#and the place gets burned down after a single day cuz he shoved himself in an oven

[idsfantasy]

Welp, I'm about to fast track my "alright just how much should we apply the books to the games" video

Time to expose the world to how using Tales from the Pizzaplex's timeline would mean the Pizzaplex is open before FNAF 3 lol

[missusk]

The Rhythm of Your Heartbeat (OC x Piers) Commissioned by @danni-dollarsign Commission info

~~

“What’re you fidgeting so much for?” Marnie asked as she languidly sprawled on the couch, her legs dangling over the arm. “Yer as ornery as Morpeko.”

“Huh?” her brother grunted, again pacing the length of their living room. “Nothin’, nothin’…”

“Yea, ‘mkay,” she said with a roll of her eyes as she returned to brushing the Morpeko sitting on her lap.

Piers grumbled a response that was intelligible to both of them. Truthfully, he had been wearing a rut in their carpet this entire week, pacing back and forth as he racked his brain for conversation topics to have with that woman he had seen around recently. Her name was Nora, she had a Misdreavous, and she had a booth set up sometimes in Spikemuth, sometimes in Hammerlocke, and sometimes he didn’t see her for days. That was all he knew about her. The frustrating part, however, was that he wanted to know more about her than just those three things. Like, if she was single, for one, and for two if she would bother wanting to hang out with a bloke like him.

The Gym Leader was unfortunately getting to the point where he would keep an eye out for her whenever he left town, and even to where he would purposefully trek to Hammerlocke after the sun had set, just to see if that booth was lining any of the streets in his town or the neighboring’s.

“’m goin’ out,” Piers said as he pulled on his jacket. He was met with an ‘aye’ from his sister, and soon stepped into the smoky air of Spikemuth in the night.

Neon lights buzzed as his shoes crunched along the streets, littered with empty bottles and cans and unfortunately no occult booths with beautiful women inside. Piers huffed, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and scolding himself for how he was acting. It wasn’t like him to take evening strolls, nor was it like him to be pining after some stranger… and yet, here he was, his eyes scanning the streets and his feet moving forward despite himself.

This was stupid… if he got to the Pokémon Center with no sight of her, then he’d turn right around and give up on all this rubbish. He offered nods of greetings to the handful of fans he passed at the local bars and tourist spots – as touristy as Spikemuth could be, at least – and soon he saw the only greenery of Spikemuth flowering beside the doors of the Pokémon Center.

Alright, time to go back home and forget all this. Piers motioned to turn, only for his gaze to catch on someone stepping into town. His heart dropped, then thundered in his chest as he stood staring at Nora walking towards him. Long legs, graceful gait, mysterious eyes – Piers was suddenly finding it challenging to swallow, and yet he kept moving forward while both his thoughts and heart skipped.

She set down the bundle she was carrying, unfurling the tent as her Misdreavous flittered around her. Piers nearly jumped when her eyes met his, as apparently he had stepped right up to her without realizing.

“Oh, hello. I’m not open yet,” she said with a light smile. “Give me just a moment to set up and I’ll be right with you.”

It was like Piers’ brain was left in the rut in his living room carpet because all he offered as a response was a blank stare.

“…sir?”

“’chu, um, help?” Piers stammered. Apparently, he left his vocabulary at home too.

“Um,” Nora said quietly. “Pardon?”

“D-D’you, uh, want some help?” Piers corrected, shaking his head into focus. “Hanging ou-, er, hanging up? Hanging that up? Hanging your tent up?”

Nora blinked a few times, as did Piers, as they both processed what the hell he just stuttered out. He wished he wasn’t so pale because he could practically feel his face burning with embarrassment. His mouth was as dry as a Cottonee so he didn’t risk saying anything after that monstrosity of a sentence.

“I usually do it myse-“

“Aye, right, right,” Piers blurted. “Sorry to be a bother, then, I’ll leave ya be.”

And with that, Piers turned on his heel and was immediately marching back home. His thoughts were whirring and thus he didn’t hear Nora finish her sentence.

“…but I wouldn’t mind some help,” she finished, her eyebrows pulling together as Piers escaped. She glanced to Misdreavous, who simply shrugged in response, and Nora went back to setting up her tent.

Before Piers knew it, he was stepping through his front door, grunting a greeting to Marnie who said ‘that was fast’, and then he flopped onto his mattress with a wumph.

So much for that.

--

Piers wasn’t too pleasant to be around the next few days according to Marnie, as all he would do was rotate between his angsty, moody, and sadboy playlists. When he finally emerged from his room to eat, Marnie cornered him.

“When was the last time ya went outside?” she huffed, hands on her hips. “Don’t you like, have to do your job?”

“’s fine,” Piers said as he brushed past her. “Challenge season ain’t here yet anyway.”

“Yer getting’ paler, Piers,” Marnie said. “Go outside today. Go train with Raihan or somethin’, your Pokémon shouldn’t suffer just ‘cuz you want to sulk.”

“Fine,” he said, deciding that his little sister was more than right about how he shouldn’t ignore his Pokémon. “I’ll text ‘im.”

It didn’t take long for the sun to set and for Piers to be on his way out again, this time passing the Pokémon Center, the Route 9 tunnel, and the gates of Hammerlocke. He forced himself to keep his gaze forward, and not drift along the roadside for sight of that familiar tent. All was going according to plan as he stepped into the city, past the Pokémon Center, and past the train station. It wasn’t until he reached the bottom of the staircase beside the station that he paused.

A whimsical noise was wafting through the air, almost ethereal in how it made the hair on his neck stand on end. Piers’ focus immediately rerouted from his upcoming training with Raihan to whatever that noise was, because he was certain it was coming from up the steps. He took them two at a time, now mesmerized by the ghostly music. He arrived at what looked to be a church – it was certainly a building he had never been in before – and his heart started pounding harder the closer he got, as the music was spilling out of the stained-glass windows. It was haunting, operatic, and one of the most beautiful things Piers had ever heard. He pulled open the doors to the church, craving for the song to be closer, closer, close enough to dwell in his bones. Who did that voice belong to? The building was dark, uninhabited, and when the doors rattled opened, the music stopped.

“Hello?” Piers called after a moment, his voice resounding off the domed ceilings. He waited a moment, then a moment more, before turning again to the doors. He suddenly heard the faint sound of shuffling, then the echo of a door closing. When he glanced up, he caught a brief glimpse of a purple figure wisping away.

No other sounds echoed, no other music played, so when the only noise in the church was his own breathing, Piers turned and left through the heavy double doors. When he was greeted by the night air again, a shuffling to his right caught his attention. It was that same wispy, purple figure, but beside that was the outline of a woman.

“Hey, wait!” Piers called suddenly, rushing up to her. “Was that you singing?”

The woman turned, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder. Yet again Piers’ breath caught, as those were the same mysterious eyes that had been occupying his mind for so long.

“Yes,” Nora said quietly. Piers had never noticed how her voice was almost a melody in itself. “I didn’t realize how much my voice was carrying, I apologize.”

“You’re amazing,” Piers breathed out. When Nora made no response, it was as if Piers’ entire consciousness finally caught up to him and he quickly shifted from an awe-struck gaze into one that was a bit like a Deerling in headlights “I-I mean, you, you uh, you gotta nice set of pipes. Not bad, I mean. Not that you’d be bad, I just, I-I didn’t realize you sang too. I sing, y’know. I’m in a band. Would you wanna duet sometime?”

“…pardon?” Nora asked, gray eyes quizzical.

“O-or ‘sthat weird? Sorry, I’ll jus-“

“Wait!” Nora blurted, reaching out to Piers. Her fingers curled around his wrist for only a second before she yanked her hand back again, but the touch still seemed to linger. “Yes, I would like to. That sounds nice.”

“Foreal?” Piers asked, blinking in surprise. “I-I mean great, that’s great. I’m Piers, by the way.”

“I know,” Nora said, her gaze bashfully flicking downward. The sight drew a bashful smile from Piers as well. “I’m Nora.”

“I know,” Piers repeated, his cheeks again staining pink. “I’ve noticed you in Spikemuth sometimes.”

A sweet anticipation filled the space between them, at least until Piers’ phone started vibrating madly in his pocket. Ah, shit, that’s right… Raihan.

“How about tomorrow? You can come to my place in Spikemuth?” Piers started. “I’d say let’s go now but I’m late for training and he won’t let me hear the end of it if I don’t show.”

“Tomorrow sounds good,” Nora said, offering Piers a soft smile. “Can I get your number in case I get lost?”

Piers nodded quick enough for his ponytail to threaten to come undone, and the two eagerly traded numbers. With a bashful goodbye from them both, Piers made his way to Raihan’s gym with a subtle spring in his step, humming a sweet song to himself.

--

Piers and Nora’s first song session went well, as did their second, third, fourth, and all of the rest until they lost count. Although they were no longer strangers to one another, Piers’ heart still seemed to rattle in his chest whenever Nora was close. She snuggled next to him, tucking her head under his chin in the exact way that made him melt. Marnie was off with some of her new friends, so it was just Piers and Nora left in the house, and even though they had plenty of space, they seemed to want to occupy as little as possible as they curled around each other.

“Piers?” Nora whispered, her breath warming his neck and yet sending shivers down his spine.

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you came into the church that day.”

“Me too.”

Nothing else needed to be said, as their bodies both spoke volumes as they lay under the covers together. She was his song, he was her melody, and the rhythm of their hearts beat in tandem as they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

[angryhausfrau-writes]

I Travel Troubled Oceans: Chapter 15 - Meditations Two! Electric Boogaloo

There's something to be said for having a home to come back to at the end of the day. Especially when Charles is coming home battered and bloody and with his blood singing in his veins, “You're still alive, motherfucker. You're still alive.”

Because against all odds, he is still alive. And it's starting to feel like he's going to stay that way for a while. Like he isn't just dancing on a knife's edge where a single misstep gets him dead. And the steps more and more complex everyday, til he's jigging for his life to the devil's tune, too caught up in the steps to ever stop cuz if he stops he's dead. And he ain't quite ready to end it all – not just yet, not without a good reason.

So he'd smoked up – from a bong, from a crack pipe – and tried to forget for just a little while that he is where he is (the boneyard) and that he's living how he's living. Just a tiny misstep from dying.

And it's fine. He's got a crew, to help catch and steady him, just as he's there to catch and steady them. Make sure there's at least a little margin of error in the dance. Make sure there's a guy rope tying them together. Keeping them all balanced on that blade – or all falling together.

But the thing about living that way is that it ain't really living. Charles had never known anything else but this, so it feels like a life. But all it is is being dead and not realizing it yet.

Or maybe he had realized, just a little. Been able to catch tiny glimpses of another way of living through the cracked and dirty glass separating him from the living. Able to see out into the real world, with its real people. People who were safe and clean and happy and free.

And Charles had hated them.

Hated them for having what he could never have. Hated them for living when he was just dying slow. Hated them for being free – for having the ability to make choices about what kind of life they lived when he can't choose, not even between living and dying, not really.

And Charles got bitter. Spiteful. Angry. He'd fought back the only way he could. Telling himself that they were weak. That he was strong.

Look at how coddled they are. How loved. He'd never needed any of that shit to survive. He'd toughened up, and they could stand to do the same, the fucking pansies.

So it had become a kind of mantra. Rules to live by, in a world where he's half dead already.

Loving things makes you weak. Loving things makes you vulnerable. And out on the streets, vulnerable means dead. Better to love nothing and be free than to chain yourself to worthless comforts. Better to love nothing than to chain yourself to vulnerabilities.

So Charles had loved nothing. Not even his crew. His crew who'd feared and respected him as he'd respected and occasionally feared them. But there's no place for love – not there on the streets and not with the kind of people he'd invited into his crew – into himself. Strong people. Fierce people. Fighters.

And then Charles had fallen in love with Eleanor Guthry. Or he'd though the had, anyway. Eleanor might not actually be capable of that emotion. And even if she is, she certainly wasn't in love with Charles, making the whole relationship just a touch one-sided. And that was before she got him sent away for that two-stretch. The bitch.

Because that's the thing about Eleanor, the thing that had originally attracted Charles to her. She's a monumental bitch. Ruthless and callous and cold. Just like him.

Equals.

And she'd played the part of fellow gang boss well. Acting tough. Acting like she could understand the life of someone like him. Like she could care about street trash like him.

But it had all been a not-particularly-well-constructed facade.

She'd only put up with Charles for what he could get her – money and thrills and respect from the street. As soon as his usefulness was gone, he'd been disposable.

And Eleanor herself. Well...

She was no gang boss. She was not strong, not in the ways that mattered on the streets and not in the ways Charles has learned are strong in the world of elitist fucks he lives in now. No. Eleanor had been coddled. She'd been safe and spoiled and pampered by everyone she'd ever come in contact with. Completely divorced from the consequences of her actions – at least until Max had taken a go at her.

Max who's another lover scorned and tossed aside when Eleanor grew bored. Which means the justice is just fucking poetic really. And Charles is so fucking glad he'd gotten to be part of Max's revenge. Gotten to see Eleanor toppled from her marble pedestal. Gotten to be the one to send her crashing down to shatter on the streets with all the other gutter trash.

But he's also glad he got to be part of Max's revenge cuz it means he's part of the con she's running now. The con that involves a fancy house and fancy clothes. And safety – real safety.

When he'd gone away for that two-stretch, Charles had chafed under the pointless rules, the petty tyranny of the guards. The lack of humanity – from the guards and from the other prisoners.

But he'd had three hots and a cot and nobody'd fucked with him, not even the most sadistic guards, not after he'd threatened – and committed – enough violence to make his point. His point that he was the toughest motherfucker around and they'd better take that into account going forward.

And, since he didn't know any better – hadn't ever experienced anything else – he'd thought that was safety. He'd thought that was freedom from fear. And it had just confirmed his belief that you couldn't have safety without giving up the freedoms that made life – even a half-life on the streets – worth living.

And then he'd gotten out, gotten back to the streets. Back to Jack running the crew and Max planning the cons. Just in time for the rug to be pulled out from under him – for him to get shoved into the kind of life he'd always derided, always sneered at. The life of soft, safe, spoiled fucks with no drive in them to ever achieve anything. So used to the gilded cage that they'd never walk out, even if the door was left open for them.

He'd chafed at the idea at first. Remnants of his mantra echoing in his head. Love nothing. Care for nothing. Cuz then it can't be taken away. Only then are you free.

Plus, he'd been pissed as hell at Jack for manipulating him into this shit. Cuz he knew – he knew – Charles'd fight it tooth and nail if he'd approached it honestly, democratically. But Jack's always been a slippery fucker. Charles can't honestly say he'd expected any different from him – though Anne's easy acquiescence to the plan had surprised him, Jack's machinations or no.

But Charles is man enough to admit when he's been beaten. So he'd gone along with the plan. Dolled himself up in designer togs. Submitted to Mary's ridiculous social media campaign. Insinuated himself into a circle of shallow, self-obsessed, backstabbing aristocrats. And all for a plan he hadn't really believed in.

But Jack's the captain of their little crew. His word is law. So now Charles is living like one of those rich fuckers. And as it turns out, the half-life he'd been living out on the streets wasn't even close to the real thing. Jail just a pale imitation of what safety could mean.

Cuz it turns out that when you're rich, you can have the food and clothes and safety. But you also have the freedom to do whatever the fuck you want. The freedom to live.

That's the big fucking secret. The thing they don't want you to know, cuz you'd burn the whole fucking city down if you knew about the caviar at breakfast eaten off of an ivory spoon. About the champagne filling the Jacuzzi of a penthouse hotel suite with enough gilt to make the Church green with envy. About the blood and spend and filth on your hands – just what it takes to get you that multi-million dollar view, that corner office.

When you're that kind of rich, you can do whatever the fuck you want. No rules, no laws affect you. The little people – the normal people - don't matter at all. They're worth about as much consideration as a bug on the sidewalk – noticed, reviled, and then immediately forgotten.

Charles and Max and Anne and Jack, they're all rich enough they can live like that. No regard for anyone's rules but their own. No concern for anyone but themselves. Content to live cut off from all consequences, surrounded by splendor. Never having to face the grit and the grime of the streets again if they don't want to.

But that's the thing. It ain't about having fancy cars or fancy clothes or a fancy house.

Sure, it's fun to ride around in a limo. Fun to wear ridiculous outfits that cost more than most people make in a fortnight, hideous and tacky and camp, because you can afford to. Fun to live in a mansion with more rooms than they know what to do with.

But that's not the thing that makes him free. That's not the thing that makes this living.

It's the smaller things. The quieter things.

Things like having a place to return to at the end of a long day. A place to rest. A place where he can rest, without worrying someone'll try for him. Without having to put up a facade of power, of ruthlessness.

Charles had mocked Flint for his domesticity once. For his desire for the finer things – well, finer for them, anyway.

But there is something comforting in having a favorite mug in the cabinet of your kitchen. Of having tea to drink out of it, breakfast to eat along side it. To have people around you who you can dare to care about because you're not just clinging to survival – you're living.

People you can do things like sitting out in the garden with, having a tea party like some kind of posh fucker. And people you can trust to patch you up after a night at the underground boxing ring, instead of licking your wounds all alone in the dark.

Because Charles has never felt stronger than the morning he stood in the bathroom with Jack wiping the blood away from his face with a posh hand towel. Berating him for coming home in this state. Begrudging in his ministrations. But his hands were gentle. And worry lurked behind his eyes.

And Charles had realized that Jack cares for him. Anne cares for him. His crew care for him. Care rather than fear.

And Charles cares for them in turn. Can care for them. And that is safety. That is strength that can never be taken away.

Even if they were to lose everything tomorrow, all the money and the house and the whole con going up in fucking smoke, that can't be taken away. Charles knows now what it is to be strong. Strong in a way that even the rich fuckers who they're conning can never be. He knows what it means to be free.

Because the rich aren't free.

They might look free. They might act free. But they've chained themselves inside a new kind of prison, one they made for themselves. Because the thing holding them back, the thing keeping them weak, keeping them civilized, is shame.

The idle gossip of their neighbors. The scandal that can ruin them as easily as it had ruined Eleanor and Woodes Rogers. The fear of offending the wrong other rich fuck and ending up “penniless” and on the streets – or, shudder, a lower-middle-class neighborhood.

That fear, that shame, is what keeps the rich from being free.

But Charles has been penniless on the streets, and he survived. Charles has been low and nearly dead and he'd lived. He isn't tied to the money and the disgusting excess and the whole fucking pretend pageantry of nobility.

And the thing about Charles - about Jack and Anne and Max and Mary - is that they don't really feel shame.

[mylovelyfandoms]

Junhui’s Backstory

The Symbol of the Raindrop

Basic Information

A/N: Well this was longer than expected...

I laughed everytime I wrote ‘when Junhui’ cuz ‘Wen Junhui...get it? Ha.’

Warnings: Crappy ending, parent neglect, poor description of panic attack, that should be it

(GIF not mine)

- As Junhui grew up, his parents were more than relieved when he didn’t show any signs of being an affected

- Junhui was born on a farm that was filled with animals and crops

- It wasn’t a strange sight to see baby Junhui around all of the animals, babbling mindlessly as if they understood

- But as time went by, babbling turned into talking

- And eventually, Junhui was having full conversations with the animals

- It wasn’t like he expected them to understand or anything, but he just needed someone to talk to

- It seemed like no one in his family would understand the theories he had

- And he had a lot

- So for a long while, none of his family even realized he was speaking in long and fluent sentences as a toddler

- And they definitely didn’t notice how he used bigger words that they probably wouldn’t be able to understand

- Junhui just talked to the animals

- It wasn’t until he turned five did his parents realize that he could move water with the slight movement of his glowing hand

- Since then, his family tiptoed around him and gave him anything he asked for

- They had heard the stories on the news of the affected children killing their own families, and they had to make sure that Junhui wouldn’t turn into one of those kids

- It didn’t exactly dawn on Junhui that his family was scared of him until he turned seven

- He was with the animals like usual and his father was almost twenty feet away from him, watering the crops

- Deciding that he could help his dad out, Junhui moved the water out of the bucket and spread it all over the rows of crops

- Junhui cheerfully ran up to his dad, only to have him let out a yelp and sprint away from his son

- That was the first time he noticed it

- From then on, there were smaller things that broke Junhui’s heart little by little

- The way his parents left when he walked into the room

- The way they jumped back when he moved his hand ever so slightly in their direction

- The way the two of them scurried about when he mentioned that he was hungry, as if trying to please him

- Junhui loved his parents, there was nothing that could take that away from him 

- And it hurt him to be the reason for his family’s fear and stress

- So he caught them one day when they were eating breakfast early in the morning

- When they saw him sit down at the table in front of them, they rushed to gather their utensils and leave

- They only stopped with Junhui placed a brochure on the table in front of them

- Knowing that they’d be terrified to open it with him in the room, he stood up and walked away, eyes burning 

- He had this planned for years, but he had finally managed to muster up the courage to actually do it

- The next day, he came downstairs with a bag in his hand

- There was already a soldier waiting at the front door

- ‘It’s better this way’ Junhui thought, ‘they don’t have to be scared anymore’

- His parents didn’t speak a single word, only watching after him as Junhui left with the soldier

- Junhui sent one last glance to all of the animals with a heavy heart as he climbed into the back of the transport truck 

- There weren’t any words as they rode to the facility, just a tense silence

- When the car was finally at the outskirts of town, farther away from his home than he had ever been, Junhui saw a tall barricade with the letter ‘c’ plastered on the front

- The barricades opened and allowed the car to drive in

- All around, Junhui saw kids ranging from all ages trudging around the grounds

- They were in clusters of four different colors; blue, green, red, and yellow

- The first thing Junhui noticed about these kids was their blank looks as they stood in the courtyard

- It unsettled Junhui that there wasn’t the slightest trace of the sadness that he was feeling

- He was brought into a testing room and strapped down to a chair

- His testing started out fine at first, just answering questions about his abilities and showing them off

- But then they grabbed his foot and brought a machine to his ankle, inking the symbol into his skin

- Afterwards, they gave him a blue uniform and shoved him into a room

- The fresh ink in his ankle was burning with the cold air but all Junhui could do was wince

- “You’re gonna want to wrap that up or it’ll get infected.” 

- Junhui snapped his head up and finally took a look around the room

- It was small and cramped with two beds against the walls with a single night stand in between them

- On one of the beds, a younger boy wearing a red uniform sat flipping through a book

- Junhui blinked at the boy for a moment, having the boy look up from the heat of his gaze

- With an annoyed huff, the boy closed his book and reached over to the nightstand and opened the drawer, taking out a piece of cloth and tossing it to Junhui

- “Thanks,” Junhui said,  pushing himself up to sit on the vacant bed

- He wrapped the cloth around his ankle, wincing slightly when it touched his inked skin

- Junhui then sat against the wall and kept his gaze on the younger boy reading a book

- There was a permanent frown on the younger boy’s face, but Junhui couldn’t help but find it cute 

- “I’m Junhui, but you can call me Jun.”

- The boy didn’t look up from his book. “That’s good for you.”

- “Well, what’s your name?”

- The boy finally looked up from his book, only to give Junhui a glare

- Though, to Junhui he resembled something like a kitten trying to act like a tiger

- “Look, I don’t know how long you’re going to be in here and I don’t really care. Just because we’re roommates right now does not mean we’re friends. Just stay out of my way.” 

- Junhui didn’t try to talk to the boy again for the rest of the day

- He sat in his corner, sulking and trying not to think about his parents’ look of relief when he finally left the house

- Though he couldn’t help his mind wander to what they would be doing now that he was gone

- Would they stay in the kitchen until they finished their meals? Would they walk through the animal paths instead of all the way around like they did in case Junhui was sitting with them? Would they finally smile? 

- The next couple of days, Junhui stayed in his room

- His roommate came in and out, sometimes holding different objects, but never saying anything

- The only contact they had was when the boy gave Junhui some food so he didn’t starve to death

- When Junhui finally decided to go out

- He started to walk around the courtyard, keeping his eyes to the floor 

- “Hey! Hey new kid!” 

- Junhui looked up and saw a group of kids in different colored uniforms waving him over

- Curious, Junhui walked over

- “You’re The8′s new roommate, aren’t you?”

- Junhui blinked. 

- “The8?”

- “Yeah, fire elemental, constant scowl on his face, everyone’s scared of him, the affected with the highest punishment record so far even though he’s only been here for two years?” 

- Junhui furrowed his eyebrows together

- “What’s an elemental?” 

- “Raindrops. We control the elements. Blue-” The kid gestured to Junhui- “is for water elementals, red is for fire, yellow is for air, and green-” The kid gestured to himself- “is for earth. This facility’s for elementals only.” 

- “So are you The8′s roommate or not?” Another kid cut in quickly

- “Uh...I think so?” 

- “Be careful, rumor has it, he burned his family down the second he found out about his powers. No reason too, he’s just insane!” 

- “Yeah, and he hates water elementals. He burned one just for looking at him the wrong way!” 

- Junhui stumbled back slightly, a frown on his face

- This kid was just ten, how could he do all these things

- “That can’t be true.” 

- The other kids scoffed

- “Careful, that kind of thinking’s gonna get you in a lot of trouble.” 

- little did Junhui know...the kid was right

- Junhui walked away from them

- This kid, the one who threw bread at him so he didn’t starve and kept to himself in the room...he couldn’t possibly be as dangerous and scary as they said

- For the next couple of weeks, Junhui avoided his roommate

- Junhui knew he shouldn’t listen to the other kids, but in the off chance that what they said was true...he just didn’t want to be a part of that

- But one day, when Junhui came back from his daily walk, his roommate was curled into a ball in the corner of his bed

- His hands were over his ears and his eyes were darting all around the room

- “What’s wro-”

- “Go away!” 

- Junhui stepped back as if he were just punched

- Junhui had half a mind to turn around and leave, but seeing his roommate curled into a ball, pale and trembling, made something turn in him

- He took a step forward and the kid flinched back

- Slowly, Junhui approached his roommate and sat next to him on the bed 

- When the kid made no move to protest, Junhui scooted closer and wrapped his arms around the boy’s body

- In the close proximity, he could hear the boy’s shallow breaths starting to slow down 

- The kid’s skin was burning, but Junhui didn’t care

- Junhui tightened his hold around the boy until his shaking slowly stopped

- And even then, Junhui didn’t let go until the boy pushed his arms away

- “Th-thanks.” 

- “Are you okay now?” 

- The kid nodded and kept his gaze on his hands as Junhui shifted so he could sit in front of him

- “I’m Minghao.” 

- Junhui let a smile tug on his lips

- “It’s nice to meet you, Minghao.” 

- The way that Minghao’s name rolled off his lips just felt right

- A weak smile made its way onto Minghao’s face

- “Everyone else calls me The8, though.” 

- “So I’ve heard.”

- There was no way that this kid was dangerous, and the twinkle in his eyes when he looked at Junhui confirmed it

- So it was then and there that Junhui promised himself that he would stay by this boy’s side

- Even if it meant helping him out when he tried to steal from the soldiers because god forbid this kid to have a safe hobby

- So for years, Junhui went along with whatever plan it was that Minghao had

- Sometimes he was a part of it, sometimes Minghao just told him about it, and other times he covered for Minghao when it had been a particularly bad one

- Minghao felt bad every time Junhui took his punishment and he stole him some new books or a lemon or something

- There were a couple of situations that were more memorable than the others

- Like the time Junhui had Minghao steal a chili pepper to put it in a fire elemental’s food because he was talking bad about Minghao behind his back

- But Junhui didn’t tell Minghao that

- “Why do you want to put it in his food exactly?”

- “Because, it’ll be funny, Hao Hao.” 

- And it was

- The jumped up from his seat and breathed fire out of his mouth, right onto the hair of the poor girl next to him

- The soldiers didn’t know what to do and the rest of the elementals were in shock 

- It set off a chain reaction and somehow, Junhui isn’t exactly sure how, the kid ended up in a tree 

- Junhui and Minghao went back to their room and laughed about it for a good hour

- Another memorable time was when the two of them got so bored they started a riot in the courtyard

- The soldiers made the horrible mistake of interrogating them at the same time

- “Look,” The soldier had a fake smile on his face, “this can be really easy or really hard. It’s all up to you. Just say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to my questions, okay?”

- “No.”

- Junhui snapped his head to Minghao in shock, but when he saw the small and mischievous smile on his younger friend’s face, he couldn’t help but match it

- The soldier blinked at him

- “I haven’t asked a questio-”

- “No.” 

- This time the both of them spoke at the same time, smiles widening

- The soldier just inhaled sharply

- “Did you two cause the riot?”

- “No,” Minghao answered

- “Yes,” Junhui said right after

- Minghao turned to Junhui and pointed at him, feigning shock

- “You?”

- “Not me,” Junhui pointed back at Minghao

- “Not me.”

- “Not me either.”

- The soldier let out a low growl and slammed his fists on the table, making Junhui straighten up

- He never did get used to all of the abuse

- “Are you two joking right now?” 

- Needless to say, they didn’t see each other for a couple of weeks. 

- And when they finally did, they were both covered head to toe with bruises and cuts and scratches

- The two were absolutely inseparable

- Until of course, they were actually separated 

- Junhui woke up late in the afternoon

- The night before was one of the times they saw together in the middle of the room and talked about their lives before the facility

- Junhui couldn’t quite remember the number of chickens and pigs on his farm anymore, but he didn’t want to mention that

- When he looked to Minghao’s side of the room, he saw that it was completely empty

- No Minghao, no stolen objects, no trace of his friend at all

- So Junhui immediately began to panic

- He ran out of the room and into the courtyard, desperately searching for the scrawny boy

- But he couldn’t find him

- So he approached the facility’s known gossips 

- “Hey, have you guys seen Hao H-The8. Have you guys seen The8 anywhere?” 

- One of the girls scoffed

- “He finally got the boot.” 

- Junhui furrowed his eyebrows

- “What do you mean?” 

- Another boy stepped forward

- “What she means is he finally hit the limit in his punishments. The soldiers deemed him as ‘too dangerous and unstable’ and shipped him off to a bigger facility. Something like Facility K or J or even T.” 

- Junhui’s world felt like it was crashing around him

- How would he know that the boy was okay without Junhui there? What if he tried messing around in the bigger facilities and got himself killed? What if he was scared without Junhui there but wouldn’t admit it?

- So of course, Junhui had the most logical plan

- He would get his punishment numbers up so he would get into the same facility as Minghao. 

- For the next couple of months, Junhui had only one purpose; to reach the limit of punishments

- It was a lot harder than he thought, there were rumors of Minghao having around 2,000 

- With the amount of shenanigans he pulled, the rest of the affected avoided him like the plague. 

- There were times when he just stopped and thought ‘is this all worth it?’

- But then he looks over to Minghao’s empty bed and keeps going

- It only pushed him further when he got a new roommate

- It was some boy that he didn’t want to bother learning the name of

- The only thing that stuck with him was the conversation he overheard with the group of gossips and his new roommate

- “Hey! Hey new kid! You’re Jun’s roommate, right?”

- “Jun?”

- “Yeah, water elemental, devilish smirk always on his face, usually either getting punished or doing something to get punished?” 

- Junhui didn’t want to listen to the rest

- It brought him back to his first week there so many years ago

- He nearly laughed when he thought about how cautious he was of the younger boy at first

- The same boy that always giggled about the randomest things when it was just the two of them

- Then it dawned on him

- He couldn’t remember what his smile looked like

- Did it reach his eyes? Did his nose scrunch up? Did all of his teeth show? 

- Junhui couldn’t remember, it was all a blur

- So he went out and punched a soldier

- He was beat so bad he passed out halfway and regained consciousness four hours afterwards, every inch of his body sore and in pain

- ‘It’s worth it...it’s worth it for Minghao.’ 

- Finally, after more than a year of back to back punishments, Junhui was awaken in the middle of the night

- A hand was slammed over his mouth as the soldiers carried him out

- Junhui didn’t struggle, he didn’t fight back, part of him was even relieved that he was being taken away

- Of course part of him was scared that he was being sent to his death, but he tried not to focus on that

- He was thrown into the back of a truck with a couple of soldiers carrying guns

- The car ride was silent

- Junhui didn’t know how much time passed until they arrived in front of a large wall

- He looked out the small window in fascination as the walls started to open and allow the car to drive in

- The grounds of the new facility seemed bigger than the one in Facility ‘C’

- There was no one out in the courtyard, Junhui noticed, but he didn’t have enough time to ponder about it when the car stopped

- Next thing he knew, Junhui was thrown into a ‘testing room’ as the sign outside read

- He was asked to show his tattoo, then given a ‘stern talking to’ about how his behavior wouldn’t be tolerated there, but he just ignored it

- Then, he was given a new uniform and pushed into a cell

- Looking around, Junhui took note of all the differences from this facility and Facility C

- The room was bigger with four beds and more than fifty people

- There were walls on all sides of them except one, where there were bars that allowed them to be watched like caged animals

- A couple of the affected looked up when Junhui was thrown in, but the majority just ignored him

- “Hao Hao?” Junhui called gently, looking around in hopes of finding the familiar boy

- “Hey,” A voice called from behind him, having Junhui perk up and spin around with high hopes

- His excited demeanor immediately faded when he was face to face with a taller boy that was definitely not Minghao

- The boy had a kind smile with his canines poking out

- “Hi,” The boy greeted. “I’m Mingyu.”

- “Junhui,” He nodded back, still looking around

- “Where’d you come from? Cell 9? Cell 24?” Mingyu gasped. “Cell 17?” 

- Junhui furrowed his eyebrows together. 

- “Facility C.”

- The more he looked around the more frustrated he got when he realized Minghao wasn’t there

- “Woah, you’re from a different facility? That’s so cool!” 

- Junhui let out a groan and dropped to the floor, digging his hands into his hair helplessly

- Junhui didn’t even move when Mingyu crouched down next to him and put a hand on his back

- “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

- “My Hao Hao...” Junhui was mumbling incoherently now. “My best friend...I thought he would be...He should be here.” 

- Junhui felt Mingyu wrap his arms around him and pull him close

- “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’ll be fine, the facility’s not as bad as you think...” 

- Junhui let out a scoff and pushed Mingyu’s arm off of him

- “Not that,” Junhui brushed off. “I thought that my best friend would be here.”

- “Well maybe he’s in a different cell.”

- Junhui snapped his head up with wide eyes

- “You mean this isn’t all of the elementals?”

- “No, there are hundreds more here,” Mingyu chuckled. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to my friends at meal time before we have to go to work. We’ll look for your friend whenever we get the chance, okay?” 

- “Work?” 

- For a couple of hours before meal time, the two started to talk and get to know each other

- Junhui found out that Mingyu was a water elemental like him, that he came to the facility when he turned seven, that he was left handed, and he likes dogs

- When it was finally time for meal time, Mingyu excitedly dragged Junhui across the room

- They stopped at the end of the long table where two elementals looked up at Mingyu with furrowed eyebrows

- “Hey guys! This is my new friend, Junhui. He just got transferred here from Facility C!” 

- One of the boys smiled at Junhui

- “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Vernon, that’s Dino.” 

- Junhui took his introduction as a sign of acceptance and sat down next to Dino

- “You can call me Jun.” 

- Junhui was quick to find out that the two boys were great listeners

- He was able to drone on and on about all of his adventures with Minghao 

- And though he thought he was annoying them with the stories at times, they kept asking for more

- For the first time since Minghao, he felt himself connect with other people that were like him

- He learned that Mingyu was a social butterfly and got punished for talking a lot sometimes

- He learned that Dino was the excitable baby of the group-whether he admitted it or not-and had some strange beef with Mingyu

- He also learned that Vernon kept to himself most of the time and that he worked as a messenger all around the facility

- Junhui kept Vernon’s job in mind 

- When it was time for them to work, Junhui followed Mingyu out the door and into the latrines

- Mingyu led him to a corner of the room and Junhui watched in horror as he used his water manipulation to gather the water from a bucket and clean the walls

- “Are you crazy?” Junhui hissed, grabbing onto Mingyu’s arm. “There are soldiers everywhere, they’ll see you?” 

- Junhui was too busy looking around the latrines to notice the blank stare Mingyu gave him

- “Have you never used your water manipulation?” 

- “Of course I have, how do you think I got punished half the time?”  

- It took Mingyu a couple of explanations for Junhui to finally understand

- And when he finally did, he only felt excited to use his powers

- Even if it is to clean the bathrooms

- Since then, he fell into a small routine

- Junhui would wake up, chat with Mingyu about the randomest things, go to work before meal time on certain days, meet up with the other elementals for meal time, go to work, and then go back to the cells 

- Only a week in and Mingyu broke his routine by breaking a mop and getting sent to the ‘floating dungeon’ as Mingyu called them but the other two said that was normal

- Eventually, Junhui finally found the courage to ask the question that was his main purpose for the longest time

- As the group of elementals started to exit the dining hall, Junhui grabbed onto Vernon’s arm and pulled him aside

- “I have a favor to ask of you,” Junhui spoke quietly, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “you have access to the command center, right?” 

-  “I’m sorry, Jun, I already told the other guys, I can’t smuggle family mail or else they’ll actually kill me. It’s happened to the other messengers before.”

- Junhui widened his eyes in horror before shaking his head

-  “No, no, not the letters. I just...is there any way you can access the affected files? I don’t want to see it, I just want to know if my friend is here.”

- Vernon stared at Junhui for a second in confusion

- “The friend you’re always talking about?”

- “Yeah, he was transferred a year before me. I never knew where, but if there’s a chance he’s here, I want to look for him.” 

- Vernon stayed quiet for an unsettlingly long time

- “What’s his name?” Vernon finally said

- Junhui’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest with excitement

- “Xu Minghao.” 

- “Jun!” Mingyu called 

- Junhui sent one last look at Vernon before running after Mingyu to get to work

- The next day at meal time, Junhui was telling Mingyu and Dino yet another story of his crazy adventures with Minghao

- “...so there I was, hot sauce on my phalanges-”

- “Vernon?”

- It was Dino’s voice from next to Junhui that made him stop and look up

- To his horror, he saw Vernon slipping into the seat next to Mingyu, large bruises on his face and around his face

- “Vernon? What the hell happened to you?” 

- Junhui was frozen 

- Part of him knew exactly what happened, but the other part didn’t want it to be his fault

- The rest of meal time, Junhui was quiet

- It was lucky that Mingyu was especially chatty that day because it didn’t raise any suspicion

- After meal time, as Junhui was walking out of the dining hall, he felt a hand on his arm

- When he turned, he saw Vernon staring at him with intent eyes

- “Xu Minghao,” Vernon said with a painfully rough voice before nodding

- Junhui’s heart dropped

- He knew he should have been grateful for the news, but how could he be when he was the reason for his friend’s pain 

- Without thinking, Junhui pulled Vernon in for a tight hug

- “Thank you...so much.” 

- When Junhui pulled away, he quickly wiped his eyes and bid Vernon a goodbye before catching up to Mingyu 

- Finding Minghao wasn’t too hard after that

- For the next couple of days, he went around asking if anyone by the name of ‘Minghao’

- After a couple of days of failure, he then realized that he was probably asking about the wrong name

- And finally, he found out that Minghao was one of the few fire elementals that worked in the kitchens right before meal time

- So, when meal time came around, Junhui excitedly made his way to the kitchens

- When he got in, he started looking around and nearly exploded from joy when he saw the familiar scowl 

- “Hao Hao,” Junhui called, having Minghao’s head snap up

- “Jun?” Minghao breathed

- Junhui watched as Minghao looked around before walking over to stand in front of him

- Though it had been only a year, Minghao looked different

- Junhui couldn’t say exactly what it was, but there was just something about Minghao’s face that wasn’t the same 

- Overwhelmed with excitement, Junhui wrapped his arms around Minghao and pulled him into a bone crushing hug

- “I finally found you, Hao Hao.” 

- Minghao let out a small scoff but wrapped his arms around Junhui nonetheless

- “When did you get here?” 

- “Just a couple of weeks ago. You didn’t think I’d come for you did you? Hm? Hm?” Junhui teased, making Minghao roll his eyes

- “I didn’t think you’d be able to do anything bad enough to end up here.”

- “Well I did. Now come on, I made friends. Lemme introduce you to them.” 

- “No thanks.” 

- Junhui grabbed onto Minghao’s wrist and dragged him anyways

- He was so excited that he started skipping all the way to the end of the table 

- “ Guys! This is Minghao, my very best friend in the whole wide world!”

- Junhui didn’t notice the way Minghao rolled his eyes, but he did see the way that his friend’s lips quirked up ever so slightly

- “Call me The8″ 

- At first Junhui was apprehensive as to how Minghao would fit into the group

- But once he and Mingyu started playfully bickering 

- or at least what Junhui hoped was playful

- Junhui knew that he would be just fine

- The rest of the group also enjoyed the way that Minghao would always cut in on Junhui’s story telling and call him out for being too dramatic about what happened

- And eventually Mingyu dragged his friend Wonwoo into the group and Junhui was fascinated to say the least

- He came from a facility with all elementals, so he never met a different type of affected

- Junhui may have pestered Wonwoo with questions the first couple of weeks, but eventually got familiar with him enough to stop

- Being with each other instantly made life in the facility a lot easier

- The only downside was that instead of taking the fall for one person, he was taking it for three

- Because Wonwoo almost never gets punished and Vernon’s too peaceful to get into trouble

- Chan had a little tendency of getting into fights for a while and Junhui somehow convinced the soldiers that it was him in the fight

- “what do you mean it was you? you have no bruises anywhere”

- “are you kidding me? look at this bruise right here” 

- “that’s a mole???”

- And sometimes when Minghao gets pissed and either passively says something or throws something at the soldier behind their back Junhui immediately takes the blame

- But the main thing that Junhui would get into trouble for was all of Mingyu’s clumsiness

- Whenever Mingyu tripped or dropped something, Junhui would speak up saying he pushed him in hopes of being the only one punished

- But everytime they’re both punished

- For the most part, Junhui was sent to the floating cages, but there are the occasional beatings and burning of hands

- Wonwoo usually heals the hands when no one’s looking and Junhui laughs off the injuries whenever someone expresses concern

- The punishments weren’t any different from the 1,700 that he endured in Facility C

- So there he was again

- In the floating dungeons, with a pointed glare at the smiling boy

- They didn’t know exactly how long they’d be in there, so they got as comfortable as they could

- They passed the time by talking and playing games that they made up 

- Of course as time went by they got more and more tired and hungry and thirsty, but it somehow didn’t break their spirits

- Until they were awoken one night

- When Junhui opened his eyes, he was immediately met with an unsettling heat 

- “Gyu! Gyu are you awake?” 

- “What’s happening Jun?”

- As Junhui looked around, there was light coming from the other side of the tree and he could see and smell the smoke 

- “Fire...” Junhui muttered before he snapped his head to Mingyu. “Fire!” 

- “How the hell did the tree catch on fire?” 

- “I don’t know, how the hell did that toilet catch on fire?”

- “Now is not the time for a lecture Jun!” 

- Suddenly, Junhui heard a voice of their savior from afar

- “Mingyu! Jun!” 

- “Vernon!”

- Junhui watched as Vernon hopped from branch to branch and landed on top of Mingyu’s cage in a cat like pose

- “Vernon, what’s happening?” Mingyu asked 

- “Someone set the tree on fire, we have to get you out of here!”

- “How?”

- Vernon started to look around with furrowed eyebrows

- “You’re gonna have to get water from the tree.”

- “But the soldiers-”

- “The soldiers can’t punish you if you’re burnt to a crisp!”

- Junhui caught Mingyu’s eye and nodded before they both turned to the tree

- Junhui’s fingertips turned blue as he extracted water out of the tree

- When he got a good amount out, he held it in front of him and looked up to Vernon

- “What now?”

-  “Manipulate the water around the lock and use your ice breath to break it. Then I’ll carry you down.”

- Vernon took Mingyu down first before jumping back up for Junhui

- When he was on the floor with Mingyu, Junhui made sure the younger boy was okay 

- As Vernon started to get the rest of the people down, Junhui turned and saw crowds of water elementals rushing forward with buckets so he dragged Mingyu to join them

- “Lucky we got away from that,” Mingyu breathed

- Junhui scoffed. “Lucky Vernon’s curious at heart.” 

- Lockdown commenced after that night

- It wasn’t too bad since he had Mingyu with him 

- He felt more sympathy for Vernon and Wonwoo who didn’t have anyone

- But being introverts they were probably thriving

- When months passed and the lockdown was over, Junhui excitedly wrapped his arms around the rest of his friends, joking about how Mingyu was driving him crazy

- He was disappointed when Wonwoo wasn’t able to sit with them, but he tried to wave to him from across the room whenever they met eyes

- Chan would talk on and on about his conspiracies about this group of affected called ‘two teen’ or something like that 

- And Junhui was fully invested in the stories that Chan would tell them even if they were just stories

- He told Chan that he fully believed him but honestly he knew better than to hope for such a thing

- Until

- It was one of the few days when Junhui was split from Mingyu while working

- So he didn’t exactly know where the boy was when he met up with the others for meal time

- He took note that Wonwoo wasn’t there either, but that wasn’t too strange

- Junhui immediately started to tell a story about his and Minghao’s adventures while they ate

- And Minghao immediately criticized him for being too dramatic

- “...and then the boy literally started spitting fire! like a dragon!” 

- “he coughed out one puff of smoke.”

- “Hao Hao you’re no fun”

- He was just about to continue when Mingyu came racing towards them

- When Mingyu stopped in front of them, he put his hands on his knees and started breathing heavily

- “Guys!” He panted, “Wonwoo was...I just...I saw...”

- Junhui heard Minghao scoff from next to him

- “Words, Gyu. Words.” 

- “Wonwoo escaped. He’s gone.”

- There was a pause of shock amongst the four

- Vernon was the first to talk as Mingyu took his seat next to Vernon

- “What do you mean gone?” 

- “ “As in he ran off with these...these bandits or something!” His eyes were wide as he looked at his friends. “And I could have sworn I saw the sun. You know, the one that watched over us every now and then? The scary one?”

- Junhui nodded as he thought back to the boy that stood at the side with a deadly glare

- He had witnessed the sun control an affected that was misbehaving once and ever since then he was terrified

- It was something that he kept between him and Mingyu, but also joked about every now and then

- So Junhui was just in disbelief when Mingyu revealed that it was the terrifying sun that busted one of his best friends out of the facility

-  A week later

- The group was sitting at their random spot and Junhui was intently listening to baby Dino excitedly talk about something that happened at work

- “...and just before the boulder hit him, I punched in the air and it explo-”

- Before Dino could even finish his sentence, a loud bang echoed throughout the room  

- “Everyone get down! Get down!” Shouted an unfamiliar voice 

- Junhui only had a split second to look up before Minghao dragged him under the table 

- The only thing he saw were two soldiers carrying rifles and pointing them at the other soldiers

- Junhui clung onto Minghao tightly to keep himself grounded

- to say he was freaking out internally was an understatement

- After everything he went through to get back to his best friend, he was not going to let either of them get shot

- An ear splitting screech filled the room and Junhui felt Minghao’s hands immediately press around his ears

- Slowly, as Minghao released his hands from Junhui’s head, he could have sworn he heard Vernon’s name getting called

- “Vernon it’s me!” 

- Junhui snapped his head up once he realized that someone was actually calling for Vernon

- “Seungkwan?”

- Junhui turned and exchanged a look with Minghao before looking back at Vernon 

- Him, Dino, and Mingyu were all looking at someone standing on top of the bench that Minghao and Junhui were under

- “Get up, we’re busting you and your friends out of here.” 

- Junhui saw Dino scramble to his feet as Mingyu crouched down to help pull the two out 

- Junhui saw a boy, Seungkwan he assumed, wearing black clothes standing on top of the bench 

- “They’re coming!” One of the rifle holding soldiers shouted into the dining hall with his eyes glued outside

- When Junhui turned back to look at Seungkwan, he saw him rushing down the bench with Vernon following

- Mingyu stood back to help the rest onto the bench before climbing on and following after

- When they got to the doors, Junhui kept his hand on Minghao’s wrist as Seungkwan, Dino, and Vernon started to hold off the soldiers

- When they walked forward, Junhui felt Minghao tap on his hand and immediately let go

- He took a couple of steps back and smiled as Minghao’s body started glowing orange from under his uniform and he swiped a flame back and forth at the soldiers, keeping them away

- Once they were out of the crowd, Seungkwan immediately sprinted to the front with Vernon keeping in step

- Junhui grabbed onto Minghao’s hand and they followed behind as Seungkwan lead them towards the gates

- As they got closer and closer to the front, Junhui saw Dino stumble next to him 

- “Mingyu! No!” 

- Junhui whipped his head back and felt his heart drop when he saw a crowd of soldiers surround Mingyu 

- “What happened?” Vernon called

- “He pushed me forward!” Dino cried

- Junhui grabbed onto Dino’s hand

- There was no way another one of them would be left behind

- “We’ll come back for him!” Seungkwan shouted

- The floor started to quake underneath them as they got closer to the gates

- Junhui saw a familiar person at the top of the wall as a giant branch reached over the wall and touched the floor on their side

- “Wonwoo!” Vernon called with a smile

- “Hurry! They’re right behind you!” Wonwoo shouted back

- Junhui helped Dino onto the branch first before Minghao 

- He stepped on and looked back at Vernon, who just nodded his head to the side of the wall as Wonwoo started to lift the branch

- “Vernon get on!” Seungkwan shouted

- “He can jump.” Junhui reassured him

- When the branch was horizontal, the four walked onto the wall and hopped off as Wonwoo moved the branch back down to the other side

- “I didn’t know he could do that,” Junhui muttered

- “Where’s Mingyu?” Wonwoo frantically asked

- Junhui tightened his grip on Minghao’s hand as Wonwoo panicked about the missing boy

- “It’ll okay, Jun,” Minghao said in a low tone

- “What if we don’t get him back, Hao Hao? Who knows what they’ll do to him.” 

- Minghao brought his other hand to Jun’s shoulder and rubbed circles into it

- “We’ll get him back, Jun. It’ll be okay.” 

- “We have to go now,” One of the saviors called, throwing a rope down and tying it to the bar along the edge of the wall

- “Come on, Dino, you first,” Junhui said, helping the youngest boy climb over the bars and grab onto the rope

- After he was down, Junhui helped Minghao over before climbing down himself

- When everyone was on the floor, they started running again

- Junhui turned and glanced at Minghao

- And despite the despair he felt over his friend and comrade, he couldn’t help but smile

- They were free

[eye-raq]

Stop it girl

Erik X Black Reader.

Warnings: Fluff, regular shit.

Summary: Erik was tired, laying out on the floor of him and his girls shared bedroom while scrolling through his phone.

“You want me to buy you a new tapestry? I saw one the other day when I was out buying some new Jordan 1s”

Erik walked back into the bedroom with a bowl of milk, double stuffed oreos floating on the top. He had his dreads braided back fresh; his home girl had her own natural hair shop and cleaned him up nice with a fresh retwist and a tappered fade. He had on grey sweats that hung loose on his hips, and no shirt.

“What did it look like? You know I’m picky.” His girl, Blessing, was into anything bohemian with soft grunge. She had her hair in long thick dreads, soft curly baby hairs, thick lips, and a cute plump body, her chest and ass too thick for anything she wore and her cute muffin top didnt help either. She was squishy and adorable and sexy and Erik loved every roll and dip of her honey covered body. She was feisty too, and when she wanted something she didn’t hesitate.

“It has some type of galaxy shit going on, idk. Purples and pinks and blacks with these little ass twinkly stars, looked like Uranus or Saturn in the background, had a quote at the bottom of it in cursive.” He put his bowl on her nightstand before lowering to the floor with her, laying on his side before grabbing the bowl again. He stuck his index finger in the bowl, dipping the Oreos further. She was busy making waist beads, one nestled around her curvy waist digging into her love handles.

“You should have picked it up you know I love anything with galaxy shit in it.” He kissed his teeth, eyes trying to focus on the classic movie she popped in her VCR, “I cant believe you still have one of these bitches, it just got a little dust too, and it’s still functional.” His eyes lowered a fraction, sleep trying to creep up on him. That was his own fault too, staying up all hours of the night.

“It’s called taking care of shit of sentimental value instead of letting it waste away.” She spoke out, just finishing up her blue and purple one she was making for a friend her fingers were getting numb now deciding to finish later, and join Erik in watching the movie. She pushed everything to the side, crawling over to lay her head in his crotch area. Her cute chubby feet with toes painted a hot pink wiggled near his bowl. He scrunched his face, playfully swatting at her feet, “if you don’t get those fat ass feet away from me girl, looking like honey buns.” She swatted at his ass causing him to grip her wrist, “yo what I tell you about slapping my ass?”

She rolled her eyes, “and what I tell you about talking about my feet? Just for that you owe me a foot massage after work tomorrow.” Erik shook his head popping a moist Oreo in his mouth, “and what you giving me?” He tried to speak between chewing. She paused, mind in wonder, hands resting on her belly. Erik just eyed her fame, mouth watering from just the look of her thick short ass bunched up on him.

“I’ll think about it.” They both turned back to the TV, monsters ball playing and that one delicious scene almost approaching. She stole an Oreo from his bowl causing him to wine like a baby. “Ask first baby that’s all I ask okay? I spent money on these Oreos.” She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, “Erik bye.”

“I’m being forreal. Everything I have don’t belong to you, girl.”

“I have about five of your hoodies in my closet right now, E. I take what the fuck I want when I want.”

Erik did a double take, dropping his Oreo back in the bowl and causing milk to splash on her legs. Growling, Blessing wipes at her legs aggressively.

“Chill out! You getting milk on me!”

Erik playfully bites into her leg, “You got five of my hoodies? Where they at?” Erik gets up from the floor, walking over to her messy closet with jeans sling over the rail and shirts hanging off the hangers. Sliding through her clothes, Erik finds all five of his favorite hoodies freshly washed and wrinkle free.

“My all black exclusive lost tribe hoodie?! You serious? I thought I lost this shit and your chubby face ass had it the whole time?!”

“Shut the fuck up with your odd shaped head! You knew I had it don’t play dumb,” Bored, Blessing decides to continue making her waist beads.

“I should throw you over my fucking knee, babygirl. You agree with that?” As mad as Erik was he decided to leave the hoodies there because they were neat and unbothered.

“Stupid ass,” he teased.

“Shut up. You’re the stupid one.”

As soon as Erik made himself comfortable on the floor, Blessing started poking him in his dimpled cheek, twisting her finger. Erik swatted her hand away every single time, finally kissing his teeth and grabbing her finger with force.

“Stop it, girl.” He shoves her hand away, causing her to laugh. This only made Blessing want to continue. She takes her chubby feet and plants them on his shoulder, wiggling her toes obnoxiously in his face. His eyes focused forward but she could see the way his jaw looked like it was going to snap from how hard he clenched it.

“You get so mad for what? I can’t mess with you but you can mess with me?”

“It’s because I’m Daddy and you do what I say.” Grabbing her foot, Erik begins to tickle her feet, that annoying screech she always made loud. Blessing yanks her legs back so bad that she kicked Erik in the head, pausing with a shocked look and a hand over her mouth. Nothing was said but the anger on his face and the reddened spot on his cheek made her laugh so hard her lungs hurt. Even through her teary eyes she could see his rage.

“Nigga, you look like you about to burn my fucking room down!” She shook her head repeatedly, “I’m so fucking humored right now; tickled.”

“Hehehe hahaha shut the fuck up.” That was his come back and it clearly went on death ears because she kept on laughing and hollering.

“Big nigga why you always mad? Chill the fuck out,” Shaking her dreads, Blessing went back to doing her waist beads.

Erik got up from the floor, seating himself on her bed to feel more comfortable. She thought he was being a sour puss but he actually had another plan. Grabbing one of her plush throw pillows, Erik wracked her on the side of her face so hard her eyes closed and her face scrunched up in ugly surprise. His laugh was the golden one, clutching his stomach and stomping his leg.

“Bro you should have seen your face! Looking like,” Erik mimicked her look before bursting into laughter again, “you mad ugly.”

She could still feel the sting like carpet burn on her left cheek. Blowing out hot air through her chubby cheeks, Blessing turned completely away from him.

“You got my fucking eye burning and my face all hot! I kicked you by accident dummy.”

“You want me to kiss it big head?” Erik tossed the pillow back in place.

“I don’t want your stinky ass lips on me ugh,” Blessing shoves his face away.

“Wasn’t saying that shit earlier when I was kissing all on you in the car,” he grabbed her by her dreads, gaining power. She fought through enjoying the force he applied by keeping a straight unbothered face.

“Stop it, girl. Stop acting like you don’t want me yanking you up and shit,” Erik kisses her temple, soothing the burn from the pillow hit. He started swinging her from side to side, humming no guidance in her ear that made her wiggle. He couldn’t sing for shit but she loved it when he sung this new song to her.

🎶 I don’t wanna play no games, play no games, 🎶

“Don’t say that last part because you know it ain’t happening,” Blessing stopped him mid song with a bitchy tone, “You don’t plan on making me Blessing Stevens I’m still gonna be Blessing Jones.”

“Forreal, B? You know I plan on making you my number one forever. Remember that time at red lobster when I fake proposed to get free cake? I can do it again but with a big ass rock.”

She smiles despite her salty attitude, “keep talking, Zaddy.”

“Nah, don’t pull that shit now,” Erik let her go, “you fucked up Blessing.”

“How?!” She pouted, “You mad at me now?”

“Yup. Turn around.”

Blessing groaned, folding her arms, “fight me.”

“Which means come fuck me.” Erik corrected.

“Shut the FUCK up.” Blessing rolled her eyes.

“Which means come eat this pussy.” Erik bit his lip to fight a smile.

“You ain’t cute. Leave me alone.”

“So basically I’m fine as fuck and you want my attention?”

“Ugh!!!! I hate you!” Blessing turned to him, ready to hit Erik upside his head but he caught her hand just in time.

“I love you too, Baby girl,” Erik gripped her chin, “you know you a bomb ass girlfriend? All that crybaby shit and getting mad only makes me want you more.” Erik gripped her neck, pulling her in for a kiss.

“You can be mad at me all you want but your ass isn’t going anywhere. You’re mine.”

“Says who? I got options.” Blessing fucked up with saying that to him.

“The fuck?” Like flipping a light switch Erik’s aggressive nature surfaced again to make her weak. Taking his hand, he wrapped around her neck with one hand and his mouth dangerously close to her hear.

“The fuck You talking to?”

“Daddy, not you,” she rolled her eyes into her head to fake annoyance. Erik just stared at her with his hard ass eyes making her squirm.

“What you looking at?” Blessing asks with a slight roll of her neck. He just licked his lips, looking her up and down.

“What, I cant stare?” He just grabbed her up and said, “man, come here.” She followed him like she just wasn’t mad at him a few seconds ago.

“Tomorrow ima fuck the shit out of you cuz you been acting crazy lately.” Erik rested his head on the side of her face.

“Why not tonight?” Blessing was wet and horny now she needed some dick, some fucking love, her hard headed ass boyfriend.

“I’m tired, B.” His eyes did speak that into existence when she turned to look at him. She admired his handsome face even though his eyes were focused ahead and ready to close.

“...damn, yo ex dumb as fuck.” She stated, causing Erik to chuckle. Blessing turns back around, pushing her booty into Erik’s crotch. He gripped her hip to stop her but she just kept on going, rolling her hips like she spelling out coconut. Erik lets out a frustrated sigh at his dick disobeying him.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what? I’m just playing.”

“This is blasphemous,” Erik spoke in a fake surprising tone, “you’re molesting me with your phat ass.”

“Shut up you know you want me to sit this assssss on you,” Blessing spoke in a melodic tone.

“Blessing, don’t start this shit. I still got a fucking cramp in my neck from eating the pussy for an hour straight, my abs still burn from doing push ups in the pussy-“

“I don’t wanna hear that shit you got more stamina than a damn horse.”

“You don’t listen to shit!” Erik yelled in her ear, flipping her over on her back. He pinned her to the mattress, face all scrunched up.

“What, Erik? I told you i got options if you don’t give me what I want,” fighting a laugh at his frustration and anger, Blessing purposely moves her hips beneath him to force him into having wild sex.

“...Bruh im a fuck you up...you acting up...what’s your fucking problem? You need some dick? You need a hug? You need your pussy ate? You need kisses? Like tell me something.”

“You finish telling me to stop now?” She questioned while looking at him a hint in her eyes as to why she’s been acting up.

“You not getting no dick with that attitude then,” he lifted off of her, laying on the other side of the bed closest to the window.

“First of all, I’m sorry.” Her entire mood changed. She decided to act innocent even though she thought about riding the fuck out of him in that moment.

“Aight, So we good?” She chanced a look at him even though she knew that wouldn’t be successful. Erik just stared at her calmly, waiting for her response.

“Yes. We’re good. No more playing.” Blessing blinked up at Erik innocently.

“So that mean you ready to get your pussy ate again?” Erik sat up, taking his hands to pull down her bottoms. Laying flat on the bed, Blessing lifts her hips to help Erik out as he slid the right fabric from her round booty. Tossing it to the side, Erik went flat on his stomach, arms wrapped around her thighs to pull her close. Blessing shielded her face like always whenever Erik kisses her gently on her inner thighs. It was torture.

“Talking about YoU NEeD To Fix YOUrr AtiTude, first of all, nigga...eat it out of me.” Blessing couldn’t help herself. Erik slapped her inner thigh to calm her ass down but that also made her laugh. She was silly.

“Stop, B,” without a warning Erik started eating her pussy. Blessing locked up around him, doing that thing with her hands where she held him in place but at the same time pushed him off of her.

After Erik successfully shut her up and had her moaning, he laughs, looking up at her weak expression and says, “You good?”

Blessing couldn’t even respond to that smart ass remark because Erik’s mouth was back on her pussy like it never left.

“What happened to that attitude? All that make me shit? Like it ain’t shit. Like I won’t eat the fuck out your soul and fuck the attitude out your soul and never give that shit back?”

That’s all he had to say in that moment while she laid back and let his tongue crave her. Erik got her ass to stop now with his tongue flicking her clit. On the inside she battled to sass him but his tongue was hitting that spot so the shit didn’t matter anymore.

[chyrstis]

I won’t ask for much (but just this once, I’d like you) 4/10

I spent way too long looking at warplanes for this one, because 1) they’re pretty, and 2) after mentioning a certain someone’s plane in the previous chapter, there was no way I wasn’t going to have it pop up again.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw x John Seed Rating: E (but only for Ch. 10, the rest are a solid T) Word Count: 3.5K  

Link to AO3!

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10

—

Sharky steals a boat. It just happens to be John’s boat, and when it’s damaged along with his boathouse, John proceeds to lay out a means of having Sharky pay him back. [No Cult AU]

———–

“So, where is it? Where’s all of the shit-talking I used to look forward to? Like, by now I was getting ready for the good stuff, but it’s running out.”

Sharky paused, dropping the tire back down into the back of Hurk’s truck. “About what?”

“Really?” Hurk asked, gaping at him. “You know, the asshat that’s been blackmailing you into doing his dirty work for the last month and a half? Thinking he’s slicker than a greased pig, and he might be because who the hell knows what he uses to keep his hair like that. And palms. You grease those too, not just for jerking, and cuz, you’re killing me here.”

“It’s…I’m not gonna lie, he’s really wigging me out at times. Acting like it’s good to have me around to help and shit. ‘Cause I don’t always work on the boathouse. I’ve helped Joe, I’ve helped move stuff around on the airstrip, I’ve run stuff down to the Peggies’ church. And yeah, being told ‘you’re going to do this today’ instead of doing what I was planning on doing sucks, but the Peggies are kinda nice.”

He wasn’t thinking much of it when Hurk grabbed the firehose running out front. Jerry-rigged outside, it was usually his last-ditch effort when any of the fires outgrew their boundaries.

So, it was easy enough to grab. Easy enough to aim, and - in Hurk’s case - easy enough to point and shoot, especially while he kept his mouth running, none the wiser.

“And John’s all right, too. I know it’s kind of-whoa, whoa, what the-“ A wave of freezing cold water hit his chest, and Sharky sputtered as he threw his hands up. “What the fuck, man? Jesus, just cool it! Cool it!”

Hurk aimed it up and away, and jabbed a finger at him.

“Straight talk. You point me to the spot in the woods where my fave cuz’s tied up and waiting to be beamed up, and I swear I’ll let you go. ‘Til then, you better talk faster, because I don’t even know where to go with ‘Oh, John and the Peggies? Yeah, they’re all right.’”

Teeth chattering, Sharky shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, man. It’s better. Like he’s decided it’s okay to be a person for once.”

This time he was hit in the face, and he threw both middle fingers Hurk’s way before finally wrangling the hose away from him.

“That’s up my nose now,” he grumbled, feeling it burn as he forced air through it. “Up my nose, which is one of the top ten worst feelings to deal with. Hope you’re proud of yourself.”

The spray at Hurk mid-apology was kind of a jerk move on his end, but Hurk had earned it. That and the noogie, as Sharky wrangled him under his arm. If he was going to be forced to drip-dry out here, he wasn’t dealing with that shit alone.

The roar of an engine overhead made him loosen his grip, however. Both of them glanced up, their attention won by the plane soaring by.

Usually Sharky would catch one every once in a blue moon out over here. With the steep hills, it wasn’t always best if you needed to land the plane in an emergency, but that didn’t stop anyone from taking them as high as the pilot wanted it.

This one wasn’t too high in the sky, though. Painted a darker color, it cut a fine line through the air above as it climbed. Spinning in a smooth arc, it curved - rounding back - and Hurk let out a low whistle.

“Look at that, huh? Bet Nick gets up to all kinds of fancy shit up there when he’s off the ground.”

“Yeah. Should ask him if he’d take us up sometime.”

Watching the plane loop back, the pull was almost strong enough to make him want to book it to Nick’s right now. He’d always been curious about the high that came with being in the air; how that ramped up during a dive, or even on a sharp turn.

Something about this plane bugged him, though. Like there was something he was missing that should’ve hit, but wasn’t.

“Uh, I don’t know. I’ve been up in a bunch of choppers, man, and it’s real sketchy once the cross-winds hit. Gets my lunch doing a loop-de-loop hairier than any airshow’s special, and that feeling even hits when I’m in Tulip.”

“Why? Your ma’s damn good at what she does.”

“It’s always squirrely, feeling the entire thing rock back and forth, back and...” Hurk paused, and slapped at Sharky’s waving arm. “What’re you doing? He can’t see us from down here.”

“And why not? Yeah, he’s – or she, could be one badass babe up there - not skimming the ground, but they’re low enough to see what’s down here if they angle it right.”

Almost as if listening, the plane came back over; the roar of the engine echoing in the air as it came closer. Getting a better look at it now, he could see more of the slick paint job; the dark grey really reminding him of a color he’d seen recently.

As in, within-the-last-couple-of-weeks-or-so recent. Like in a hangar, half-hidden under a tarp.

Finally slapping those last missing puzzle pieces into place, it all clicked this time, and Sharky’s eyes widened.

“Uh, I think that’s John.”

“Say what?”

Hurk’s surprise wasn’t too far off from his own. “Dude, that’s his plane. I don’t think anyone else around here’s got a ride like that.”

Or even in that style, period. It stood out in the sky, and Sharky almost laughed to himself. He would want that attention, and showing off while he was at it? Seemed like a standard thing he’d try for, if given the shot - and right now? He looked set on taking it.

Diving down, his breath caught as the plane soared in a set line towards the ground. Daring to get as close as possible - cutting it a lot closer than he would’ve if given the chance - only to shoot back up above the trees, spinning on the exit.

Yeah, that was John.

Whistling loudly, Sharky whooped before punching Hurk in the shoulder. “Oh, come on. That was pretty fucking neat.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Hurk cracked soon after, smiling. “Okay, it was pretty rad, but if that is him, and we ever run into each other and get to talking about it, we ain’t saying shit. Not a single word set on complimenting, talking nice, or doing any of that. Period.”

The plane didn’t come back this time, heading out over the fields as it faded from view.

“Nope,” Sharky said absently, as he kept his eyes skyward. “Not a single fucking word.”

---

Later that day when he messaged John to tell him he was heading in, he didn’t get his usual answer.

Busy in the hangar. Stop by there, will you?

The doors were open as he pulled up outside, and he couldn’t see John when he stepped out. His plane was front and center, one of the side panels open with a tool cart rolled up next to it, and he walked up to get a closer look.

“Tempting as it is, try not to stick your hand in there.”

Sharky held both up, and quickly stepped back. “I didn’t do it.”

“I didn’t say you did anything.” John walked up from behind, wiping his hands down with a towel, smirking all the while. “Just wouldn’t want to lose a finger now. That would be a surefire way to ruin an evening.”

Against all odds, he hadn’t lost one yet. Not to any of his homemade whizzlers, not to any of the cherry bombs, and not to that one incident with the paper cutter in school. Now, really would be a lame time to do it, and in front of John? He’d never live it down.

Flexing his fingers - all ten of them - he shoved both hands into his pockets, and turned towards him.

Dressed in his version of casual, the shirt John was wearing was still too pricey to be anywhere near oil or heavy machinery, but that didn’t faze him. His hands were dirty and he was doing the work. Actually getting in there and taking care of it, instead of shoving it onto someone else, and Sharky could respect that.

But the moves he pulled in the air earlier? Thinking back on them made a whistle want to slip out. John could fly. There was no fucking doubt about it, and he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to catch him up in the air again at some point.

“So, uh…you take her out today?”

“I might’ve had to check to see how things were running,” John said with a shrug.

“You fly out over towards the Henbane?”

John raised his head, eyeing him curiously. “Maybe. Why do you ask?”

“See, I was out with my cousin Hurk. Just unloading some tires to use for um, crafting purposes.”

“Crafting. I never took you for the type.”

“Not like the kind with paper, glue, and scissors. Like tire sculptures, or just taking the shit apart to see what we can get out of it, ‘cause there’s at least twenty things you can do with a worn-out tire. We’ve honed it down to an art, man.”

John said nothing further, only examined his hands as he wiped off more of the dirt. He looked up to catch Sharky’s eye while he worked, reminding him that he’d been telling a story before he’d trailed off.

Sharky cleared his throat. Loudly. “Uh, anyway. You, flying.”

John redirected his attention to his hands, but Sharky didn’t miss the way his lips had curved up. “I thought it was you, working?”

“Me, working, distracted by you, flying, and I know I got twisted around in the middle of that, but I saw you earlier. Your plane flying over my house. Now you’re the only guy around here with anything coming close to having one of those warplanes they’d call you in to borrow for re-enactments, movie deals - or, hell - for admiring and shit, so don’t go denying it. And don’t go fucking with me either, ‘cause I know what I saw.”

“Good eye. Sharper than I expected.” John set the towel down on the cart, and walked over to the plane. “Perhaps you can put that eye for detail to good use tonight.”

“What?”

“Affirmation does need some tuning. I was hoping to have it finished before you came by, but…” John frowned, eyeing the engine with distaste. “As you can see here, I’m not quite done yet.”

“Ah, I get that. Shit never works out how you plan it, not with cars, bikes, and I guess planes fit in there too. You wanna get that oil changed before the sun’s up? Should take twenty to thirty minutes max, giving you time to see if the tires are bald enough to turn the road into a dirt-covered slip and slide. Probably would've noticed before then, but it's good to check. And if you’re looking at that, might as well try the brakes.”

He watched John roll over the tool cart, giving him a glance over his shoulder as he did so. Taking the gesture as a signal to keep on going, Sharky took a place just behind him by the cart, and settled in to watch him work.

“…And that weird leak you forgot about two weeks ago? Kiss your afternoon goodbye, ‘cause your radiator’s busted and might’ve been roasting your car from the inside out.”

“Sounds like someone’s speaking from experience.”

“Man, you don’t even know how many times I’ve had my shitbox crater on me. And I take care of it. Maybe not using the stuff that’ll keep the mechanic off of my back if I need to bring it in, but it runs. And I can keep it going on nothing but lint, duct tape, and quarters if I have to.”

“And somehow, in spite of that, it hasn’t exploded or found a way to catch on fire?”

“It did catch on fire. Once.”

John’s eyebrows flew up. “With you in it?”

“Sort of. I might’ve hopped out right after the smoke started coming, ‘cause that crisped-up burnt smell ain’t normal even with a busted heater, but I handled it. Drove it right on down to the Spread Eagle just in time for Happy Hour, too.”

Blinking at him, John slowly turned back to the engine. “Is that the same car you’ve been bringing here?”

“Yep.”

John paused again. “The one that I’ve ridden in?”

“Same one. Drove it, too.”

A few emotions crossed John’s face then. Disbelief held on the longest, as he turned to look right at Sharky.

“What? Like I said, it runs. Long as it does that, I don’t need anything fancier than that to get around. And, hey, if that shit ever does go up and someone needs to handle it, you know I’m damn near certified by this point.”

“Knowing that the county’s resident pyromaniac should be able to put out the fire he also started is not as reassuring as it sounds.”

Sharky frowned. “Yo, you really wanna say that? Seeing as you’re someone that keeps talking shit, all while needing people to call you, confide in you, and hire you for the whole defending-them-in-court thing? Not doing great on the being-anything-but-a-dick part. Just saying.”

John narrowed his eyes, but didn’t fight the point. Just went back to work, and Sharky wasn’t sure what to do with the victory.

Shaking it off, he crossed his arms and tried not to fidget as he watched him. Doing nothing at all was the real challenge, having no choice but to be patient and keep an eye on John instead.

But he hadn’t kicked him out, or told him to go where he was needed most. He was sure he would’ve told him to head down to the boathouse by now - or hell, that he would’ve gone on his own - but he didn’t feel like leaving yet. Not even after the dig. Curiosity won this fight, and he’d let it do its thing for a little while longer.

Glancing over at him, John gave it a second and gestured towards the cart. “Can you hand me that wrench?”

Sharky followed his line of sight towards it. Taking it, he handed it over and couldn’t hold his tongue any more.

“So, you do all of this on your own?”

“It’s important to be able to identify problems as they appear. I could hire someone to do that for me. Easily leave this to them, but having that knowledge beforehand - especially if I do end up having to land - is crucial. And I refuse to let willful ignorance prevent me from fixing anything well within my power and ability. That, and laziness.”

“Laziness?”

“What’s my problem becomes someone else’s to fix. To mend. Affirmation is my responsibility. Shouldn’t I be well aware of how it’s operating before I take off? That kind of carelessness can be prevented.”

“Makes sense.”

“I hope so. Any pilot would do the same if they had any degree of pride in their skills.”

Sharky rubbed at his neck. “Yeah, guess Nick goes through the same checks too. And if I had one, guess I’d have to break out the old toolbox and get into it.”

“Treated better than your car, I would hope?”

“Uh, still fucking rude for one, and two, hell yeah I would. Shit, the closest I’ve come to flying, period, was through honoring Clutch Nixon a few years back – rest his badass, no-longer-beating heart – and I was airborne long enough to love it. If I had a plane, I’d treat her right.”

Sitting up, John gave him a long look. “That doesn’t count.”

“What don’t count?”

“Stunt driving isn’t close to the same thing.”

“So you say, but you haven’t taken a motherfucking dive off of a cliff, amigo.”

“It’s not-” John pressed his fingers to his temples and sighed. “There are measures taken.”

“Yeah, and I know you gotta do more than mess around with your joystick up there, but the fall’s real. The pounding in your heart as it just-” He clenched his fist, and let out a breath, “Fuck, man, you feel alive coming back from that. And get one hell of a massive boner while you’re at it.”

Lowering his hand, John leveled a flat stare at him.

“Yeah, had to give that last one a solid seven point five out of ten. Hell, maybe an eight.”

Still clenching his fist, Sharky held the eye contact, grinning awkwardly all the while. At least until he noticed the marks on John’s face. Three small dark spots, all of which came from his equally stained fingers.

The snicker slipped out before he could help it. “You, uh, got a little something on you.”

Gesturing towards his face, John reached up and nearly added another before glancing down at his fingers. “Shit.”

“Yeah, dude. Might be able to connect the dots at the rate you’re going.”

“Let me just…where did that get to?”

He sorted through the items on the cart before finding the discarded towel, and checked it before swiping at his face.

“Might wanna go to the left.” John shifted it, the spot turning into a streak, and Sharky grimaced. “Uh, maybe to the right?” Streaked again. “Huh. Think you might wanna go back to what you were doing the first time.”

“You aren’t helping,” John said, slapping down the towel to search through the items on the cart. “So, how about you go occupy yourself over there, and we’ll get back to this when I’m certain I’m not covered in dirt.”

John had pointed towards the refrigerator, and Sharky gave him a passing glance before skipping over towards it.

“Could be worse, man. Not like it’s a sharpied dick, or anything.”

Prying the doors open, Sharky didn’t know what he was looking for at first. He knew John had hidden the mystery beer here last time, but that wasn’t what he spotted. No, on the shelves was a pack of his old faithful, and he felt a tear come to his eye.

“Is that acceptable?”

Sharky reached in and held up the six pack, sighing dreamily as he hugged it to his face. “Amigo, I think you’re my new best friend now.”

He heard John scoff somewhere behind him, and turned to see him parked in front of a small handheld mirror. One of the streaks was a bonafide line traveling up the side of his face now, and smeared more when John swiped a finger through it. Tossing the mirror back onto the cart, he clenched his jaw, and went right back to the plane without even waiting for him to come back.

“So, John,” Sharky started, popping the cap off of the beer, “you want me to stick with you up here, dude? ‘Cause I was going to head on down to the river at some point. Just looked like you needed me more up here than there at the time, and…”

“There’s no need.” John replied, his back still to him. “You’ve been making significant progress lately down at the boathouse. Anything else would put you ahead. And after staying up here as long as you have, you’ve earned the time to yourself, if you want it.”

Free to go? Again?

That had him scratching his head as he polished off the beer fast. “Uh, okay. Like, I can do whatever the hell I want?”

“Whatever you want.”

That was music to his ears. At least it would’ve been every other week leading up to this one.

Thinking it over for a while, Sharky tried to think of anything he would’ve done with the time. Anything pressing he’d set aside to come out here after helping Hurk earlier, but couldn’t put his finger on a single thing. Just a whole lot of nothing that would’ve led to a night spent in his underwear on the couch mixing together shit he probably shouldn’t have, or up at the trailer park tuning the speakers.

So, when he looked back over towards the plane, he aimed the bottle in his hand towards it. “You still need someone up here?”

There was the sound of metal hitting metal as John froze. But when he turned to face him, there was no mistaking his surprise.

"What?" Sharky shrugged. “I’ve got the rest of the day to myself, and usually that’s spent doing jack and shit when work’s not coming in, so…if you need it, I’m here. Not that it’s really that big of a deal anyway, you know?”

That got him a smile. One that John held onto long after Sharky expected him to drop it, and he chuckled. “I suppose not.”

“This’ll be the highlight of my day, and I’d like to stick around. Unless you want me out.”

He thought it over, but not for longer than a minute. “If I did, I would’ve told you so.”

“So, back to work?” Sharky asked, starting to smile himself.

John stepped back and held out a hand towards the plane. “Back to work.”

[sevi007]

Gifted to @rex101111 and @fuckoland, for always listening to my ideas and giving me that last little push of confidence I so often need when writing. Thank you both so much. =D

Spoilers for DMC 5

Summary: Finding a way back to himself, back to his brother, and out of Hell - Vergil learns that those had been the easier parts of his new journey. Because redemption is not simply offered on a silver plate, and bonds take time to forge. But Nero might just be worth all of that.

Warnings: Uh, swearing, cause it’s Nero, and probbaly a bit OOC-ness on Vergil’s side (first time writing him, and he’s a difficult fella, I tell you)

Word Count: 7227

                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Fortuna.

Of all the places he had been to in his life, this city was not one he had expected to return to one day, with his business here finished and other goals to be chased.

Ah, but you didn’t think you would return to anything, a tiny voice in his mind mocked, sounding suspiciously like the croak of a bird. Didn’t think you would come back from this last fight, did’cha, boy?

Vergil scowled into the sky before him, banning the voice – memory, ghost, whatever it was – back into his subconsciousness. No more of this. I woke up from you.

Part of him expected a reply still. Waited for the flutter of wings, the pressure of claws on his shoulder, mocking and taunting in his ear. It didn’t come. Of course it didn’t, he told himself sternly, that part of him was gone, chased away like dark dreams in the morning sun.

 The only noise left behind was the avid chatter and laughter drifting up from the garden stretched down below. People talking over each other, laughing together. The sound of cutlery being set on tables, glasses clinking and chairs and tables being pushed together to make room for everyone, interspersed with easy chats.

Below him, life continued on, as if nothing had happened. As if they hadn’t all been in danger of being wiped of this earth mere months ago.

Easy companionship. High spirits. Celebrating their return from Hell, had been said, but he had the hunch that these people did not really need a reason to sit together and celebrate, if they felt like it.

 Nero had seemed at ease in the middle of things. Not as open and enthusiastic about it as the girl (Kyrie, Vergil recalled, the name not easily forgotten due to her very resolute reception of him upon his return). But still, the young man had easily greeted the various people who had showed up, accepting hugs and pats readily, striking up conversations freely.

It shouldn't have been a surprise. The boy considered these people friends, most of them family, even.

Vergil, on the other hand, must have counted for neither of those options.

 He had left (not fled, never fled, he told himself) the scene at the earliest chance, when not too many people had been looking. Had chosen the highest point of the house’s roof as his refuge, to watch attentively and think.

Bright blue eyes had followed him, he knew, had all but burned into his back, but he had ignored it. If his brother wanted something from him, he would find him. Not even the deepest depths of hell or the highest point of a cursed tree had stopped his brother before. A roof would be a joke in comparison.

 A deep voice started a sing-song right behind him, words full of mockery and taunt, “Vergil, Vergil, sitting on a roof, K-I-S-S-I-…”

Speak of the devil.

“If you keep that up,” Vergil warned without even turning around. “I will stab you. Again.”

“Aaaah,” Dante nodded wisely while he dropped beside his brother, legs dangling dangerously over the edge for the blink of an eye until he shifted and settled. Sprawled out leisurely, he flapped a hand at the other. “Still pissed cuz I one-upped you, I see.”

“Your counting is getting worse. I am currently leading.”

“Pfffft, sure, bro, sure.”

 A fall from the roof, Vergil reflected, would sadly not do his twin any harm, even if he put all his strength into giving him a much needed push.

“Did you want something, Dante?”

Dante hummed non-committally, lounging so close to the edge it was a miracle gravity didn’t take hold of him yet. He didn’t start talking – which, probably, was the most ironic thing the more talkative of the two could have done.

Finally, Vergil’s finger already twitching as he went over the idea with the push again, Dante spoke up. “You know, I would have figured you would at least try before running again.”

Pretense would not work, not on him, but Vergil tried, anyway, eyes closing as he summoned whatever calmness he still had left. “No one is running from anything, dear brother.”

“Dear brother. You only call me that when you’re seriously out of it. And you don’t even mean it.”

“I do wonder why that is.”

“So, you’re running,” Dante ignored the comment which dripped with sarcasm, going in for the kill instead, “Because how I see it is - you’re up here, and the kid is down there, so do tell me how you guys are gonna talk this out?”

 Of course. Vergil closed his eyes for a moment. Suddenly, the prospect of a trusty nightmare at his side was more enticing than having his twin here instead. Then again, there was not much difference between the two. “What should we talk out, in your opinion?”

“Hm, let me think about that…,” Dante drawled. “Right. Perhaps that he’s your son? Happy Father’s Day, by the way. I think you missed a few of those in the last years.”

“You are simply stating a fact. There is nothing to discuss about it.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Vergil, I thought we talked about this - at least give the kid a chance to get to know you, you stubborn asshole.”

Avoiding the other’s gaze when he could all but taste the disappointment in his words was no longer possible, and Vergil glanced over, feeling horribly tired. “I am not who he remembers.”

“Well, yeah,” Dante stared back at him, slightly askance, fully exasperated. “Not much he could remember, with you being phenomenally absent for… eh. All his life?”

The urge to snap And whose fault is that? was there, clawing at his insides like a living beast. Vergil swallowed it down, forced himself to think No.

 He had been the one too blind, not Dante. He had been the one to jump head first, without thinking of what exactly he was possibly leaving behind.

It had taken him breaking apart to put together what mistakes he had made. He would not forget again.

 One breath, two, three, and the urge subsided. He was getting better at ignoring that old, bitter part of himself which tried to convince him everything was his twin’s fault. A reflex honed over years, and not easily unlearned now. He fought to banish it, dispatching it every day a bit more, with each interaction with his… his family.

Family.

That particular word would take some time to get used to.

 Dante was still watching him, expectant and accusing at the same time, he knew, yet Vergil didn’t meet his gaze. There was nothing he could say in his defense, and the only explanation for his statement was one Dante wouldn’t understand.

He didn’t even understand it fully, himself. He only knew that there was… something. Something which was his, but not quite. Memories in his mind, fuzzy things, like a nice dream he once had and now couldn’t recall clearly. A part of him that remembered a helping hand, a shoulder offered to lean on, a now-familiar becoming voice reminding him to rest, to take it easy. Remembered the relief that came with it, with having someone to count on, to trust.

There was a man who remembered Nero as something more than a stranger.

 (- “V you gotta rest” - )

 (- “I guess I owe you one.” -)

 (- the tool, the last hope, the boy, Nero, Nero-)

 (Why had his first thought upon reassembling the halves of his very being been to thank this boy, someone who had been a stranger to him then? It had been there, the words right on the tip of his tongue, stronger than the old urge to win and proof himself right. His heart had beat and beat and beat, each thrum a whisper of You remember him, you do, you do…)

 But he wasn’t that man anymore. He didn’t remember. Not really. Not himself.

Tche, and not gonna do anything about that, are ya?

This time, his hand nearly twitched upwards to shove someone off his shoulder – before he noticed there was nothing to shove at. No feathers nor claws, no sharp beak pecking him for trying.

Deliberately, he lowered his hand again, balling it into a fist to keep it where it was.

 If Dante had noted his sudden movement, he did not to comment on it. Instead the younger rolled around with a grunt, away from the edge, and stood in a way that somehow managed to be casual yet graceful. Stretching with a loud yawn, Dante squinted into the setting sun for a moment – only to turn and kick his brother in the lower back. Hard. “That’s for being an obstinate asshole.”

Vergil grunted, glared, but didn’t so much as budge or fight back. “Obstinate. I’m surprised you even know what that means.”

The grin Dante sent him back was more teeth than anything else, eyes a hard glint to them. “Good thing the kid is better in this whole family department than we both are, jackass. He isn’t going to let you off the hook that easily.”

 It took Vergil a second to make the connection, and once he did, he nearly cursed out loud, out of character as it was. Head swiveling around, he did indeed catch sight of the young man standing at a distance, balanced on top of the roof as if gravity didn’t concern him, hands shoved into his pockets and watching the twins with a slight frown.

Nero noticed his gaze and lifted a hand in greeting after an awkward, fidgety pause. He stood ramrod straight, shoulders tense and clearly uncomfortable – but also like someone on a mission, not ready to back down a single step, jaw set and head held high.  

 Vergil hadn’t felt him coming, much less heard, too caught up in the presence of his twin… which probably had been the plan all along.

Much to his displeasure, Dante proved to be immune to his death glare, shrugging at him. “Told you. Not off the hook.”

“You just can’t mind your own business, can you.”

“You knew that already,” and then, all casualness was gone. Dante moved with the speed of a striking demon, too fast for the human eye, and all of sudden he was there, right in Vergil’s space, hand on his twin’s shoulder like a vice, forehead to forehead, blue boring into blue. “Listen up here, Vergil – no idea what’s going on in that head of yours, but Nero is not me. He is not you. I learned that the hard way, and you will have to learn that, too. So whatever got you all stuck up about this; get over it, and quick. You’re not gonna get an endless amount of chances, capisce? You already got a lot more than others did. ”

Instinctively and beyond his control, Vergil tried to avoid the gaze burning into his, only to find that it was impossible, partly because of the hand on his shoulder like a steel shackle, partly because of the sheer intensity in those eyes. Trapped and backed into a corner, he ground out between clenched teeth, “I know that.”

“Oh, good.”

In the blink of an eye, Dante had backed off again, rocking back with the biggest grin on his face, hands put on his hip as if nothing had happened just now. A quick glance over to Nero – the younger still kept a respectful distance, staring off into the distance now as if this did not concern him – and Dante got serious again, voice low, “Like I said – he’s better at this than we are. He’s better than you. Better than me. So get a move on and try, you deadbeat of a father.”

Then, softer, but no less stern. “He deserves it. Don’t fuck this up, Verge.”

 With one last salute, mocking through and through, Dante turned and wandered off, leaving Vergil behind to comprehend everything that had been flung at him. Dimly, the older of the two noted how Dante stopped when he reached Nero, clapping the younger on the shoulder with a bright grin. A quick conversation, an eyeroll from Nero followed by an elbow into the elder’s rips, answered with a loud, bellowing laugh from the man. Then they separated again, pushing past each other gently.

Dante jumped off the roof without looking back once.

 Vergil turned to look out over the city again (not much had changed, he noted, even if his memory of it was blurred and apparently the place had seen some rebuilding after demon attacks).

He made a point out of not looking, not checking what Nero would do. Cursing to himself for getting tricked into this so easily.

Quiet footsteps resounded, firm, not hesitating. They stopped next to him, before Nero lowered himself to sit beside him, feet dangling over the edge.

 They sat in silence for a while, Nero’s gaze wandering down to the group in the garden, then over the city that had been his home all his life.

Then, finally, the younger spoke up, “You didn’t come over to greet us.”

Teeth grinding together for a second (not even straight to the point), Vergil tightened his shoulders, pulling himself up straight. “There were enough others to do so.”

“Right. Sure. So, what now? You avoiding your own party?”  

“This party has nothing to do with me.”

“Yeah?” Now there was sharpness to Nero’s voice, even though he had tried to sound casual before. “The whole thing is about celebrating you guys getting back out of Hell alive. Would think that does concern you.”

Something cracked inside of Vergil – too many people trying to talk to him when all he wanted was silence to sort his thoughts, too many suspicious looks, too many voices in his mind not his own, too many decisions to make – and he snapped, ice lacing his words, “And me being alive is something to celebrate for you, yes?”  

“After I busted my ass off to keep you dumbasses alive?” Nero’s voice had risen for a second, before he seemed to remember that there where people down there who could hear him. Obviously restraining himself through sheer willpower alone, he finished in a hiss, “Yes, dammit, it is.”

 It should have made him angry, this child speaking in such a manner to him. The flaming gaze and bared teeth and balled fists should have put him on defense.

Surely, Vergil reflected, angry and confused at himself, surely this simple, angrily thrown out statement shouldn’t have made him feel relieved.

 (You remember him, you do, you do…)

 He closed his eyes against the heady, unfamiliar rush of emotions, willing them back, back into a heart that beat stronger and steadier than it had in years, demanding to be heard in a way he hadn’t felt in decades.

Better get this over with, before he did something stupid, Vergil thought – and took the leap. “If you have something to say, then speak.”

 “I still think you’re a damn asshole.”

 The words were quick, blurted out in such a rush as if they had wanted to come out of their own volition. For a second, Nero himself looked as if he was surprised by his outburst, before he frowned, turning away. He talked to the skyline instead, probably unaware of the way Vergil stared at the back of his head as he went. “I mean… fuck. Fuck, you cut my damn arm off! And you tried to kill Dante, who… who tries to kill their own brother?! That’s not even all you did – fuck, you, just – fuck you, okay?! Fuck you, for all the shit you tried to pull. But, Dante, me… You did that to your own family, you dick, you don’t just… you don’t just do that. Okay? It’s fucked up, that’s what it is. You’re fucked up.”

Silence settled between them, charged and heated, only interrupted by Nero’s heavy breathing, as if the young man had just fought a tough battle and was out of breath for it.

 Then, just when Vergil had half a mind to up and leave (clearly, the boy had said what he had to say know, right, this was it, this was over) Nero breathed in deeply, a hitching sound, before letting it out again in a hiss. When he spoke, his shoulders had lost some of their tension, and he seemed to ponder something. “But… like a friend of mine said not too long ago… without you, I wouldn’t be here. You’re my family. And I know there’s more to you than all that.”

 Too late, much too late, did Vergil realize that Nero’s gaze had dropped to something in the younger’s hand, gripped tightly but carefully.

All his anger evaporated as he caught sight of it - the old, slightly battered book gleamed golden in the light of the setting sun. A soft spot left wide open for all to see.

No.

Left in good, caring hands.

 (- “Hold onto that until then” -)

 As if sensing the elder’s gaze, Nero snapped up and around – eyes so bright they were nearly luminous, brows furrowed, the book raised like a weapon. A proof. Voice like steel, he repeated, “I know there is more to you.”

They stared at each other, blue into blue, nothing between them apart from a book and a decision. Nero looked like he dared him to disagree, to deny what he had just said.

Vergil found that he couldn’t do so.

 And finally, when the denial didn’t come, Nero seemed to come to a decision. Nodding to himself, he all but jabbed a finger of his free hand against Vergil’s chest, not heading the fact that the older didn’t budge and merely lifted a quizzical eyebrow at him.

“So this is how this show is going to go from now on – you fucked up big time. And I saved your ass more than once. You owe me,” there was a hint of knowing and smugness in Nero’s expression, and Vergil had a sense of déjà-vu, since that looked all too familiar, “You said so yourself. In fact, I would say you owe me several times over, asshole. That’s one ripped off arm, at least two times I saved your sorry ass, and I’m pretty sure there’s more. Would say that means you have some redeeming to do.

And you will,” now, Nero’s voice was sharp and unforgiving, eyes blazing as he jabbed again, not minding the twitch in Vergil’s face. “Because, again – you owe me.”

 For a moment, Vergil was struck speechless. There would have been a time, once, when this young one talking to him in such a way would have made him furious, would have had anger roar inside of him like wildfire.

It didn’t come, this time. Because the boy was right. He did owe him, had said so himself. If he broke his word now, Vergil knew with certainty, then he would never get another shot at… this. At getting to know Nero, the person he had caught glimpses off and had been proud of.

And that person - his son - wouldn’t let him off the hook, not that easily.

 Vergil felt a smirk stretch over his face, respect and amusement flickering inside him. “Did you already plan on how this… redemption is supposed to go, as well?”

Narrowing his eyes, Nero mulled the answer over, the gaze sweeping over his opposite calculating. Finally, he snorted, leaning back and crossing his arms, chin raised. “You’re going to help with the rebuilding of Red Grave City, for starters. I don’t care how – if you send money for repairs over or fucking lay bricks yourself to rebuild, your decision. That destruction was your fault, and you will make up for that.”

His breath was momentarily knocked out of Vergil at the prospect of having to see that city again – roots of his he had believed to be unrooted now – before he nodded jerkily, teeth clenched.

Satisfaction gleamed in Nero’s eyes. He seemed to grow surer about this the longer the other didn’t disagree. “Next of – fucking stop trying to kill Dante.”

“That,” Vergil pointed out, almost mildly, “we have already stopped.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, don’t start it again. It’s bullshit, and I would just have to beat you guys up again,” Nero waved it off, clearly disinterested in hearing any more about it. Missing the way Vergil’s lips twitched into a grin for the blink of an eye. “And – turn it down with the asshole attitude. Not saying you gotta become a damn saint here, but nobody here is trying to slit your throat in your sleep, so stop acting like it.”

There was probably no point in telling the younger that he wasn’t all that sure if nobody ever at least felt the urge to do just that to him, so Vergil simply nodded mutely in response to that before, “Anything else?”

 “A lot, probably,” Nero answered without missing a beat. “We will see about that when we get there.”

Vergil huffed, amused despite himself.

Nero looked him up and down again, considering. Then his posture relaxed slightly, forearms resting easily on his knees, shoulders slumping. “You’re actually not complaining about it.”

“Would it change anything?” A frown pulling at his expression, Vergil rolled his eyes. The quiet awe in Nero’s voice about that fact did not feel good at all. Had he not thought that Vergil would at least try?

“Nah. Just thought you would try to bargain at least.”

“I do not bargain about things,” Vergil frowned at the thought – well, perhaps there had been times where he should have done so. “I face what comes my way.”

“Head first through walls, huh?”

“I’ve been told I can be stubborn before, if you meant to imply that.”

At that, Nero laughed, quiet and deep. It was a surprisingly joyful sound nonetheless, and touched something in Vergil that he had thought long gone.  

 When Nero looked back up, past him and upwards, he was fully relaxed, eyes crinkling in silent amusement. “Hey, I just thought about something else you could do.”

Barely holding back a groan – did the younger have a list of deeds for him? – Vergil tilted his head in the other’s direction, signaling he was listening.

Nero kept his gaze on the sky above them, biting down on a smirk while he scratched his nose, pretending to think. “You know, I could use some help doing the dishes later.”

Vergil could feel his eyebrow twitching up in obvious surprise before he could stop it – the lapse in his expression clearly noted, since Nero’s smirk widened. At least his voice was still under his control, flat and cool as he more stated than asked, “The dishes.”

“You heard me.”

“You are not serious.”

“This is how I sound when I’m serious. You better get used to it real quick.” Nero must have noticed the disbelief on Vergil’s face, for he smirked, shoulders moving in what could have been a tiny shrug or suppressed laughter. “You did see how many people we invited, right? And Dante eats for three. There’s going to be a lot of dishes, and I’m not gonna do it alone.”

 Vergil could only stare at this curious young man (son, family, his), who surely must be mocking him right now.

Who could have, should have put him down, should have torn into him, should have- he should have hated him.

The younger could have asked anything of him, in his debt as he was.

And he asked him to do inane chores.

 “He’s better than you. Better than me.”

 Was that… was that an offering? A chance?  

His mind drew blank as to what he should do with this information, this turn of events.

 “Don’t fuck this up, Verge.”

 The rest of him, however, seemed to know, deep down. There was a mixture of warmth and something else, bright and strong, spreading through him, curling gently in his chest as if to stay there permanently.

Vergil didn’t feel like analyzing it. Not right now, at least.

 He closed his eyes, tilted his face towards the setting sun. For the first time since taking this place high above the buzzing, lively group down in the garden, he felt the warmth on his face, the breeze caressing through his hair. Free enough of the thoughts repeating over and over in his head that he could pay attentions to the world around him again.

“Very well, then,” he conceded at last.

“Yeah?” He couldn’t see it, but the smirk in Nero’s voice palpable. “Alright, sweet. Counting on you.”

 This time, the silence that settled between them held no anger, only a sense of calm.

Only to be interrupted from an outside source a minute later.

 “GUYS!”

 They both looked down to see Nico waving up at them with one arm, her free hand cupped before her mouth as a makeshift megaphone.

“What?!” Nero bellowed back.

“GET DOWN HERE, FOOD IS GONNA BE READY SOON!”

“If it’s not ready yet, there’s no need to yell at us already!”

“MOVE YOUR ASS, YOU HANDSOME DEVIL!”

 “I told you not to call me that,… oh fuck’s sake,” Nero sighed, even though it didn’t sound sincere, and rock back and forth to push himself to his feet in one fluid motion. Clapping some dust off, he hesitated, gaze flickering down to where Vergil was still sitting. “You, ah. You coming?”

Gesturing vaguely, Vergil shook his head. “In a minute.”

“Suit yourself. But I’m not bringing you any food up here.”

It was a good thing Nero had already turned away, else he might have caught the little upwards twitch of Vergil’s lips in response.

 Vergil, however, saw full well how Nero gingerly, almost tenderly, held the book full of poems against his chest as he made to leave, thumb caressing over the thin spine mindlessly.

It was a kind of care Vergil remembered clearly, from days long gone – days spent in libraries and bookshops, surrounded and soothed by bound pages and written words. And the books he had been most careful with had been those… Those he knew and loved.

“You read it.”

The question – statement – seemed to throw Nero for a second. He turned, gaze following that of the older back to the book, and realization dawned. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips (tugged at Vergil’s loud, demanding heart) as he ducked his head a little.

Scratching his cheek, Nero shook his head, “Didn’t finish. Missing a few poems yet.”

He must have misread something in Vergil’s expression, since he coughed lightly, scratching again, not meeting the other’s eyes. “I might have read a few of them multiple times. That takes time, okay.”

A quick glance over at the older, then Nero frowned, seeming to realize something. “What, you want it back? I mean, it’s yours, so…”

“Keep it.”

 Nero halted in his movement, the hand offering the book halfway extended, eyebrows arched. Staring.

Vergil wasn’t much better off, surprised that he heard himself speak so quickly, so thoughtlessly. He clucked his tongue – at himself or Nero, he wasn’t sure – and gestured at the book between them. “Missing a few, you said. You should not leave things unfinished. It does not… seem to be your style.”

A beat, two… then something flickered over Nero’s face, the shift too quick for Vergil to analyze. Eyes narrowing then widening, before a slow, warm smile stretched over the young man’s face, growing into a crooked grin.

 (It was the first time he had the younger see truly smile in his vicinity, part of Vergil noted.)

 “Yeah, well,” Nero said, slowly, smile still there and softening his expression into something warm and open. He pulled the book back, safely tucking it into his jacket again. “Guess I inherited a stubborn streak from someone. Don’t do well with giving up halfway through.”

Processing that for a second, Vergil huffed, shaking his head as he turned away from the younger. “I see.”

Retreating steps could be heard, and Nero called over his shoulder. “Don’t let the food get cold.”

 Vergil waited until he sensed that he had been left alone on the roof, before allowing himself to breathe out, deep and slow.

His heart beat steady and strong.

No urge to blame, to fight, to leave. No drive to chase after faraway goals.

Only quiet and peace.

                               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Maybe his disappearance hadn’t gone as unnoticed as he had thought, since there where very obvious reactions once Vergil tried to slip back into the middle of things without being seen. People fell silent in the middle of their sentence, heads turned and gazes followed him about.

 Opting to ignore them, he straightened and made his way past them, keeping his attention on getting something to eat. Behind him, the conversations picked up again, yet he could feel the prickle of being watched every now and then, the hairs at his neck rising under the scrutiny, skin feeling itchy and tight due to it.

He didn’t let it show, didn’t let it deter him. Used the satisfied little curl of Nero’s lips once the younger spotted him in the crowd as his guide instead.

At least to the young man, he was welcome here. That would have to be enough for now.

 He walked along the table that obviously served as the buffet, almost buckling under its load of an assortment of different food. Passing the stack of pizza cartons, smirk twitching around his lips at the sight, he halted, considered his options, and settled on some pasta, filling one of the plates at hand to the brim much like he had seen the other guests do.

For a moment, he almost forgot about the people around him, until a soft voice addressed him. “Vergil?”

 A gentle hand on his elbow, the touch soft and light, stopped him in his tracks, more efficiently than any foe could ever had. He dropped his gaze to the fingers resting on him – asking for attention, not demanding, not restricting – and followed the length of the slender arm, up to Kyrie’s face.

She was smiling, eyes soft and warm with… amusement, of all the things. “I just wanted to tell you - don’t mind what Nero said.”

Alerted, Vergil narrowed his eyes at her, pondering what she could have heard of their conversation. It had not been all that personal, yet still it was… more than he felt comfortable with, to share with a stranger.

Kyrie blinked, before she laughed, raising a hand to her mouth to smother it. “Oh, no, I wasn’t listening in! I meant about the help with the dishes. Nero told me about it. You don’t have to do that of course - you’re our guest, after all.”

 She didn’t mention any of the other demands Nero had made, even though Vergil was suddenly very sure that she knew about those, too. Even to him, it had been clear how close those two were, how much his son counted on the strong partner by his side, and vice versa.

Yet it was not her place to discuss those with him, and she knew that as well. He felt a sudden respect for this young woman well up in him, impressed by her loyalty to Nero.

 Shoulders relaxing minutely, Vergil was about to answer, when it abruptly occurred to him that she had read his thoughts easily that, simply from his expressions. How curious and… confusing. Carefully schooling his face back into a neutral expression, voice quiet, he murmured lowly, “It is of… it is no trouble.”

Of no matter, seemed wrong, he reflected, for it felt like it did, simple a task as it was.

Kyrie examined his expression, pursing her lips – only to start smiling again after a moment. “Alright, if you say so…”

“Hm.”

“… then, thank you in advance.”

The hand on his arm squeezed lightly before she pulled away, turning to survey the buffet. Taking up a plate and selecting a menu for herself, she smiled one last time at him, looking him straight in the eye, clearly happy when he inclined his head ever so slightly at her. And then she was gone again, easily weaving through people who made way for her.

Vergil watched her reach Nero at the other side of the garden. Watched still as Kyrie rose to her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the man’s cheek, causing a bright smile to stretch over his face while he leaned down to murmur something into her ear, causing loud, happy laughter to echo over the little crowd. Was still watching as Kyrie picked something of her plate to offer it for Nero to eat…

 Something old and long forgotten steered in Vergil’s memory –peaceful days, when father had come back home, carrying with him presents and tales. Mother’s eyes that had shone bright with laughter as her husband lifted her and twirled her around. Evenings spent curled together, four bodies all but wrapped around each other while father’s deep voice told them stories of places far away, and mother’s laughing protests when the stories got too adventurous and bloody rang out, even though the twins had fake-pouted for more.

This… this little scene he was witnessing here was a private scene, achingly familiar and yet something he was a stranger to. Suddenly feeling like an intruder, Vergil resolutely turned his back on the pair and walked away, aiming for the table that had been set up in a corner of the garden.

 Much to his displeasure – at least he told himself so – Dante had already found his way to the table as well. Feet kicked up onto a corner of the wooden surface, arms crossed behind his head and rocking dangerously on the back legs of the chair, his twin grinned up way too smugly at him as he approached. “What did I catch back there? You, doing chores?”

Not dignifying with an answer what the other obviously knew already, Vergil picked a seat nearly at the opposite end of the table, getting comfortable.

“Kid must really have kicked your ass if you agreed to that.”

“He had good arguments to base his demands on. In fact, this part was the easiest one,” Vergil relented, ducking his head to hide his own smirk as Dante laughed at that. “He will make me work for it.”

“As he should. Good kid.”

Nothing in Dante’s voice gave the feeling as if he was joking with that comment, only fondness and respect audible when one listened close enough – knew him well enough.

And Vergil found himself agreeing with it. There would be a lot to do and atone for, yet… the reward might just be worth it. He considered the situation he found himself in in silence for a while, and came to a conclusion. “… I will. Work for it, that is.”

Will work to make it right, was left unsaid.

“Yeah?” Dante tilted his head to look at his twin, blinking in surprise, then grinned brightly and turned away again. “Good for him. For you both.”

“Hm-hm.”

 “Would you look at these guys,” an amused voice cut between them, both twins turning as Trish approached, carrying a glass and nothing else with her. “They started without us.”

“Rude,” announced Lady, skipping past the blonde woman and around the table to look for a seat herself. “Must run in the family.”

“Okay, you take that back,” Nero shot back, snorting to himself as he observed the table. Behind him, the rest of the guests followed. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Fine, leaving you out of this one.”

“Thank you so much.”

 “Okay, just to make this clear,” Dante announced, letting his chair fall back into a horizontal position  and leaning over the table to accept the plate Kyrie handed him with a cheeky wink and mischievous grin. “I want a new, clean plate for every pizza I eat. No cartons. We got to give Mister Dishwasher here something to do.”

Vergil looked up from his plate just enough to send another inefficient glare in his twin’s direction. He received a toothy grin for his troubles. Figures.

“Dante, don’t be a di-…,” Nero stopped himself, eyes flickering to Kyrie who hid a smile behind her hand, before he turned back to scowl at Dante, “Don’t. Just, don’t.”

“Aw com’ on, kid…”

“No.”

“It’s just fun! Good ol’ fun between…”

“I’m going to punch you again, old man.”

Dante closed his mouth abruptly with a quiet click of teeth, leaning back with his plate and one hand raised in surrender.

 The gesture of submission drew a bout of laughter from the people around them. Trish was grinning so brightly it must have hurt, and Lady was hooting with mirth. Even Kyrie was shaking with barely withheld laughter.

Morrison wiped away at tear before clapping Nero on the back, who looked up a bit perplexed, but ultimately grinned back. “Kid, I’ve never seen someone shut this guy down like that. Respect!”

“Hey, his bitch slaps hurt!” Dante protested. “Nearly killed me with that one!”

“Oh god,” Lady sniffled, still giggling. “I wish I could have seen that.”

“Nero, next time, give us a call beforehand,” Trish added, hand on Nero’s elbow as she leaned over to him. “We have to see that.”

“Sure, deal.”

“Probably went like…,” Nico imitated being slapped in the face and falling over with dramatic flailing, earning another round of laughter. She resurfaced with one hand propped on the table, laughing so hard she was nearly crying. “S-Sorry, sorry, that was just too good to pass up.”

“Okay, okay, we get it, punching me in the face is funny ….”

“It is,” Nero interrupted, eyes dancing with laughter. “It really is.”

Glowering at the younger, Dante stuffed a slice of pizza whole into his mouth, chewing near defiantly on it. The muttered “Punk.” was almost lost in cheese and tomato sauce.

 “Alright, boys, no more fighting,” Kyrie announced, hands on her hips, fondness in her voice and smile on her lips. “We will enjoy our dinner together in peace.”

“Hear, hear!”

“That peace is gonna last two minutes, max.”

“The lady of the house has spoken, everybody shove some food into your mouth and shut up.”

“I can do that.”

“We know you can.”

“Was that a jab at my healthy appetite?”

“Nothing healthy about that, old friend.”

 The chatter started up again easily, quips and jabs flying left and right, gentle shoves and punches being dished out while everyone laughed and talked over each other, all the while taking seats and getting comfortable. In all the ruckus, it seemed to be forgotten that one of them was more stranger than friend, the good mood and company easing any suspicion for the time being.

Vergil found himself sandwiched between Dante’s old partner Morrison, who nodded at him before turning around to strike up a conversation with Trish, and Nico, who was so caught up in explaining a new gun to Lady she didn’t even seem to notice who sat on her other side, exactly. Dante was talking with his mouth full, getting whacked over the head by Trish for it and laughing, the sound muffled, looking unapologetic to boot. A few of the children living with Nero and Kyrie were still running around the table, laughing loudly, rushing from one of the adults to the other to ask for stories about their demon hunting adventures.

 It was an absolute mess, and noisier than Hell itself, but the urge to stand up and leave for peace and quiet never came, much to Vergil’s surprise. Deciding that was just as well, he tasted a bit of the food before him.

He actually had to pause and savor the bite for a second, flavors bursting on his tongue. He couldn’t remember when he had last eaten anything this savory.

 “Hey, can anyone pass the pepper?” Nero’s voice rose above the ruckus, but he was still mostly unheard, everyone too caught up in something else.

It wasn’t even a conscious move, but Vergil had already reached out and handed the item across the table to his opposite before it really registered with him, making him pause in the middle of it.

Nero looked just as perplexed as he felt for the blink of an eye. Then surprise made way for a crooked grin as he accepted the shaker “Thanks… father.”

Vergil didn’t find any words to offer, mouth suddenly dry as his gaze met Nero’s, the same blue eyes as his own looking back at him without any sort of resentment – simply warmth.

 There would be a lot to do and atone for, and yet… yet…

The reward would be so, so worth it.  

 “So,” Nico piped up, startling both men out of their silence and then drawing the attention of everyone towards her. “Are we supposed to do a toast at this kind of thing? Like, hey real neat that you didn’t die or somethin’?”

“You have a way with words,” Nero grumbled, leaning back. There was still a smile stuck in a corner of his mouth, and he couldn’t seem to stop it.

“Ah, you’re one to talk, smartass.”

“I think a toast is a great idea,” Kyrie interrupted the argument before it could even start. Raising her glass, she offered, “To Dante and Vergil?”

“Aw, don’t make me blush, kiddo,” Dante gave back, fluttering his eyelashes that made Trish snort loudly next to him. “How about – good to be back?”

“Still alive and kicking!” Lady offered, raising her own glass.

“To new beginnings?”

“To being too though to die!”

“To good food.”

 “To family.”

 Heads turned, surprised gazes straying to Nero, who held his glass high above his head, looking somewhere between amused and embarrassed.

“That’s a great idea,” Kyrie agreed, sending a soft smile his way that made Nero’s shoulder relax visibly.

 “Yes.”

Vergil didn’t blink as all those gazes now snapped towards him, openly staring at him as if nobody could believe that this single word had just come out of his mouth. He ignored them, focused fully on Nero opposite of him as he reached over and lifted his own glass to tip it towards the younger in silent acknowledgement.

The smile on Nero’s face widened, bright and sincere, and all the perplexed staring in the world could stop Vergil from feeling his heart grew lighter than it had been since he was a child.

 It was Dante who spoke next, breaking the silence and bafflement by declaring, swinging his own glass up. “Best idea I’ve heard in a long while. To family!”

That seemed to break the spell over the group, and everyone laughed, cheered, agreed with bright smiles on their faces as they reached for their own glasses. Somewhere next to Vergil, Nico announced “You guys are gonna make me cry” and Nero laughed loudly at that, head thrown back, and even Vergil smiled, unseen in all the commotion.

 “To family!”

“Yeah!”

“CHEERS!”

 Their combined voices, united in one bright, happy shout, could be heard over half the city.

[pickapok]

A Passionate Lie

The young boy stood at the edge of the field, gazing at the maze of tents before him. Rain fell from heavy clouds and formed puddles across the muddied ground. Summer thunderstorms were common in this area, but rarely did they linger as long as this.

Among the tents, dark figures scurried about. Commands shouted between claps of thunder instructed the workers as they toiled to prepare for the coming attractions. The circus had come to town.

Eugene had always fantasized about the circus. It was a place where the out of place belonged, and he was nothing if not out of place in the rural farming town he once called home. “Good kids don’t have horns,” the other children would say. “Good kids don’t grow tails. Only bad kids do.” The adults weren’t much better. “Bastard Eugene,” they would call him. “Devil runt.”

Not that he minded being a bastard. He had seen the way some of the other children’s fathers treated them and was very much content with only having a mother. Whenever the others would throw stones or call him names, Eugene could always run to her waiting arms. Every year on his birthday she would cook him roast chicken and bake him his favorite apple pie and remind him that there was nothing in the world she loved as much as him.

It was for her sake that he ran away.

Of all the kids that bullied him, Cameron was the worst. Most of the time the others would only tease Eugene or throw small rocks if they happened to see him. Cameron would seek him out.

“Hey devil runt,” Cameron called out as he approached one day. Lately he and the other kids had picked up that term from their parents. “You know what my da’ says?”

Eugene didn’t respond. That was usually for the best, either he’d get bored and leave or get angry, throw a punch or two, get bored and leave.

“Oy! I’m talking to you, runt.” Cameron kicked Eugene’s shin. Against his better judgment, Eugene looked up. “That’s better. Anyways, you know what my da’ says?”

Eugene shook his head.

“Says your mum’s a devil’s whore.” A wicked grin spread across Cameron’s face. “Says reason why you’re a freak is cuz your mum rutted with demons.”

Eugene stiffened. He was used to being the subject of insult and ridicule but this was something new.

Sensing he had struck a nerve, Cameron kept pressing. “It’s no wonder she never talks about where she came from. Showing up to town pregnant and giving birth to something what looks like you. I wouldn’t want people to know about it either.”

“Take it back,” Eugene muttered.

“What was that?”

Eugene balled his hands into fists. “Take it back.”

Cameron let out a grating laugh. “Or what? You gonna hit me? Don’t make me laugh, runt. Hey, do you reckon the demon’s ruined her? Ya know, down there? I bet any man in town would run screaming when they see the burn scars all around her-“ He cut off as Eugene’s fist connected with his jaw. Barely phased, he turned back to look at the devil child as a wicked grin spread across his face. “You shouldn’t ‘ave done that, runt.”

Stepping forward, Cameron grabbed Eugene by the horns and twisted him to the ground. Eugene tried to fight back but a quick kick to the gut left him out of breath, curling into a ball in a vain attempt to protect himself.

“That’s your problem, devil runt.” Cameron knelt down and began dragging Eugene by one horn towards a nearby puddle. “You don’t know your place in the world.” Grasping the back of Eugene’s head with a single hand, he forced the devil child’s face down into the water. “That’s why the gods put people like me in your life. To remind you.”

Eugene thrashed as he struggled against Cameron’s strong grip. Unable to breathe, he gasped and choked on the water rushing to fill his mouth and lungs. The bully’s words faded to a dull buzz as the world began to fade to black. A single thought echoed through Eugene’s mind. I am going to die. Like a spark, the thought ignited a surge of others. I’ll never see my mom again. Why did it have to rain last night? Am I really going to drown? And above all of these was a desire, burning and intense. It coursed through his mind and down through his body until every fiber of his being was aflame with it. From the darkness, his desire spoke to him in a voice that was his own but not his own.

I want…

What do you want?

I want to make him pay.

How will you make him pay?

I don’t know…

Would you like to know?

Yes.

All around the pair of struggling boys, doors and windows crashed open. Startled, Cameron released his hold on Eugene and stumbled back. Coughing, Eugene rose to his feet. His left eye glowed with a sickening green light while his right had turned pitch black, leaking some kind of shadowy substance.

Cameron cursed as he strode forward, rolling up his sleeves. “You really are a damned Devil.” Shouts rose in the distance.

Before his adversary could reach him, Eugene raised a hand and felt his desire speak words through his mouth, at once strange and familiar. A small piece of his mind knew he had never heard these words before in his life, but he felt their meaning in the core of his soul. Leaping from the tips of his fingers, a spectral hand of smoke and shadow leapt forth and wrapped its fingers around Cameron’s neck.

Gasping, Cameron dropped to the ground and clawed at his throat, the skin around and beneath the shadow hand fading to grey and cracking at its touch. “Stop…” His voice came out in a rattle. “Please…” It was a six seconds that seemed an eternity.

“By the gods, get away from him!” A strong pair of arms shoved Eugene to the side as Cameron’s father, Haral, ran and knelt at Cameron’s side. The spectral hand had vanished and with it the burning desire that had given it birth. In its absence, Eugene was struck by the realization of what he had done.

Scooping up the now unconscious Cameron, Haral turned a fierce glare upon the devil child. “What in the nine hells did you do to my boy, you filthy devil spawn? We never should have allowed you to stay in our village. You or your devil’s whore of a mother.”

“I… I didn’t mean to…” Eugene stammered out. “He was hurting me and I just wanted him to stop. I-“

“I won’t hear any of your lies, fiend! We’ll just see what the village council has to say about this!” With his son in his arms, Cameron’s father fled in the direction of the church and the village physician.

Eugene no longer feared the bullies. Instead he feared himself. Tears welling in his eyes, he picked himself up off the ground and made his way home.

---

“It wasn’t your fault.” Lenore sat in her favorite rocking chair, cradling Eugene. “You were only defending yourself, you did nothing wrong.”

“But I didn’t want to hurt him! I just wanted him to stop.” Eugene had always found his greatest comfort in the arms of his mother. Kind, gentle and beautiful. Hair as black as raven wings and eyes as blue as the sky. She always knew exactly what to say to soothe his nerves and make him at peace.

She laughed softly. “Then why did you hit him?”

Eugene’s face flushed from ash-grey to red. “He was talking about you. Said mean things. I wanted him to take it back.” He buried his face in her arm in a vain attempt to hide his embarrassment.

“My, how chivalrous!” Lenore said, hints of laughter entwined with the words. “Tell me, were the things he said true?”

“… No.”

Lenore nodded. “And did you know they weren’t true?”

Eugene poked his gaze back out. “Yeah.”

“Then why does it matter what he said?”

Sitting straight, Eugene gave his mother a quizzical look. “Well he was being rude. Saying hurtful things.”

Lenore leaned over and cupped Eugene’s face in her hands, matching his eyes to hers. “Let me tell you a little secret my mother once taught me. Lies only have power when believed. Once you stop believing in a lie, all that’s left is words. And words never hurt anyone. Not really.”

Eugene dropped his gaze. “My words hurt someone today.”

Silence hung over the room like a weight. After a few moments, Lenore spoke. “Words on their own are just words. When words are combined with passion they become stronger. Even stronger than passion is power. Not everybody has power within them but those that do can use their words to do many great things. Sometimes terrible, but always great.” She brought Eugene’s eyes back to hers. “Power is not bad. It’s not good either. At the end of the day it’s only a tool. What makes it good or bad is how you use it, understand?”

Eugene nodded solemnly.

“Good. Now come on, supper will be getting cold if we don’t hurry.” Taking his hand in hers, Lenore led her son into the kitchen. “Sometimes I don’t know who you take after more, me or your father.”

Eugene perked up a bit. “Why won’t you tell me about him?”

Lenore shook her head. “I promised I’d tell you when you’re older.”

“I am older!”

“Not old enough.”

Sighing, Eugene resigned himself back to thoughts of food over fatherhood. His mood quickly improved when he found out they were having roast chicken. It was his favorite.

---

Later that night, Eugene awoke to voices coming from downstairs. As quietly as he could manage, he crept from his room and over to the stairwell.

“My son may never speak again and you stand there defending the monster who assaulted him?” Eugene recognized the gruff voice as Haral, Cameron’s father who had come to his son’s aid during the… incident. Moving silently down the stairs, he found a spot where he could watch the conversation unfold without being seen. He had always been good at hiding in the dark.

“That monster is my son,” Lenore replied. There was a danger to her voice, an edge Eugene had never heard before. “What you tell yourselves in confidence is your business but I will not have you slander him in my own home.”

“Fine. Your son,” Haral laced with word with every drop of disgust he could muster, “has shown the ability to call forth forces both dark and unnatural. He used whatever damn devil magic he possesses to practically tear my boy’s throat out!”

“Actually,” Father Coren, the local priest, spoke up, “the physicians assure me that he should recover just fine. All he needs is rest and a few weeks, perhaps a month of silence to allow his voice to heal. He may have a bit of a rasp but the damage is hardly permanent.”

“Thank you, Father,” Lenore cut in before Haral could continue. “I am glad he’ll be alright.”

Haral’s voice grew louder. “It doesn’t matter if the damage is permanent, what matters is what he did and more importantly how he did it!” He turned to the priest, pleading. “Surely a man of the cloth such as yourself can understand the danger that child puts all of us in.”

Fother Coren sighed, nodding his head. “I’m afraid he’s not wrong, Lenore. Eugene has displayed a capacity for violence matched with an affinity for the unholy. He is only a child now but I can’t imagine the kind of threat he could grow into.”

“He was defending himself!” Lenore cried. “You’re son tried to drown him for Hieronius’ sake.”

The priest winced at the god’s mention. “I would advise you not to invoke the gods in this matter, Lenore. They may not be listening.”

“And besides,” Haral interjected, “the way my son tells it, your little bastard is the one that swung first.”

Lenore’s voice dropped to a calm fury. “That was in defense of me. After your boy called me a, what was the phrase you taught him? Devil’s whore? Come now, Haral. I know you’d expect your son to do the same if somebody said anything bad about that slobbering cow you call a wife.”

Haral lunged forward, drawing back a hand to strike Lenore. It was the priest stepping between them which stayed his hand.

“Really, Haral?” Lenore scoffed, chin outstretched. “You going to strike woman in front of a priest? Hardly the worst decision you’ll have made in your life. However, I suppose next to going to bed with cattle anything would have a hard time measuring up.”

“Keep talking, devil’s whore,” Haral growled. “I refuse to be judged by a wench who lies with demons.”

Lenore let out a laugh, cold and cruel. Far different from the laugh she saved for Eugene. “Is it demons or is it devils? There is a difference, you know. Not that I expect you to be able to tell.”

“That is enough, Lenore,” Father Coren cut in. “I’ve done my best to do right by you and your son. I believed your coming to this town was a test of our kindness, sent by the gods and I have done everything I can to see to it that you and yours were well taken care of.” He took a deep sigh and lowered his gaze. “But this is not a warning, nor is it a negotiation. This is a notice.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’ve already spoken with the mayor and the village council,” the priest continued. “We are all in agreement that your offspring poses too much of a threat to the people of this town.”

Clenching her hands into fists, Lenore loomed over Father Coren. “So exile then?”

Haral snorted. “And make it some other town’s problem? We could hardly be considered a people of the gods if we simply pushed all our problems onto others.”

Lenore silenced him with a glare before returning her attention to the priest. “If you’re here to condemn my son to death, you could at least do me the courtesy of looking me in the eye.”

Father Coren straightened but found himself unable to meet Lenore’s gaze. Fumbling in the pocket of his robes, he withdrew two items. A dagger and a vial. “The most I can offer is the opportunity to do it yourself. A knife in his sleep or a few drops of poison in his food. Either way, quick and painless. He needn’t suffer.” Placing them on the table, he shrank back to cower behind Haral.

“Whether you do it or not, we’ll be back at sunset tomorrow to see to it that he is properly disposed of.” Haral grinned wickedly and Eugene saw where Cameron had inherited his cruelty. “After all, got to burn the body. It’s the only way to be sure.” Laughing, Haral turned and walked through the door and into the night.

Father Coren hesitated momentarily at the threshold. “Lenore… I’m sorry.” Bowing, the priest made his exit.

Silence hung in the air as Lenore remained standing where she was, Eugene looking on from the staircase. After a time, she reached out to the instruments of death offered to her while her son watched in awe as streaks of black shot from her hand, turning the dagger and vial to dust.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Lenore turned and looked up towards the stairwell where Eugene was hiding.

Eugene jumped, not accustomed to being noticed in the dark. “How did you know I was there?”

Lenore snorted. “Oh please, you’re my son. It’s a mother’s job to know where her son is at all times.”

Feet heavy with guilt, Eugene made his way down the steps to his mother’s side, eyes fixed on the piles of dust where the dagger and vial had been. “Why do they hate me?”

“Because they think you’re evil.”

“But I’m not evil, that’s a lie!”

Lenore sighed and wrapped her arms around Eugene. “It is a lie, but one that is spoken with passion and believed by many. That makes it stronger. People will believe whatever lie they want, either because they wish it to be true or they fear it to be true. And when that belief combines with passion it becomes very hard for them to recognize truth.”

Eugene paused a long while, not sure how to voice the greater concern on his mind. “Mum… am I going to die?”

“Eventually, perhaps.” Lenore put a sly smile on her face. “But not tomorrow, and certainly not by their whim.” She knelt down to look her son in the eyes. “I will never let anyone hurt you, do you understand?”

Thoughts and possibilities rumbling around in his head, Eugene nodded.

“Good. Now back off to bed with you. It is way past your bed time.”

---

Eugene could not sleep that night. Different scenarios of what could happen kept playing around and around in his head. Images of angry mobs bursting through the door, ripping him away from his mother to be burned at the stake. Worse yet her mother fighting the mob and being injured or killed herself.

What if they burn her too? he thought. What if she dies because of me?

Unable to bear that possibility, he quietly got up and packed a bag with clothes and basic supplies. He had often gone camping in the nearby woods, he knew what he might need. Remembering to grab what little pocket money he had saved, Eugene struck out into the world.

He had recalled the other children talking about a circus making its way to a neighboring town. Following the road signs for a couple days and avoiding the occasional search party had lead him to this moment. Rain falling upon his hat, watching as men labored to build a wonderland out of an empty field. Carefully avoiding any puddles (the memory of nearly drowning still fresh in his mind), Eugene began to make his way into the traveling city of tents.

The workmen paid him little heed. With the thick blanket of cloud cover and the pouring rain it was a wonder any of them noticed him at all. A few called out to him but none pursued. Just another child looking to see what the hubbub was about.

As the rain began to soak through his hat and coat, Eugene began searching for a place he could hide and take shelter. It would be nearly impossible to find the head of the circus in this weather. Best to wait until the skies cleared.

Making his way away from where most of the construction was occurring, Eugene found a tent smaller than the others which appeared to be unoccupied. He quickly slipped inside, removing his hat and coat to ring out the rain water.

“A visitor? So soon?”

Eugene whirled around, scanning the tent. He had always been able to see things in the dark where others could not and he had sworn this tent was empty.

“I didn’t think the circus was open yet. And such dreadful weather for it too…” A sudden light brought Eugene’s hand to his eyes to shield them from the brightness. As his eyes adjusted he began to make out a woman, dressed in purple robes and seated behind a table. Upon the table sat a pair of lit candles and a clear sphere of either glass or crystal.

“Wh-who are you? How did you get in here? Where did you come from?” Eugene stammered out questions one after another.

“I’m The Fortune Teller, this is my tent and someplace you’ve never heard of.” The Fortune Teller eyed him with a critical look. “For such a young thing you sure have very poor manners. You come into my tent uninvited and start demanding questions of me? I should ask the same things of you! Well then?”

Eugene’s face flushed red in the candlelight. “I… I’m Eugene. I walked through the front and I’m from Westbrook.”

“Well at least we have one thing in common,” The Fortune Teller muttered. “Neither of us has ever heard of where the other is from. A new question then. Why have you come here, little devil?”

A part of Eugene flinched at the word “devil,” but there was something she about the way she said it that gave him pause. There was no cruelty in it. If anything it sounded inviting.

Rather than choose any of the lies he had prepared over the journey, Eugene found himself telling the truth. “I ran away from home.”

The Fortune Teller shook her head. “That’s how you got here, not why you came.”

“I… I want somewhere I can belong, somewhere that will take me as I am.”

“And you think this is such a place?”

In the flickering candlelight, Eugene realized he could not tell how old the woman was. In one moment she seemed an old crone, in the next a kindly housewife and later still a young maiden. Clearing his throat, he continued.

“The other kids in the village always talk about the circus, like how you can find things there that you don’t belong anywhere else. Magical and mysterious things.”

The Fortune Teller smiled. “Things like you?”

Eugene felt his face flush again.

“I’m afraid if you take a wander through the world you will find you are not so unique,” The Fortune Teller began. “Tieflings aren’t exactly common but they are far from a rarity. At least in the cities.”

“Tiefling?” Eugene asked, head cocked in curiosity.

“It’s what you are, child. Did your parents never teach you even that little?”

He shook his head. “My mum is human, never knew my father. Mum always said she’d tell me about him when I was older.”

The Fortune Teller shook her head. “I swear, parents these days. At least your mother sounds nice, if a bit skimpy with the important life lessons.”

Eugene nodded. “Oh yes! She’s the best mum in the whole world! She cooks me roast chicken and apple pies, sings me to sleep when I’m scared, and always knows just what to say when I’m feeling down!”

“Sounds like you belong with her, why even bother running away?”

The look on Eugene’s face quickly soured. “It’s the rest of village that thinks I don’t belong. Just because I have horns and a tail.”

Nodding her head, The Fortune Teller began tapping on the table in thought. “True, people fear things that are different from them. One of their many faults.”

“They told my mum they were going to kill me.”

The Fortune Teller raised an eyebrow. “For having horns and a tail?”

Eugene shook his head. “I… did something of the other kids. He was hurting me and I wanted to make him stop. I felt this thing inside of me, like I wanted to hurt him back more than anything. It was dark and it was angry and I felt it move me. I…” He paused in his recounting of the incident as he felt the desire stir within him again. The candlelight flickered and grew dim as if the flames were dying down. Summoning all his effort he squashed the desire down and the candles returned to their normal glow. “What’s happening to me?”

“I was wrong about you.”

“What?”

The Fortune Teller had sat forward in her chair, her full attention devoted to the child before her. “I said you weren’t so unique, but it appears I was mistaken. First impressions are rarely the whole picture, I should know that better than most.”

“So you know what I am?” Eugene asked.

“I know what you are, what you were and what you could be.” The Fortune Teller waved a hand and the fire leapt from the candles and somehow into the crystal ball where shapes began to take form. “There is a darkness inside you, that much is certain. However, darkness is not bad in and of itself.”

“It’s a tool!” Eugene chimed in. “What makes it good or bad is how I use it!”

Nodding, The Fortune Teller continued. “Precisely. Never forget that there are many things which are beautiful that can only be found in the dark. After all, the stars only come out at night.” The fire within the sphere took the shape of a tall man with horns and a tail, standing proud and valiant against an unseen force. “You have a great power within you and an even greater destiny ahead.” Abruptly the fire went out, reappearing at the tops of the candles. “The only thing standing in your way is you.”

“But what about the lies?”

The Fortune Teller paused. “Lies?”

Eugene nodded. “The lies people tell about me. That I’m devil spawned or that I’m something evil. My mum told me that lies have no power unless they are believed and that if I don’t believe them then I shouldn’t let them hurt me. But what if other people believe the lies?”

“Simple,” The Fortune Teller laughed, “you tell a better lie.”

“A better lie?”

“Look around you, little devil. You’re in a circus! This entire place is built on lies but do you know why people still come? Why they believe everything they see here?”

Eugene shook his head.

“Passion.”

Something clicked in Eugene’s head. “A lie spoken with passion becomes stronger. The more people that believe in the lie, the more convincing it becomes. People will believe anything they want if they wish it were true or if they fear it to be true.”

The Fortune Teller clapped her hands. “See? You get it! And when the lie is told with passion…”

“… It becomes harder for the people to see the truth,” Eugene finished.

“More wisdom from your mother?”

Eugene smiled softly. “Yeah…”

“She sounds like a smart woman.” The Fortune Teller went on. “At the end of the day, lies are just another tool. What’s important is how you use them.”

“So… can I join the circus?” Eugene asked, tail swaying lightly from side to side.

“Not my call, kid. I don’t think the ringmaster will have any issue with you hanging around for a while, at least until we reach the next big city.” The Fortune Teller shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe you might learn something along the way.”

“Oh thank you! Thank you very much!” Eugene dropped to his knees and bowed his head to the ground.

“Don’t go thanking me yet, kid. Like I said, it’s not my call.” Stepping around the table The Fortune Teller placed a hand on Eugene’s shoulder. “And don’t you ever forget this: This circus is too small for you. You are destined for bigger and better things.”

Eugene got to his feet and nodded.

“And knock it off with all the nodding, your head is liable to fall right off if you keep that up.”

He started to nod again but caught himself. “Right.”

“Now go on,” The Fortune Teller motioned for him to leave. “Weather should be just about cleared up by now. Get on out there and see if you can find the ringmaster. It’s his decision whether or not you can journey with us.”

Pulling open the tent flap, Eugene spotted rays of sunlight peeking through the cloud cover. Expressing his thanks one last time, he fled the tent and went to seek the man in charge.

---

The ringmaster agreed to take him on a while. He’d worked with many tieflings in the past and found their general reputation to be highly overblown. Oddly enough he insisted that his circus contained no such fortune teller and hadn’t for a number of years.

Eugene stayed with the circus for some time, learning the art of lies and practicing his own abilities until he felt he had them fully under his control. When he felt he had learned all he could, he left.

Eight years after running away from home, Nostramatu Everdark stepped through the gates of a new and unfamiliar city.