOT think that way.

“Pretty view huh,” Y/N murmured, a small smile donning her face as she surveyed the city that lay beneath them.

“Yeah, I guess so. Kind of sucks that it’s you and I here instead of other people that could actually enjoy it together.” Bakugou says, looking away from the girl. Scoffing, Y/N gives him an incredulous look. How could I ever think I have feelings for this guy? She thought, I mean, that was just him being a straight up asshole! 

“You and I would never work,” Bakugou says, out of the blue, “I mean you’re not even my type.” Y/N could almost feel flames shooting out of her head.

“Oh yeah?” She scoffs, glaring at the boy.

“Yeah. What a waste of a freaking night.”

Grabbing her heels, Y/N forces them back on, stand sup, and walks right up in front of him.

“Let’s make something clear, Katsuki Bakugou,” Y/N says, giving Bakugou a look that he believes could only be rivaled by himself, “I make the calls around here. But, you are right, I would never fall for you.” Bakugou doesn’t know why, but a tiny part of his heart aches when she says that. “And even though you look pretty good in that... polyester suit of yours,” Y/N begins to say.

“It’s. Wool.” Bakugou snaps back, standing up so that he was now taller than her, “this in no way appeals to me. Maybe it would interest a girl who is not currently having her feet be cut up by her heels, or a girl who actually believes that this could’ve been a spark to romance.” Y/N says, her face now inches away from the blonde’s. “You were right. What a waste of a lovely freaking night.” 

With their noses almost touching, Bakugou just reacts on mere instinct. He almost couldn’t stand to be this close to Y/N without touching her.. The perfume that Y/N wore was intoxicating to him, invading his senses and telling him just do it! Kiss her! It’ll make everything better! And, with no one there stopping him, he gave in. He roughly grabbed her check with his right hand and the back of her neck with his left, and crashed his lips into hers. Y/N’s eyes widened so much, she thought that they were going to pop right out of her head. But, something about kissing Bakugou just felt so damn right. Y/N closed her eyes and kissed him back. Her arms somehow found themselves wrapped around his neck and made their way into his soft hair, pulling at the blonde locks as he worked his tongue into her mouth. It was like fireworks were going off at the same time as she was riding a rollercoaster. It was exciting, it was energizing, and it was warm. Bakugou’s arms now made their way and wrapped themselves around Y/N’s waist, pushing her as close as possible to his chest. Y/N’s knees wobbled at this action which made Bakugou smile into their kiss-turned-make out session. Y/N smiled as well. Finally, it got to the point where the two of them had to separate and take a deep breath. Their foreheads were leaning against each other and their arms were still firmly wrapped around each other.

“I think I like you.” Y/N whispered, making Bakugou smirk.

“You think?” He murmured back, rubbing his thumb against her waist.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure.” Y/N said, giggling. Finally, Bakugou pulled away just enough so that he could make full eye contact with the Y/H/C haired girl in his arms. 

“I’m pretty sure I like you too. But don’t think I’m letting up on anything. Your ass is going to be kicked in the next cooking competition.” He says arrogantly, however this time Y/N found his arrogance somewhat cute. She rolls her eyes and gave him a smile. 

“Yeah, okay. Sure. Keep telling yourself that.” Y/N stepped back from him, grabbed her little purse that she dropped due to all the activity, and began walking back in the direction of UA. Bakugou jogged up to Y/N and stopped her in her tracks. Giving him a smirk, she says, “What Bakugou, couldn’t get enough?”

“First off, it’s Katsuki to you now,” he says matter-of-factly, making her cheeks dance with red, “and you’re not walking back on those deathtraps of yours.” He leans down and gently slips her heels off and gives them to Y/N to hold. “Now c’mon, let’s go home.” He says, kind of sweetly this time. He motions for Y/N to let him give her a piggy-back ride which she gladly accepts. With her fingers hooked in her heels, Y/N lets her head lay against Bakugou’s, no, Katsuki’s, broad shoulder. She presses a gentle kiss to his neck which makes him stop in his tracks.

“L/N, if you keep on doing that sappy shit, we’re not gonna be able to make it home tonight.” He says bluntly. Y/N couldn’t see his face from the angle she was faced, but she could just tell that he was blushing.

“First off, it’s Y/N to you now,” she says, mimicking his previous statement which makes him chuckle a bit, “and I just couldn’t help it. But, carry on walking, I seem to remember a sparring match tomorrow that I need to be well rested for.” Katsuki rolls his eyes and continues walking. The two make small talk for the rest of the trip home about Y/N’s home life - not Katsuki’s, he’s not super ready for that yet, - and life in general.

“I was wrong before.” Katsuki says, making Y/N’s giddy face morph into a confused one.

“Wrong about what? There were several exchanges that we have had in the past hour.” She says, concerned that he was talking about when he revealed his feelings for her.

“It’s not a waste of a night.” He says sweetly, making Y/N grin from an ear to ear. “It’s the perfect way to spend a lovely night.”

[goddessofroyalty]

Prompt: Sefikura, mpreg, preggo!Cloud (with Prompto), lactation kink. This is exactly what it says. I don't know why but I like to think that Sephiroth loves everything about Cloud while he's pregnant, including the part where Cloud is lactating. Cloud finds it embarrassing and becomes very flustered when THAT particular part of his body just... decides to make itself known. Sephiroth personally tries to find any opportunity to shove Cloud against the wall and lift his shirt to suck his breasts.

Fandoms: FFVII

Pairing: Sephiroth/Cloud

Tags: mpreg, lactation, lactation kink

Kind of couldn’t make it clear it’s Prompto Cloud’s pregnant with because like… adding that was going to feel out of nowhere for the tone but I think I got basically everything else.

“Ngh, Seph- uh.”

Cloud is pretty sure most people would be freaking out at his position – pinned between Sephiroth and a wall. The General’s grin smug against their neck.

Even Cloud’s heart starts to race at it, but certainly not from fear.

“Mmph, Seph, we’re in public.” Anyone could walk into the hall and see them – Sephiroth’s lips ghosting along Cloud’s neck. His hands holding Cloud’s hips where he wants them.

If Zack walks in Cloud would never hear the end of it.

“So?” Sephiroth asks, his hands sliding up and under Cloud’s shirt to rest on the full swell of Cloud’s stomach where their child grows. “They should already know that you are mine.”

“Yeah but,” Cloud says. His words cut off by Sephiroth dragging his teeth down his neck. Making Cloud’s legs go weak.

“But nothing, I cannot be expected to keep my hands to myself when you are like this.”

Cloud wants to laugh at it. He hardly considers himself at his most attractive right now – bloated and leaking. Not that he’s going to say so out of fear it might cause Sephiroth to stop what he’s currently doing. Or move his attention on what is apparently his newfound fascination.

“You don’t believe me?” Sephiroth asks, drawing back to look Cloud in the eyes. Making Cloud wish he couldn’t read him so well.

“It’s not that.” Cloud knows Sephiroth is at the very least fascinated by how Cloud’s body has changed from their child. Even shift something to be obsessively categorised.

That doesn’t mean Cloud has to be similarly pleased about it.

“Then what?” Sephiroth asks.

“It’s nothing.” Can they please go back to just making out against the wall until someone walks in?

“It’s not,” Sephiroth says. One of his hands creeping up from Cloud’s stomach towards the newest fun side-effect of pregnancy.

“Uh-“ Cloud doesn’t know how Sephiroth can really expect him to give a cognitive answer while so hyper-aware of where Sephiroth’s hands are on his body. So aware of the one making its way up his chest.

A thumb presses against Cloud’s nipple and he can only whimper.

Sephiroth’s eyes narrow.

“Is this it?” Sephiroth asks. His thumb almost massaging the nipple. Encouraging it to start to leak. “Are you ashamed of how your body is preparing to feed our child?”

“Not ashamed.” Cloud had known he would start to lactate at some point while he was pregnant obviously. But he hadn’t expected it to come as early as it did.

“No?” Sephiroth asks, pushing Cloud’s shirt up with his hand still on Cloud’s stomach. Bunching it above the swell.

Cloud watches as Sephiroth leans down to press a kiss to the peak of it.

Closes his eyes and gasps as the next kiss is paired with another firm massage of his now hyper-sensitive nipple.

“Stunning,” Sephiroth says, pushing Cloud’s shirt up further still. Exposing Cloud’s chest as well.

Cloud tries not to think about how much of a mess he must look. Sticky milk smeared across his breast from where Sephiroth had encouraged it to be expressed.

He doesn’t dare open his eyes as he feels Sephiroth’s tongue drag up through the sticky mess and over the now especially sensitive nipple.

“Seph,” Cloud groans when Sephiroth drags his tongue over again.

Sephiroth makes a questioning hum at it. His face still so close that Cloud swears he can feel the vibration of it against his skin.

“Fuck.”

“Later,” Sephiroth promises. “For now let me enjoy what your body is making for our child.”

Cloud wants to protest. Protest that they are in too public of a place to have his milk-heavy breasts exposed. Protest that Sephiroth shouldn’t want to give them so much attention. Protests that Cloud wants his body to just calm down in its preparation for the baby that’s still a couple weeks off being due.

When Sephiroth’s mouth surrounds Cloud’s breast and starts to suck it’s all Cloud can do not to have his legs go out from under him. Uselessly bracing against the wall as he moans.

Sephiroth can somehow grin without stopping sucking. His hands holding Cloud under his stomach – helping keep Cloud upright while also tracing patterns on the stretched skin with his thumbs.

And- fuck.

Cloud hadn’t realised how much pressure had built up in his chest until now when Sephiroth’s actions give him apparently much needed relief.

One of Sephiroth’s stabilizing hands slides down and into Cloud’s pants. Cloud only able to pant as it finds the hard flesh within.

“Seph,” Cloud says, although it comes out more as a whimper as Sephiroth apparently tries to milk his body for all it can produce.

All of it feeling like too much and not enough. A spring coiling tighter and tighter through his whole body.

Orgasm brings relief to some of the pressure. But it does not seem to cause Sephiroth to let up on his sucking. The feeling very quickly crossing over into painful overstimulation.

“Sephiroth, enough.”

Sephiroth does draw away. Looking up at Cloud with a gaze that can only be defined as predatory.

“Oh gods,” Cloud says. Leaning against the wall behind him as he catches his breathe. “You bastard.”

“You weren’t complaining earlier,” Sephiroth says, like the smug bastard he is.

“You’re lucky nobody walked in,” Cloud says instead of acknowledging that. Tugging his shirt back down over his stomach and ignoring how sticky both it and his pants are. He’ll have a shower and get changed soon.

He tries to ignore how one breast now feels fuller than the other but fails.

“Ugh, I’m going to feel uneven all day.”

It takes a moment for Sephiroth to figure out what Cloud means. Cloud knows as soon as he does though because the predatory grin comes with it.

“I could help you out with that,” Sephiroth offers.

“No, it’s fine.” Cloud already isn’t sure he will be able to walk straight right now. Going a second round for Sephiroth to ease the pressure in his other breast will end with him needing Sephiroth to carry him back to their room. And Cloud really won’t live that down if Zack finds out.

“Alright,” Sephiroth says, pressing a kiss to Cloud’s cheek. Cloud trying not to be hyperaware that the slight stickiness of it a result of his milk. “I will offer again later.”

Which, great, another opportunity for someone to walk in when Sephiroth decides it’s time for another too-public place for him to help ease the pressure.  

Cloud really is looking forward to after this kid of theirs is born and Sephiroth’s obsession over him returned to a normal level.

[hollowknightheadcanons]

Spooky Scary ideas for the funny soup au

(by ratcandy)

Oh boy! You've allowed me to ramble! Horror soup au time.

A'ight so how is soup boy getting ahold of soul? We know in canon that there's... some way of extracting soul, aside from just killing bugs, but I don't believe we ever see what that machine... is? We see a snail shaman strapped down somewhere, presumably to be Drained(tm), but I can't remember if we actually see a soul-extraction-device of sorts. Considering the only other method we've seen of gathering soul is through attacking/killing bugs, I can only imagine that the soul draining process would be horrifically painful! So much so that he'd likely have to be careful how much is drained at a time... if he's not trying to kill the bug off. Which in of itself opens up the can of worms of him using the same bug over and over again for soul! What if he was in a rush? Would he just drown them in the hot springs (or whatever that liquid is) until they're full on soul again? How does he make sure they don't fight back?

On that note, where's he keeping his victims? You mentioned "When he first started out, he was only using a couple bugs- why raise suspicions by draining a bunch of bugs for soul when you could keep only a couple? But then as his restaurant got more popular, he needed more." He's gonna need a place to be holdin these bugs. Somewhere they can't escape and where they can't be heard. I know there was talk of a basement somewhere?? That COULD work, but it'd have to be soundproofed to some degree. Also, it'd have to be a pretty big basement! Assuming the growth in popularity is enough that he needs a constant supply of soul! Unless the basement is underneath the restaurant. Which is actually an idea I've used for a story before! The "ingredients" are kept deep underneath the feet of all the unknowing customers. They can scream and shout all they want - it'd be worse if they know there's bugs above them that can't hear them - but alas! No saving them now.

Bro hear me OUT What if he obtained his victims by setting up a sort of... yknow. "Now Hiring!" façade? Some poor sod thinks they get to work in the popular five star soup restaurant but oh no! actually you're being used for years of torment. but hey! your blood, sweat and tears is put into every bowl :) you're a vital asset to the team!

I'm also just imagining a whole scene where Lurien finds out about the basement, somehow, but he's not sure what to expect. He sneaks down at some point, maybe in the dead of night when the restaurant's closed, only to be faced with the horror of hundreds of drained bugs, all barely alive, begging to be freed. 

Someone headcanon'd at some point that the Soul Master is straight up chugging raw soul after a long day and. IMAGINE. Throughout the show/story/what have you, his body is just progressively contorting due to the effects of soul. Having "watered-down" soul, as is used in the soups, is fine in small doses, but just... straight up drinking that strong stuff? Oh terrible! By the end of it, he's just a bloated, hardly mobile mess, constantly choking on the soul he's ingested but somehow supremely powerful still. So he can fight back when Lurien shows up to. I dunno. arrest em? kill em? Dunno what the end goal is for Lurien other than proving it to the King, who's been shown to. likely not care! (The King's probably in on it imo)

ON that note, too, what about Mistakes/Follies? I imagine they're all over the basement. Experiments with "how much soul can i put in this soup without is having negative effects on a customer" that went very wrong! 

Does soul behave like a drug here? I mean, it's got healing properties, so anyone that ingests it has gotta be feeling pretty good afterwards. If they realize the correlation between "hey i'm feelin real sweet rn" to "this soup is wiggity wack" then. oop. they just keep coming back for more :)

And just for the sake of yummy gore and unsafe food practices: what if some newly-hired idiot (actually hired, not hired to be drained), that the Soul Master just trusted for some reason, didn't understand it was the soul being used in the soup and thought it actually was bugs themselves? Uh oh sisters! Accidental cannibalism? accidental cannibalism! And soup boy having to HASTILY cover up this mistake somehow when someone realizes there's chitin in their soup. actually. no. you didn't notice anything. please let's discuss this privately :) would you be so kind as to meet me downstairs? 

OKAY time to put a cap on my rambling for now!! It'd probably be a good idea to tag this with. uh. some sort of warning? I dunno hskjh, I tried not to get too graphic here but!! YeeAH,

———

This has the energy of that one post that’s like “a sitcom that keeps getting progressively darker and when a character dies their scene in the opening theme is just dead silence”

By the time Lurien uncovers the full secret, it’s unlikely there would be any bugs alive- however remember the soul sanctum basement in the game itself? yeah.

If Soul Master overdoses on soul then that would be the series finale or something. when it’s completely switched genres lol. Imagine the mood whiplash from going from season 1 episode 5 to season 5 episode 8.

Idk if PK is in on it since in the game he did try and shut down the soul sanctum (it’s implied at least) but the soul master went and continued behind his back anyway.

now for the machine that drains soul, we only have two references for that. the snail shaman and the place where you get spell twister.

its not that difficult to actually get the bugs for the soup though since he has at least two soul warriors and i hate those guys, one almost killed me in steel soul. i was at one mask.

Wait what if when they first started out, they (soul master and other soul sanctum guys) used their OWN soul just to test it out before they started getting into the whole kidnapping bugs for soul business. just a little bit. so that’s how the machine is not designed to kill on accident.

ooh i just got an idea but i’ll make a separate post.

[scribeofred]

Thanks to @onereyofstarlight for the tag!

 1. What fandoms have you written for?

This is embarrassing but I actually had to look at both FFnet and AO3 because I couldn’t remember all of them. TRON: Legacy, Assassin’s Creed, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit, Sherlock, Final Fantasy VII and XV and Kingsglaive, Voltron: Legendary Defender, Merlin, Skyrim, and, of course, Thunderbirds. I have a couple other fandoms that crop up in various wips, including a Tom Swift/Thunderbirds crossover that I really should finish.

2. How many works do you have on AO3 &/or FFNet?

FFnet has 45, and AO3 has 41. There’s also a couple stories lurking on tumblr, notably a final chapter for Reflection.

3. What are your top 3 fics by kudos on A03 &/or Favs on FFNet?

AO3 dominates in this area, if I can use a word like “dominates” for stories that have less than 125 kudos each haha. Oh well, the numbers don’t matter!

1.     118 kudos on tell the shades apart (my world is black and white)

2.     94 kudos on Reflection

3.     91 kudos on The 43rd Hour

4. Which 3 fics have the least kudos & Favs?

Again on AO3:

1 kudos on I Am You (And You Are Me)

5 kudos on The Dragonborn Chronicles

6 kudos on cynosure

5. Which Fic has the most comments and which has the least?

Reflection has the most at 29 threads, and I Am You (And You Are Me) has the least at zero.

6. Which complete fic do you wish had gotten more attention?

Lodestar, definitely. Sure, it’s for something of a rarepair, but they aren’t that rare, and I just really really like the way the story came together. On the other hand, of course my unfinished Merlin fic has gotten probably the most attention, because that’s just the way it goes, eh?

7. Have you written any crossovers?

None that I’ve published! I have various crossovers lurking in mostly unfinished states, including the aforementioned Tom Swift/Thunderbirds crossover, and an Assassin’s Creed/Thundeerbirds crossover that is very good and I should also finish. There’s an Expanse/Thunderbirds fic lurking in my brain that I may or may not ever commit to paper, who knows. I’ve also very vaguely toyed with a Batman/Thunderbirds crossover, in the sense that “nebulous” is too strong a word for the kind of toying I’ve been doing.

8. What is the craziest fic you’ve written?

I don’t really write crazy or crack or humor in general, so probably the closest thing to “crazy” is On the Lam, which was the result of wanting to throw Scott and Penelope toward an Egyptian stud farm. It ended up being the host for a bad joke about that, courtesy of one @thebaconsandwichofregret, who consistently gives some of the best dialogue advice I’ve ever encountered.

Actually, the true answer is probably a chapter in Glimpses into a Supernova, maybe the one about blood? It seems bonkers when I think back on it now, but I admittedly haven’t read it in many years. Possibly I am misremembering. Glimpses has some weird ones, though.

9. What’s the fic you’ve written with the saddest ending?

It’s a tossup between The Painting and a place where the water touches the sky. The former deals with a prior off-screen death; the latter is (maybe??) an on-screen death. People seemed upset by it, at any rate. I said it was ambiguous!

10. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

“Happy” is probably a matter of perspective? Depends on the overall reading experience and the ending within that context. Either septet or Three Towels and a Tracy, they’re both pretty fluffy overall.

11. What is your smuttiest fic?

protoinstincts, which I completely forgot I wrote and then rediscovered like a year later and realized “hey, this is actually pretty good” and you know what, despite it not being overly spicy, it is pretty good.

12. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not hate, per se, but someone left a review on Less Than Nothing saying they “didn’t like” that I “wrote the story as a series of drabbles.” Cool, I didn’t write the story for you, random guest reader, and the back button exists, friend 😂 It didn’t bother me on a personal level because I wrote the fic for an audience of one (incidentally, not myself and rather the recipient of a secret santa event), but I was mad because the reviewer had no way of knowing where I was at as a writer, and I know from longtime observation how that kind of comment can crush less experienced or confident writers.

Don’t leave flames, kids, you don’t understand the power your words have. Don’t like, don’t read.

13. What is the nicest comment you’ve received?

The nicest? Goodness. Hmm. I’d have to go hunting to find the nicest, but in recent memory, @ayzrules sent me a couple passages from Spanish texts she’s been studying that reminded her of my writing, and I was honestly so touched by the fact that she even thought to make such comparisons, much less mention them to me. Taking the time to familiarize yourself with someone’s style until you can make comparisons between it and someone else’s work is so much more meaningful to me personally than a basic “Nice story!” or “Loved this!” type of comment ever could be. <3 Ayz <3

14. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of, but I’ve never gone looking on any sort of copycat site or whatever either.

15. How many fics do you have marked as incomplete?

Two. First is The Dragonborn Chronicles, which is a retelling of Skyrim from Lydia’s perspective via her journal, to complement the in-game journal. It’s a slog of a style to write, though, even for someone who loves writing first person and doesn’t really want to write a lot of dialogue, and the outline is huge, and the story will be many times more huge, and just. Some day. Some day.

Second is tell the shades apart (my world is black and white), which has always been unfinished because the outline itself is over seven thousand words and the fully written story would undoubtedly land between 100,000 and 200,000 words, and there’s no way I’m writing that. I’ve always meant to upload the outline, but I got kind of self-conscious about the way I formatted it, and ugh I just haven’t bothered. One day, one day, right?

Moral of the story is I’m intensely a short story writer, and I’ve really found myself settling into that role over the last couple years. Better a clipped, punchy short story than a bloated slog of an epic.

16. Which of the WIPS will most likely be finished first?

Literally no one knows that. I wrote 95% of the observable entropy of a closed system over five years ago, and then I proceeded to pull it out roughly once a year and write and rewrite various endings until last month, which was when I finally figured out how I wanted to end the story. septet, too, languished for about five years before I finally remembered it existed and managed to wrangle an ending. Endings are hard, man. So are those third plot points. Terrible creatures, those, bog me down every time.

17. Which WIP are you looking forward to finishing?

Uh... mm. See. If I were looking forward to finishing any of them, I’d be actively working on them. At this moment, writing fic isn’t exactly high on my list of priorities, but I am also coming off a four-day idle game bender, so I still feel like I haven’t quite reengaged with myself as a living person. Give me another few days and I might have an answer.

(I am always most looking forward to finishing this ridiculous Ignis-drives-the-Audi-R8 fic that’s been languishing in my wips for literal years. As mentioned above, third plot points. Killer, man.)

(oh and also the working-titled the art of murder. Scott and Penny attend a private art auction. Things don’t go to plan. It, too, is stuck at the third plot point. I know, I know I have a problem, shush.)

18. Is there a WIP that you’re considering abandoning?

Any wip has the potential to be revived—this year and the old wips I’ve unearthed, dusted off, finished, and posted have been proof of that. I don’t intentionally permanently abandon anything for that reason, some stories just probably will remain dusty old wips forever because I didn’t actually need or want to write the full story for one reason or another.

19. Which complete fic would you consider rewriting?

Now that’s an interesting question. Hmm! Honestly? None of them. Once I finish a story, I’m not inclined toward rereading it again any time soon, to the point of years in some cases, and I feel like I’ve moved on from the stories I wrote one, two, five, eight years ago in the actual writing sense. They’re finished stories, and on top of that are relics of their time, which doesn’t mean the stories don’t have any ongoing significance on a reading level—I just don’t have any interest in rewriting those particular stories. I’ve gotten them out of my head, to the point of not remembering at least a third of them on demand anymore, and I don’t have any desire to “retell” those exact stories. I do tend to tighten the wording and fix perceived errors/weaknesses whenever I do end up rereading an old story, and I usually silently update the AO3 version if I make any significant changes because AO3 makes it a breeze to update a posted fic. I might do FFnet too if I’m feeling up to it or have the time.

20. Which complete fic is your favourite?

Once upon a time I would’ve said Holding On, but I honestly find it kind of unbearably melodramatic now. the observable entropy of a closed system is equally melodramatic, as it was written in the same era, but at least it has the excuse of being told in second person and via a style that is a half step away from being poetry. Possibly I will reread it in a few years and find it equally obnoxious and overly dramatic, but it received some shockingly positive comments, which I wasn’t expecting at ALL, and I’ve been honestly blown away by the amount of praise it’s received. <3 to everyone who’s said anything about it!

21. What’s your total published word count?

141,000 on AO3, 160,000 on FFnet, but technically the light of my life SS wrote fifty thousand words of each. It’s too late for math.

 I tag @velkynkarma, @lurkinglurkerwholurks, @writtenbyrain, @thebaconsandwichofregret, and anyone else who wants to play!

[lilacsolanum]

snippet sunday

I was tagged by @halwardpavushatersclub, who is great and everyone should follow for gay Dragon Age art, and I thank him very much. It made me feel special and loved even if I’m a disaster who didn’t see it until now, a Monday. I’m going to post snippets from the three fandoms I’m in because I am unsupervised.

Dragon Age, an untitled fic merging Dorian and Bull’s romances. I cut these scenes form But There’s A Twist and will make them into their own fic eventually:

“Yeah? What’s he want me you do?”

“Kill a man, naturally. It is Orlais, after all.”

Dorian says it flippantly. Bull stares him down.

“How do you feel about that?”

Dorian waves a hand, a gesture of practiced disinterest. “I have killed before. More than most, I’d say. My hands are utterly filthy with the blood of venatori, bandits, slavers. What’s one noble?”

“You know anything about him?”

“He’s a player of that nonsensical Game. I doubt the purity of his soul.”

Bull studies him. Dorian knows he is seeing all the things Dorian tries not to think about, and he resents him for it. He grows prickly.

“Taking a life feels pretty different when it’s not your choice.”

Final Fantasy XV, Libra, a fic exploring FF15′s time travelling and the Crystal’s magic:

Ignis knew what he was eating by the sound of his knife scraping against the surface, the consistency he senses with a fork spearing, and with simple logic based on common plating practices. Describing what and where his food is as if his food is a clock—rice at seven, chicatrice at three, so forth and so on—is something he has not needed for over a decade. Yet Gladio forgets how much Ignis hates this at least once a month.

“The hell you doing?” asks Gladio.

Ignis is surprised at his tone, but if Gladio wants to get a headstart on this fight, Ignis will oblige. “I can only assume I’m cutting into the salmon I ordered,” he says, putting a slight amount of stress on the words ‘I ordered.’  “Is it not on the center of the plate, where it has been every other time I’ve had it?”

“Yeah, great, but—hey,” says Gladio. His voice is growing softer, more concerned. “You’re creeping me out.”

“Hmm?”

The realization of where—when—when he was slams into him all at once like a speeding truck. He had been staring at a dirty diner wall this entire time, painted an unpleasant off-white like yellowing teeth, aggressively illuminated by angry fluorescents. He’d been focused on two matching holes where some piece of art had once hung, holes that whoever owned this particular franchise location had been too lazy to patch. 

Animorphs, 27, a Marco POV fic about...being 27?

“Sort of,” I said, shrugging. “There’s a mini-series. It’s, uh, a six hour play.”

Rehearsals were killer. I usually pride myself on line memorization, but this? This was a lot. But I’d come out two years ago, and that meant that two out of every three role offers were for something gay, and I happened to grab on to this one.

It was a challenge. It was unlike anything I’ve ever done before. I wanted to smash the public’s perception of me as the funny man best friend of some blonde actress. Plus, I was bored to fucking tears of the whole L.A. thing. Why not give the New York thing a try!

It was hard. It was way harder than I expected. I should have eased myself in, done something like, I don’t know. Sesame Street Live. Not some bloated exploration of religion. Six fucking hours. I didn’t even read the script before I agreed to it. Here we are! At least it wasn’t another shitty fish in some cartoon movie. At least it meant something.

I thought it would mean something.

I tag @acavatica and @c-rowlesdraws and then I’m out of friends.

[mit3c]

I also really don't like how DT17 deals with the female characters, they have added way too many characters that just make it hard to keep track of them all, and it just feels silly like ohhh shes badass B)

in itself i don’t think adding female characters and in general characters to the overall lore is bad. well i talked a lot about it already but to me when all the women you write are the boss girl archetype it’s not great..and even when they aren’t, once again the show is so bloated there’s no time to do anything interesting with them so in the end you just do them a big disservice.. like introducing pepper so late into the series means she will just be a plot device to help blot moves to the Good Side, or she will have some sort of relevance on her own but since she arrived so late, and so suddenly, the audience won’t have the time to get attached to her so ultimately whatever happens it won’t matter but also i accepted that nothing in ducktales matter if not fast fusing gags, and that della and daisy will not be given the care they deserved, that any emotional stake is conveniently ignored for the sake of um. yelling girls doing kung fu i guess... so that della will not genuinely connect with her brother, that the matilda/scrooge conflict from the emotionally charged “a letter from home” is just uh,, “family fights all the time it’s normal:)” etc etc. it’s like.. flat and one note and doesn’t have anything interesting to say and literally every other cartoon do women better nowadays funnily enough (grumpy grandpa has something positive to say for once) i feel it’s a good thing in the latest episode they added women to the mcduck clan ; first their design fit pretty well with the well known ancestors from don rosa’s tree. secondly, most of the ancestors barely have backstory if none at all so i feel as Characters Of The Week, the mcduck women fitted very nicely 

(EDIT: wait i wrote too much in the tags i’ll add it here)

(the thing is. ducktales takes a lot from stories (og dt and comics) that feels very... Boys Club. so i will never blame them for adding female characters because i WANT female characters in duck media. in terms of comics i so wish someone made comics focusing on matilda and hortense's youth instead of comic number 8451166451212 about scrooge’s past days in the klondike. its just that in DT17 the execution is not great and their idea of a Strong Female Character is completely off  the way they ‘adapt’  existing characters by removing them completely from their context, change their appearance, personality, relationships, role in the story etc is not great and often i just think they shouldn’t have..bothered at all because in the end it’s lost screentime that could have gone into fleshing out the main cast. even characters like gladstone, fethry, well matilda too. were not necessary (they could have been as say, character of the week if the show didnt have a hundred other things to take care of first haha) watching the matilda episode i was thinking... “why did they add her at all. wow this matilda acts more like brigitta than she acts like matilda. weird” 

[shiftytracts]

This was gonna be a scenario post, hence the A and B format, but got so long (2.4k) it almost counts as a story. I’m less sure it counts as emeto--it’s all nausea/general digestive upset, no actual vomit. Also mentions scat and weight gain, but those tags would definitely constitute false advertising; they’re more like incidental story elements than kink elements.

--

A’s on new meds, whose side effects include slight but near-constant nausea. They wander one morning through the dark, brown-carpeted house they share with B (their SO) and another housemate (C), coffee cup in hand, still slightly sweat-sticky from bed but without the time to shower. It’s a small, thin-walled house, and C’s not up yet, so A and B keep off their shoes for as long as they can, trying not to make too much noise. A muffles their burps into the crook of their elbow. B makes eggs and toast for both; A’s gotta wolf ‘em before their appointment, but wishes they hadn’t—or at least that they’d skipped the orange juice, and maybe saved brushing their teeth for after breakfast. They head to their appointment with their heart pounding in their gut, queasy and bloated and short of breath, bubbly stiff cramps forming in new places every time they bend a different way, belly rumbling so much they wonder if B can hear it, if they can see it shake, can see A’s navel through their t-shirt.

(“Be honest”—A implores, when they wander back from the can to the kitchen sink where B stands washing grease off the breakfast plates—“do I look like a total fatass?”

(“What? No.” B laughs, rhetorically, and adds, “Why?”

(“Well ‘cause I sorta feel like one is all,” A says, peremptorily stroking up and down past their navel, but regretting it when this uncalled-for jiggling further upsets their stomach.

(“Aw. No, you look fine,” B assures them. They look back to their dishes, then at A again with preemptive shrug: “I guess if they were really looking someone might figure you’d had a big breakfast, but.” A yanks at their shirt, hoping to obscure this; “Don’t do that, you’ll stretch it,” B reminds them.)

A tries to crap before they leave but no dice—not time yet. Nasty cramps and cold sweat all through their shrink appointment. Comes home, gives vent to the pyroclastic flow, then collapses supine on the bed and unbuttons their shorts. Takes a nap.

Despite their best efforts B’s doings in there an hour or so after that wake A up; they direct A to the water glass they set by the bed. “Oh. Thanks,” A yawns, and asks if B’ll hand them pajama pants. B smiles and complies.

“Not going out again then, huh? Not feeling well?”

A shrugs. “No, I’m okay now, just kinda.” They try to make a hand gesture for tired or loopy, but judging from B’s lack of answering nod they figure this doesn’t suffice as explanation. “Might later though, I don’t know.”

“Mm.”

“Should eat something, probably.”

“Ah, yeah—get back on the horse?”

“Haha yeah.” Meanwhile A rubs their belly up and down as though to sound its opinion on the level of drawstring tightness they’ve selected. B sits next to them for a sec, puts a hand on their back, pecks their jaw.

“I guess you are a bit chubbier now,” B admits, feeling guilty for how they dodged A’s question on that score this morning.

“Seems that way,” allows A. This, they’re pretty sure, is the previous med’s fault. They wouldn’t’ve switched were that its only sin, of course, but the thing had the gall to be useless aside from its side effects of weight gain and insomnia. “Is it gross? Should I.”

“What? No,” B says again, and laughs rhetorically as before. “‘Gross’? Of course not.” B bats A’s jaw, very gently, playfully. “No matter what happens, I’m just happy you’re getting help.”

A’s answering smile lasts maybe a quarter of a second. “Thanks.” All the same they stand and spread their arms out to either side, to give B a better look. “Sure you don’t mind?”

B smiles, shakes their head chidingly, incredulously. “Why would I mind? It’s kinda cute, if anything.” To prove they mean it they go around behind A, rest the side of their face on the back of A’s neck, snake their hands around to A’s front and slot each one atop their waistband so B’s palms fit in the hollow between pelvis and flab. Roots around til they find the end of A’s shirt, pushes it out of the way, un- and re-does the drawstring so their pajama pants sit at a more flattering height. “That too tight?”

“No, it’s kinda grounding actually,” A shrugs. “Thanks.”

“Mhm. Now go eat something.”

A eats some leftover rice with soy sauce—C ordered way too much rice with their takeout two nights ago, and left the extra up for grabs. Then A figures they can handle two Oreos. Can’t stop burping after that, but only feels a little queasy, little squirmy. Lies on the couch with their laptop, alternately studying and playing Tetris (they’re a week or two into the fall semester; today’s Friday, which they have off from both classes and work). Until C gets home, at which point Mariokart happens. This makes A feel sick, though, not sure whether in a too much food or not enough kinda way, so they take their computer and go back to the bedroom, telling C they just want to remove themselves from the social distraction. Maintains this ruse until about halfway down the hallway, then lets go the foodbaby they’ve been suckin’ in and moves their free hand up and down it as they round the corner into their bedroom doorway. B’s all dressed and ready for their friend’s party now; has to go soon. They’re crisscross-applesauced on the bed looking at their phone, but they look up when A comes in. “Hey.”

“Hi! Feeling better?” B asks, with a slight frown that suggests they know the answer.

A busies their hands with setting their laptop on the bed so they can say, “Nope—queasatronic,” without seeming too self-pitying.

B nose-laughs but says, “Aw. I’m sorry.”

A shrugs, sits. “Eh.”

“Want me to stay home?—I could—?”

But this time A says, “What? No. ‘Course not, you should go. I’m fine, I’m.” (Shrugs, realizing already that this’ll sound like a guilt trip and wondering whether they secretly mean one. But they’re too bushed to think of another ending to the sentence.) “I’m used to this; don’t need a babysitter. You should go.”

“Okay. Thank you. If you’re sure.”

“No, please. Seriously.”

“Alright. What time is it?” B chirps, then presses the top button on their phone and reports, “5:24—yeah okay, I should go. Take care, feel better. Need anything?—I could stop at CVS, or.”

“Uh…” A mimes thinking about it, then spaces out for real.

“Well, you can text me if so,” B laughs.

“Cool. Sure. Have fun.”

“Thaaanks,” B says, swinging themselves by the hand around the doorjamb as they slip out. A arranges themselves supine again, hands folded on their stomach. Lets out an unimpressed sigh as though in summation. Doesn’t really wanna take a nap, but they try playing Tetris again and feel too icky when they try to focus their eyes on the screen. Closes their laptop but does not remove its warm weight from their lap, even though in the 5pm heat its plastic sticks to their wrists. Burps, mouth open, not loudly exactly but sorta high-pitched—as though they were an adolescent boy with a soda can, they scoff. Then wonders if they have any more diet ginger ale. Wanders out to the kitchen, in the extra wall space between which and the dining room (B calls it a “breakfast nook,” but A just assumes that’s a joke they don’t get) they keep their soda cans stacked on the floor next to the milk-cratey recycle bins. There is indeed one left. They grab that and a cup (and two ice cubes outta the tray in the freezer), too lazy to fetch the one B put water in for them earlier, and remind themselves to text B that they’ve run out.

C’s still out there, and notices A’s choice of beverage. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just. Guts’re on the fritz again.”

“Hm. Sorry, pal.”

“It’s cool.”

“You gonna be able to find something you can eat?”

“What?”

“Tonight, I mean. Is there food you can eat?”

A shrugs. “Still some rice left I guess.”

“I ask ‘cause I’m going to the store in an hour, so. If you want some saltines or something.”

“Oh.” A laughs; adds, “thanks. Think we still have some from last time though.”

“Okay. Well, if you think of anything you want.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“No problem; good luck.”

At this departure from Hope you feel better A laughs slightly. “Thanks.” Heads back to their room, drinks their soda and melty ice. This is the hottest-ass part of the day, so when it’s gone they balance the still-cool glass on their clavicle. They feel much better now, if sorta bloated and fizzy. Quease level comparatively minimal. Figures they should eat again while they’ve got the, uh, guts for it.

Once they start on their second round of rice A finds they’re pretty hungry. Adds soy sauce a lot more zealously, this time, and risks the last leftover spring roll as well but regrets the grease. Has to make up for it with the unsauced bits of rice clinging to the edge of the styrofoam box—you know, like, a palate cleanser or whatever. They hiccup a little, then belch when they bring their plate to the sink, from the contact between gut and the edge of the counter: hadn’t thought about the extra room they take up now. Rubs a peremptory circle into the left side above the navel but finds they feel alright, for now—then 20 minutes later heads into the can, expecting lava from how their stomach cramps and rolls, but gets out only some air and a few wispy pebbles. Notices with greater dismay, then, on the way back to their room, how their belly queasily sloshes around when they walk. Doesn’t seem to have shrunk much.

In B’s mirror, back in their room, A finds they look pretty gigantic, too; they changed into a looser shirt after the first one got too sweaty, and in this comparative tent all you can tell is that the gut’s the widest part of their profile. They set their hands down on it to bring it down to size, and are dismayed at how little difference this makes. Does feel nicer that way though; leaves ‘em there as they trudge slowly back to their side of the bed, and pushes slow circles into each side. Sits heavily on the edge of the bed, hunched over a little. Can feel the tightness in their stomach that means either it’s going to rumble in that long drawn-out violating way where you feel like it’s loosing all your secrets or that you’re going to belch so loud you’ll wonder if you have to puke. Waits, then gives up on waiting and slowly, laboriously lies down. Stretches a little, tempting fate, but it kinda hurts: ties a weird knot high up on the right when they loosen back up. They put three fingers on it gently, and try to iron it out back and forth. Ah!—there it goes. Stomach starts growling, seems to shake everything up, then once that uneasy shifting’s done with it still keeps up the sound what seems a ludicrous, embarrassing long time. When that’s done they sigh and then burp a little. Laughs at themselves for this display. Carefully carefully carefully turns onto their side, facing away from the door, and tries to sleep, a protective hand curled around their stomach.

When B gets home much later that night they wake up a little (“Oh. Hi. How was the thing.” “Hey! Sorry to wake you. It was fun; I think it went well.” “That’s good.” “Mhm.” “Anyway good night.” B laughs: “Haha okay. Go back to sleep A.” They mean to reply at your service but instead say, “Open sesame”; B laughs and pats their hair so it itches their nose. When A swipes at it snot comes loose. They decide not to open that pandoras wormtails); figures they’ll fall back to sleep quick until the consciousness of nausea slides back into place, at which point they try to roll onto their back and find themselves ludicrously heavy. It takes several tries, and all their breath. They groan with bored self-pity, forgetting they’re not alone in the room.

Meanwhile B struggles out of their clothes and into pajama pants and an inside-out (but not backwards) tank top in the dark. “You okay?”

“Blugh. Not great.”

“Aw, still?”

“Yeah… nah,” A says, blinking, confusedly forgetting which answer is appropriate. “I gotta pee,” A decides. This helps a little, since it wakes them up all the way and therefore allows them to disentangle the need to pee from their other woes. In the bathroom mirror they look mostly deflated up top but still extra puffy and round lower down; at least it doesn’t hurt their stomach to stand up anymore. Only hurts like a menstrual cramp does after you take ibuprofen, but the quease that in that case is only incipient is much worse here. At one point they cough, and dread this “pandoras wormtails” too when it alerts them to all the mushy brittle things in their throat and chest. This also makes them start burping again, so that that’s how they end up greeting B when they get back to the doorway of their room: fist over their mouth, wincing a little, leaning into the wall for balance. B’s a good sport though. They face each other in bed and B lays both their warm hands on A’s stomach, whimpers in pity at how blown up they can tell it is.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel well,” they say in that affectionate half-asleep tone that always comes out querulous.

“It’s cool,” A says back.

B sloppily nods so that their jaw thuds against their pillow, hair spilling into their eyes, and tells A, “Just try to go back to sleep; feel betterinthmorning probbleby,” trying to get all the words out before a yawn.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “The Empty Plate.”

Alright guys, here it is, the reason I haven't been positing for the last week. My first and only attempt at true horror. I have spent hours sitting in the dark pissing myself in order to write this, so I am begging you guys please read it. This is probably the most difficult thing I have ever written.

A couple tings before we get started. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

If you want the full affect of the horror, I suggest reading it in the same way I wrote it, In a dark room with scary ambient noises playing on headphones.

If you dislike horror, I still suggest reading at least parts of  it because it is relevant to the plot line. If you don’t want any issues read it in broad daylight in a crowded room. 

Seriously guys, I have never written something so difficult before please make it worth while :) 

A million hateful eyes glint their fury from the darkness, distant and cold caught up in spirals and clusters of ancient anger and the deepest most resounding quiet. They pull towards each other, spiraling, forever spiraling downwards and inwards into an unknown darkness where, if one were to be caught up, they would be suspended in a state trapped between death and life skewered on the descending claws of time.

We knew man was strange when we first met them, a consumer, one of flesh and of resources and of worlds powered, not by the laws that govern our existence, but by a strange and unknown entity glistening behind their eyes. Man is not man, but a shell powered by something strange, something eerie, something not of our plane. I have argued this many times over the years.

But why will no one here me. 

***

Dr. Krill floated quietly on the bridge in the sallow yellow light of an ambient star cluster. Commander Vir sat Stiff and rigid in his seat. His single green eyes glinting with a fine filmy layer of reflected mucus glinting with the pale sickly yellow of that pallid light. The rest of the bridge was unusually silent many silhouettes holding bated breath expressions dark as the unexpected transmission warbled over the line.

It came in  sibilat whispers, gurgles and and the distant sounds of guttural wailing crackling backwards into the maddening chatter of static. 

Krill examined in mild fascination as tiny hairs, like detached spider legs erupted upwards on the man’s skin. The delicate hairs glittered in response to the insipid, sensuous caress of waxen light down the man’s protruding spine delicate mounds and bumps of bone just visible through the back of his shirt.

The man’s skin had gone ashen like that of a bloated corpse decaying in a static pool of water.

“Can anyone understand any of that.” The man demanded, and despite its strength his voice fell flat crushed and squeezed with the weight of the air around them.

“I’ll try to clean it up sir.”

The transmission had begun without premonition. One moment they had been floating quietly through the vast nothingness of space, and next, they had been bedeviled by this Insidious cacophony of voices that seemed human, though individual words could not discerned.

Under the pressing weight of those horrific voices, the bridge remained hushed as the communications officer attempted to untangle the message.

A shadow fell over the Commander’s back, and a set of three tallenous fingers came slithering down over his shoulder to rest against his clammy skin. Sunny lingered at the Commander’s shoulder luminous golden eyes fixed upon the speakers which still crooned that gastly whispering.

“I think I have it, Sir.” The woman stammered 

“Alright then, let’s hear it.”

There was a long moment of silence, like the catatonia that follows psychosis.

“Help, please…. Anyone…. Please help. This is , colony transport…. 331…. Out of fuel….. Running low on food….. The lights… gone out….. eating ….. Can't stop… requesting help.” 

The chattering began again in earnest rising upwards upwards upwards until a crescendo, until the room was filled with it’s warbling madness, 

“STOP!” The transmission cut and the lascivious whispers died. Commander Vir stood from his chair, “That’s enough.” He finished softly, “Someone take a look in the database for a civilian transport with that flag ID.” He stabbed a finger at their radar technician, “Do you see anything.”

The woman stammered for a moment, spun in her seat and scanned wide unblinking eyes over her console, “Uh ... y-yes sir, I have something, not very far at all, its small, about the size of a colony transport.”

“Well what the hell would they be doing out here?” 

“I have no fucking clue.” The Commander muttered darkly glancing towards the eerie image looming over their pathetic tiny ship still thousands of miles away, psr b1509-58 (nicknamed the hand of god) metastasized into the sky less like the hand of god and more like some creeping eldritch horror. The strange, hand-shaped bluish dust cloud writhed from the blackness grasping upwards towards a ball of yellow red fire.

“ID tag confirmed, Sir. The ship has been missing for... Well over a year.”

Commander Vir blinked, “No, that can’t be right.” He shoved past his chair to peer over the shoulder of the technician his face bathed with a hellish red.

“Yes sir, Looks like they lost contact immediately following warp procedures. They did not arrive at their original destination.”

“”Well, I’ll be damned.” He mouthed standing, “Sunny, prep a shuttle and a landing party, get our suits ready. I want the rest of you to try and hail that ship. I don’t have much hope for these people, but done right, a ship can be stocked with enough food to last a year.”

“But…. Commander, what about….” The man’s voice shriveled and ebbed into silence.

Commander Vir nodded expression sombre, “It doesn’t matter. If there is even the slightest possibility that someone aboard that ship might still be alive, than we have to do what we have to do. Come on Sunny, let’s prep a team.”

***

The mood leading up to this mission had been one of inexorable unease, though none of the men or women could really have explained why. Only the Commander had heard the full recording, and as he sat in the pilot’s seat of that shuttle he felt the cold hand of dread slip around his chest, an icy choking feeling on his heart in a way that he had never experienced before, and wished never to experience again. Outside that shuttle window, the icy blue hand of god had beckoned them silently into the lap of eternal darkness.

The civilian transport appeared as a black cancerous spot on god’s wrist,swelling outwards in their vision sprouting sharp, black spines like charred bone pierced through skin. The entire ship, was like that, the mangled corpse of something that had once been now lurking in the shadow of space. But it was odd despite the feeling it gave him, other than the absence of lights, the ship appeared….. Mostly whole. It didn’t look broken down, dilapidated or in any way decommissioned.

It was just, Still, and silent.  

-

The airlock doors shuttered open with a protracted squeal. A wave of putrid humidity washed over them from the pitch black interior. That humid putrefaction slithered past them causing delicate crystal drops to form over the face of their visors foreshadowing nothing but a world of ceaseless decay from within.

And now they had come to stand before a bottomless pit of profound blackness, assaulted by a lurching humid wind that dragged her feted tentacles over his body. Commander Vir felt it, a presence like the weight of an unwanted lover pressing against him with putrid rotting flesh wet and slimy against his bare skin. Like a tongue caressing seductively up his neck, and towards his mouth.

A sensation so malevolent and vile, that began in his stomach, a tingling tightening sensation which wriggled up his throat bringing with it a horrific eruption of tingling beginning at the back of his thighs, trailing up his sides across his back and into his head.

His entire face erupted with that same tingling sensation. His nose and eyes prickled with unshed water, his throat constricted, his cheeks tingled, his teeth gritted. He felt as if he was about to scream, or weep. The impenetrable wall of darkness before him was not just a simple darkness….. It was a message.

GET OUT!

A warning.

Every human in that airlock, every marine, simultaneously erupted into a mass of animal panic. Lights flickered on wildly swinging towards the ceiling as if expecting to see a face come scuttling towards them from the darkness.

“Fuck this.” one marine whimpered crouching low to the ground his weapon raised towards the darkness. The aliens that accompanied them stared in abject terror at the response of their human counterparts. But they could not feel it, the creeping slithering, horror.

“What’s wrong.” Sunny demanded, her voice echoing out around them, thundering down the passageway, not making it very far before being consumed by the dark. 

And it was as if, all around them, the creeping malignancy went…. Silent.

Stopped as if holding its breath.

The humans shifted uneasily in their space weapons pointed into the darkness, though the beams of their flashlights seemed to terminate long before they should have. Despite waiting, the feeling from earlier did not return, though Commander Vir still felt…. Something. It was strange, like the buzzing of flies or a soft humming just out of range of hearing, or perhaps a sound just deep enough to be undetectable by humans, but still acknowledged by the unconscious parts of the brain. 

Whatever it was sent the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as tiny shutters ran up and down his spine.

The darkness stretched on before them.

One of the marines stepped back breathing loud over the intercom inside his helmet, “Commander, we shouldn’t be here.”

Adam agreed.

And he had never wanted anything more than to agree with the marine, and turn tail. But he knew that wasn’t an option, “Stand your ground marine, we have an obligation to these people.”

The group was somber, “I want two of you to stay back with the shutte. Make sure to keep in constant contact with the ship and update them on our progress, the rest of us are going to keep going. I am going to have our hazmat team meet us down here with body bags. With the way everything is looking ...” His voice fell flat on the dead air, and the marines stayed uncharacteristically mute.  

“I’ll take point.” He said lastly, and that seemed to at least galvanize them into action. Pulling his weapon more tightly to his shoulder, Adam faced down the halway following the cold steel line of the floor as it traced it’s way up into blackness, and then vanished. 

He took a step, and listened to it echo into the dark passageway down further and further along what seemed like an endless distance. 

His heart throbbed, and that same tingling sensation from earlier erupted over his cheeks, “Sunny.” he muttered quietly, Reassured when her voice came over the line distorted and warped, but otherwise familiar.

His team continued on softly, pushing back the reluctant darkness with the beam of his light. The floor ahead of him was bare and clean.

“Commander.”

Reluctantly, he turned to the side just slightly to get a look back at his marines, though his eyes still fixed upon that impenetrable blackness, “What is it marine.”

Ramirez’s face was gaunt in the yellow pallor of his helmet light giving him a sickly jaundiced appearance if not that, than the appearance of wax read to drip off a melting candle, “I can’t do this.” The man’s voice quivered with a strange hum that seemed to match that distant buzzing, “I have to go back.”

“What’s wrong marine?” The commander wondered, “We have to keep going.”

“If you can’t tell why than you’re a FUCKING IDIOT” The marines went absolutely still with shock. Staring at their companion in utter disbelief.

“Ramirez, what the hell.”

“Not cool.”

The man began to rock on his heels, slowly at first, and then faster and faster, “We shouldn’t be here.” The mareine was shaking his head erratically, “We have to go. We shouldn’t be here, we shouldn’t be here, we shouldn’t be here.” His voice once frantic, raising in pitch and desperation.

“MARINE, calm down!” Commander Vir snapped, “Get ahold of yourself!”and the man quieted, but continued to rock refusing to move one step more.

“Someone take him back to the shuttle.” The commander ordered, and one of the marines quickly volunteered, glared off by his companions. Commander Vir could see it in their eyes, what for a moment seemed like terrible…. Ravenous anger.

He shook it off and turned back to the darkness. Inside, his chest was suddenly  filled with the feeling of a thousand scuttling spiders digging their way into his lungs clambering through his alveoli, yet they continued onwards. The pale yellow gleam of their lights continued to show…. Nothing, nothing but the long, dark hallway stretching into blackness.

They came upon a few doors on their way down, which the marines cleared  in their usual fashion, but what they found was no more than storage rooms and offices. It all seemed well at first, stacks and stacks of boxes piled atop one another, a desk stacked with papers, the chair pulled out as if waiting for its occupant to return. The life support lights blinked a soft green to demonstrate that they were working.

Commander Vir stared into one of the storage spaces, and inside he felt a deep sense of dread and unease, but these were simply boxes, just stacks of boxes, nothing to worry him at all/ They even checked behind the crates out of a sense of paranoia, but there was nothing to be seen. Out in the hallway, Sunny, and a team of marines kept their eyes down the hall.

Commander Vir turned to position.

Why had those rooms bothered him so much.

It was just then that a deep, prolonged moan echoed down the hallway. The marines snapped into position facing down into the blackness guns raised. Commander Vir felt a rush of bubbles into his nose and throat. 

“The fuck was that.” Someone was saying

“Where did it come from?” Demanded another

“It came from behind us, I swear!” 

“Shut the hell up all of you!” The commander snarled, “Our ship makes noises like that all the time, it’s simply the beams settling, that's what happens when your ship is in a vacuum.” The marines went silent again. Inside his head the background buzzing intensified, like the static of a TV or the distant muble of a vacuum cleaner.

Inside his suit his hands had gone icy cold. Little eruptions of tingling rolled up and down his left side, like the response one gets when a sensual whisper caresses the ears. His palms and feet were horribly cold, his jaw locked, and his teeth gritted. His face felt as if that distant static had somehow made its way into his skin. Metal clattered and clanged vibrating up into the souls of his feet. The inside of his suit was hot while simultaneously being freezing cold. His only safety came from the reassuring weight of a weapon in his arms.

The floor fell away before him as the dying moan seeped into the metal below his feet and above his head. 

Above his head… he hadn’t thought about above his head, and the horrendous feeling of being watched.

Watched by something….. Something stretching down from the ceiling in long gelatinous strings, just inches from his head!

In a panic he dropped to one knee thrusting the muzzle of his weapon upwards images of wild eyes and rotting flesh burned into his mind. Behind him the marines cursed or screamed reacting as their Commander had.

His light fell upon the ceiling and saw…. Absolutely nothing.

Breathing heavily, Commander Vir cursed. His entire body was a mass of static tingling, like his very skin was infested with maggots. His heart beat so hard and so fast inside his chest, the only thing he could hear was it’s frantic beat, “F-false alarm.” he stammered, unable to shake the feeling that something HAD been reaching for him. There was no way a feeling that potent could have been so wrong.

They continued onward, and as he listened, the echoes branched outwards seeming to reach upwards filling a substantial space around them. The marines fanned out in a wide semicircle,  two facing back in the direction they had come. 

“Cargo bay. Alright marines, this is going to be basecamp. I want those portable floodlights set up, and a guard on any and all exits at all times. Once we have secured the area, I want our other teams to join us.” Honestly, they didn’t really need that may marines for this sort of operation, but Commander Vir was well and truly disquieted, and that trepidation made him eager for more guns.

***

“How’s he doing?” Commander Vir asked, standing at the center of a brightly lit cargo bay made that way by no less than twenty portable floodlights.

Krill’s voice came crackling over the line, “Ramirez… it’s strange, he says he’s feeling better, but he looks terrible, clammy skin pale, rapid pulse. I can’t find anything physically wrong, so I’ll probably get a consult down from psych. He wants me to tell you he’s sorry, says he doesn't know what came over him.”

“Tell him it’s alright, we were all sort of freaked.” easy for him to admit in the comforting light of over a dozen spotlights, but beyond that, where the radius of light gave way to the darkness…..

“Oh… and captain, there is probably something you should know. I wanted to tell you earlier, but you had already left.”

“Oh, go on.”

“It’s Conn.”

The commander stood straighter surprised, “Conn, has he woken up?”

Krill was silent for a moment, “Not exactly, but a few hours ago, he started moving around, mouthing things. His eyes are open, but he doesn’t seem to be registering anything. He seems aggressive agitated, and the uh…. Glados and the others seem very upset too. I have waffles taking care of them, but it’s only so much ...”

“Guess everyone aboard the ship is freaked out, eh, anyway, keep me posted.” He finished the conversation and motioned to a group of marines supervising the setup of the hazmat team, “Alright, you guys, on me, we are going to get this party started.”

Since boarding the ship, and seeing that the life support was still functional, they had chosen to take off their space suits, for gear that would be less cumbersome in close-quarters combat. Commander Vir was still not entirely sure that taking off their respirators had been a good idea. The instant he had pulled off his helmet, he had been nasally accosted by a sickly sweet, rotting pungence that permeated the air and wriggled itself into the very fibers of his soul. 

It was also a heavy smell, one that crawled deep into the nose and implanted itself at the back of his throat. So pungent were the smells, that, he felt like he could almost taste it, and was forced to fight bodily against his gag reflex as bile bubbled into his throat. He had quickly ordered better respirators from the med bay, and was currently sporting their crew’s newest fashion trend, a hard plastic mask that strapped around the back of his head but giving his full coverage over his mouth and nose.

Despite their heavy presence aboard the ship, going on almost half a day, no living being had appeared, that in itself did not bode well, considering the remaining options.

Either, no one was still alive to appear.

Or the living had chosen not to.

As for that feeling from earlier? Well here in the floodlit cargo bay, he could almost ignore the distant buzzing of static, and the chills had died down to a cold clamminess, but beneath all the bustling and movement, it was still there, like the ringing in one’s ears that establishes itself as a high pitched squeal, unheard when talking or working, but deafeningly loud when the quiet takes over.

A team of marines formed up around him, augmented by an extra woman to take the spot Ramirez had left. Somehow, she managed to seem surprisingly unphased while the rest of them were close to pissing themselves. Generally, at this point, he would have fallen back to direct from the rear, but left it up to one of the more experienced marines while making his way to the forward middle just behind the woman from earlier. 

He knew how to clear a room ,though this wasn’t his area of tactical expertise.

“Ready Commander?” The marine called form the back.

“Ready when you are, marine.”

“Tac lights on, we are going to do a slow sweep, pause the stick at every door keeping watch forward and rear, middle clearing rooms. Let’s go.”

Behind them, comforting glow of the floodlights faded. To their right, the marine on guard duty for the passaged looked at them with an expression of trepidation, her eyes wide and glinting wetly with the dull glow, “I’m not sure if it’s just the ship, Commander, but I… it sounds like there is something down there.”

He did not particularly appreciate her warning though it was taken into advisement.

Soon, the comforting cacophony of the cargo bay began to fade warping and melding into a strange distant hum. The light dimmed with it, leaving only the thin beams of their flashlights to cut through the murk. He could feel droplets of condensation beading onto his skin in hot, humid droplets. Beams of their flashlights cut down the hall moving and warping shadows across the hallway and floors. The distant buzzing from earlier grew louder and louder, until he was accompanied by a continual stream of static.

Their footsteps thudded loudly on the meta floors despite every attempt to stay quiet.

Halfway up the hall, a warm gust putrid wind blew past them carrying with it a soft, mournful moan. The marine at their head slowed casting her light over the distant hallway.

“Everything alright, marine?” The commander wondered.

“Yes….. I just, for a second I thought…” She trailed off shaking her head, “Nevermind.”

The hair rose down the back of his spine.

“Two doors, right and left.” The point marine called, coming to a stop just past that point. 

“Clear door.” The column stopped, and Commander Vir turned to assist a marine on the left, while another two took the door on the right. 

They found nothing more than abandoned storage rooms, stacks and stacks of crates illuminated in the light of their torches, and continued onwards.

Something plagued him at the back of his mind.

“Commander, the methane levels are climbing. Same with Hydrogen Sulfide.” The group remained quiet at the news.

The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, surrounding them in a dim bubble of light crowded on all sides by darkness. The hallway ahead was silent and empty but for the writhing of shadows. 

“Opening.”

They were directed into a quick fan pattern, one of their members facing backwards against the pursuing wall of darkness as they came into the room. The ambient glow of their torches provided just enough light to illuminate some sort of dining hall, or a kitchen. It was an eerie scene in the dark, chairs pulled form the sides of tables, waiting to be pushed back in abandoned plates left with moldering crumbs upon the counter. Cans and cartons were left abandoned to spoil, like whoever had been here had left in a  hurry and never bothered to return. A single lone chair sat isolated in a corner washed of all color transporting them into a dark, alternate dimension of black, grey eeriness. 

Long reaching shadows stretched grasping fingers into the darkness.

The illumination of their tac lights roved about the room in a thin nebulous columns showing nothing of great interest….. until

A hunched figure came into sharp relief against their lights. 

One of the marines cursed, lights quivered. The commander raised a hand.

Even from here, he could tell the man or woman was dead.

Slowly he motioned the others into the room approaching the corpse himself. Not so much a corpse anymore as grinning skeleton. As the light washed over it, the sockets of the eyes sunk into deep pools of blackness. Teeth, still white in comparison to the stained brown bone, grinned at them with a horrid gap-toothed smile just visible through a ragged tangle of drying hair which stick in vein-like trails over the moldering bone. 

The skeleton was undisturbed.

It sat at one of the tables slumped heavily against the wall. Dried brown stains coated the floor and wall around the corpse in a discolored puddle. The putrid discoloration had oozed onto the wall and slowly wormed its way into the minute seams leaving a cracked and drying crust behind it. The clothes, still somewhat intact, clung stiffly to the bone, rigid and brown with dried residue. 

But strangest of all was how the corpse sat, propped against the wall bony fingers still clutched loosely about an oxidized fork and knife, a pristine white plate sitting before him on the table. Aside from a small amount of dust, and residue shed from the hands, the plate was….. Clean.

The man looked as if he had died while sitting down for a meal, though there had been no food on his plate.

“Its like he just… sat down and died.” one of the marines whispered 

Just then a horrendous screech and crash shook quaked the room. A moment of sheer intense panic seized the commander, like the feeling of being constricted from all sides. The static in his ears roared to a crescendo as their lights sent shadows into a crazed and ghastly dance. Adam would have sworn he saw something large, and fleshy skitter away into the shadows just as his tac light fell on a pan still rolling and rattling against the floor. Frantically he panned his weapon in a tight arc, over the floor and across the walls. 

The sound of skittering, like the movement of a million bugs washed over him, so intense he felt as if he could feel the little creatures crawling up his body, burrowing into the fabric of his clothing, and crawling into his ears. His skin crawled and squirmed with a thousand maggots. They invaded his shoes, squelching between his does, filling his mouth and nose, worming their way down his throat.

He could feel them crawling on his insides carving tunnels just under the skin of his back. 

He gagged against the feeling batting at his arms and neck dropping his weapon on it tac sling to bounce against his upper thighs as he swatted at his face and skin spitting and gagging. 

Something grabbed him by the arm, “COMMANDER!”

The feeling vanished.

He stood in a cold sweat tingling like his entire body had fallen asleep quivering with the remembered feeling.

“Commander, are you alright.”

Adam dashed a hand across his mouth expecting to find bugs, but found nothing more than strings of saliva. He wiped his mouth again, “Shit, what the hell was that?”

“Nothing, sir. No one SAW anything, and we were guarding all the doors.”

His body trembled. So, either it had somehow snuck in, or it had been here the entire time….. If there was in fact anything there? Perhaps one of the marines had brushed the pot handle as they walked past causing it to slip and vibrate against the floor. 

He took a deep breath, unable to quell the urge to spit another gobit of phlegm onto the floor wetting his cracked lips with a raspy tongue, “Deploy the micro-drones. Have them get some samples and take pictures, then we will take care of the body.”

While his orders were being carried out, the rest of the marines busied themselves searching the room rummaging through cupboards and drawers though one marine had backed himself into a corner nervously sweeping his light across the floor and ceiling.

There were no more disturbances, and they found nothing but stacks of tins, boxes and packages. They came across a drawer full of pristine, dusty, coated utensils, but nothing remarkably out of the ordinary. 

Radio calls were made, and another team came to collect the body. Commander Vir watched from a pool of darkness as the yellow-suited hazmat team worked to peal the skeleton from it’s cracked juices. WIth enough urging the bones came apart, and the man was slowly disassembled into his component parts and crammed into a black bag whose surface glittered and shone like freshly pourn tar. 

His hands were the last to go, rusting metal utensils wrestled from the still clutching fingers, and left abandoned on the table next to the glittering white plate.

The sull, hunkered in a bed of its own bones, gave him one last knowing grin, before being zipped shut. 

The hazmat team retreated with their group of marines, taking with them the rustling of their suits, and the solemn comfort of their voices. Again they had been left in that dark colorless place surrounded on all sides by the ghost of an evening that would never come to pass. 

There was no knowing how long it had been stuck like this, though a thick mat of dust covered the floor. Nervously he glanced towards the fallen pot, but the ground was far to disturbed to determine what had actually happened.

But perhaps that was a hand-print?

No, it couldn’t be.

“I’ll take point,” He announced stepping in front of the female marine as they made their way into position. He wasn’t technically supposed to be here, but the fear…. The fear was starting to overcome him. That feeling, from the first moment they had stepped onto the ship, that cold icy sensation that licked slowly up his back to the point behind his ear. His skin crawled and his heart hammered as he tucked his weapon against his shoulder in a low-ready position. The only thing keeping him here was the desire to protect his marines.

Stepping into the hallway, his imagination wandered with him into the dark. His marines sitting silently on the floor of an abandoned back room, their bodies withering with the slow decay of time, their flesh dripping like candle wax from their bones forgotten in the slow progression of time as the cold darkness of space surrounded them, lost and entombed forever.

He shivered, “Door right.” He called, just before his light passed over a second door, “Door left.” He called out taking a few steps forward into the darkness and stopping while the marines readied themselves to breach the room. He kept his body at a slight angle head cocked towards the doors so he could hear, eyes looking off down the hallway. He heard the door open, and the marines entered. It must have been a larger room, for it required more than one marine to actually enter and make the sweep.

He heard them speaking, calling out to each other, and tilted his head just a little further in their direction eyes, momentarily, closer to the marines than it was to the hallway.

And that’s when the sensation came, a malicious presence  rushing headlong  from the darkness, a scuttling evil presence fed by spiteful purpose, carried by the slapping of wet feet, and hands upon cold metal. WIth a cry of alarm, he whipped around expecting to find the ravening beast leap at him from the darkness.

But, as before, there was nothing, nothing but the endless dark hallway stretching back into the gloom. Another sluggish breeze cut past him bringing with it a deep and tenuous moan. 

The commander felt sick to his stomach, his hands shook and his face tingled. Tears pricked at the corners of his vision, and inside every fiber of his being told him to turn back. There was something wrong about that presence, something more horrific than any monster or beast, though that’s what he had called it in his haste.

Though he had not seen it, he could feel it’s malicious intent, its hatred, its unholy evil.

An emotion no animal could comprehend, no alien reconstruct.

A human emotion.

-

He told no one what he had felt when they returned, though Sunny seemed suspicious. The rooms had been sleeping quarters at one point, all the beds put neatly away, dusty family photos left forgotten atop nightstands and laying about the floor. It seemed odd how deliberately the beds had been made though family photos were discarded upon the floor.

Though he wished for nothing more than to turn back, he forced himself to keep going reminding himself constantly of the companionship giving him by the marines, and Sunny. 

They cleared several more sleeping quarters, multiple offices and the occasional storage room, though all were left in similar states of, perfect tidiness or abandoned disarray. None of it had been touched in months. He was beginning to wonder if they would ever find the rest of the crew, when the buzzing began.

It was a distant sound, similar but not holy the same as that soft malefic buzzing that had plagued him through this journey. It was, somehow, more substantial, and as they moved down the hall, the sound swelled, louder and louder and louder until it was almost deafening. 

“Methane readings are extremely high commander.” 

In response, Commander Vir panned his weapon about the hallway causing a beam of light to cut upwards onto a set of doors as well as the ceiling and floor beneath, and stopped. The ground outside the door was coated in a glistening greenish-black sludge, the door itself was lacquered in, hot thick moisture, and, somehow, a trail of rotting putrid mold had begun festering upon the ceiling above the door.  The buzzing was louder now, louder than it had ever been, and inside Commander Vir knew what he was going to find.

And for that reason, he had chosen to switch spots with the female marine behind him. He didn’t want to do it, but he knew it had to be done.

He positioned himself to the side of the door, and motioned for a marine to open it.

The doors slid open with a sickening squelch. Commander Vir took one step in, and then stopped as his tac light fell on the opposing wall. The very room itself heaved a breath as the walls and floors around him pulsed and throbbed expanding and contracting like a writhing vat of putrid decay throbbing like the beating of the ship’s oversized heart.

And the sound a gelatinous high pitched squirming in time with deafening, droning buzz.

Behind him, a marine wretched.

“Not in your mask dammit!” one of the others yelled at him

Commander Vir, couldn’t move. He was frozen on the spot hands like ice knees locked. His stomach clawed its way first ito his pelvis, and then into his throat seeking escape. The feeling returned, maggots crawling through his skin chewing their way through his brain and out through his eyes. He could feel them, as real as anything slithering about his body. 

“Holly mother fuck!” one of the marines whispered, and he too turned away to gag. Finally, commander Vir was able to step away backing out of the door and ordering it closed behind him. 

“Call the hazmat team and get them down here. We have a lot of work to do.”

-

When all was said and done, a staggering sixty percent of the crew was recovered. Krill ,ordered over as the ship’s coroner, had been forced to use skulls to count bodies and determine at least sixty percent of the crew was present. Commander Vir tried not to look at the small skulls instead forced to face the reality that,  some of the crew were still in the active stages of decomposition, which, as Krill explained, meant they had died within the last month, some at least within the last weak. He felt his heart sink.

Perhaps, if they had been a couple days earlier….

The issue was, the bodies were in such a state that Krill was having a hard time figuring out what had been their cause of death. Another team of marines returned from the other end of the ship, towards engineering and reported that they had come upon a locked door. The door, they said had been marred with many strange scratches and dents. They were forced to open it with extreme force, and upon coming inside, they had been, again blocked by stacks and stacks of equipment apparently used to block the door. 

Another ten percent of the crew had been found inside….. 

Nothing was making sense, a least nothing except for what the engineers had found when they inspected the warp core. Whatever it was, it had been a catastrophic malfunction which had taken out all central power to the engines, and sent an emp burst which permanently fried their long-distance communications. The backup life support generator had survived though the main one had also been taken out in the blast. The transmission itself had come from a short-wave radio stored in a sort of faraday cage in engineering. In space, the signal would be practically useless, which is why they hadn’t picked up on it earlier. 

The message from earlier repeated on a loop. 

Those bodies were only just beginning to bloat, and Krill determined cause of death on all subjects to be asphyxiation characterized by petechial and subconjunctival hemorrhaging about the eyes and under the skin not to mention ligature abrasions about the neck. 

truthfully , having Krill here was simply a formality…. No one had been surprised about their cause of death…. Especially not after they had been found, alone, in the dark gently swaying side by side. Not alone…. Even in death.

The real question was…. Where was the other 20% of the crew? 

There was only one small section aboard the ship that they had yet to explore, and Commander Vir wagered to guess they would find their answers there, on the bridge.

-

Most of the ship had been explored by this time, flood lights had been set, and informal safe-zones had been set which included a small team of marines and three to four of the massive floodlights. They began the staging of their last push in the kitchen where the first corpse had been found. It was him, three marines, and Sunny, who with the other female marine had shown no great reaction to the strange eeriness of the ship. The other two had been with him since the beginning, and were damned if they weren’t going to see it through.

He adjusted the mask waiting for the other marines to ready themselves.

His eye was caught by a strange and unusual glint. Turning his head, his eyes were brought towards the darkest corner of the room, isolated from the floodlights and a wide ring of caution tape. The single, white ceramic plate from before glinted at him from the shadows it’s surface empty and glistening, though still coated in a layer of dust.

It seemed out of place, though how a plate could be out of place in  a kitchen remained a mystery. 

He turned his gaze away as the marines announced their readiness, and together, they began their trek down the hallway, now lit by a hundred pale orbs of light lining the path to that first door, which was now sealed off with caution tape, beyond that, the darkness began again. Despite the sealed door, the Buzzing was still there to remind him of what lay behind that door.

A fly landed on his cheek, its hairlike feet sending shivers up his skin, and he swatted it away in disgust knowing form where it had spawned.

He stepped over the greasy smear of brownish film and aimed his flashlight down the rest of the hallway, there were many doors here, though only this one seemed to show hints of what it contained. The bulb in his light flickered and dimmed before brightening again.  He moved forward with his team switching on and off the point position as he moved, sometimes waiting outside, and sometimes falling back to clear a room worried for what his marines would find.

He opened a small door himself, while the two others checked the hall and two more remained on watch. It was a small room no more than  a few feet wide with exposed piping and electrical circuits. He reached out attempting to flip on the main breaker, but other than a dull thud, the lock remained stuck and silent. He rolled his light over the floor and paused in confusion when he saw it resting against the far wall.

A can of what appeared to be brand-generic tomato soup. Head tilted to the side, he slowly crouched, and reached out a hand for the can.

His hearing exploded as the high pitched keening swelled in his ears. All sound dulled, and his vision went white fading slowly to black, the light of his flashlight had gone grey and white, tingles erupted down his back, crawling into his face and bringing water to his eyes. His very body trembled with a sense of terror so profound, it was as if the devil himself stood at his back. Even as he thought that, he could sense it, a hateful rabid demonic presence, crouched just behind him. He could feel its hot, rasping breath on his neck, could sense it’s soulless black eyes boring into his soul, and almost feel those slime-coated teeth chattering with anticipation. The sensation was one so deeply profound it was like being stared at by a thousand eyes. The buzzing static in his head became a hissing whisper, a maddened warbling.. The world around him was a slowed grey expanse of eternity, trapped in a state of indescribable panic. Darkness slowly rose up behind him, the presence lifting thin, elongated arms, too long for its body, fingers too long for its hands spreading outwards like he was sprouting an unholy set of wings.

Plunging downward

A hand came down on his shoulder, and he screamed with raw inhuman terror entire body contracting violently away from the touch.  Time around his was ruptured, and he clattered against the wall, sending the can of tomato soup spinning across the floor.

“Commander!.”

The marine stood over him with wide confused eyes.

Commander Vir gasped and panted against the gut-wrenching panic that still gripped his chest. His vision was tunneled into blackness, and all the shapes around him appeared indistinct, “How long…. Have you been there?” He stammered.

“I came to check on you sir, you'd been gone for like five minutes and we all got worried.

Five minutes…. That hadn’t been five minutes. He checked his watch, but the marine was right, 

“Are you alright, Commander. Do you need to head back?”

“No I…. I’m alright, just… let my paranoia overcome me is all.” The marine reached out a hand, and the Commander took it standing and trying to conceal the fact that his legs were shaking.

There were only a few more rooms left, after all. The door shut behind him closing on that can of tomato soup inside.

The next three rooms were clear, though unlike other places aboard the ship, they did show signs of recent use. Running a light obliquely over one of the surface walls, showed raised discoloration from an oily set of hand prints going all around the room, high onto the walls, and across the floor to meld with similar footprints.

Otherwise, the room was empty.

There was only one door left.

Sunny and the female marine set themselves to the side of the doors allowing Commander Vir and the other marine to breach the room. Commander Vir stepped in first sweeping his light from the nearest corner over and around the center of the room. The other marines took their corners, and together they moved inside.

The bridge, didn’t appear much like a bridge anymore, all the consuls and equipment had been unbolted and stripped from the floor. Stiff, brown fabric buzzing with flies had been strung up from the ceiling and down onto the floor giving the room a strange alien quality to it, like they had walked into a cave, or perhaps the throat of some virulent beast.

To add to the strangeness of it all, almost every available flat surface was piled with open containers, bottles and glasses and jars of water. Pillows lay discarded across the floor their generally white casings stained with filth. The jars themselves seemed to make a pathway through the room.

Sweeping his light forward, Commander Vir followed the trail of stained cloth up towards the end of the path, where a single, stained chair still remained bolted to the floor. It was a large chair sat atop a raised dais, though it was slightly tilted to one side.

The Captain’s chair.

All around it lay bodies, piled together in grotesque poses of death locked into place by rigor mortis 

A horrific amalgamation of naked flesh and rot. These people, they lay together in a mass pile before the seat, somehow reminding him of a thrown as if these people had been prostrated in ritual as they slowly expired.

“The fuck.” Whispered one of the marines

Commander Vir remained silent, his eyes roving over the scene before him. The bodies themselves were in a general state of decay, though in better preserved condition than the ones before. 

Slowly he moved up the aisle boots making a soft thud against the unseen metal below his feet, muffled by the crusted fabric. A single body atop that pile stood out to him, in the wan light of his torch, it’s skin glowed a sickly, pale grey, like the body of a decaying maggot. The thing, more creature than man, was horrifically thin it’s spine protruding like that of a rabid, starving dog, so thin and knobbly that it’s joints were thicker than the surrounding body parts.

Its fingernails were blackened.

Commander Vir paused to take a closer look at the body drawn in b some heinous curiosity. The other marines stood behind him examining the pile of corpses.

“No…. no no….”

Commander Vir leaned in further.

“What?”

A shuffling behind him and a soft, “They were EATING each other.” 

It was then, he realized many things at once…. The missing 20%, the blocaded door, the tomato soup, the clean plate, the storage rooms still full of boxes, the kitchen.

And the fact that this corpse was still chewing slowly, and rhythmically.

“COMMANDER RUN!”

The chewing stopped, and an eye flashed open, a delicate cerulean blue consumed by a black pupils and surrounded by jaundice yellow sclera.

He had no time to react.

He screamed falling backwards as the thing slammed into his chest. His tac light was thrown to the floor and sent spinning across the ground. The room erupted into chaos. He kicked out with one foot catching the creature in the chest and knocking it backwards. It skidded back across the floor on all fours, the greyness of it’s skin thrown into sharp relief, an amalgamation of bruising and torn open sores still weeping clear fluid and infection.

He scrambled backwards, and it scuttled after him. Light rolled around him like a strobe giving him only glimpses of the creature as it crawled towards him gnashing yellowed teeth overcome by bleeding, decaying gums. He scrambled for his sidearm running into something soft, and moist at his back. The lights flashed.

The creature plunged from the darkness, its ragged black nails scrambling for his neck.

He caught it by the arms pushed backwards into a putrid mass. Fabric tore and bone cracked desperately he strained against the creature flailing arms. It was inhumanly strong as it pushed them through the mass of corpses tumbling onto a field of open jars.

Glass shattered. 

Water erupted around them. The thing began to shreak so loud that his ears rang. His hand slipped, and the creature got one arm free, more glass shattered. He could see the gelatinous film coating the creature's eyes, watched strings of saliva drip from it’s open mouth. It pulled its hand back fingers curving into talons pressed close together.

“THE EYES.”

The hand came plunging downwards towards his face, and he scrambled back kicking and screaming. The hand came down, again and again and again stabbing down towards his eye. He tried to catch the creature’s hand, but was only able to block it.

It screamed.

Glass shattered as he deflected it to the side it’s fingers stabbing into the glass coming back bloody.

It straddled him by the hips fighting to gain both hands as it jabbed at him again. Greasy black fingernails rocketed towards his face, seeking his eyes.

Teeth gnashed and champed.

Screaming form around the room.

It grabbed him, and together they plunged through a tear in the fabric. Something sharp crunched beneath him, it grew darker, light dissipated by crusted fabric. 

He felt it coming towards his face catching the creature’s wrist. Light grew in his vision, withering black nails inches from his face. It pressed down with all its might quivering closer and closer to the surface of his eye.

Something glinted at him from the darkness.

A panic, and desperation the likes of which he had never felt overwhelmed him flooding his body with strength. He screamed, wrenching the creature’s arm from his face, grabbing it by the side of the head, and thrusting it bodily sideways.

The things scream was cut off by a sickening crunch.

The glinting, the tip of a jagged broken rib.

He lay there, on his side against a field of bones staring into the glassy face of this…. No… not a creature.

A man.

A man with shocked cerulean blue eyes faded in death strings of white-blond hair still clinging to his diseased scalp, and the ore he looked the more human the thing became. A man in his thirties emaciated diseased, probably in pain. Commander vir looked down and saw a jacket tied loosely around the man’s waist.

Pinned to the collar was a dull set of captain’s bars.

For a moment it was as if he could see his own face staring back at him.  This man, he could be any one of them.

He felt his body heave, and he scrambled away clawing his way through the opening and into a field of broken glass.

“Don’t shoot!” Someone screamed.

“Commander!.”

On hands and knees his body heaved violently again his nose tingled, his throat constricted. Tears leaped to his eyes. The heave turned into a sob, but he choked it back down, staggering to his feet his breath heavy and warm inside the mask. Someone rushed to help him, while another shined his light through the opening.

“Holy shit.”

“Commander, are you ok?”

He waved the marine off his ears ringing, “Order everyone back to the ship RIGHT NOW.”

His orders were not questioned. A radio went on somewhere, and two of the marines helped to support him as they walked down the hall. His body felt numb, it wasn’t that he couldn’t move, but he couldn’t feel his feet on the floor.

Eventually someone else took over for the marines. Two arms supported him from the side, in a strong inhuman embrace. Sunny tried to speak with him, but his mind was too focused to acknowledge her. They had to get out, he had to get them out. He refused to go forward unless he could see his marines checking constantly behind him as they went. Anyone they saw along the way was ordered back to the ship. Leave the equipment they could get more.

He stood in the cargo bay surrounded by bodies filtering through the doors calling out names and checking off crew manifest.  Shuttles were launched back to the ship, and he refused to leave until the last shuttle was opened.

Together with Sunny, and his original team of marines, he stepped onto the shuttle. The darkened hallways lined with cheap LEDs stretched back behind him. Something clattered sending echoes up the hall. A marine sealed the door with a sharp his, and with unwavering hands, Commander Vir piloted the ship into space eyes locked forward, body still feeling nothing.

The light that hit him upon returning to his ship was the most relieving sensation he had ever felt, like taking an elevator to heaven from the depths of hell. The crew waited in the cargo bay as they exited the shuttle waiting with fearful, wide eyes. The marines especially gathered around him, but at that moment he felt….. Nothing.

He looked at the marines. He had to make sure they were ok, “The lot of you, get yourself up to psych RIGHT NOW!”

“But captain.”

His voice dropped low, “Argue with me again marine, and it will be the last thing you do.” 

The group stepped back

He lifted his head, “THAT GOES FOR THE LOT OF YOU. Anyone who stepped foot on that ship or even listened to that transmission better have a psych referral to me by the end of the week on my desk in signed in TRIPLICATE from all three of our attending physicians psych and medical otherwise. NOW GET MOVING.”

No one questioned him, and standing there in the crowd, he felt his body go numb. Cold sweat rolled from his temples and down his collar, he began to shiver violently. His hearing still hadn't come back from earlier, and he was beginning to feel lightheaded his heart pounded even as a great sense of exhaustion came over him.

Before he knew it, he was sitting on the floor. Someone was speaking to him, though he couldn’t concentrate enough to make it out. Only that memory, of the repeated hand jabbing downwards towards his face.

More voices muttering, they elevated in shock, and a second later something cupped him gently about the face tilting his head back. The movement was gentle almost caring. Lights blinded him for a moment, but then a face resolved itself in his vision, paper white, humanoid and with wide black eyes.

“Conn.” He muttered.

“Sleep, Commander, and I will ease your fear.”

A sensation, like someone pouring clear warm water into his thoughts. His shivering died down, and he felt himself float away.

***

Humans don’t die easily.

And sometimes when they do, when they should leave, they linger.

[youarejesting]

Quarantine.2

[Masterlist] Pairing: BTS x reader (i don’t know if this will have ships or just friendship or what I am just letting it run its course) Genres: friendship, drama, romance Rating: All Summary: Your brother works with a few BigHit dance teams and whilst having permission to accompany him at work the city shuts down banning anyone from stepping outside for a whole WEEK while they disinfect the streets. If you step outside you might get arrested, shot or poisoned by the chemicals they are emitting through the city. Words: 3.1k  Announcement: I have 901 followers this. I can’t thank you guys enough. Stay safe. (this has a tiny inspiration from the movie exit and that is that they can’t go outside that's about it)

[Part 1]  [Part 3]  [Tag Yourself Here]

When the sun poured in from the window, you deemed it time to wake up, though you hadn’t actually slept, not that you didn’t try. There were specific requirements you needed to sleep. It had to be pitch black with soft tone music in the background and there had to be air running across your face by a fan or you would feel claustrophobic.

Stepping out into the hall, you heard two young female employees talk as they passed about ‘hot water running out’. Following them down the hall you saw the first set of bathrooms. It was packed, the line stretched out down the hall. 

“Maybe we should try the bathroom on the third floor?” one of the two women said,  “No these are the best and it will be packed as well so we should just stand in line.”  

You walked away and to the third floor to see the line, you weren’t worried about showering anytime soon. It was also out the door with tired men and women sitting against the wall. Humming thoughtfully you remembered the storage room, there was an old bathroom beside it, what are the chances there was a shower in there. 

Taking the service elevator to the basement. It was clean and brightly lit, just as it had been the day before. There were cameras in some corners of the halls. You walked to the end cautiously, why did basements have such a bad reputation. Seeing the familiar storage room ahead of you and to the right was the bathroom. You pushed the door open hesitantly; you saw the stalls they were clean and unused, and like luck would have it the last had a shower. Locking the door you showered quickly the water was hot because there was a personal hot water system in the corner of the stall. 

With a towel wrapped securely around your chest, you quickly ducked into the storage room. Cleaning up a little and hanging ropes across the pipes on the walls. Making a makeshift clothesline to hang the clothes you had washed in the shower. There were some old costumes and props and hoodies. Searching the piles of clothing for something that fit. You found something you were nervous to wear. Embarrassingly you had found a box of old merch and discontinued items in various sizes, none of it had been worn they all still had tags and were sealed in their packets folded professionally. 

You pulled out a set of BT21 underwear in your size and felt your face grow hot if you were caught wearing these character underwear you would be mortified. You found what looked like a plain black hoody in an XXL and slipped it on. It reached to your knees. You chose this size as there were no pants in the pile and boxes you had searched just hoodies and underwear. 

You took the service elevator up to your floor and stepped out walking past the two women who had lined up in front of you still haven’t gone in. Continued walking you slowed past the boys meeting room you could hear groans of annoyance, “there is no hot water and the lines for the showers are huge” 

Deciding to take pity and potentially losing your secret shower, you knocked on the door. Met by a dishevelled Jin. Slipping past him and shutting the door, the room had a very manly musky scent and you blushed “I um… found a secret shower with a personal hot water system but you have to promise to keep it a secret or I won’t tell you?”

Their eyes lit up. Scrambling to you. You told them to pack their shower stuff in a discreet bag and they lined up waiting. 

“Follow me?” Turning and peeking out the door you heard them gasp and start laughing hysterically. You froze confused, had your hoody rode up and exposed your underwear. Tugging the back of the hoody down you sighed in relief realising that wasn’t the case. Whipping around to see they were hanging off each other trying to suppress their laughter.  “what is it?”

“We didn’t know you were a fan of Suga?” “Who?” They pointed at the small thin young man, his eyes sleepy and his face blank, the corners of his mouth seemed permanently turned down.  “You're wearing my uh merch, it says ‘Suga’ on the back” you turned to have a look and facepalmed. 

Yoongi couldn’t help laughing at your shocked reaction, his eyes lost all their sleepiness and turned into rainbow arches, his soft cheeks lifting and his smile revealed. You could see his pink gums and you knew he was genuinely amused. 

“I uh stole it from the storage room, I thought it was a plain black hoody you have a lot of merch clothes down there,” Leading them from the room and past the line of employee’s to the service elevator.  “Why do you take the service elevator?”  “What services will we get when the whole city is stuck indoors? And the regular elevator is small and busy” 

“You are pretty smart?” Namjoon nudged you with his shoulder, which would have been fine if your body wasn’t tired and lethargic from lack of sleep. Stumbling back into Jimin’s arms. “Thank you, I find I can be smart when I need to be” The doors opened and like every time you stepped into the basement you felt like you were in some action or horror movie. 

“This is where we die?” Hoseok laughed his voice cracking a little. You laughed, actually laughed. There was something about the way he said it in English with his cute accent.

“That’s what I think every time I come down here. The bathroom is in there, there is only one shower but if you wash your clothes with the bucket and the generic soap I stole from the supply cupboard down the hall, you can wash your clothes and hang them in the storage room. It has decent ventilation down here so they won’t take to long to dry”

You left them to it, going back to the storage room, cleaning some more you found a board game and some promotional cans of drinks. There were some more clothes in another box, you tried to find a pair of pants that would fit but were unlucky. You couldn’t have it all. 

You sighed hanging a long white fabric backdrop over the slightly stained couch. Sitting as you emptied some more product boxes while waiting. You were tired but you couldn’t sleep. Deciding to use the BT21 makeup, you found you put on some makeup and smiled it was nice. You wondered why the storage room was filled with random bits of their work. 

You finished applying the lip tint when they walked in clean wearing only towels, “oh um” you turned to cover your eyes, “you have clothes and costumes over there”

They all sorted through the clothes and dressed while you faced the corner of the room. When they said they were done, you walked back to the couch to find it already occupied. “You look happier” Examining the group of boys, Taehyung was tying his shoes on the couch and Jimin and Yoongi were talking quietly looking up and down your legs your cheeks tinted pink 

Jin and Jungkook were hanging out washing and they stopped staring at your bra and underwear, causing you to get redder especially your neck and ears. Taehyung hooked his finger under the hem of the hoodie you were wearing and gently pulled it up at the side. With a squeal and a jump, you flailed slapping his hand away. 

“Taehyung, you can’t just do that?” Namjoon scolded and Taehyung blushed holding his hands up in defence.  “Sorry I wasn’t trying to look at your underwear I was just wondering if you had pants on, but, um… are you wearing Cooky underwear?” Jungkook froze his cheeks going red and you looked away refusing to answer your face feeling like it was on fire. “I don’t know the character names but it’s a bunny?”

“Oh JayKay you lucky boy” Hoseok slapped the younger boys back and you frowned.  “Again I just wore what was clean and I could find” You walked out of the room unable to stand to be near them your face was too warm. On your way back to the corridor they all caught up joining you in the elevator to the second floor. You were all going to the dining room for some breakfast. 

Your brother again was nowhere to be found, many of the boys were wearing prescription glasses complaining about not having contacts.  “You look good don’t worry” you mumbled to Jin and he seemed to fluff right up like a proud peacock blowing a kiss at you from one end of the table. 

Taehyung sat in front of you and it was kind of hard to eat. He was so handsome. His face was mesmerising. His eyebrows were thick and eyelashes were long. He had rounded ears that stuck out giving him a silly kind of look but you thought it was so cute. You seemed mesmerised by the tiny freckle on his nose. 

Eating slowly giving up your kimchi again and settled for rice and the lightly seasoned side dishes. “You mustn’t like kimchi,” Namjoon said “It’s a strong flavour I am still getting used to but as for now it is making my stomach hurt my body is not used to fermented foods” “But kimchi is so delicious” Hoseok defended

“It’s like, imagine how you would feel if you had to eat bread every day your body would react. It’s nice at first but then you get sick of it, wanting something you are used to eating. Your body would bloat unused to the carbs. My body does the same thing with kimchi but instead of bloating if I eat it I might just vomit”

Yoongi nodded understanding and you sighed “I just want something bland like mash potatoes and chicken with no chilli or kimchi just plain food, just once” you sighed pushing the food around your plate Jungkook laughed beside you his teeth were adorable, and when he smiled his eyes did too you were lost for a moment. He handed you some of the plain food from his plate. They were all really handsome and you had to keep yourself from saying or doing anything embarrassing. 

Parting ways you went to find your brother, he was practising with the dancers. You sat watching, even helping one of the students through the routine. Dancing was a family trait, you had been dancing for as long as you can remember but you didn’t anymore, you had gotten so many rejections from your auditions that you finally gave up. 

So your brother tried not to act too surprised when he saw you standing and doing the very basic steps to show his student the routine. They were practising for a festival which might not even be held due to the virus. sighing, the kids all took a break and your brother left sparring you a glance. 

Frozen in place you didn’t know you were walking until you were face to face with the stereo. Pressing the play button the music played and all you could hear was the rejection. 

‘I am sorry you didn’t get the part’ 

‘We regret to inform you, your audition was not accepted’ 

‘You didn’t make it to the final audition round better luck next time’. 

Shutting off the music you were having a panic attack. Again. Racing out of the room, you ran straight into Hoseok. He grabbed your arm. Looking down at your face, “hey breathe it’s okay, look at me and breathe” You copied his breathing until you felt yourself slump against his chest. He rubbed your back, “Hey, tell me what’s wrong?”

You hadn’t let any tears slip not this time, and you were determined to keep it that way. “It’s nothing” “Come on, that was not nothing?” He squeezed your hand, “tell me about it, I am a really good listener” He sat you down in your brother’s office and poured you some water, “it’s stupid” “Nothing is stupid if it makes you react like that?”

“I used to do something I pursued it and loved it very much, but everyone rejected me, said I wasn’t good enough said I wouldn’t become anything and after all the rejection I couldn’t take it anymore I couldn’t even think about this thing without panicking, I miss it so much, it use to make me happy. I use to get an electric buzz through my body and it was surreal. I could express myself and become whoever I wanted to be, but now all I hear is their voice telling me no”

“I understand, I wasn’t always this famous guy, I was a street dancer, I tried and tried and tried and I got rejections after rejections until one day I got scouted by BigHit” “How many times were you rejected? If you had to take a guess.” “Fifty to a hundred at least”  “I was rejected 873 times, I had a tally that’s the equivalent of being rejected every day for two and a half years, forgive me if I felt worthless”

“Don’t let the no’s stop you okay, keep pushing until you get that yes because a life of struggle is better than a life of regret” he smiled patting your knee before leaving quietly and you sat there confused. 

You spent the day thinking about it, it scared you how your feet began itching to dance. Your body wanted to move. You walked past the dance studio rooms at least three times before finally, you got the courage to step inside. You sat off to the side watching your brother and Hoseok perfect their routine. 

“Hello” Namjoon smiled as the two of you were talking, he started teaching you a tiny bit of Korean, you only got through greetings, my name is, how are you? Where is the___? what is this? It was fun and took your mind off the dancing. 

You caught your foot tapping and left the room slowly before the feeling caught up with you. You went to the basement and to the storage room your clothes were almost dry, you continued searching through the boxes and bags of clothes and found some more stuff. It was a shirt that said plus multiply plus in yellow and blue, and the sweat pants you found the tag said soobin and was a perfect fit. 

Slipping them in a bag you headed upstairs, everyone went to dinner. Sitting beside your brother you ate slow, mind wandering with what if’s. He was right a life full of what if’s and regret was worse than the rejection. Your brother was talking adamantly with his students and the dance team, you ate what you could before you excused yourself leaving. Laying in the storage room you really couldn’t get the feeling out of your body or the music out your head. Your fear had morphed, you were scared to feel the joy that only dancing could bring, a fear of how bad you must be after the long break.

It was torture, it got dark. You got changed and travelled up the stairs this time trying to tire yourself out or slow yourself down because you knew exactly where you were headed. You took your time and you finally arrived on the fourth floor. You stepped into the empty dance studio and turned on the lights dimming them so they gave a faint glow, you didn’t want to alert anyone that you were inside. 

Turning down the stereo system you plugged your phone in and started a slow song, it started small, feeling the music, trying a few moves and stopping you didn’t have anything to go on just yet you were warming up. When none of the songs could draw anything out of you, you switched to the CD and hit play on whatever was inside. The song title appeared on the small led screen ‘Louder than bombs’. The music was able to move you, it had been so long you danced the lyrics ripping through you 

Louder than bombs I break. 

You finished the song crying and you wanted to do it again but the next song had you with the beat of the drums it was called ‘On’. Slowly getting into the songs each one bringing out a new emotion. Expressing everything you had, you had gone through the album twice. Dancing to black swan, the music died out when you heard clapping and turned falling on your behind. 

There was a slapping sound and a deep “ow what was that for?” “Tae, She isn’t supposed to know we are here idiot” The lights grew a little brighter and you saw the BTS boys and your brother.  You frowned “how long have you been here?” “I have been here since pretty much the start,” Hoseok rubbed the back of his neck “you were dancing to some English songs”

“I came in halfway through louder than bombs the first time” Jimin grinned doing a few of the moves he memorised. “Your brother was looking for you, we had been searching everywhere,” Namjoon said “We worried you went outside”

“Your dancing was really nice?” Jungkook said “I liked what you did with my song and the black swan dance you did was very pretty” “Y/n I haven’t seen you dance in years” Your brother stepped forward, you were feeling a little overwhelmed, “it was really good?”

“Well remember it because I am still not dancing” Trying not to cry the declaration ripping through your chest. Namjoon started explaining the meaning behind black swan you looked at your shaking hands “I have to go I really can’t do this” you tried to push past them as you staggered off down the hallway wiping your eyes on your sleeve. 

“It was nice” You froze the gravelly tone made you turn. Yoongi walked over and placed his hand on your head awkwardly patting it. While refusing to look at you. “I have never seen anyone move like that to my songs before, it made it seem like it was something more I don’t know beautiful it looked like actual art” 

He shuffled looking a bit nervous. Walking away leaving you dumbfounded. Sure it was one thing to hear. ‘You are so good’  but it was another to hear the sincerity in someone’s voice as they said something as deep and meaningful about your dancing like Yoongi had said to you. He called your dancing ‘Art’ for crying out loud. That’s the highest compliment you could possibly think of at this moment.

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