#that there will be a horrible little creature chewing on my right side from the inside

[dreamlogic]

musing in the tags about the view two years out from my hysterectomy and the shifting nature of neuropathy. i asked my PT for recommendations/resources pertaining to pain science and that's been a very helpful lenses to have. i'm still not back to normal, will never be unmarked by this experience or return to my pre-op self, but my baseline has been gradually increasing over the last few months, and it feels good to look back on the last two years and say "i have no idea how i managed to function while living with that, but i did!"

[undertow-story]

CHAPTER 003:

PART-TIME GOD

I remember Cy, that short little bartender in The Hovel, once telling me before about how oftentimes people ask themselves a lot of questions- it was very normal actually. I’d been talking to myself out loud at that point in time because I thought this was normal as well. They made me aware that in fact- it’s apparently not, but its a habit that I’ve found very hard to break.

They gave me a lot of examples of normal questions, like: ‘How long have I been here now? When will this be over with already? Why is x person so y?’ Etc.

Not often do I have to ask myself those questions, but even less often do I need to ask myself: ‘How far exactly did I fall?’ or ‘I think my arm is broken, but I’m not entirely sure- what is a broken arm like?’.

I found myself asking a very stupid question out loud, between habit and bewilderment of:

“How the fuck did I survive?”

Sachiel grunted loudly as he very slowly rose from his ‘resting’ place. He was around the outskirts of The Undertow, further from his general hangout than usual. He was lying in a pile of trash and discarded furniture that had been carelessly dumped down an alleyway instead of properly disposed of. The chair leg stabbing into his hip was less than ideal in comfort.

I’m alive... That doesn’t make sense. None of that entire interaction made sense.

His arm was in serious pain, something more than he’d felt so far in his time of being here. He’d been shot, bitten, scratched and gnarled up... but this time around he figured something had to be broken, as the searing pain was so unfamiliar to him.

He could feel something else on his leg as well... He looked down and grimaced as he saw a rat, chewing on his flesh from a hole shredded in his dirty, black denim jeans.

He flicked the sharp, pointed end of his tail directly through it, and brought it closer to his face. He turned it carefully, left to right, and gently sniffed it- thoroughly inspecting its carcass.

It didn’t appear to be one of those demons, or diseased at least... so, naturally, he ate it in a not particularly clean or proper fashion.

He scowled to himself after doing so.

Okay. I at least have consumed something.... Now.....Can I move?

He shifted, feeling a lot of stress on his body, but he forced himself to his feet as bits of rubble and trash fell around him. He inched along the wall carefully testing the strength of his legs and feet before deciding he was at least strong enough to walk. His long tail dragged against the ground as he moved, the blackened bone at the end making a scraping sound against the uneven pavement.

He peered from out of the alley.

He wasn’t in the usual sector he resided in at all. He managed to get thrown into Theta, which was roughly two full sectors north of his hang outs.

The fuck kind of elevator did I go through?

Thankfully it wasn’t the worst transport to get through under normal circumstances- but the problem was that he was thrown close to the threshold where the infested side was and he was tired and weak.

How only a rat had managed to find him so far was surprising in itself. Looking up to see far above were the many legs and wings of creatures scurrying back and forth looking about like vultures.

Vile things.

Perhaps they were simply too small to consider him worth taking… or perhaps there was just enough lights around to deter them.

He felt at his pocket and noticed his gun was missing. There was no way in hell he would be leaving without that, not in this side of town. He made note of where he fell, trying to think of how far it may have gone. The alley was dark, but not horrible to see something shiny in at least. He made note of the staircase to his right and carefully started up it, trying to not overexert himself.

He sat himself down on the rooftop to give his legs a break after the climb. Mostly garbage down below, it was no wonder nothing saw him yet. The entire place was practically a dumping ground for random assortments of trash and furniture. Just about everywhere was like that in this entire area, oddly. He didn’t frequent this sector, it was a bit out of the way since the subway tram was usually broken down and in need of repair.

Looking around, however… it seemed more desolate than he remembered. Sure it was run down, and it wasn’t completely cased in darkness and abandoned like Sector Iota… but the amount of house lights off was almost concerning to him. He looked up from where he fell, noticing an oddly big vortex, dark and heavy with bolts of lightning bursting from within every second.

In that same moment, it vanished, something large falling from the sky from where it had once been.

He frowned and started to look around slightly more pressed.

He didn’t think the gun could have gone far from him, but at the same time he could have been looted while he was asleep- his thought was interrupted as he heard a loud screech come from above, and a vaguely shaped dark shadow descended upon him, latching onto his already injured arm.

He snarled and readied his claws to dig into it- only to find himself getting overwhelmed and swarmed by at least three others. His body was still burning and he was struggling to continue standing as he heard the sound of a gunshot whip past his ear, leaving a ringing sensation.

One of the creatures fell to the ground, spasming before falling silent. Sachiel attempted to turn his head down but was blindsided by another winged creature his face, biting his nose. More gunshots rang off, just enough to free his functioning arm as he dug his claws into the one on his face, shredding it, and his own skin in the process.

His frustration was clearly high and was still struggling to hear out of his one ear. He could, however hear a little call of a faint voice from below.

“Fangs, my boy!!”

...The bartender?

Sachiel stumbled, trying to get his footing back and ended up slipping and falling into a patch of trash bags and broken down sofa cushions. He groaned in pain, Cy rushing over to him and stopping just before the bags.

"Goodness. You look absolutely terrible." Cy's eyebrows furrowed behind the large sunglasses on their face.

"... Thanks." Sachiel sighed, giving up on moving.

"I'm glad I finally found you at least... I've been searching about for over a week for you." Cy reached out to Sachi, taking his hand.

"... A week? I wasn't out for a few hours?"

"Goodness no. I saw something falling as I was closing up shop after you took on that hit and realized it was you when I peered through my little pocket binoculars."

Sachiel shifted, getting to his feet once more, shakily.

"I'll ask about what happened later... Come back with me to the bar, I've got your gun, don't worry. I actually managed to find that before I even stumbled upon you! Only reason I think I managed to get here in time actually, its a good thing my ol' shooting arm still works now and then." Cy brushed their dapper pants off as they lead the way for Sachi to follow. "Well, with my own gun anyway, yours is awfully heavy to hold and I couldn't figure out how to reload it."

He was very tired. More than he'd ever been. He didn't usually feel that kind of exhaustion and it did happen on occasion, such as times where he chose to not sleep for days on end. He looked at his left arm, which hung beside him, unmoving and limp. He could hardly feel the arm itself- only the searing burn when he moved.

Sachi gave a quiet 'Hrmph' before following Cy, looking back up from where he fell.

He definitely had questions.

-

The bar was quiet, something Sachiel hadn't at all seen since the first time he had ever entered it.

Cy had flicked on the lights upon entry, but not the vibrant, usual lighting. It was warmer, moodier, and had no neon tones to it.

The sign on the door was still set to closed, sitting slightly ajar. It was almost nicer to be in when it was empty like this.

Sachi huffed and sat himself in one of the booths, wincing as he repositioned his arm manually. Cy was over at the counter, pouring a glass of whiskey.

Sachiel sat quietly to himself in the meantime as Cy was rummaging behind the counter. He was very tired, more than upset. Actually he wasn't too unhappy in the slightest- minus the fact he didn't get paid for his time. That, however was pissing him off.

Sachiel was mostly lost in his own mind and intrigued by the events that took place. It was a lot to take in all at once.

Cy returned to Sachi with some whiskey, and a little tray with some assorted meats on it, along with some food and drink for themself as well. They sat down in the seat across from him, nudging the plate closer to Sachi.

"...Thanks." Sachiel was a bit confused at the courtesy.

"It's on the house, I don't expect money from you, Fangs." Cy waved their hand. "I'm afraid I can't do anything about your arm, however. I'm no doctor, and nor do I know of any."

Sachiel shrugged weakily with his good arm. "... I'm not concerned about it, actually."

"Strange answer given it looks very broken! I'll inquire more about your feelings on that later, but first I must know what happened up there. How did you manage to fall from the upper levels?" Cy was oddly interested, a grin peering up on their face from over their very high sitting shirt collar.

"..." Sachiel sipped the drink. He wasn't so sure of Cy's intent, but he also had no one else to talk to about this... and they could provide some insight on what he found.

"Though, you don't have to go into it if you don't want to." They had an apologetic look on their face, realizing Sachi had kept quiet.

"I'm not used to talking about things to someone. I will go into it because I have questions you might be able to answer. You come off as shady sometimes." Sachi was perhaps, a bit too blunt.

Cy let out a loud and hearty laugh at the comment. "Oh thank goodness, I worry about seeming too nice- it's not a good thing to seem too nice around these parts after all. That's how you get used."

Sachi continued.

"I talked to the client. I found another like me... but... he wasn't exactly like me. Almost like a parody of myself."

"Another? Parody how, though? That's an odd descriptor." Cy swirled their drink.

"He looked more... monstruous. His body looked warped, like he'd been rung through one of those little machines that makes pasta." Sachi started to eat, knowing that Cy often talked a lot between his comments. It was a common thing, they'd talk even when he didn't have anything to say that day, worked out for him to sip his drink in between.

"Peculiar... So the job was the casino head, yes? I think I may know the dogs you talk of-"

Sachi interrupted immediately. "How did you know there was two?"

He had made no mention of the brother, which meant that he was right in his hunch that Cy knew far more than they ever let on. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. They seemed to jump a little at the sudden accusatory sentence as well.

"Ah! Well you're on the same page as me then as we are talking about the same dogs. Or... are they hellhounds? Anthropomorphic dog genuses isn't my specialty you see..." Cy adjusted their sunglasses. "See, I was actually looking into those two because believe it or not, horrible monstrosities were not always a problem here. Though I'm sure you wouldn't know that since no one talks about it. They mostly complain about the ones upstairs."

Sachi took off his jacket as best he could, leaving the poor, garbage smelling leather to rest on the seat next to him.

"No, no I did not know about this." He grunted.

"People don't seem to 'remember' I find. Those two appeared down here, first, actually. They were very... threatening to see. After all there wasn't many talking animals around here before their arrival. There's been plenty more since, I actually originally had strong thoughts they might be extraterrestrials! However, there's no evidence of a spacecraft and it seemed odd they spoke common, so I tossed that theory out the window."

Cy ran a hand through their messy blonde hair, in thought.

"I've been trying to get more information on those two because a friend and I have reason to believe they might be the reason you, and those things are here, actually."

Sachi tilted his head.

"...How do you figure? That's a bold claim."

"Well until those two arrived, nothing happened here. It was just a shitty place to live. Now it's a shitty place to live and a very dangerous one. I had a hunch because when they first arrived and spoke to me I found their weapons very strange." Cy took a sip of their drink, Sachi cutting in before they could start another sentence.

"I don't recall seeing a weapon from them, actually the boss... uh.. what was his name, Esther or something... he said that those two prefer brute force, and can't shoot a gun for shit." Sachi's brow furrowed, his stomach finally getting the best of him as he started to shovel food down his throat.

"Ohou! It gets stranger, not from my personal recollection- they both had interesting looking guns. Guns with no entry point to place bullets into, and yet they fired just well, actually." Cy gave a defeated sigh. "Too well, actually, they're the ones who got bulletholes in my wall at the back a couple years later. Got into a fight with a local, I had to deal with the undertaker upon his arrival, it was far too much of a hassle for my taste."

"So they lie about themselves."

"Seems to be the case." Cy sipped their drink again, tapping the table with a finger.

The two shared a silence for a moment, before Cy perked up again.

"Oh, so sorry I interrupted you and got you off track. You said you saw the dogs like you, what next?"

"During my debreifing away from the boss, Emerson, the one I spoke with... had a very strange conversation with me, implying he knows a lot about me. I don't like that. They may be spying on me..." He grunted. "After that the hit went to hell, the other brother caught me by surprise. Leapt out and interrupted me, said I was an asset to their plans, and that it was a 'good show' for their boss."

"...Hm."

"I tried to shoot Jameson, the other one... my shots all missed, except for one."

"Well that's something at least!" Cy smiled.

"I shot him in the head and it healed over." Sachiel bluntly put it, his expression unwaivering.

Cy immediately frowned.

"I was worried that was the case... I saw it too. I don't understand how that's even possible." They sighed again. It almost seemed like they wanted to hear Sachi's story to confirm their own past witnessing of events. "I thought I was just mad."

"After which I was thrown off the building and apparently unconscious for the next week according to your account." Sachi downed the last of his whiskey, shaking his head. "Here I still am. Alive. After a 900 foot fall."

"I do believe you may be the same species as them, but I'm not sure about the differences as I know nothing about your kind. You're new to us. Same with the other talking animals." Cy assured him, they did seem certain about some aspects of this. "I have a feeling you also have those healing powers but I haven't the slightest how it works."

"Mine has to be over time, I think." He at least knew this much.

"You're aware of it?"

"No, but yes. I had a hunch something was odd, my bullet wounds would heal themselves over a week or two, the bullets just pop out... no need for removal- I wasn't even aware you were supposed to take them out first... Most scars and wounds fade fairly quick... I'm wondering if this means my arm will as well." He gently placed a hand on it, gritting his teeth.

"Well! I say we should find out- listen Fangs, it seems you and I are on the same page and want to know more about these two hounds. I'm prepared to make you an offer." Cy grinned that classic little smile they usually give patrons from over the counter. "I have a spare open apartment upstairs. No one can afford the rent so it's been empty for a while... I give you board, and you let me be your 'manager'. How's that?"

Sachi was a bit taken aback. He figured they did know about him wanting a place indoors given he was complaining about it before finally taking that job... But he wasn't entirely sold.

"Manager... How?" He squinted.

"Manager as in I'll find and line up hits for you, trying to get us jobs that pay well, as well as hopefully get us another chance to see the upstairs again so we can do more digging on these two." Cy placed their hands together. "I have a lot of friends, so I usually get the down low first, I just can't hunt you see? I will say, we have to get your reputation up first so others up there will trust you. Especially since your newest hit has been marked as a failure."

"Don't remind me." He grunted once more.

"But what do you say, Fangs?" They held out a small hand to him, reaching decently far over the table. "Partners?"

Sachiel hesitated at first, but he quickly jutted a hand out to shake on it. There was no way he was going to bathe in a pond again, and he needed somewhere more safe to hide away while his arm healed itself.

"Done." He leaned back again, wincing.

"Then it's settled! I'll give you time to get used to your new space, get you your keys, and a few starting essentials. No rent, you just have to get your own food is all, and please don't make too much of a mess!" Cy jumped up, gathering their dishes to put away.

"...I'm sure I can manage that."

"Wonderful! This is going to be a lovely start to a great relationship I can tell, especially with how hard working you are- oh though I don't recommend you take on any hits until we see how that arm of yours does. I'm going to inspect it each day to see if anything changes, so please make sure to come down at least one or twice in the evening a day so I can have a look-"

"I thought you said you weren't a doctor?" Sachi interrupted, as Cy called back to him.

"I'm not! However I'm starting to think I should be!"

Sachi was not confident in that answer. He wasn't sure what he managed to get himself into, but there was a high chance that it wasn't good... However, he did at least get a roof over his head. So that much was nice.

I suppose now I can say I have a job. I guess. It's the same as my shit before, just under someone else's terms... whatever. As long as I'm not sleeping in a bin.

I still can't help but continue to come back to that scene... the things those two said. Least there's no need for a fear of heights given it's not a problem...

A whole city level, traveled so fast just from falling...

...and I didn't die. I don't believe I can't die. I'm certain I can, but this has opened a whole new world of possibilities.

Previous | Next

[infinitethree]

Hi Day and whoever happens to be around! I have an odd question for you. How is it that the monsters and such in SMPza is so different from the ones from the Sanctuary reality? Shouldn't both be alittle more similar in that regard? How was there a den of chimeric creatures in SMPza but not in Sanctuary?

Day is sitting in his den, evidently having been working on knitting a blanket. With him is Perce, who is sprawled out on one of the couches. The younger Dream variant is paying extremely close attention to the movie on the TV.

Perce jumps at the sound of the question, enough so to send himself crashing to the floor.

Day peers over at him, but doesn’t go to help him up. He’s well aware that his second youngest son is no stranger to bumps, bruises, and being attacked by multiple people after a prank got a little too far under their skin. “You good?” “I got ambushed by a disembodied voice in my own home,” Perce complains. “What about that is good?”

A moment passes, and Day points out, “If I wanted to be a smartass, I’d tell you that technically, it’s my home–” “Dad, really?!” “But I’ll restrain myself,” he finishes, despite the outburst.

His second youngest points an accusatory finger at him. “That’s a dick move and you know it.” 

With an incredulous scoff, Day tells him, “Perseus, you got multiple board games banned and I’ve had to set rules for what's acceptable for family movie night.” “There wasn’t anything saying I couldn’t splice together the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy–” “Yeah, because none of your brothers thought to do it. You gave them the idea and now we all have to suffer the consequences.”

Even though he huffs like he’s annoyed, Perce has a wide grin as he flops back down on the sofa. “No regrets.” 

“I’m aware.” Much like Perce, Day has a smile and his tone is warm, if a little exasperated.

His son refocuses him by saying, “Disembodied voice has a point, though. Everything I hear about the SMPza makes it sound weird. Wasn’t your theory that it’s made out of your admin light– or whatever it was you called it? Why’s it so different than here, then?”

There’s a furrow of Day’s brow as he tries to explain it. Some of the evidence he has is little more than a gut feeling– a sense that the world wasn’t allowed to diverge from the first life he had had in certain ways. Some events seemed fated to happen, even if that meant things or people bending and stretching in ways that they shouldn’t.

“...Too many similarities,” he murmurs. Perce argues, “Dad, we’re cosmically the same person.” 

“No it’s– not in the same way." He chews on his lip for a moment before trying to explain, "That reality never felt– right, I guess. No other world has felt like that. They feel solid and– real, I guess? But the SMPza had this sort of surreality to it. And the ghosts I saw would sometimes…snap back, to what they were like in my first life. Ghoulus would suddenly get upset around yellow or was afraid of Schlatt, for instance. A few times he called his brothers the wrong name."

His fingers skimming over some of his braids to try and lessen the sense of unease he has whenever he dwells on the SMPza for too long. “I don’t know; it might just have been how I lived. Things felt more concrete after I met your brothers. All that time on my own might have just fucked with my head." 

It wouldn't be the first time his perspective has turned out to be horribly warped. Sometimes he worries that he still jumps at shadows that aren't really there. 

With a sigh, he continues, "I don’t have a good answer, and I can’t have a good answer. That’s the realm of the divine, and I’m not really interested in stepping on any toes by demanding an explanation. I’ll deal with potential revelations when and if they happen.”

He tilts his head to the side a little. He can’t say he isn't glad for the change of topic, but he’s a little confused about why the Observers are asking at all.

Aren't they agents of Time? Even if they might not know everything– or even a lot of things– it feels like this would be something they would already know.

…Maybe he needs to re-examine what he thought he knew about them. After all, Theo had only recently told him that they're called Observers.

"Sort of yes, sort of no," he admits. "Ender chests work no matter where we go, so in that sense, yes. We've tested them on other servers here l, and they're empty– so it’s not just us."

His wings ruffle a little as he continues, "But we go to realities without servers entirely or servers that aren't the Dream SMP fairly regularly."

Perce makes a noise of confusion at him. Day tells him, "Question about if everywhere we go is a variation of the Dream SMP."

"Ah," his second youngest says. "Obviously not. We go to single realm worlds all the time! One of the perks of Dad and Theo traveling is that they can pick out safe worlds to have a little vacation in. My personal favorites are the ones like Cat world; it’s places with that level of tech and comfort that give me games and shows and books–"

"And more ideas for how to be a menace," Day snorts. "That, too," Perce admits, "But you know you love seeing museums with Attie and Theo."

Day can’t help but smile at his memories. “You say that like you don’t like them, too.” He nudges Perce with a wing and teases, “You have extensive records of the differences between all the versions of the sets of your favorite movies.” “As anyone would!” “Mm, no, but that’s because we’re the cool family.”

He’s glad to see Perce damn near preen with pride. It would snow in the nether before he dissed one of his kids’ hobbies.

…Even if he still doesn’t understand redstone. He can manage to follow relatively simple instructions, but beyond that he’s hopeless. Dee has long since given up on it. Frankly, Day is a little glad for it; he knows that nobody enjoyed those lessons.

Except for Theo, who found it hilarious. And Orph, because he kept setting up bets on how long before Dee had to stop because he was giving himself another headache from frustration. And Atlas, because he would use it to double check his own fundamentals–

“Wait a minute,” he says, eyes narrowing. “Your brothers were using me as free entertainment.”

Perce stares at him, his confusion obvious. “...Did you seriously not realize that? No, wait, better question– what made you finally realize it?”

He’s pretty sure his expression gets across how he feels just a little insulted. “Not– I know they do in general, but I meant when Dee used to try and teach me redstone.”

A beat or two passes, and Perce asks, “...Didn’t that stop when he was like, thirteen?” “Yes.” There’s a longer pause, paired with further confusion. “...It took you sixteen years to realize that?” 

Day makes an offended noise. “Hey– there was a lot going on!” “For sixteen years?!” “Some of it, yes! And then I stopped thinking about it, because I had more important things to worry about!”

Perce sighs, and sits up to pat his shoulder. “Yeah, that’s true.” “Thank y–” “You can’t help that sometimes you’re a little dumb. Great at plenty of stuff, but in some ways…ehhh…”

Oh, those are fighting words. He smiles, and can tell his son realizes that he’s signed up for a lot of unexpected cardio from the way his eyes get wide. He warns, “You have until I secure my stitch before I start hunting.”

As expected of the Manhunt king, Perce doesn’t bother arguing– he just scrambles to his feet and starts booking it.

[valdomarx]

Untouchable

Octoberfest day 31: cursed

“Fuck! Geralt! Help!”

Geralt rolls his eyes as Jaskier comes skidding to a halt in front of him. He dreads to imagine what trouble he’s gotten himself into now.

“Something terrible has happened! I had an, umm, unfortunate encounter with a sorcerer.” He blushes, pink creeping over his cheeks. “And he put some horrible curse on me and portaled away, the bastard.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow. “Hmm.”

“And now I can’t touch anyone. Look!” Jaskier holds out a hand to stop a passerby. He goes to shake the confused man’s hand, but the moment their skin makes contact Jaskier gives a yelp of pain and leaps back.

That reaction isn’t feigned, Geralt is sure, even as the man gives them both an odd look and leaves.

“When you touch someone, does it hurt badly?”

Jaskier’s bottom lip wobbles. “It really does.”

He sighs. A lack of touch might be a mere annoyance for him, but he knows it’s more than that for Jaskier. “I’ve heard of a mage who specialises in lifting curses. But he’s all the way in Kovir, and that’s no small journey.”

Jaskier turns big, pleading eyes on him. “Please, Geralt, I’ll do anything. You have to help me.”

As if he could ever refuse him anything. “Alright,” he grumbles. “We’ll head to Kovir.”

-

At first, Jaskier appears as bright as ever. Yet as the days pass, more and more often he chews his lip in a nervous habit, and he rubs his fingers together when people come too close. He smells of anxiety and restlessness.

Each evening, once the dinner has been eaten and the sun has set, they lay out their bedrolls by the embers of the fire. The scent of anxiety is replaced by one of loneliness and Jaskier will curl in on himself, like he’s trying to make himself smaller. It’s sad, how much lesser Jaskier seems to feel without touch.

Geralt is used to being shunned, to going months without a friendly clap on the shoulder or shake of the hand. But Jaskier isn’t, and the curse is taking a toll on him. Geralt wishes he could help, that he could provide some comfort, but he knows right now all he can cause Jaskier is pain.

-

They need coin for their journey, so Geralt takes jobs along the way. He’s on a contract to clear a nest of nekkers and he has, for some unknown reason, allowed Jaskier to accompany him. Jaskier had wheedled and pleaded and in the end Geralt had found himself unable to say no.

It should be fine. A nekker nest is an easy job, and as agile and springy as the creatures are, they’ve no stamina and they’re easy to kill.

That must be why he allows his concentration to slip when he’s approaching the nest, his eyes darting to the side to check Jaskier is safe behind a rock. The momentary slip lets one of the foul little things bounce up to him and sink its teeth into his gauntlet, more of an annoyance than a real threat. He shakes it off with one hand and uses the other to cut more of the creatures down with his silver blade. His gauntlet goes flying, but no matter, he can collect that later.

He rounds on the last few of the creatures who are nickering angrily. As he circles them he sees Jaskier peeking his head over the rock and then creeping closer, trying to get a better look.

Fuck. He kills two of the nekkers quickly, but the last three have picked up on Jaskier’s scent and are eyeing him with interest. Geralt sees two leaning back on their hind legs, preparing to leap at Jaskier and cut him to shreds with their sharp claws.

He has a split second to make a decision: Grab Jaskier and risk hurting him himself, or leave him where he is and watch the creatures go for his chest. It’s no choice at all really, so Geralt sends up a quiet word of apology and grabs Jaskier firmly around the neck with his ungloved hand and shoves him out of the way.

The last two creatures leap into the air, but with their target gone they’re easy prey. Geralt cuts them down with minimal effort and turns, expecting to see Jaskier writhing on the ground in pain.

He’s not though. He’s sat in the mud with a puzzled expression on his face.

“That didn’t hurt,” he says, seemingly mystified. “Well, being thrown to the ground was not the most delightful experience, but when you touched me - it didn’t hurt.”

That is strange. Geralt had been sure he’d triggered the curse.

Jaskier gets to his feet and regards Geralt quizzically. Very carefully, he reaches out and touches his fingertip to Geralt’s bare hand. He doesn’t flinch back or gasp in pain. Instead, he takes Geralt’s entire hand in his own, and a beautiful smile blooms over his face.

“I can touch you! But how?”

Geralt stares down at their joined hands, unsure why he feels unsteady. “Witchers are immune to magic?” he guesses. “I suppose that could be -”

He’s interrupted by Jaskier throwing his arms around him and hugging him close, happy little sounds of joy and relief spilling from him. “Oh, Geralt, thank the gods, I was losing my mind.” He snuggles deeper against Geralt, rubbing his face into his neck and hanging on tight.

“Oh. Well.” It seems the only thing for Geralt to do is to hug him back, so he puts his arms around his shoulders and draws him in.

-

Jaskier keeps touching him all the rest of the day. Whenever he bumps their shoulders or grabs Geralt’s hand, he breaks out into a wide, goofy smile, like it’s novel and fun every time.

Perhaps the curse has worn off? The next traveller who passes them by, Jaskier finds an excuse to stop him and shake his hand. But the moment their hands touch, Jaskier yelps in pain.

He’s still cursed then. But he can touch Geralt. Strange.

And Geralt can’t help but indulge him, even though he knows Jaskier is touching him because he’s the only option, not because he really wants to. He reminds himself that Jaskier would surely rather be off with some pretty lady, not grasping at a crotchety witcher for comfort.

But still, every time Jaskier brushes their hands together and smiles, he feels a little wobbly inside.

-

That night, he watches as once again Jaskier curls in on himself, small and sad by the fire. The further north they travel, the colder the weather grows, and the more distressed Jaskier becomes.

“Hey.” He keeps his voice soft, and Jaskier turns to look at him with big, wide eyes. “Join me?” He lifts a corner of his bedroll and waves him over; an offer, not a command.

Jaskier immediately scurries over and burrows into him, all hands and hot breath and happy murmurs. He settles into Geralt’s chest with a contented sigh, and Geralt wraps his arms carefully around him.

This, at least, he can do. Jaskier will find someone else to warm him soon enough, but for now, he has Geralt.

-

Geralt is on his way back from a job when the sound of raised voices makes him quicken his step. Outside the inn where he’d left Jaskier, he spots a distinctive bright blue doublet in the midst of a gang of angry-looking locals. They’re poking at him and taunting, and Jaskier is gasping in pain.

“Look at this precious little thing,” one of them sneers. “So delicate he can’t even bear to be touched by us lowly folks.”

The man reaches out and grasps Jaskier firmly around the wrist, and Jaskier screams, raw and excruciating. The sound reaches into Geralt’s chest and twists painfully, and he breaks into a sprint.

The next thing he knows, the man is on the ground before him, sobbing as Geralt twists his arm to the point of breaking. The others have fallen back, trying to hide behind each other, and Jaskier stands off to one side cradling his wrist.

“You don’t touch him,” Geralt growls, and the man before him pales even further. “Understood?”

The man nods frantically, babbling apologies, and as much as he’s tempted to break a few bones to drive home his point, he knows Jaskier wouldn’t want that. He drops the man’s arm and snarls, “Go.” He and his friends beat a hasty retreat, leaving the street empty but for him and Jaskier.

“Jask,” he says, and it breaks his heart to see Jaskier so pale, a tear running down his cheek. “Are you alright?” He’s wracked with guilt - he should have been here to protect him.

Jaskier smiles sadly. “I’m fine. My own fault, really.” He reaches out as if to touch Geralt’s hand before faltering, unsure.

He’s clearly in need of comfort, so Geralt pushes his own uncertainties aside and steps closer. He brings up one hand to wipe away the tears from Jaskier’s cheek, and cradles his face as gently as he can. “It’s okay,” he says in the tone he uses to reassure Roach when she’s frightened. “I’ve got you.”

Jaskier blinks up at him with watery eyes, but his smile is more genuine now. “Yeah,” he sighs softly. “Yeah, you do.”

-

Jaskier still insists on performing as they travel, and as much as the thought of him among all those grasping hands sets Geralt’s teeth on edge, he does understand. For all the times that he’s been injured and insisting on continuing to work, it would be hypocritical of him to deny that to Jaskier.

He sways carefully around the tavern as he plays, and to a stranger he’d seem relaxed and at ease but Geralt knows him well enough to see the anxiety in his rigid movements. Each time a hand reaches out toward him he flinches, though normally he’d be luxuriating in the attention.

Each flinch has Geralt’s grasp on his mug of ale tightening, until the wood is groaning beneath his hand and he has to shake it loose lest he crack the mug and send ale flowing over the table.

Jaskier can take care of himself. He’ll be fine.

-

He certainly does seem fine, and by the end of the evening he’s caught the attention of a pretty girl with voluminous curls spilling out from the dainty handkerchief tied around her head. When Jaskier is done with his performance she buys him a drink, and she leans over the table to giggle as they speak in low voices.

Geralt watches from his corner table and scowls. He tells himself his foul mood comes from concern for Jaskier, from worry that this woman might hurt him unintentionally. He almost has himself convinced it’s true.

There’s no point skulking in the shadows all night, he knows, so he finishes his ale and heads upstairs to their room. As he lays down, the bed feels strangely empty without Jaskier’s bustle and scent and colour. Wondering when he became so damn soft, he slips into a meditation.

-

It’s not long before he’s revived by the sound of Jaskier creeping into the room and hurriedly undressing.

Geralt rubs his eyes, dispelling the lingering wooziness. “I thought you’d spend the night celebrating,” he says, trying to keep his voice light. “With that nice young lady.”

In the low light, he sees Jaskier shrug. “It got rather awkward when she kept trying to touch me and I kept having to run away.”

“Too bad.”

“Yeah.” He settles into bed next to Geralt. “It’s just -” Geralt can smell the mixture of exhilaration, arousal, and frustration on him. “It’s frustrating. Wanting something and not being able to have it.”

“Hmm.” Geralt knows that feeling all too well.

“I’m -” Jaskier turns his head away a fraction, and Geralt can see a blush spreading over his cheeks. “I’m not used to going so long without… you know. It’s making me antsy.” He rubs the palm of one hand against his crotch, shifting awkwardly in the bed.

“Hmm.” He inhales again, and the scent of arousal is sharper, more prominent. He rolls onto his side, tentatively places a hand on Jaskier’s thigh. “I could help,” he offers. “If you want.”

He’s expecting to be told no. He’s expecting Jaskier might even push him away, disgusted. He’s not expecting the way Jaskier sucks in a breath, the way the scent of arousal blooms, the way Jaskier squims beneath his hand.

“You’d do that for me?” Jaskier’s voice is breathy.

I’d do anything for you, he thinks but doesn’t say. Instead he places his hand on top of Jaskier’s and guides it to the fastenings of his trousers. Jaskier unlaces himself in a clumsy rush which Geralt can’t help but find endearing, and then he’s working his cock free, rubbing gentle strokes with their two joined hands.

It’s nice like this, where Geralt can let Jaskier guide him, show him what he likes. His fingers tease along the soft skin on the underside of his cock, the delicious slick at the head. As he strokes, Jaskier shakes in his arms, gasping and writhing. When he comes, it’s with a soft, gentle sigh of contentment that Geralt wants to bottle and keep forever.

Jaskier makes a tokenistic effort to wipe himself down with a shirt and collapses back into bed. “Should I…” He chews his bottom lip. “Would you like me to return the favour?”

Geralt’s cock is pressing against his trousers like iron, and Jaskier must be able to feel it. But he didn’t do this with the expectation of recompense. He just wants Jaskier to feel good.

“No, it’s okay,” he says softly.

“Oh,” Jaskier sounds disappointed, almost. “Okay.”

They fall asleep like that, curled up close together, but a feeling of uncertainty hanging between them.

-

In the weeks after that, Jaskier takes to touching Geralt even more. They sleep close together every night, and they find pleasure in each other when they need to. Geralt makes his peace with this unspoken arrangement: he is a hand to Jaskier when he needs it, and Jaskier returns the favour as a politeness.

The first time Jaskier kisses him while they rut together, his heart is fit to burst out of his chest. Trading favours is one thing, but the surge of love and heat and affection that erupts in his chest when Jaskier brings their lips together can’t be denied. He could kiss Jaskier every single night and never tire of it, he thinks. Late at night, as they move together, Geralt feels himself falling.

It’s not everything he wants, but it’s enough.

It has to be enough, because soon they’ll make it to Kovir, and then they can lift the curse, and then Jaskier won’t need him at all any more.

Geralt catches himself wishing that the curse won’t be lifted, and then he’s disgusted at himself for being so selfish.

-

Kovir is beautiful. Sharp, snow-dusted mountains dart up into the sky, and great rivers flow with fresh water through green, lush lands. The city of Pont Vanis is breathtaking, with spire towers reaching up toward the heavens and rich mosaics of glasswork covering every surface. Each new corner seems to hold some elegant delight of artistry, and Jaskier grabs his hand to pull him along each new street to behold some fresh wonder.

But they are not here for gawping, Geralt tells himself, and he steers them toward the address of the mage he’s heard is an expert in curses.

Once inside, the Koviri mage stares at the pair of them.

“A curse, you say?” He raises an eyebrow.

Geralt stands protectively behind Jaskier, ready to leap to his defense should the mage prove troublesome.

“Yes. Whenever anyone touches me, I feel horrendous pain.” Jaskier grimaces. “Except for Geralt. For some reason, he can touch me and it’s fine.”

The mage nods. “I see. Did you perchance anger a magic user?”

“Ahh.” Jaskier looks at his feet. “Well. There was a mage whose acquaintance I made. He seemed… less than happy when I declined his offer of companionship.”

The Koviri mage shudders. “What monsters southerners can be. Cursing someone because they rejected you, what hideous behaviour.”

Geralt is warming up to this mage already.

“Let me see what I can do.” The mage closes his eyes and reaches out his hands, holding them a few inches from Jaskier’s chest.

He opens his eyes again and squints curiously. “Strange. I can’t feel any curse upon you.”

He reaches out, and pokes Jaskier in the chest. Geralt leaps forward, ready to defend his bard from this onslaught, but he’s stopped in his tracks by Jaskier’s voice.

“Huh.” He sounds perplexed, not pained. “That’s odd. That didn’t hurt at all.”

They reason perhaps it’s because the mage is a magic user too, so they bring in the mage’s servant. He touches Jaskier’s hand and again he’s fine. Then they try the washerwoman next door. That’s fine too.

The mage shrugs and smiles. “It seems that the curse has worn off. Some weaker enchantments only last a matter of days.”

Jaskier’s eyes go wide. “You mean… all this time, I’ve been fine? I could have been touching anyone?”

The mage hums, eyes sparkling. “So it appears.” He looks at Geralt, and his gaze is penetrating. “Perhaps it has not been such a loss for you though, hmm? There are many paths to knowledge.”

-

They stagger out into the weak Koviri sunshine and Geralt is consumed with guilt and relief and worry. Surely Jaskier will hate him now. Hate him and leave him, now they’re no longer tied together.

“Jaskier-” he begins, just as Jaskier turns to him to say, “Geralt-”

They stare at each other a beat too long.

Geralt’s shoulders slump. Let the end come if it must. “Go on,” he says, bracing himself.

“Thank you.” Jaskier is giving him that soft, quiet smile that he loves. “For taking care of me.”

That doesn’t make any sense.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I should have known better. I understand if you want to leave.”

Jaskier shakes his head and takes his hand. “Come on.” He leads Geralt toward one of Kovir’s elegant public parks. “Let’s walk.”

-

They stroll beneath a series of wooden archways, woven thick with roses. The sunlight peeks through in dappled spots on the springy grass.

“I don’t regret it,” Jaskier says. “These last weeks. I don’t blame you. You’ve done nothing but try to help me.”

“But you could have been with anyone.” Geralt’s stomach twists at the thought he’s been keeping Jaskier against his will. “You could have touched anyone. Kissed anyone. Found anyone else to bring you pleasure.”

“Oh, Geralt.” Jaskier stops and tenderly brushes a stray hair from Geralt’s face. “I didn’t want anyone else.”

Geralt barely dares to breath. Hope rages within him, frothing and exuberant. “You mean-”

“I didn’t want anyone else then, and I don’t want anyone else now.” He leans in and presses the softest kiss to the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “I always just wanted you.”

His heart feels like it could beat out of his chest. “So you’ll stay with me? Even now?”

Jaskier strokes one finger down his cheek, and his entire world narrows to the joining of their bodies. “Always,” Jaskier promises. “There’s no one I’d rather be with.”

[pillage-and-lute]

OK, After Reading the Dragon Story (wich is Just so, so cute!) I have to throw this GIF at you and maybe you could write a little Thing about it top?

Hi Araglas1989!

I love the cervitaur gif, super cute!

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“There’s something in the woods,” the alderman said.

No shit, Geralt thought. Deer, hedgehogs, rabbits, maybe a Kikimore at worst.

“Have you seen signs,” he said instead. “People taken, children disappearring?”

“Nay, nothing like that, but houses are broken into, at first we thought it was animal scavengers but some o’ those doors need hands to open.”

“And what made you think it was animals, then?” Geralt was trying very hard not to use his talking to stupid people voice.

“It broke into the mill,” the alderman said darkly. “And flour was all strewn about the floor. There’s locks on the mill, latches, but on the floor, all the prints were hooves.”

Cervitaur, Geralt’s mind said.

“A devil!” Raged the alderman. “Or witches! Our town is beset by evil spirits, intent on stealing our food!”

“Right,” Geralt said. “I’ll take care of it.”

He  made a purchase in town then led Roach to the woods and tied her up in a glade with grass and even a little sunshine. Then he sat down and opened his pack, setting out a cloth and pulling out his purchase. 

Sugarred, candied ginger. Cervitaurs were distant relatives of fauns, and anything even close to a faun had a sweet tooth. This one was probably starving too, if it was willing to go into a village. Odd, since most wild cervitaurs knew how to forage.

He took a nibble of the candied ginger. For his witcher senses, it was a bit much, but he made happy “hmmm yum” noises.

Geralt was an impressively bad actor, he knew, but he was really hoping this would work, rather than properly tracking the cervitaur and probably scaring him half to death.

There was a rustle in the bushes, and it sounded bigger than a rabbit or fox. He set the little twist of paper with the ginger on the cloth he’d spread out, tilting it so some spilled out. Then he stood up, going over to Roach and running his hands through her mane. 

There was another rustle. Geralt waited, breath bated and sensitive ears perked. Grass crunched under a hoof, a second, and then another hesitant hoof.

“I’ve heard that witchers don’t like to kill sentient creatures,” said a voice. Geralt turned.

A very thin cervitaur was in the clearing, he wore a stained blue doublet and there was a lute strapped across his back.

Geralt pointedly set his swords down, “No, we try not to, unless we have no choice.”

The cervitaur hesitated. “But you laid this trap for me?”

“Less trap,” Geralt said. “More an offerring. I figured you were hungry, most of your kind wouldn’t go near a village for less than starvation.”

The cervitaur knelt, in the funny way deer do, by the cloth, but didn’t take any ginger. Geralt sat on the opposite side of the small cloth.

“It’s not poisoned, then?” said the cervitaur, his eyes barely leaving the candy. He really was very thin, knelt like this Geralt could count every rib.

Geralt pointedly took another tiny bite, “No,” he said.

“You eat it like it is,” the cervitaur said, but he picked up a cube of ginger.

“Witcher senses,” Geralt said ruefully. It’s a bit much for me. What’s your name? I can’t keep thinking of you as ‘the cervitaur’.”

“Jaskier,” came the reply, slightly muffled as he unslung his lute from his shoulder. There was dappling on his back, but his face was that of a young man, quite a handsome one, really.

“You still have spots,” Geralt said. “You aren’t a wild cervitaur?” Only young ones or cervitaurs who often transformed into humans kept their snow spots. 

Jaskier took a careful bite of ginger, then hummed in delight and took the whole cube into his mouth. “Yeah,” he said around the ginger. “My mum was a cervitaur too, but she bought a glamor from a sorceress and fell in love with my dad, then she had a glamor made for me.”

He ate another ginger cube, but Geralt took some hearty bread from his pack and cut it, preparing to listen. It was obvious Jaskier needed something heavier than candy.

“I never learned to forage, and since I mostly looked like a human, I didn’t understand why I should learn.”

Geralt hummed. A glamor could transform a cervitaur, already magical, into very nearly human, but in the real form they needed to eat like both deer and humans. Jaskier would have probably gotten by okay on grass but his human half needed real nutrients, without knowing how to find nuts and berries, he would have starved.

“So you broke into the grain store,” he said, handing Jaskier a slice of bread.

“Yes,” the lad looked shamefaced. “I didn’t want to steal but I can’t just walk into town, my glamor wore off.”

“Show me.”

“Jaskier pulled a little silver band from his finger and dropped it into Geralt’s outstretched hand. The witcher examined it carefully, looking at each of the runes. There was a long scuff through one. 

“I might be able to fix this,” he said. “Temporarily at least, but that’ll do until we get you to a sorceress.”

Jaskier watched, chewing contentedly, but his eyes never leaving Geralt, as geralt pulled a silver needle from his pack. He lay the needle on a stone and heated it with igni to red heat, wincing as he picked up the sliver of metal in his fingers. He scratched the last symbol back onto the ring, dropping the needle when it was done. 

“You’re burnt,” Jaskier said, reaching out for Geralt’s hand, looking at the line of blisters where he’d held the needle. 

“It’ll heal in an hour,” Geralt said, proferring the ring. “Try it on.”

Jaskier slid the ring onto his middle finger and he was sitting crosslegged in the grass, some rather tattered trousers on. There was a hole in the bottom of one boot.

“They thought you were a devil, you know,” Geralt said. Jaskier chuckled, then looked regretful.

“I suppose they wont pay you now,” he said. “You have no proof.”

Geralt sideyed him. “Depends, how good of an actor are you?”

Jaskier grinned and popped some ginger into his mouth. “You have no idea.”

Thirty minutes later a dirty, thin bard stumbled into the village. 

“Vanquished!” he cried, “The devil is dead! I was captured in his lair, I saw it all!”

The young man was charming, and had been through a horrible ordeal, and as he sat in the tavern and told --and sung-- the tale of how the noble witcher, the white wolf, had fought a devil to free him, the townspeople were entranced. Food and drink was sent his way by sympathetic townsfolk, Geralt even got sent a couple heaping platefuls, and ale was on the house.

Traveling with a bard mightn’t be so bad, he reflected. He nudged Jaskier, though, when he started to absentmindedly lick salt straight from the shaker.

[wannaholdhandswithfictionalmen]

(My) Sanctuary;

A/n: First Ever Fic for Genshin Impact Fandom. A fic no one asked for but the idea was living in my head rent free, so what's a girl to do except play more Genshin Impact and work on this fic. (Listened to Sanctuary & Don't think twice by Hikaru Utada while writing this -- hence my inspired and very unoriginal title for this fic because I am horrible at thinking of titles.) 

Genre: Mostly Fluff really, a pinch or two of Angst.

Warning: Implied underage drinking. Brief description of Violence. Of age drinking. 

Summary: Childhood friends with history. Unspoken feelings. Mutual pining. Circumstances and life have forced you and Diluc on different paths, but you always return to Mondstadt and Diluc always makes time for you.

Word count: 3,128

The busy streets of Mondstadt. How long had it been this time? The absence of your presence from these cobblestone paths; four, five? No. Six months. Commissions to fight greater, fierce foes across Teyvat demanded your blades and lightning. Not that it mattered much how far or long you ventured from your former home. There was only one person who meant a great deal, important even if you could not sort through all the emotions attached to him in your own heart or even dare to give voice to those emotions.

Diluc Ragnvindr. 

And despite the inner twisted, festering turmoil (of your own making) cradled in your heart for Mondstadt, Favonius Knights, The Fatui 'diplomats'. Diluc was always a reason to return. 

In fact you aren't at all surprised when you stop by Good Hunter, offering up a handful of Mora for a meal. Sitting down at a table, closing your eyes. You took in a deep breath, the air here felt different to you. Thanks to the Anemo god, Barbatos. You swear it truly is the sense, embodiment of freedom that fills your lungs and soothes you even if for a few seconds. 

A savory blend of mushrooms, chicken and noodles is your lunch for the day. After thirty minutes have passed since your arrival in Mondstadt. And Diluc is sliding into the chair across from your own, elbows on the table, arms folded. Crimson eyes silently taking in the features of you. 

"Hm. You're slacking. That's ten minutes later than before, what took your little informants so long to whisper in your ear word of me being back?" You don't even spare a look at him, taking another bite, chewing a mouthful as you wait for his reply. 

"I do have a winery to run and the protection of Mondstadt to ensure, I can't not always come rushing away for personal affairs." Diluc holds a evident edge of underlying frustration in his smooth voice. 

Your own gaze trails up and over him, taking in the exasperation and exhaustion that furrows the brow of his otherwise stoic expression-- you want to ask when he last got a full night's rest? If he was still doing his lone warrior, Darknight Hero routine? If he was as stubborn as ever shouldering the burden of his fervor desire to defend and protect. Oh, how you worry, worry and worry the weight of it all on your tongue, tightening your throat-- who takes care of you? Who stands by your side? Who defends you? Who protects you? Who lov-

Once upon a time it had been you but a vortex of mourning, sorrow, rage swallowed up your old life. Until you wanted nothing more than to never see the walls of Mondstadt ever again. One day leaving it all behind. Time was a cruel mistress, one day swiftly grew to years. The first time you returned from what would become regular disappearances--adventures. 

Damage had been done. Diluc was the one who reached out to savage your friendship and you had welcomed the chance to have him back in your life even if it would never be anything more. 

"Should I be honored that the gentleman Ragnvindr can even grace me with his company?" It's a hollow jest as you pick at your half eaten plate of food. 

"No," His dismissal of the notion is soft yet firm. "Just Diluc, a friend, who is glad to see you well again." It's never his straight-forward or blunt nature that catches you off guard, it's when the subtle but clear sincerity creeps to the surface. Open, unwavering in his honesty.  

You huff, looking down feigning disinterest yet the twitch of your lips is undeniable. Warmth, simple, gentle curls in your chest. Happiness. Flickering embers outside of the stone walls of your heart that would make Rex Lapis proud. Diluc had always been able to slip past your defenses, so easily lingering in your thoughts, in your heart. Whether he was aware of it or not. 

"I suppose I am glad to see you too. Saved me a few bottles of my favorite wine?" You ask glancing up to catch his watchful gaze, biting your bottom lip as a wide smile threatened to spread on your face. Dulic's sudden raised eyebrow says it all-- do you really need to ask? 

"Four pristine bottles of aged mixed sunsettia, valberry wine." Prideful is subtle and delicate in his voice as if Diluc would ever forget your favorite wine. Funny enough to think about how even as the unspoken king of the winery industry, he doesn't enjoy alcohol himself. Still keeping a stock of your favorite in his manor. 

"You never let me pay you and we can't really share a few glasses together, so," you hum, slowly wired up with nervous yet excited anticipation as you reach down into the bag hanging off your shoulder. Shifting through the items and materials you carried with you for cooking and crafting you find it! Grabbing a slender jug of a bottle, wrapped in cloth. Swiftly placed on the table in front of Diluc. "I brought something for you." 

It's not like grape juice is such a hard find or something Diluc could not afford himself with his abundance of wealth but you had commissioned a famous brewer to make a special blend of grapes and other berries to create a rich and sweet juice. With your own Mora to spare after a few jobs, and you had a feeling your wandering would lead back to Mondstadt. 

Diluc is steady, slow with peeling back the cloth to stare at the deep, dark purple liquid filling the glass bottle. Uncorking the bottle, Diluc takes a whiff, closing his eyes, the smile that graces his face. It's everything and so much more. "It smells delicious. Thank you, I can't wait to taste it." 

"Then we should begin our walk to the manor? I can hear my wine calling me." You leave a few Mora coins as a tip, standing up, Diluc presses the cork back into the bottle and hands it back to you for safe keeping. 

"Alright," Diluc nods, following, matching your stride with ease. "Adelinde was asking about you the other day, you know she always makes sure your room is tidy, spotless in fact." 

Stupid. How one little phrase has your stomach full of crystal flies like you are a teenager all over again. And the mention of the kind maid who still fusses over Diluc and you on occasion makes you happy. It is a nice reprieve from nights of solitude, you are content to travel alone but loneliness is a creature that waits, and waits until the right moment to sink its claws and fangs into you on the road. 

The walk from Mondstadt isn't far but you aren't expecting a fully pleasant and peaceful walk with Diluc. Outside of the gates of the city and a few minutes down the dirt road, the sight of Hilichurls is predictable. 

Small pack of fighters, five Hilichurls carrying clubs and one hulking Mitachurl with a shield. This should be fun. 

"Make sure to show me how playing the part of the nighttime hero has kept your skills sharp!" You yell with a laugh, grinning as you summon your sword, forged of dragon bone, jagged, fierce blade. Rushing forward you dodge past the throw Pyro slimes. 

You let yourself run a little wild, your Electro vision surge through you, bolts of lightning crash down on the charging Hilichurls. Shocking and stunning the monsters for a moment, that's all you need to unleash a flurry of fast slashes.

A loud, enraged howl, crashing stomps approach from your back. Anyone else would need to worry or doubt--you don't. The familiar roar and rumble of flames fills the air, the scorning heat of it nipping behind you. Diluc doesn't even let that Mitcahurl so much as graze you, his grunts and shouts clash with its growl and howls as his flame imbued blade breaks and burns through the beast's wooden shield. Leaving ashes flying in the air and the heavy smell of smoke and fire. 

You electrify the Hilichurls, slowing, paralyzing the small beasts until they are left vulnerable and weak against you. The perfect targets. You cleave one's head off, stab straight through the mask of another, impale the chest of another. Delivering killing blows with precision and force. Wiping them out, you turn in time to see the beauty of Diluc. 

Rapid, graceful, relentless, ferocity embraced in unyielding flames. The towering giant Hilichurl is left staggering, stumbling under the strikes of Diluc's claymore left all too unprotected without its shield to hide behind. Diluc turns up the heat quite literally, the soaring, blazing phoenix that emerged from his own vision and will, his flames destroy the Mitcahurl, wiping out its pitiful existence effortlessly. 

Diluc shakes a bit of lingering flames and smoke off the steel of his blade with a sweeping slash at the air, standing among darkened, black grass, a gust of wind sways his hair and he looks over his shoulder. It is surely a moment deserving of immortalizing in portrait, his bright red hair blowing in the wind, holding his greatsword in one hand, sunlight giving him an ethereal glow, gazing at you. 

Giving a slow applause, you whistle and laugh. "Flashy as ever, Diluc." 

"The pyro element leaves little room for anything else. Still it's efficient and powerful," Diluc turns to face you, letting go of the hilt of his sword as it vanishes, unneeded outside of battle. "However, it's not something you could critique me on, when anyone for miles could see your lightning." 

"Fair enough." 

Besides a few stray slimes, the rest of your walk is undisturbed, reaching the winery as nightfall, the sun dipping below the horizon. 

"(Name) it is good to see you well." Adelinde smiles upon seeing you as Diluc opens the front door and holds it open for you to walk in first. She hugs you, it's hard not to melt into her tight cradle. 

"Have you been eating well? Sleeping accordingly? Not just naps. Taking breaks in between all your monster hunting?" Her lovingly stern questions always feel comforting in a way that is odd to describe and felt deeply. 

"I am still standing, Adelinde, fully rested and my stomach is full at the moment." 

"You would do well to keep it as such." Adelinde levels you with a motherly look of if you do not take care of yourself, I will which should be hard to make look threatening but the older woman handles it with years of expertise. She has worried over guests, Diluc, Kaeya, you for many, many years in the pact and many to come you are certain. 

"Adelinde, please have the bottles of sunsettia, valberry wine brought up, we-" 

"One step ahead of you, Master Diluc. Hillie and Moco brought them up a short while ago, I hope you two enjoy your time together." Adelinde leaves the manor, you aren't sure what work needs to be done on the grounds, you know for a fact Adeline specifically tries to do outside chores during daylight hours. It's an obvious tell for someone who knows her, she is ensuring you and Diluc remain alone for now. An avid supporter of your friendship you suppose. 

Diluc barely gets to call out a 'thank you!' as she is shutting the door. 

You stroll across the room, not much has changed at all. Your destination is the furniture set by the fireplace, the small, round table paired with two cushioned chairs. Pulling out the bottle of juice to place on the table top next to the bottles of wine, to cups awaiting you both. 

Pouring your first cup, you are eager, excited to taste the almost sickeningly sweet flavor of the wine. It never seems to taste the same from any other winery or brewery or even in the company of others. 

Moments of comfortable quiet drift by as you slowly, steadily sip and savory the wine. 

When Diluc takes the first taste of your gift and his low moan of approval as he swallows. Oh. You could listen to that again and again. All husky, raspy delight that sends shivers down your spine. It feels good to bring any kind of bliss to Diluc, even the simplest kind by providing him a drink he loves. 

You get the mutual feeling of being watched as you drink, sighing and smiling at the taste, the feeling of nostalgia creeps up on you. 

"I remember the first time I tasted this wine. We were barely teenagers sneaking down into the cellar. I badly wanted to try the wine everyone in Mondstadt wouldn't shut up about," you recall it interrupting yourself with short, full breaths of levity. Far too amused by the memory to contain your laughter. "I- I asked. No- begged you to come down with me while your father was gone, saying I'd bring Kaeya instead if you didn't come, bluffing and you got as red as a flaming flower, grabbed my hand and pulled me all the way to the cellar and downstairs." 

Diluc huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa. "You knew how to push my buttons too well, half of the stuff I let you talk me into was completely foolish." Staring into the lit fire as he listened to you. 

"Just half?"

"Fine. All of the escapades I let you drag me along on were absurd." 

"Your welcome as I recall you had a lot of fun." 

"At the risk of a lot of trouble, you tested the lengths of even my father's generous patience." Diluc shook his head, the fondness in expression was plain as day. 

"Oh, remember the night after getting my gliding license, I dared you to join me on top of the cathedral to see which of us could get farther across the city, and you landed in a bush!" Several glasses of wine, one empty bottle of the tart and sweet berry alcohol and you felt even more relaxed, comfortable in the company of Diluc. 

"I, at the very least, remained dry. You were the one who crash-landed right into the fountain." Diluc smirked, sharp, sly as he chuckled, lightly tugging and adjusting the fabric of his gloves. Idle gestures as his cup stays on the table after a few sips. 

"I would rate my dive undoubtedly ten out of ten." By the Archons, it had been a miracle you both escaped from the knights of Favonius night patrol with the commotion you made, wet leather boots on stone top made you slip a few times in your dash to escape discovery. Diluc had kept a firm grip on your arm, tugging you back up and refusing to leave you behind. 

Then you remember, hiding away, pressed chest to chest, the chill of your soaked clothes clinging to you, the rise and fall of heavy, labored breaths. How close Diluc had been, that smokey, fiery scent that having pyro vision gifted him along with faint aroma of fruit thanks to the orchard of the dawn winery, he worked with his father on occasion. If you had just tilted your head up, leaned in--

"I know Kaeya was always jealous. I could talk you into anything but you refused his antics left and right." 

"It's different. I actually like you and spending time with you." Diluc's deadpan response pulls a ugly snort-laugh from you. His relationship with Kaeya is an odd one but you know deep down he cares for his brother even if things aren't exactly civil between them. 

"I feel so special." 

"As you should, I don't like people." His sarcasm, that is half-joke, half-truth keeps you laughing. 

The first wave of tiredness hits you, letting out an involuntary yawn. Your travels, the trek and fight from earlier catch up with you. Combined with the consumption of alcohol. 

"I think the wine is getting to me, I feel a little sleepy." You finish off your glass with one gulp, smooth like silk down your throat, the lack of burn makes it far too easy to want to empty all the bottles. Four. You'd certainly regret that in the morning. 

"I noticed." Diluc gets up first, three steps towards you, he is holding out his hand to you. 

"I can walk myself, I am not that drunk." You protest his offer while reaching out and taking his hand, entwining your fingers without a second thought. Diluc gives your hand a squeeze, his slender fingers lightly caressing the back of your hand. He guides you upstairs to your room as if you don't know the way by heart as if your room would ever change. 

"You would never ask for help yourself and you did break a vase the last time, even the smallest bit of intoxication seems to make you clumsier." Diluc gives his clear and absolutely unfair opinion. It happened one time!

It is really not necessary either to open the door for you, letting go of your hand only to press the large, warm palm of his hand against your back. Nor does Diluc need to kneel before you as you sit on the edge of the bed, unfastening your boots, removing your satchel and placing your belongings on the bedside table. 

"It is hilarious to hear you of all people, calling me out of not asking for help. Mister Darknight." 

Dliuc 'tsks' at the mention of his beloved hero name. "I am aware, that can be a little hypocritical." 

"A little?" 

"(Name)," Diluc speaks your name so tenderly, softly, as if the word itself is precious. "I simply want to help you, to car-" He clears his throat cutting off that train of thought. Pausing for seconds of silence pass, crimson eyes staring into your own. "If there was anyone I would accept help from it would be you." 

That is dangerously close to an admission of something else. And all every moment of the past, all the maybe(s), what-ifs, almost(s) flash through your mind. You could take the leap or let this become another memory to turn over and over in your head, wondering, wanting, yearning. 

"Get some rest." Diluc walks over to the door, standing in the open threshold of the room, hand gripping the door knob. 

"Diluc, wait" It's barely a whisper, so hushed and subdued. So low, he doesn't hear it and when Diluc looks over his shoulder, the short-lived courage in you has diminished and you can't bring yourself to voice all the longing, desire, love trapped in your heart. 

"Goodnight, Diluc."

"Goodnight, (Name)." 

[chaoticpuff17]

Endgame

ADG Tae fic

Masterlist

Warnings: reference to non con. yandere behavior

hello my darlings! A little later than intended. blame my computer problems. But here it is! the next ADG oneshot! love you all, I’m off to go rewrite everything I lost on the Yoongi chapter. I’ve been avoiding it.--- Chaotic puff. 

Taehyung watched the screen a vicious smirk playing across his lips as he watched her run through the alleyway. His poor little bird, always running. She had to know by now that she couldn’t escape him. How many years had they been playing this game? She had to know by now that she couldn’t win, but it was cute to see her try.

She hated him. That was okay though. She just needed a little push in the right direction. He was tired of watching from a distance. He was tired of watching her and only seeing her face to face a few times a year. They’d been playing their game for so long now, she had to be tired as well. His sweet Aerie was an excellent opponent, but she had to know that it would all come to an end eventually.

He could remember the first time he had seen her. They’d been so young then. They’d both been on the train. Taehyung had been exhausted after a night of hacking, and she had been immersed in something on her own computer. Her glasses had slipped down her nose in the most enchanting way. Her hair was piled haphazardly on top of her head with strands falling down all around her face, though she didn’t seem to notice or care, and he couldn’t help but wonder what kept her so immersed. He’d pulled out his own computer and set to work finding her among the other people doing work on the train.

He’d found her easily enough, and the cause of the little furrow between her brow became evident enough. It was a paper for school, a literary analysis for an English literature class. Her face was all scrunched up as she looked over The Picture of Dorian Gray. She was intensely focused on it, and a little digging into her files and schedule had told him that the paper was due in a few days. He found her concentration, the way she poured over each line, endearing. He loved the way she chewed on her inner cheek as she thought over paragraph. She was just adorable.

A little digging into her computer had given Taehyung access to her life. He knew exactly how to go about finding her. He knew what school she went to, her major, where she lived, and he pursued her with enthusiasm. The only hitch in his pursuit was her continued rejection, something Taehyung had not anticipated. Why would he have? No one had ever rejected him before. She couldn’t have done better. Even if she tried, Taehyung wouldn’t have allowed it. She was his from the first moment he saw her on that train.

Aerie may have looked sweet, but she was a snappish creature by nature. She rejected every bouquet, every invitation to dinner. She’d rejected his affection at every turn, rejected his every effort, until she’d taken matters into her own hands and begun their little game. He’d gone to offer her the world, only to find her gone. Her apartment was empty. A quick search revealed that she had even dropped out of school. She’d simply vanished.

Taehyung’s first instinct had been panic and rage. How could she leave him like that? How could she reject him? And then there came a new feeling. Excitement. If she wanted a chase, he would give her one. It had been no trouble at all for him to track her down. She’d changed cities and was doing her best to keep a low profile, but she had no idea who she was dealing with. The look of shock on her face when he’d appeared on her doorstep had been so satisfying, so adorable. The frying pan she’d taken to the side of his head, was less adorable.

Taehyung had become smarter after that. His little bird was so prone to flight that he had to be more careful in his approach or risk another frying pan to the head something he had no intention of repeating. She’d been easy enough to find again though. She was never really out of his reach not with all the resources he had at his fingertips. He’d cornered her just a few hours later in a bus station a few towns over, succeeding in knocking her out and taking her to a hotel to wait for her to wake up again. He wanted her calm when he made his offer again, a life by his side.

She had not been calm though. She had fought him tooth and nail to get out of that room and had laughed in his face when he’d made her the offer, and it was something he couldn’t understand. How could she refuse him? He was handsome. He was young. He was wealthy, and he had chosen her. Out of every woman that had thrown themselves at his feet, he had chosen her. None of that seemed to matter though. She looked at him as though he had a second head, as if he was the most vile being on the planet.

It had been the beginning of a longstanding game between them. He would chase, and she would run. Sometimes he would let months elapse before he took her again. He loved the look of shock and horror on her face when he showed up again. It was something he would never get tired of.

The next time he decided to take her, he brought her to what the boys had dubbed as his play house. The house was situated in the middle of nowhere. Even if she was able to make it out of the house, there was nowhere she could go. He had designed it especially for her after all.

The area surrounding the house was made up of a series of mazes designed to keep her in, and most paths led back to the house, back to him.

The games were fun, but Taehyung was craving more now. Everyone was settling down. Namjoon had Y/N even if she had engaged him in a chase of their own. Hoseok had Iyla. Jin had taken his patient as his own, and Yoongi had sired a kid with one of Jimin’s girls. It was time to settle down himself, but that required nailing down his little bird.

He’d indulged her long enough. He’d given her plenty of chances to end this on her own, plenty of chances to surrender, to come to him of her own will. He let her believe that she’d managed to escape him, but she was never truly out of his grasp. He always knew where she was, always. A few sneakily placed tracking devices on her body ensured that.

She was a smart little devil. He’d give her that. His first few attempts at trackers had been foiled by her throwing out her phone each time she came in contact with him. He had quickly learned that he couldn’t place trackers in any of her devices. So when he’d switched to placing chips on her person, he’d errored on the side of caution and placed several in assorted spots. She’d never be able to get rid of them all. Of that, he was confidant. She was smart, but not smart enough to find all five trackers, and they ensured that Taehyung had no problem tracking her down for the endgame.

Taehyung stood up from his chair with a leisurely stretch. It was time to fetch his little bird.

Aerie woke up in a house she was horribly horribly familiar with. She’d been there more times than she’d like to admit over the years. She knew that within its walls lurked the psycho that had been nipping at her heels for years. Every time he tracked her down, he brought her to this horrible place. The house was like its own circle of hell with Taehyung ruling over it. Each time she was there, there was some new horror awaiting her. There had always been a way out, but it came at the price of playing his twisted games. She’d learned early on that Taehyung never did anything out of the goodness of his heart. Nothing was free, and she’d given up more than she’d ever wanted to admit over the years. He’d slowly taken everything from her.

In the beginning, he’d only been a stalker, the creep she kept rejection. She’d thought that if she moved away, if she laid low for a while, he’d forget about her and find a new obsession, and she would be free to enroll in a new school and live her life free of him. That hadn’t been the case though. He’d followed her wherever she went.

She knew he was toying with her. She knew he was letting her escape. He’d made that clear, made it clear that she had no power in their relationship. As much as she hated to use that word to describe them, it was the best fit. Twisted and horrid as it was, it was still a relationship, and Taehyung had made his affection for her more than evident even if she had done the same with her hatred for him. That never seemed to bother him too much though. He wasn’t delusional. She knew that he understood her hatred of him, he simply didn’t care. He seemed to think that time would reverse her contempt. It had not, and as much as she hated to admit it, this was not the first time she had woken up in the house tied down and practically naked.

Her hands were bound by leather cuffs to a bed that looked more like a bird’s cage than it did a bed. It was a glaring reminder of his degrading little nickname for her, his little bird. She hated that nickname as much as she hated him. The bed didn’t just look like a cage, it functioned like one as well. If Taehyung wished he could lock her behind the elaborate bars to rot. It was degrading, but so were most of the things he did to her. This time even her legs were restrained held apart by a spreader. It was only the beginning of her humiliation. Taehyung hadn’t even made his appearance yet.

She took a moment to shake off the last vestiges of grogginess caused by whatever drug Taehyung had used to knock her out his time. His more violent methods didn’t leave her with a lingering feeling of nausea, but they did cause more bumps and bruises. It was hard to say which one was worse, but she supposed that it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t as if Taehyung gave her a choice in how he captured her.

Once she didn’t feel like her head was spinning and her stomach wasn’t about to heave its contents all over the red bedding, Aerie took a look around to see where her tormentor was. She couldn’t see him through the intricate bars of the bed, but that didn’t mean much. He could be lurking somewhere just out of sight. What she did notice was the set of skimpy lingerie that clung to her body. She should have been used to it by now, but seeing his selections still made her skin crawl. There was no such thing as modesty when it came to Taehyung.

This particular set was black, lacy, and strappy. It didn’t cover much though. Much to her annoyance it was lacking in two distinct areas. There was no material where the cups of the bra should have been, there was nothing. Strips of lace curved up around the top of her breasts, but the majority of her chest was left exposed to the room. Her panties were lacking as well in the fact that the lace was missing one vital component, the crotch. In its place were two silky straps that curved down between her thighs and back up around her ass leaving everything but the area right above her center exposed. His lingerie choices were typically risqué, but they usually covered a bit more.

As much as she hated the lace wrapped around her body, what was worse was the collar fixed around her throat. This was an item she was intimately familiar with. The collar was made of a thick leather that was wrapped in a sumptuous black lace. The front of the collar was decorated by a single silver ring that Taehyung took full advantage of in his escapades. As his “little bird”, Aerie was nothing more than a pet to him, and the collar staked his claim in a blatantly obvious way.

She was ashamed to say that Taehyung had been her first, though it hadn’t been her choice. She could still remember that horrible day vividly. It had been a little over two years ago. She’d been particularly resistant to him that night, sick of him and his games. Her sharp tongue had been her undoing. She’d pushed Taehyung too far, refused him one too many times. Granted it was bound to happen eventually, but that didn’t make the result any less traumatizing.

Aerie woke up groggy doing her best to shake off the remnants of a drug induced sleep. It was like swimming through a fog. When she finally shook it off, she wished that she hadn’t. Her hands were bound above her head by leather cuffs, and she was dressed in a set of skimpy lace lingerie that certainly wasn’t hers. She couldn’t recognize the room, but she did recognize the man pacing around the room like a caged animal even if she wished that she didn’t.

Everything came rushing back at the sight of him.

Aerie hadn’t been on a date in a long time. Her stalker had put a damper on love life. Moving around from place to place in an effort to avoid him didn’t leave much time for dating, but she was excited. She’d even taken the time to do her makeup with what little skill she had and curl her hair all in preparation of her date with Minho. She’d met him at the store she’d been working at to make ends meet while she tried to hide from the man who had been making her life a living hell. He was sweet, and she enjoyed talking with him. One date couldn’t hurt especially not with someone has lovely has Minho.

The grin that had stretched across her face had been there all day that is until she saw the man of her nightmares stalking into the restaurant practically radiating fury. She stared at him like a deer in the head lights as he paused by the first few tables. The world stopped for a moment only to start again with the sound of bullets.

Taehyung released a volley of shots into the air sending the entire restaurant into a panic, a cacophony of screams filling the air.

“Everybody out!” He growled eyes fixated on where she sat across from Minho, and the patrons scrambled to obey him.

Minho reached across the table grabbing her hand as he stood up to flee the restaurant with the rest of the customers.

“Not you.” Taehyung growled stalking towards them pulling up a seat and taking a seat beside Aerie.

“We don’t want any trouble.” Miho stuttered eyes wide and frightened eyes his gaze flitted between Taehyung and the door.

“Don’t want any trouble?” Taehyung laughed arching one perfectly manicured brow as he draped an arm across Aerie’s shoulders keeping her in place. “You should have thought of that before you took out my girl. Isn’t that right, little bird?” He purred leaning in and brushing his nose over her neck in a motion that was far too intimate for what the two of them shared.

“Look man, I didn’t know she was taken!” Minho gulped raising his hands in a motion of surrender.

“Didn’t know?” Taehyung laughed moving his hand so that it was curled around the back of her neck one finger twirling a strand of her curled hair. “That makes it all better then.”

Without any warning, Taehyung drew his gun again and fired three shots directly into the other man’s head as Aerie screamed in horror beside him. His hand fisted cruelly in her hair dragging her back against her seat stopping her from running as she so wanted to do.

“Aerie, Aerie, Aerie.” He cooed his grin vicious as he gazed down at her. “You’ve been a very bad girl, little bird.”

There was a sharp prick, and then everything went dark.

That brought her back to the present where Taehyung had only just noticed that her eyes were open.

“You’re awake.” He grinned coming to take a seat on the edge of the bed. “I thought that I’d given you too much of the sedative for a minute there. How are you feeling, little bird?” He cooed moving up the bed so that he was sitting next to her hips, trailing a finger across her clavicle.

“Fuck off.” She growled trying to squirm away from him without much luck as the cuffs dug into her wrists keeping her in place.

“None of that, little bird.” He growled pressing down to keep her from wiggling away. “If you wanted my attention, you could have said something. I would have been by your side in a heartbeat.”

“Fuck off.” She repeated kicking wildly in the hope of landing a hit. She was almost successful, landing a hit to his upper thigh, but it was just shy of where she need it to land, and only served to piss him off.

Taehyung was quick to straddle her hips keeping her pinned down as he wrapped a long fingered hand around her throat.

“If you’re going to act like a whore, little bird, I’ll have to treat you like a whore.” He growled grinding his hips against hers.

“Get off!” She shrieked trying to buck him off without much success.

“If you’re going to be a whore,” He snarled moving down the bed and binding her legs so that they were spread apart. “You should at least by my whore, don’t you think?”

“Get off of me!” She shrieked again tears brimming in her eyes as the panic began to settle in.

“Such a shrill voice.” He hissed moving off the bed to grab something. He returned much to quickly. “If you can’t be sweet for me, you should remain silent.”

There wasn’t anything she could do as he wrenched her jaw open shoving a ball gag between her teeth and fastening it behind her head with practiced ease. “There.” He purred moving back so that he was settled between her spread legs. “Much better.”

She thrashed against her bindings as the monster tore off the skimpy underwear. Tears burned her eyes as he shoved a finger into her cunt. She wasn’t ready for the intrusion, but Taehyung didn’t seem to care as he pushed forward. He only paused as he was met with a resistance he hadn’t expected.

He pulled back a slow smile spreading across his features. “Little bird.” He cooed gently brushing the tears from her eyes. “Such a good girl, saving herself for daddy.” He pressed kisses down against her throat trailing them down towards the lace that covered her breasts before he savagely tore that from her body just as he had the panties.

“Don’t worry, baby. Daddy can be gentle.” He promised pressing a kiss to her nipple that had pebbled from the cool air. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to punish you for letting that leach put his hands all over you.” She whimpered her pleas coming out as a garbled mess against the gag.

She’d always thought her first time would be, well maybe not romantic, but at least nice and with someone she chose. Having that choice ripped away while being violated by the man who had made her life a living hell had made the blow all the worse. It had taken her a long time to recover from the trauma of being raped by her stalker, and that time had been made even longer considering that every time he came back to torment her, he had no problem with repeating the process over and over again. It was horrible, but she expected it now. It was just one more thing to get over with before he put her through whatever game he had prepared for them this time around.

“Hello, little bird.” His deep voice washed over her filling her with deep seated dread. “Did you miss me?” He cooed entering the cage like bed and perching himself on the edge of the mattress as he grinned down at her.

“Fuck off, Taehyung.” She growled pulling on the restraints that kept her arms in place. She knew better than to pull of the leg spreader. If she pulled on it, it would only make her predicament worse.

“Aerie, Aerie, Aerie.” He tutted one of his long fingers slowly trailing up her bare leg. “Why must you always be so rude, little bird? Haven’t you missed me at all? I’ve missed you.”

She grinned viciously as she jerked at her arm restraints trying to lunge at him. “What do you want, you fucking psychopath? Can’t you find another girl whose life you can ruin?”

He laughed showcasing that box shaped grin that would have been endearing on anyone else. “Why would I do that when I have you?” He cooed trailing his finger up to her thigh.

“What do you want?” She growled again.

“I have a proposition for you, little bird, but why don’t we have some fun first?” He hummed slowly crawling on top of her while she glared up at him.

“Or you could just tell me.” She grumbled wishing that any of her limbs were free so that she could smack him.

“And what would be the fun in that?” He chuckled placing a kiss on the soft skin of her belly. “I’ve missed you so much, little bird. It’s been so long.” He purred trailing kisses up towards her exposed chest.

“Get off of me!” She growled bucking her hips up in an attempts to throw him off thought he motion only seemed to encourage him.

“And if I don’t want to?” He asked smirking against her skin as before nipping at her exposed nipple eliciting a yelp from her. If there was one thing that Taehyung loved about his little bird, it was how sensitive she was. Her reactions were just as adorable as that first night.

“Fuck you.” She hissed doing her best to wiggle away from him despite her restraints.

“Oh, you will.” His grin was positively devious as he dove down to attack the sliver of her neck that was left uncovered by the collar.

He loved that collar. He loved the way the lace looked against her skin and how easy the loop made it to manhandle and restrain her. He’d more than once attached the matching lace covered leather leash to that little loop. Seeing her in that collar always got him fired up. Once he brought her home he’d have an array of collars for her, but this one would always be his favorite.

“Get off!” She shrieked wishing not for the first time that she could torment him just as much as he tormented her.

“Hush, little bird.” He cooed lifting his head so he could brush his nose against hers affectionately. “Let me make you feel good.”

It was a source of never ending shame for her that Taehyung was in fact an excellent lover. He pulled her pleasure from her by force with the persistence of a dog with a bone. Even if she resisted, he would make sure that she came for him, more than once. It was a matter of pride for him that he could make his little bird writhe with pleasure beneath him despite her protests.

“Stop!” She shrieked taking the opportunity to head butt him forcing him back much to his displeasure.

He hissed placing an elegant hand against his throbbing nose as he glared down at her. She was still feisty no matter how many times he played with her. He loved it.

“That wasn’t very nice, little bird.”

“That makes two of us.” She snarled relieved that he had backed away for the moment. “What proposition did you have?” She asked hoping to distract him.

“Eager aren’t we?” He cooed sitting back so that he was settled on top of her thighs.

“Just tell me, you sick fuck.” She huffed glaring up at him.

“This is something best discussed over dinner. Though I’d love to keep you just as you are.” He purred his eyes trailing over her form.

“Then let’s have dinner.” She’d do anything to avoid his more amorous attentions even if it meant sitting down to dinner with him.

With a sigh Taehyung set to work undoing the restraints at her ankles before unclipping the chain that kept her attached to the bed, though he left the cuffs on.

“Let’s get you dressed, little bird.”

She didn’t fight him as he pulled her up from the bed or when left her standing in the middle of the room her hands still cuffed together. He knew better than to leave her completely unrestrained. This wasn’t their first rodeo. She’d be more than happy to take off down the twisting halls of the house if he gave her the chance, but it was harder to escape from him if she was still bound, and it was better to see what he wanted before she made her escape. Taehyung would eventually start a game that would lead to her eventual freedom. He liked games.

He returned moments later with a long black dress in hand.

She didn’t argue or fight when he uncuffed her handed or when he stripped her of the strap of cloth he called a bra. Even if the dress was revealing, it had to be better than the lingerie he had provided.

She was right. The dress was revealing, but so were most of the clothes that Taehyung had forced her into over the years. This dress wasn’t the worst of them. The material was soft and silky against her skin leaving her back completely left exposed to the air. The top wrapped around her neck before diving down into a deep v ending just before her belly button. Not even her legs were left covered. There was a slit up the side leaving the entirety of her left leg exposed. But overall it was still better than the lingerie. Anything was better than the lingerie.

What surprised her was that Taehyung had removed the collar. He loved that collar almost to the point that she would call it a fixation, but she supposed that it didn’t match the aesthetic of the evening gown.

She allowed him to seat her on a long ottoman as he pulled her hair back in a sleek pony tail, and gave her a pair of earrings to match. They trailed down from her lobes in a line of stones that ended just at her jaw. She was dressed far too nicely for dinner with her worst enemy, but what choice did she have? It was always best to cooperate until he made his intentions for the evening clear.

He led her through the twisting halls of the house until they came to the overly ornate dining room. She never understood why the house was so sumptuously decorated. She’d seen it during the many times she had run through the halls in many failed attempts to get away from the psychopath that made her life hell. It wasn’t as though he lived in the house. She’d figured that out pretty quickly. The house was completely unlived in. She didn’t know where he lived, but it wasn’t here.

He seated her at the table before going out to get the meal he had had prepared for them. Taehyung wasn’t much for cooking, but he found that the staff at Namjoon’s estate were more than willing to work with him, and they did a far better job of it than he could. He would have asked Jin to do it knowing that his hyung was an excellent cook, but Jin had been busy preparing for the journey to go and retrieve Namjoon’s wife. She’d finally been located in some dingy little village in Italy. More than that, she’d been found in the final stages of a pregnancy that could only have been Namjoon’s doing. His hyung was as ecstatic as he was angry to find her. He knew that Namjoon had always wanted to be a father, but it had to hurt knowing that his wife had run off with one of his enemies and was peacefully playing house with them. It didn’t matter though. Namjoon would have her and the baby home in no time just like Taehyung would have Aerie home where she belonged at long last.

They both remained silent for the beginning of the meal as they both cut into the steaks that Namjoon’s chef had prepared, but eventually, she couldn’t take the anticipation anymore, though she hated being the first one to crack.

“Why am I here?” She asked setting aside her cutlery as she stared him down from across the table.

“Can’t I just miss you?” He teased setting aside his own utensils. He chuckled seeing the completely unamused expression on her face. “No. You wouldn’t believe that would you? I have a proposition for you.”

“So you’ve said.” She grumbled crossing her arms under her breasts.

“I’ve enjoyed our games, baby. I really have, but I’ve grown tired of them.” He drawled leaning back dramatically with a long suffering sigh. “I want to put an end to them.”

He could see her brighten up at that staring at him with interest. “You’re going to let me go?”

He laughed at that finding her suggestion amusing. “Of course not. Why would I do that?”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I want to play one last game. If you win, I’ll let you go, for good.”

“And if I lose?” She asked her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“You come with me willingly. You surrender, be mine.” As she stiffened her mouth set in a thin line of dread, Taehyung couldn’t help but smile. “No more running. No more games. As simple as that.”

“And why would I agree to that?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “You don’t really have a choice. I could always take you by force.”  

“Like you haven’t before?” She scoffed her gaze taking on a hard, bitter edge.

“One last game.” He assured her even though he didn’t have any intention of playing fair. She didn’t need to know that though.

She eyed him weighing her options. On the one hand, he could be lying, but on the slim chance that he was telling the truth, she would be free of him. She’d never have to worry about him lurking in the shadows at every moment. She couldn’t remember the last time that she had been free of him. It would be like the sun coming out of months of rain, but there was a much greater chance that Taehyung was lying. It could just be another twisted part of his games, one designed to crush her hopes.  But on the off chance that he was actually telling the truth, that the offer was genuine, she had to take it.

“Fine.” She agreed reluctantly. “What kind of game do you have in mind?” She asked even as she began to wonder if this was the right move after all. She knew better than to underestimate him. She even had a few small scars as a reminder of that. 

A feral grin spread across his face as he registered her agreement. She didn’t trust that grin. It never preceded anything good. It was too manic as was the light in his eyes. They always shone too bright whenever he got excited, but his excitement always brought her pain. Even though his eyes were shining with that disconcerting glee, they were dark. It was like two black holes staring back at her ready to suck her into his madness. 

“You remember the mazes. Don’t you, little bird?”

A grimace spread across her features, but she nodded. She had extensive experience with the mazes that surrounded the house. They were Taehyung’s favorite game. He’d set her loose in them to run like a scared rabbit. Each time they were different, and she hated them more than anything. They were as dehumanizing as they were unfair. They changed even as she was in them. The walls moved at their master’s bidding, confusing and turning her around through the endless halls of greenery. 

“I remember.” 

“You’re aware by now that there is more than one maze.” He began leaning forward gleefully. Of course she knew. She had tried more than once to slip through the gates that separated the different parts of the labyrinth. “All three sections will be available to you tonight. I’ll give you a twenty minute head start before I follow you in.” 

That caught her attention in the worst sort of way. Taehyung hardly ever entered the maze. She could only recall him doing it once before when she’d fallen and twisted her ankle rather badly after trying to scale one of the hedges. He preferred to watch and taunt from the cameras and speakers hidden throughout the infernal maze. 

Her new found hesitance didn’t seem to deter him though. He continued with just as much enthusiasm as before. “If you can make it out of the maze before dawn, you win,” His grin got even wider excitement coursing through his veins. “But if you fail to solve the maze or I catch you before your time is over, you’re mine.” 

It seemed simple enough, but nothing was ever simple when it came to Taehyung, and this would be the first time that he had actively hunted her through the maze. While she would have the whole of the labyrinth at her disposal, Taehyung still held an unfair advantage. They were his mazes. He knew them far better than she did despite the many times she had run through the mazes. He made sure to change them before she ran a particular section again. She had no idea how large the full Maze would actually be or what sort of traps he had laid for her within it. 

“As simple as that?” She asked slowly, skeptically. 

In the past, if she could complete or beat his game, she was free to go. He would even have some faceless driver take her back to the city where she would run as far as she could as fast as she could even though she knew he would find her again. She had no more desilusiones of being able to hide from him permanently. It was the whole reason she had decided to agree to this despite the unfair odds. It was a chance for complete freedom. 

“As simple as that, little bird.” He purred dark eyes boring into her. “Shall we?” 

He was more than eager to begin. The sooner they started, the sooner she would be in his arms. He had everything prepared for her. 

He’d moved into the house that Namjoon had provided in the vicinity of the main estate. With Hoseok, Jin, Yoongi, and Namjoon all starting families of their own, Namjoon had formed a sort of gated community surrounding the main estate. There was a house for each of them. Hoseok had taken Iyla from the main estate to settle her into her new home before Namjoon and Jin returned with Y/N. Yoongi and his little family had moved into their designated house as well. Sen was thrilled with the space for their son to run around in, and Taehyung could hardly wait to fill his own house with little ones. They’d have to start right away once he took her home. He wanted a big family after all. They’d have to start soon if they were going to meet his goals. 

She nodded stiffly standing up from her chair. It was better to get it over with whether she was going to win or lose. If she won, it was all the better to have her freedom sooner. If she lost, it was better not to have her hopes up for too long. It would only prolong her heartache.

She was quick to leave the heels that had been foisted on her at the door. They would do her no good in the maze. Heels never worked well on the soft ground and the grass. They would only slow her down. If she was going to fail, she preferred it be because she had failed to solve the maze than give Taehyung the added satisfaction of catching her himself.

She was about to head into the maze through the entrance Taehyung had led her to when he pulled her back by the wrist. The jolt sent her flying back into his chest much to his delight.

“I’m giving you your head start, but I’ll see you soon.” She was going to bite back with an acerbic response, but Taehyung cut her off with a searing kiss, one she wanted to immediately wipe away, but that would have only served to make him angry, and she had no time to waste.

Without a word to him, she hiked up her skirts, disappearing into the maze.  Twenty minutes wasn’t a long time, and she had to make the best of it or regret it later.

She had never had the entirety of the maze open to her, and it made her apprehensive. Even one section of the maze was hard enough to master, let alone all three of them. Trick walls and dead ends littered the halls, and Taehyung always made sure that each time she entered the hedges that she’d find them just as difficult.

She rushed through the paths cursing the dress that Taehyung had dressed her up in. The slit at least provided her with free movement, but only the demon that was Kim Taehyung would force her to run a maze in an evening gown. He was over dramatic like that.

Another thing to curse was the abundance of dead ends that thwarted her at seemingly every turn. They forced her to back track far more often than she would have liked or was prudent. No matter where she turned, it seemed like she was only going in circles. As much as she hated him, she had to admit that he had pulled out all the stops for their final game.  

Taehyung had retreated into the house to wait out the twenty minutes before he could follow his little bird into the maze. Logically, he knew it wasn’t long to wait, but the anticipation made the minutes stretch on into eternity. He passed the time watching her on his phone. The cameras gave him an unfair advantage, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was more than happy to watch her wear herself out. He had always kept the maze at least somewhat fair, but he wasn’t willing to give her that advantage this time. He had promised her that if she could escape the labyrinth before dawn, she would be free, but there was no escape. The only exits lead straight back to the house, and making it back to the house did not count as solving the maze.

He knew it was unfair, but it didn’t matter. He was tired of waiting, and she would be his whether she liked it or not. This at least gave her the illusion of a chance. There would be no escaper for her.

When the twenty minutes had past, Taehyung took to the maze, leisurely strolling down its paths as he trailed after his prize. He had the advantage of his little spies and the trick walls. He could herd her however he liked with those. He had the entire labyrinth at his fingertips, and she would never even know. Or perhaps she would. She was a clever little bird, and he wouldn’t put it past her to have figured it out. It was one of the many things he loved about his little bird.

With every step he was brought closet to her, he made sure of it. Doors were strategically closed guiding her towards dead ends and herding her back towards him. There was no need for him to strain himself. His poor Aerie was going to be exhausted before the evening was over, but that wouldn’t stop her from putting up a fight. He expected he’d have to carry her back to the house whether it was because she refused to come or from sheer exhaustion. It didn’t matter to him. She’d be in his arms either way.

It was easy to catch up to her with how much backtracking his meddling had forced her to do, but Taehyung wasn’t finished playing yet.

“Give up, little bird!” He called out knowing she was just on the other side of the hedge. “I’m going to find you!” A grin spread across his features as he heard the sound of her taking off further into the maze.

Perfect. She was headed directly to the center of the maze. He’d catch her there, and even if he didn’t, it wouldn’t be long until he caught her, not when he could see her every move.

“Come out, come out where ever you are!” He trilled out turning a corner and catching the faintest glimpse of her ankle as she ran around a different corner.

“Wouldn’t it be so much easier just to give up?” He cooed driving her further into the maze. It would be easier to subdue her when she was tired, and with the way she had been running around, she was bound to be exhausted. “I know you’re tired, little bird.” He sang catching another glimpse of her turning a corner. “You’ve done so well, but it’s time to go home. Don’t you want to go home, little bird?”

Her heart was pounding against her chest as she ran further into the maze. Taehyung’s words hounded her every step pushing her forward as panic coursed through her veins. Even if she was going to lose, she wasn’t going to go willingly. He’d have to drag her back. And with every step she was regretting her decision to run the maze. It felt less like a chance and more as if he was toying with her. He was always toying with her.

“Come on, little bird!” He called again drawing nearer excitement coursing through him as he pushed her towards the end game.

She burst through the path and into what had to be the center of the maze. There was a fountain there and two other paths leading out, but just as she made to run towards one of them, a gate slammed shut. She made for the other path only for the same thing to happen. There was only one way out, and she could hear Taehyung coming down that path calling out to her.

“No!” She shrieked pulling at the wrought iron of the gate trying to force it open, but it was no use. The door wouldn’t budge.

“Awww,” she could hear her tormenters deep voice coo, far too close by for comfort. “It looks like you’re trapped, little bird.”

She whirled around to face him eyes wide and chest heaving. “You cheated.” She hissed hands gripping the bars behind her as though to stabilize herself.

“I never said I wouldn’t.” He shrugged strolling towards her. “Game over.”

“You cheated!” She snarled again though her back was pressed against the bars in the hope that she’d somehow slip through them A foolish hope. He wouldn’t allow her to escape, not now.

He held out a hand to her smiling brightly as he beckoned her forward. “Come along, little bird. It’s time to go home.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Family Dynamics.”

Thought you guys might enjoy this today.

A lot of you have been asking for more Conn in the stories, so I hope you enjoy :)

“Wow, would you look at that.”

“No.”

“Wow.” “No. Hopping on the nope train and taking a ride to nopeville….. Nope absolutely not.”

“Come on, Krill, isn’t it just….. Just awesome!.”

“That, that right there is an absolute  raging death trap.” “Oh come on>” Adam said, hands on his hips as he stared up at the rocket.. THe Saturn V replica down to the last bolt. He grinned and danced around on his toes in a circle, “This is gonna be so cool!”

Krill turned to look at Adam, “No, no this is not cool, Adam. I am serious this time, not joking. I really don’t want you going in that thing. And with the assassination attempts and…. All that is going on with the GA leaders….” He looked at Adam Very pointedly here, “I don’t think you should do this.”

“Are you serious, a once in a lifetime opportunity and you want me to just say no because there is a possibility someone Might try to kill me?”

“Um…. YES.”

Adam crossed his arms, “Krill, I refuse to let myself live in fear when there is life to be lived.”

Krill turned to look hopefully over at Eris who was standing quietly by his side. She shook her head at him.

“He isn’t going to change his mind.”

“Can you at least try?”

She sighed, “Ok.”

Gently Eris took one of his hands forcing him to look at her, “Da…..Adam think about it please, there are a lot of powerful people after you, powerful and with resources. If they want to kill you, then this will be the perfect time to do it. They could put it off as some horrible accident, and no one would be the wiser.” She paused as he looked back at her, “I can see that this isn’t going to change your mind either.”

He smiled, “This is what I have my people for.” HE took the two of them by the shoulders and led them to where they could overlook the command station in the distance, “In there, right now, there are elements of the criminal underworld that owe me a favor, looking for any clues to indicate an attempt on my life.” He grinned, “Also, I have two secret weapons.”

He put his arm around Eris and then turned his head to look up at the sky.

Eris and Krill followed his lead.

Krill groaned, and Eris went wide eyed.

As a starborn descended from the sky ribbons flapping hands outstretched dropping from heaven like an ethereal angel. Sunlight bounced off his skin as he moved slowly downward hands held out to the side fingers outstretched. She stepped forward and- was immediately hit with a wall of his thoughts.

She no longer saw him as ethereal.

He was an asshole.

Conn drifted towards the ground but didn’t touch ribbons swirling around him seaweed undulating in a dark sea: Yes her thoughts about him had changed that much, he had gone from angel to seaweed rather quickly in her head.

He turned his eyes to her.

‘Who invited you’

Eris frowned, “I-

Adam glowered at Conn, “Be nice to her.”

Conn turned his head to look at Eris and drifted closer looking her over, ‘Oh daddy issues I see, well who doesn't.” He turned to look up at Adam, ‘Gotta love people borrowing your DNA for craft projects especially when they give you kids a little too early.”

Adam was not able to hide the thought that came marching to the forefront of his mind.

You know that’s interesting considering your starborn DNA was the most easily accessible before Eris was born.

He didn’t say it out loud, but he didn’t need to.

Eris made a face, and Conn drew back.

“HIM!”

Shit, Adam thought

“I never said that.”

“But you were thinking it.” She retorted turning on him with her eyes narrowed before turning to look back at Conn, who floated in shock behind her.

Adam held up his hands, “Woah now, I can’t be for sure, it just makes sense.”

Eris turned back to where Conn was floating and made another face, “But, but HIM. I don’t want…. I, I can’t be related to HIM.”

Adam sighed, “Being able to read his thoughts must be a bitch eh?”

Of course at the moment Conn wasn’t really having any thoughts. It was mostly just TV static with an undercurrent of the thoughts of people around him amplifying them even more in Eris’s head. Which is why she could hear Dr Krill quietly inching away as he wondered if he should tell them or nah?

He hd suspected as much the moment they had seen Eris, and learned that the DNA being used was Adam’s.

It had been easy enough to get Adam’s DNA strands from the original hybrids….. The adaptids….. But they would have needed other aliens to pair him with. And there was only one known starborn available to steal DNA from.

Conn’s static continued.

Eris groaned and put her hands to her head.

Adam rubbed his forehead, “Well, on the bright side, you turned out more like your human side of the family.” That’s when the static in Conn’s head fizzled out and he turned to look at Adam. With a sudden Evil grin, which he must have been practicing, for it seemed far to human for him, He floated over and grabbed both of them around the shoulders, “Isn’t this sweet, now we can all be one big happy family.’

“Get off me Conn.” Adam grumbled 

He just squeezed tighter, though as a starborn the strength was somewhat lacking. ‘Don’t talk like that, you and I have a beautiful daughter together. Just look at her. She’s got your internal organs and my skin. Isn’t that lovely.”

“Conn I swear if you keep touching me I will punch you and probably break something.”

Conn made like he was sighing as he pulled away, “You know, as her parents we should really be trying to set an example for a healthy loving relationship. A family that plays together-”

He floated away quickly before Adam could swipe at him missing the strike by mere inches.

“Domestic assault in this household!”

Eris hid her face in her hands, “Oh no.”

She was definitely not sure how she was supposed to feel about this. One the one hand, she was at least glad that he wasn’t repulsed by the idea of her existing. However, on the other hand, it was likely that her paternal starborn side was Conn! The thought made her nauseous . Reading his thoughts made her feel the same way. Clearly this creature, whatever he was had never grown out of petty pranks, and intense sarcasm.

More annoyingly, he seemed to have the ability to hide things from her just by NOT thinking about them. She learned nothing about his past, or really his more internal thoughts. He only let her see what she wanted to see, and what he wanted her to see made her more annoyed the more she thought about it.

“I’m so excited, aren't you. Finally reunited at last!”

Adam sighed, “This is now how I planned this. Conn you stupid bastard, I called you down here to do a job for me.”

“You wouldn’t call your hubby stupid would you?”

Adam looked like he was about to turn green, “Never in a million years would I ever even consider that. In fact, I think I would rather shoot myself out the airlock an have all the nitrogen bubble out of my blood thank you very much.:”

“One night stands happen.”

“Conn I swear if you keep going down this metaphor. I am going to commit murder. Never in a million years would I touch you with a nine and a half foot pole, end of story.”

“Excuse me for being skeptical as you have been known to date aliens in the past.”

“That was Sunny, who is arguably, not even arguably, but she IS smart, talented, funny, a total badass, and a fucking gem, while you are a creepy little space gremlin.”

“Yet I have a kid with you and she doesn’t sooooooo, forgive me if I say I win.”

“We can’t be for sure that she’s yours.”

“I demand a paternity test.”

“Conn, if you don’t let this go right now I am going to rip your spine out through your back and let Waffles chew on it.”

“Bold of you to assume I have a spine.”

Adam took a eep long-suffering breath, “I am done with this conversation, now I called you down here for a reason, and that reason is that I need you two watching out for something going wrong. Eris, as a member of my family you will be allowed inside mission control to watch what is going on. Your job is to make sure that no one is planning my death from the inside.” he turned his head in Conn’s direction and flipped him the bird as he continued to speak, “You on the other hand are in charge of the engineers. I know you don’t give a shit about boundaries, so your job is to hang around the engineers and the rocket hangers to see if any of them had a hand in sabotaging the mission. If you can get near the chairwoman, or the UN President, than do what you can. I need to know how deep all of this goes.” He turned his head to Eris, “You are probably going to be able to get closer to everyone than Conn can. People know he is a starborn and they know what he can do. No one will assume  anything about you if you keep your head low.”

She smiled, “Already done.” A little part of her leaped inside, and she felt giddy. Adam needed her to help protect him! She was being useful for once! Not to mention that this meant he trusted her and….. She turned a side eye on conn, Then again, that probably meant that Adam trusted him too.

The starborn grinned at her again, showing rows and rows of of sharp circular teeth.

She winced and looked away.

Gross 

“I have to get going, but you two should get to work. This is going to be a long week.”

He whistles once, and Waffles jumped up from where she had been resting at his side, and gently trotted after him as he walked away back towards the command station. Eris started after him and Conn floated up next to her.

“What an unexpectedly delightful day, don’t you think.”

“Can you be less creepy please.”

“It runs in the family Eris, you have the creepy inside you too. Embrace it!”

She shoved him away with one hand and ran to catch up with Adam.

She could hear conn laughing behind her as he floated away towards the hangers.

She glanced over his shoulder as she grabbed onto Adam’s arm, “Why is he so weird!”

Adam shrugged, “I think something happened to him when he was first born. I would say that he was dropped on his head, but that’s probably not accurate. Think i heard something about him having been isolated from his clan for the first few thousand years with his dead mother, but I don’t know if that’s true or if it’s just something he made up. Either way I think whatever happened to him kind of made him psycho.”

She glanced over her shoulder to the figure floating off into the distance, “Than why do you keep him around?”

He sighed, “Unfortunately, his abilities are invaluable. The ability to bring him alone when it comes to negotiations, or to talk with new alien species speeds up both diplomatic missions and learning new languages.” He sighed, “Also, as far as I can tell he is pretty loyal. He always does everything I ask him to do as long as it is important enough. Sure if I asked him to pick up after himself he’d probably flip me the bird and go floating in the other direction. But every time something big and important has happened, he has always been relatively reliable. A part of me wonders if he just doesn’t know how to interact with people, and somewhere deep down there is a desire to be wanted, but that’s not something I can prove.” He glanced pointedly at her.

She shook her head, “Sorry, he’s pretty good at hiding what’ he’s thinking.”

Adam grunted, “A real pity. Now-” He turned to look at her, placing his hands on her shoulders and looking her in the eye, “Stay low. If you hear anything, don’t try to do anything about it yourself. Call my ship, either Sunny or Ramirez and they will deal with everything. If you see someone wearing a red pin with a white rocket on it, then those are our undercover guys, and they should be able to help you too. But it’s likely you will know who they are anyway.”

He looked her in the eyes, “Whatever happens, your safety comes first, not mine. You got that/”

She nodded eagerly even though she knew that last instruction was a lie.

He was more important than her.

And she was going to make sure that he stayed safe.

[helena-thessaloniki]

Eren, and that f*cking white bird

Okaaaaay so, here’s an absolutely nonsensical, self-indulgent crack fic alternate scene for you all. Inspired by this comment from Slutty Pennywise @a-slut-for-smut​ that made me scream, fall out of my chair, and laugh for five! minutes! straight.

Babes, you’re a genius and despite what you say, I think you’d make an excellent writer. This comment is proof of it. Hope you enjoy this nonsense. 🖤

Lord, please forgive me. Eremika sympathizers, do not read this. Rated T. Unedited. Content Warning: description of thoughts on animal abuse/cruelty and foul language. Without further ado:

Levi lifts his chin, ignoring the hammering of his pulse, the desperate need to take a deeper breath.  “You don’t like it.”

Her lids flutter, surprised, but then Levi watches the defensive arching of her taut shoulders, the half-curl of her free hand forming into a fist. The hand holding the necklace grips tighter, her knuckles turning white. 

“That’s not it,” Mikasa says carefully, chewing her bottom lip. Her tepidness is dissolved by the time she releases it. “I love it, Levi. It’s perfect. Growing up, I… I imagined a house— a home— like this one. And by the end of the war, after everything we went through; a place like this, this freedom, this peace… it’s all I wanted.”

He can tell she means every word that she says, the same as he can tell there’s still more she is reluctant to say. Mikasa takes in the vaulted pine ceilings, the grand open floor plan, the oil-painting worthy view of the coast from the front windows. It’s not that she’s been unseeing, Levi realizes. It’s that she’s seeing something he cannot. Like she’s seeing ghosts. 

Mikasa turns back to him, openly distraught. “It’s everything I’ve wanted, but it’s… it’s not—...” 

Her words are wrecked with grief. Her watery, washed-out gray irises are drenched with it. A grief viscously different but no less despondent than others he’s witnessed from her. 

It’s not… 

Waiting for the rest of her words is like standing next in line at the gallows. Levi waits, the quicksand no longer just beneath his feet, but filling into all four chambers of his heart. 

Mikasa tries and fails to finish the sentiment. She looks everywhere around the room, at her boxes, at the enormous front windows, at the fireplace in the adjacent living room, at the staircase leading to the upstairs rooms, but not to him. She looks everywhere except to him. 

There’s only silence between them, a horrible, throbbing sort of silence. It stretches on, tense and endless, until a seagull cries in the distance. A sharp, abrasive shriek that instantly spikes Levi’s agitation. 

Retired or not, soldiers’ instincts kick in. Both Levi and Mikasa turn toward the avian cry, intently focused on the interruption. The window they search appears empty at first, but the second Levi blinks, planning to turn away from it, the gull comes into view. 

No ordinary gull, the bird is a large, white creature, its plume of feathers spread out so majestically, Levi has to blink twice to be sure he’s seeing it right. The bird all but floats down onto the windowsill, it’s tail feathers arched toward them to bow down. 

What a pompous, stupid-ass little fucker bird, Levi thinks first. 

But when he glances at Mikasa, her distraught eyes widened by recognition, another thought registers. Eren. 

A cold, heavy reality settles over Levi. When the understanding comes to him, it's the noose tightened around his neck. It isn’t ghosts that Mikasa is seeing; it’s a Ghost. 

It’s not who she wanted, Levi suddenly understands. That’s what she meant to say: It’s everything I wanted, but it’s not who I wanted it to be with.

Levi glares at the pompous, stupid-ass little fucker bird, and the pompous, stupid-ass little fucker bird glares right back. It’s black, beady eyes are eerily reminiscent of a flash of green during youthful cries for vengeance. Eren’s ghost lingers beneath those white plumes. And Levi knows, in that moment, Mikasa isn’t the only one being haunted. 

He stands there, stone-still, not at a desperate loss, but with a dismal certainty. Even from the grave, Eren has managed to cockblock him. 

The gull cries out again, a shrill, stomach-curdling wail, and Levi can almost hear it’s demands. For Titans to be destroyed, all of them wiped out from their world. I’ll kill all of them, the bird shrieks. Every last one of them!

If only the loud-mouthed brat had been half as passionate about the woman who loved him. 

Levi can’t help but wonder. Can he roundhouse kick the little fucker bird off the windowsill just like he did to Jaeger in the courtroom? While he fantasizes, Mikasa sighs, forcing her teary-eyed gaze from the white bird. 

She looks as though she’s about to speak, but before she does, Levi interrupts. 

“Alright,” he says, carefully if not coldly. “I see.” 

Mikasa’s owlish blink is more than just weary, but he doesn’t have the ability to focus on it. 

Levi looks at her like she’s a collapsing house of cards. A deck he shuffled and a hand he dealt to himself. The precarious arrangement made possible by his stubborn refusal to acknowledge its inevitable outcome: they were built to fold inward and fall apart.

“See what?” Her confusion is laced with an edge of warning, a question as much as a threat. 

Levi plans to ignore her warning. The harsh words are about to fly out, but then the seagull cries, once, twice, thrice. It wails, repeatedly, and every muscle in Levi’s body twitches with the impulsive need to launch forward and snap the little fucker bird’s neck.

“What the fu…,” Mikasa mutters, shock quickly turning into agitation. “What is wrong with that thing?”

Levi huffs. “Tch.”

What wasn’t wrong with Eren? He’s about to answer, a bitter retort on the tip of his tongue, when the little fucker bird cranes its neck all the way to the side, appraising him. Levi narrows his eyes, bracing himself for whatever it does next. His battle-scarred hands clench into fists, itching to get a hold of the avian cockblocker. 

Mikasa takes a hesitant step toward it. “Maybe it’s hurt?”

“Maybe it’s stupi--” 

The gull launches itself face first into the window, its frantic beak darting against the glass pane with wild impatience. Despite connecting with the glass, it continues to throw itself forward, squalling again. Its cries become so viciously, obnoxiously loud, Levi has to push his fists into his side to stop from covering his ears. 

“I’m going to throttle it,” he announces, projecting over the whining gull.  

Mikasa takes a hurried step forward. “No, no, you can’t.”

“Why not?” Levi throws another lethal glare at the bird, unwilling to sympathize with it. “The little fucker is just going to kill itself first.”

Mikasa tries to approach the bird on the window, but it's cries become more despondent, it’s thrashing more haphazard. The white bird squalls so loudly at her nearing approach, she has to jump back. 

“Walls,” Mikasa swears, frowning. “Well..., maybe we should put it out of its misery.”

Levi almost sighs aloud in relief. “Yes, we should.” 

The words are barely out of his mouth before she’s brandishing a knife, pulling the weapon out from God-knows-where with God-like speed. 

She is Godlike. Strong and perfect, beautiful and fierce. Her dark hair falls in messy, sensual waves, her clothes still half-wet from her recent swim. They cling onto her figure, displaying every curve, and he’s reminded of what’s beneath them. How she feels when his hands take violent hold of her, how she arches while he glides his tongue up, over, and in her. The glint of steel flashes at her side, an expert hold on the knife between her anything-but-delicate hands, hands that have pushed through his hair, roamed over his chest, took confident hold of his coc—

“Levi,” she says, amused. 

He looks up to her face, surprised at the dark glimmer of mischief and lust in her eyes. Only a moment before, she’d been upset. 

“What?” he asks. Realizing how hoarse he sounds, he subtly clears his throat. 

She gestures to his waist, with a feline grin and mewl of breathless laughter that tells him exactly what he’ll find before he even looks down to check.

Watching Mikasa Ackerman pull a knife out on the bird in Eren’s image has given him a hard-on.

“Hmm. This turns you on,” Mikasa acknowledges slowly, smiling wickedly. 

Levi is shameless. He reaches down to readjust himself better in his pants, unblinking while he meets her gaze. “Yes. Yes, it does.”

She tightens her hold on the knife, lips parting, and drops her focus onto his hand’s familiar hold on the bulge beneath his pants. She’d rather be holding him.

“Oh,” she breathes. If the gull is still shrieking, neither of them hear it. “Well then. What do you want me to do about it?” 

Mikasa lifts the knife, twirling it deliberately with one hand, and waits for his reply. 

Levi decides not to remove his hand now that he’s finished readjusting. Instead, he grips himself harder. 

“I want,” Levi starts, low and guttural, “... I want you to kill that pompous, stupid-ass little fucker bird.”

Mikasa hums briefly, a moan of approval, and bites down onto her bottom lip. “Gladly.” 

[alirhi]

random story snippet

@goblin-tea this is part of that story I was talking about/sending you bits of. I'll get into the better stuff (imo) in a bit, but this is a much better example of what the main characters are like than what I sent earlier lol

“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Toto,” she mumbled, still clinging to Audrey’s hand as she nervously followed Fiona’s example and took a moment to study the immediate area.

“No shit, Sherlock,” the blonde growled, yanking her hand away. Rebecca could stand there like an idiot if she chose, but damn it! She was going to explore and find a way home, right now. Clearly, her friend’s oh-so-brilliant spell had backfired quite horribly, and now they were lost, with no idea of where they were, when they were, or what was going…

Her thoughts were jarringly interrupted when Rebecca suddenly let out a short, high-pitched scream, causing both of her friends to jump.

“WHAT?!” Spinning to face the taller woman, she took a deep breath in preparation to chew her out, and then promptly hid behind her. “…Is that a dinosaur?”

“Deinonychus,” Rebecca confirmed in a reverent whisper. Her screech had been from excitement, rather than fear; the giant grin on her freckled face was evidence enough of that. Though she knew she was the only one who cared about the details, she still explained in a rush, “Fast, smart, and very deadly carnivore from the late Cretaceous period, probably the basis for the oversized velociraptors in Jurassic Park… A raptor’s colorful feathers make it look like a ridiculous, disproportionate toucan, which is probably why the producers chose to make it look more like our friend here. Fossils of the deinonychus have never been found with any indication of feathers.”

“It does have feathers, you walking Wiki!” Audrey hissed, stepping back. No way in hell was she going to stand there like an idiot and get eaten by some parrot on crack.

Fiona remained rooted in place beside the other redhead, though she did stoop to pick up Rebecca's forgotten staff, just in case the curious animal decided to attack. A tiny smile played at the edges of her lips at the toucan comparison. It did sort of look like one, in a weird way…

Swallowing past the sudden lump in her throat, their nerdy friend nodded. “Yeah… Most of this type of dinosaur did, so paleontologists kinda figured the deinonychus would, too.”

The prehistoric bird of prey studied them, almost seeming to ponder something. Just as Rebecca was about to make a Philosoraptor joke, the fascinating – if deadly – beast twitched, letting out a series of loud clicking noises.

“…Huh. Whaddaya know. That dude on youtube was right…” An answering call echoed from somewhere to the left of the three shivering girls, and startled the amateur paleontologist out of her daze. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Both of her friends shot her nervous glances, reluctant to take their eyes off of the giant predator. Why wasn’t it moving?

“Run.” When Fiona shot her an incredulous look, Rebecca shook her head. Normally, yes, she would caution against any sudden moves around a wild animal, but this was different. More clicks from their right, answered by the one animal they could see, illustrated why. “He’s calling in reinforcements – run!”

That was all the motivation the shivering blonde needed. With a terrified shriek, Audrey turned and bolted into the forest, Rebecca and Fiona hot on her heels.

“I think it’s safe to assume,” the oldest woman gasped out, jumping over a fallen tree limb, “that we’ve somehow been sent back too far.”

“Ya THINK?!”

"Now's not the time to get snippy!” Her lungs were burning, her legs cramping, and though she could hear the creature gaining on them, she had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t putting forth much effort. She and her surrogate sister were both overweight to the point of obesity, and as such, speed wasn’t exactly on their side. In fact, it had been one of the things they’d hoped to go back and change; if they never got fat, they wouldn’t have to deal with the health problems associated with it or the hassle of constantly trying and failing to lose it.

Risking a glance to the side, she noticed Fiona keeping pace with them, and winced. She was hanging back to help them, she knew. By far the skinniest and healthiest of the three of them, she was lightning fast compared to the other two. While both her companions were morbidly obese, Fiona was lithe and fit, with legs like a gazelle. She was going slowly so she could defend them with that big stick if she had to. That was the only logical explanation Rebecca could come up with. The fact that the 'big stick' was her own walking stick was momentarily lost on the eldest of the three.

Mother above, she prayed desperately, if there’s even a trace of magic left in my blood, please, please unleash it now to give us speed.

Too angry and frightened to bother with logic, Audrey just rolled her eyes, yelping when it caused her to trip over a rock and nearly sent her sprawling. Fiona caught her by the arm and helped her steady herself, and she managed a tiny grateful smile, even as she snapped at the redhead, “Shut up! It’s your fault that we’re in our own personal Jurassic Hell, being chased by a fucking raptor!”

“Cretaceous!” Rebecca snarled, dodging around a rather intimidating thorny bush. “And it’s not a raptor, it’s-”

“I DON’T CARE!”

“It’s actually quite fascinating,” Rebecca asserted through wheezing gasps for breath, “if you think about it. We finally… get to see… proof… that dino…saurs… were more like…flightless…birds…than…”

“I don’t give a shit if we’re being chased by an ostrich or a crocodile!” Audrey screeched before her friend could finish. “If I end up something’s lunch, it’s your fault! And you know what? Fuck you! Fuck your stupid spell. Fuck your obsessions. Fuck your fucking imaginary friend and the horse you both rode in on for good measure!” Even in a life-or-death situation, somehow an old inside joke popped into her head, and she managed to suck in a deep enough breath to scream, "AND YES, HE'S NAMED 'SIDEWAYS'!"

“Guys, this really isn’t the time to be arguing,” Fiona pointed out as calmly as she could, glancing over her shoulder to see how they were faring. It wasn't good. She could deal with Audrey and her rather offensive temper tantrum later, she decided; escaping the turkey-sized ball of feathers and teeth chasing them took precedence.

“Sorry…” Pouting a little, the blonde risked a glance back, and nearly wet herself when she saw that their prehistoric pursuer was getting closer and closer. “Oh, fuck me…” Something brushed the side of her head, and she jumped, but it was only a leaf hanging down from another large tree.

Wait. Leaf…tree… She glanced up, relieved to see that the branch was low enough for her to grab hold. Circling around so that she wouldn’t get caught by their feathered menace, she pushed herself just a little bit more and managed to haul herself up onto the branch. “Guys!”

“What are you doing?!” Rebecca cried, having been too focused on running to notice where Audrey had gone. Fiona had been taking up the rear, focus switching between the others and the predator, but had been looking primarily in the latter’s direction for a few minutes. When she turned and saw only Rebecca standing there, she froze and glanced around. As they spotted Audrey in the tree, they also became aware of the fact that their enemy seemed a lot closer than before.

“Can raptors climb?” Audrey called out, wincing as she watched the scene unfold. Though she had long legs and strong, muscular calves, Rebecca outweighed her by a good fifty pounds, and it was visibly taking its toll. She was tiring, and the blonde just prayed she could pull herself up to safety before that thing or its as-yet unseen companions ripped her apart. She had plenty of reasons not to worry too much about Fiona.

“Come on.” Urging her tiring friend on, the skinnier redhead decided to take at least this one cue from Audrey and circled around the trunk of a massive tree, making sure Rebecca followed. It confused their attacker, bought them a little time, and kept them from getting out of earshot of Audrey.

At her friend’s soft, gentle reminder of what she’d been asked, Rebecca frowned. She wanted to remind the treed woman that they weren’t being chased by a velociraptor, but dismissed it as a waste of time. Instead, she considered her question as she doubled back.

Could this breed of dinosaurs climb? “I…I’m not sure,” she panted, one hand coming up to press against her chest. “I don’t think so. Their arms are probably too small to pull them up.”

“Then get your ass up here!”

They reached the tree, and Fiona quickly jumped up like it was nothing, setting the staff aside and braced across two nearby branches to keep it from falling. She and Audrey then each stretched out an arm, hands extended to grab Rebecca’s and pull her up as the youngest of the three continued, “And pray Jurassic Park was wrong about more than just the raptor’s appearance, cuz here he comes, and if he brought friends, you’re toast!”

“It’s not a raptor!” Rebecca reached for their hands, though she harbored little hope that she could actually get her fat ass up there. With or without their help, in her mind, she was dead.

“Please note, you’re the only one who cares,” the other young woman grumbled, grasping her friend’s wrist and exerting every bit of strength she had left to pull her to safety. Rebecca had virtually no upper body strength, and without Audrey and Fiona, would never be able to make it up onto the branch, despite being taller than both of them.

She almost dropped the larger girl when she suddenly yelped. Fiona glared at her, trying to compensate by taking more of their friend’s weight until she got a better grip on her arm.

Still a bit startled, she searched Rebecca’s eyes for some sign of what the hell that had been about, and found only fear. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Pull me up! Pull me up!” Refusing to say anything else, she gritted her teeth and pushed with all her might, kicking all the while. What she knew the blonde couldn’t see from her perch was that the dinosaur had caught up to her while they both struggled, and had grabbed hold of her calf with its sharp claws. Suddenly, she was glad for the long leather boots that, only moments before, she’d been cursing.

As the creature went for Rebecca again, Fiona grabbed the staff and whacked it as hard as she could over the head. It turned on her for a moment, but before it could do anything, Rebecca kicked it in the face. Taking advantage of the opportunity she’d just created, she stood on the hungry animal’s head and pushed off. At last, she was seated on the rough limb, with the deinonychus just barely out of reach. Gasping desperately for air as she turned and clung to Audrey, she glanced down at the bewildered creature and managed a breathless “thanks!” The moment Rebecca was safely out of reach, Fiona crept along the branch and headed for a different one. The tree was old and strong, but the three of them in the same spot could easily snap the branch and send them right to the dinosaur’s clutches.

Once she settled on another perch, they sat there for a moment, contemplating their luck, both good and bad, and watching the hungry animal watch them. All three knew that with a little effort, the thing could probably reach the two on the lower branch with those lethal, powerful jaws. Since it had clearly not yet figured this out, none of them really cared. Audrey was exhausted and sore, the entirety of her plump body throbbing unbearably now that adrenaline had begun to flee her as she had fled the dinosaur. Fiona was desperately trying to get her breath back, and though she felt fine otherwise, she knew she’d feel like she’d been hit by a bus in the morning. Rebecca, too, was exhausted and sore, though the pain in her muscles and joints hadn’t yet registered. Her gaze shifted from the restless animal to the long jagged tears in the back of her skirt, which she studied with a sort of numb, detached fascination.

“Well,” she said finally, still scarcely able to breathe. “That was exhilarating.”

Fiona laughed.

“Exhilarating?” Audrey gaped at her. “Are you fucking kidding me? We just almost became something’s soon-to-be-fossilized lunch!”

Shrugging, Rebecca glanced down at the prehistoric lizard…bird…thing. And suddenly she felt pity for it, and all the living things around them. After a long silence, during which the deinonychus finally lost interest and stormed off in search of easier prey, she finally murmured, “We survived, didn’t we? That’s more than anything else in this time period can say.” Where were its companions? The question bubbled up out of nowhere, and once formed, refused to be dismissed. She'd heard it call to someone, and heard an answer... Or had she? Had she imagined it all?

“We don’t belong in this time period!” Audrey's reply startled her out of her confused reverie. Her voice was shrill, expression aghast as she stared at the other woman as if she’d lost her mind. Perhaps that was obvious. For a second, she considered that maybe shehad gone mad, and this whole nightmarish situation was just a scene playing out in her ever-overactive imagination.

Then she shifted, and the ankle she’d twisted when she tripped on a rock sent a twinge of pain up her leg. The idea of any of this being anything less than horribly, undeniably real was scrapped, and she glanced around. She would merely search for makeshift supplies, she decided. She would rewrite Rebecca’s stupid spell, and get them back to the present. If this experience was meant to teach them anything, she was sure it was that the past can’t be changed, which she was suddenly ready to accept as Gospel truth. Life sucked, but they could make it better if they just focused less on whining about it, and more on actually doing something about it.

A strange weight on her mind drew her from her thoughts and she turned to look. Rebecca was staring at her.

Huffing a bit, she gestured to her shredded clothing. “That’s going to get infected. You’ll probably die before the week is out.”

“Thanks, Captain Optimism,” the other woman growled, rolling her eyes.

“We don’t have anything to wrap it with!” she snapped, interrupting her friend’s attempt to assure her that she was fine.

“I can rip something if you want,” Fiona offered, gesturing to her clothes.

“We have no idea what’s poisonous and what’s not,” Audrey continued to rant as if the other young woman hadn’t spoken, “We’re about sixty-five million years away from peroxide, never mind penicillin. And all of this is assuming you just get some kind of nasty infection. Every carnivore with at least one nostril can probably smell all that blood for miles. If we don’t get the hell back to modern times, you are going to die!”

To shut her up, Rebecca sighed and reached down, shoving her torn skirt out of the way to show the long scratches across her boot. She could see them alright through the slashes in her skirt, but clearly Audrey was less observant. “I’m not bleeding, genius. He was aiming to grab, not gut; he didn’t get through the leather.” She gestured, but wasn’t the least bit surprised when Audrey only shook her head and looked away.

“I’m just worried about you,” she whispered, much more subdued as the fight slowly drained from her. “You got lucky this time, but as long as we stay here, we’re in danger every second, from everything.”

As if only just then remembering that Fiona was there, she whipped around and stared up over her shoulder at her. "And how the hell are you still corporeal? How were you ever in the first place? I mean, nice to meet you, I guess? But what the actual fuck is going on?!"

[dangerousconnoisseurdonut]

When a Demon Seduced an Angel

Context: this is a (rather large) snippet from my own prompt in which Bruce is an adorable and fierce Angel who, instead of having fluffy, white, birdlike wings like all the other angels, has black, leathery bat-like wings and is tormented for it. To show the other Angels that he is good and not a demon in disguise, Bruce has taken on several high risk missions on his own, and successfully stopped numerous demon campaigns. Unfortunately, this causes the demons and their generals, The Legion of Horribles and the Brigadier Generals, Jim and Alfred (who all, strangely enough, have birdlike wings unlike their demon underlings) no small degree of vexation. So they catch him and present him to their generals... and they are stunned! This cute, little baby bat is the one causing so much trouble? Jim is the one who suggests they take the pup’s loyalty and twist it to them. The others agree, and this is Alfred’s ‘session’ with the cute little Angel.

Alfred made sure he had everything set up before allowing the pup to be brought in; the candles were lit, the wine was comfortably chilled, and his secret weapon would be in full view of the pup when it was time. He knew exactly how to make that pup sing like a nightingale, Jim and Victor thought they had broken through with all their Daddy Play the other day but he was going to have the pup leave his body by the time he was done. He looked up when some demon grunts brought the boy in, more than one sporting bruises and scratches. He wondered about the ‘All-Father’s’ sense of humour in creating such an intoxicating creature and putting him on the side of the angels. The white clothes he had been captured in had done nothing for his skin, but the dark clothes he now sported showed off his creamy skin, his dark hair, and beautiful dark green eyes. The boy was sin personified but he was on the side of the Bible humpers; he wondered if the boy was supposed to be the ‘great reward’ for being good, wholesome, and all around boring. He certainly appeared to be a tall glass of holy water.

He watched as the underlings maneuvered Bruce until he was in the center of the room, removed his shirt, and attached to a hook hanging overhead. Alfred smirked as he watched the pup try and get his balance; he had arranged the hook so that Bruce would only be able to stand on his tiptoes and any kind of struggling would have the boy flailing in the air. And Alfred could foresee a fair bit of struggling. As a gift however, he nodded that those beautiful, butter soft leather wings be released of their harness. He heard Bruce sigh a little in relief at the release of pressure and smiled as he came into view of their baby bat.

“Comfortable?” He relished in the glare he received in return as the pup responded,

“If I was in anyway comfortable, I would be home right now instead of being surrounded by demons.”

“Such attitude when we’ve done our best to make sure you were comfortable.”

“Oh yeah; those chains you used to pin me down and keep my wings bound the other day were really comfortable.” Alfred merely shrugged and replied,

“You tried to leave without saying goodbye pup; that’s bad manners and Victor and Jim had to get tough with you. Though, judging by your reactions, you didn’t mind being their ‘Daddies Boy’.” Alfred smirked as Bruce blushed and looked away before continuing,

“Tell me, Brucie, what do you know of the senses?” Bruce glared at the ‘Brucie’ bit before responding,

“They are a faculty by which the body perceives an external stimulus; one of the faculties of sight, smell, hearing, taste, and touch.” Alfred rolled his eyes before yawning and responding,

“Figures an angel would give such a dry description of something so essential. I think you need a little lesson on the senses.” So saying, Alfred produced a red silk blindfold and wrapped it around Bruce’s eyes.

“First, we are going to start off with two of the most disregarded senses; taste and smell. You ever eaten pup?”

“Of course not; angels have no need to eat so why waste the time?” Bruce responded as he tried to keep track of the demon.

“Demons don’t have to eat either Baby Boy; we do it because we enjoy it, something I doubt you’ve ever actually done. So, let’s see if I can’t help you understand our enjoyment of the act. We have a chef down here that is so good; it’s said that when her husband sold his soul for some idiotic reason, she offered her own soul that she could make a dish that would bring tears to Mephisto’s eyes. Poor dear didn’t realize that Mephisto didn’t have tear ducts but the meal was so good, when he took her soul, he placed it in the kitchens, allowing her to try all manners of dishes. Last I checked, she’s never been happier, and she hopes you’ll like what she made up for you. She made you a lovely herb encrusted lamb with some lovely roasted Brussels sprouts, some creamy herb mash potatoes, and a lovely purple cabbage salad with cranberries and mandarin oranges to cut through all the richness of everything. To start you off we have a lovely, refreshing chilled watercress yogurt soup that will do a lovely job of waking your taste buds up and for dessert, she made a delicious blueberry and lemon tart that will top things off beautifully. On the off chance you don’t like the tart, I also have some lovely strawberries and cream, which is a favourite of mine.”

“I really don’t see the point in any of that; angels and demons feed on cosmic energy, we have no need for such things.” Bruce retorted at the food listed. He honestly had no concept of any which had been described to him, and didn’t see the point in consuming human food that would not give them any extra energy.

“That’s the whole point; decadence, doing things not because you have to or because it serves some kind of function. Doing them simply because it feels good, which you are about to get a lesson in, so open up.” Bruce didn’t want to but knew the sooner he indulged this demon and showed him how pointless such a thing was, the demon may get irritated enough and send him away. He opened his mouth and let the demon place the spoon with the cold soup on his tongue before it was tipped down his throat. He had to admit, there was an interesting flavour to it and it was rather refreshing

“You like that?” Bruce was fairly certain he could hear the smirk on the demon’s face so responded,

“I never said humans don’t know how to prepare food to their liking, I just don’t see the point on wast- hmph!” Bruce suddenly found the spoon back in his mouth with more soup as the demon responded,

“I can see that I have my work cut out for me in teaching you about indulging; fortunately for you, I have the patience of Job, so we can keep at this for however long it takes.” Alfred took a mouthful himself before giving Bruce another. It wasn’t long before the soup was done, and he wondered how the stubborn angel would deal with the lovely rack of lamb. He cut off a nice sized piece of the medium rare lamb and held it first under the angel’s nose so he could get a good whiff of it.

“That, my pretty little bat, is a perfectly cooked medium rare lamb. For humans, the scent alone can be enough to get their mouths watering and scent is a powerful memory trigger so, the next time you are around humans, you will remember this scent and remember that a demon was the one who woke these senses up in you.” When Bruce opened his mouth to retort, the piece of meat was tucked into him mouth and the forced closed as Alfred instructed,

“Now, we don’t choke but it can be uncomfortable to swallow a piece of meat like that whole, so take your time in chewing it, but just let it sit on your tongue for a minute, let the flavour of the meat, the herbs, the tender sauce all mix together on your virgin tongue, and try to tell me that it’s not worth savouring and eagerly awaiting the next bite.” Bruce did as instructed and let the meat sit on his tongue, and couldn’t hold back the moan as the flavours seeped into his tongue and it felt like there were fireworks going off behind his eyelids.

“Told you so, didn’t I?” Bruce slowly chewed the piece of meat, indeed savouring it before swallowing it and taking a moment to collect himself before responding,

“Yes, it’s good, but angels aren’t meant to indulge in such things; it’s wrong!” Alfred swallowed his own piece before replying,

“If it’s so wrong, Brucie, then why did the ‘All-Father’ give you taste buds? Is it wrong on the same level as those who condemn homosexuals? I know more than a few angels who would like to see them down here.”

“No! No, the All-Father loves us all! He wants us to love each other, not hate!”

“Then those angels are wrong in their condemnation?”

“Yes!”

“Then why are they right about their opinions on food right? Or their opinion of you for that matter?” Bruce shrunk in on himself so Alfred sighed and gave him another piece of meat, this one with some of the mash potatoes, creating a lovely combination of flavours. After a couple more bites, he gave him some of the salad, and he seemed to enjoy the refreshing acidity. Soon, Alfred poured the conflicted angel a refreshing glass of wine and pressed the rim to his lips.

“This is a delightful little wine that pairs beautifully with lamb that offers the restraint to complement the delicate, gamey flavor of lamb and the deliciously jammy sweetness to go with the fig-port sauce. And so help me if you give me some speech about how angels aren’t supposed to drink spirits, I am going to get a Succubus in here that will tease you for hours, and even you can’t handle that.” Bruce whimpered as he parted his lips and allowed himself to take a few sips, finding it bracing and actually quite nice.

“Now, you ready for your dessert?”

"I would... like... to try... them both, since I’ve never actually had fruit, though I’ve noticed humans enjoy it.” Alfred smiled as the pup asked for something he wanted, even displayed a little greed and gluttony as the pup wanted to try both, and cut a small piece of tart before presenting it to him. He parted his lips and took the tart with the firm crust and enjoyed the sweetness of the blueberries and the zing from the lemon. Alfred then took a piece of strawberry and scooped up a bit of cream before presenting it to the abandoned angel. He watched as Bruce seemed to enjoy the strawberries just a tad more, so he grabbed another piece and, when he opened his lips, he used the strawberry to trace the pup’s lips. As confusion fluttered over the pup’s face, Alfred very casually asked,

“Did you know that some people consider certain foods to be aphrodisiacs? They are seen as being able to arouse a person. Strawberries are one of those foods; I suppose it has something to do with the juiciness and some say that a ripe strawberry, after you’ve bitten into it, looks a lot like a woman’s pussy.” Despite the fact it should not have been possible, Bruce found himself choking on the strawberry he had just gotten.

“You alright love? You want some more wine?” Bruce didn’t know how a demon could sound so innocent, but this one pulled it off quite well.

“Humans enjoyed using food for sex long before we even dreamed of it. I happen to know that it was some decadent woman in Greece who one day, tired of her husband ignoring her, actually started inserting grapes into her pussy. She and a slave boy had a lot of fun trying different foods, right up until her husband killed them both. It was a little closer to modern times when they started using things like whipped cream and chocolate spread, something I’ll have to be sure to bring next time as there’s more than one part of your body that would look good covered in chocolate and cream. Now, if you’re done eating, I think we are ready to help you learn about your next two senses; hearing... and touch.”

To Be Continued...

[tealquacks]

They Share a Kitchen 4: Breakfast in Bed

Originally posted here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24317644/chapters/69731439

It’s been many months, I know, but I hope you all like this chapter! 

Remus knew he should get out of bed. 

Out of bed, down the stairs. 

Down the stairs and into the kitchen.

He owed Janus rabbit, and he wanted to talk to Logan.

Logan…

It had been a few days since they’d gathered ingredients, and they’d talked almost every single day since. They met in the kitchen. Talked at night. Sought one another out. But it would never last. Logan would say something about the light sides and then scurry away, or get all quiet if he thought he heard footsteps. It never felt like it did when they were alone, truly alone. 

He rolled over in bed, curled in on himself. 

Come on. Up, out of bed, down the stairs, into the kitchen, make something with rabbit, then find another reason to talk to Logan. Maybe they could find a good paella recipe. And that would get Logan to come into the kitchen and talk to him. He could talk to Janus, too, and cook as he did so.

Up, out of bed, down the stairs, into the kitchen.

Remus stared at the wall. 

Up, out of bed, down the stairs, into the kitchen. It was 7:30 am. Janus would be in the kitchen soon. And if he wasn’t in the kitchen before he left, he’d get that look from Janus, one of those looks that said ‘are you okay?’ And made him feel all queasy and miserable.

The long and short of his situation was that the bed was nice and soft, and he didn’t see a point in getting out of bed. Even though there was food to be made and conversations to be had. Remus sat up, but didn’t get out from under the covers.

He got like this sometimes. When was the last time? Remus looked down at his hands. Maybe he could paint his nails. In bed. Then he’d get up, out of bed, down the stairs, into the kitchen. What had he been—

—yes, when was that last time he couldn’t— right after Thomas decided to skip the fucking callback. He’d spent most of the wedding laying in bed, marinating in a horrid, heavy feeling that he couldn’t quite identify. It was like trying to pin a still flapping butterfly to a board. Remus flopped back onto bed.

Now it was 9:00 am. Where did that time go? He must’ve fallen back asleep, or zoned out. He sighed. At least he had a reason to feel heavy then. Now he was just being stupid.

“No, you feel heavy because he abandoned you,” a deep voice echoed, “like all the others.”

“Shut the fuck up, Orange,” Remus grumbled, “I’m tryna fucking sleep.”

“No you’re not.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Orange laid his hand on Remus’ head. It was freezing cold against his skin. He gently ran his fingers through the brown strands. They stayed like that for a few minutes, in a cold, uncomfortable silence.

“Green, you know they’ll never apologize to you,” Orange whispered, “they’ll never accept you. They’ll never stay by you. It’s a fact of life, it’s alright-”

The words drifted away as Remus shut his eyes, mind wandering far, far away. It left the room entirely- bed, stairs, kitchen, Logan- and found itself back at that night on the dock, Logan’s pale skin under bright moonlight. He’d offered him a castle, a cottage. He gave him a pearl. Had he kept that pearl? Or did he throw it away? 

Orange chuckled darkly, hand still in his hair. He pet him slowly, as if consoling a dying animal.

“You poor little creature.”

“I’ll kill you,” Remus growled.

“You can’t even get out of bed.”

“I’ll still kill you.”

It had been several days— four, maybe— since Logan and him dove into the cool black of the ocean. He returned to the dock just yesterday. Slow waves lapped against the shore, illuminating the night in a bright blue bioluminescence. If Logan had asked, he would’ve made him a cottage on the beach. He would’ve turned the black sand to glass. He would’ve destroyed it all. 

“You’ve let yourself change too much. Remember, Green,” Orange mumbled, playing with Remus’ hair, “you are nothing but one part to a whole, a scrap, a husk. You’re empty and hated, hated by Red, by Purple, by Indigo—“

Remus moved without thinking, hands wrapping fast around Orange’s throat, squeezing with whatever might he had. Orange toppled off of the bed, and Remus went with him, slamming his knees into Orange’s chest as his back hit the floor, hands clasped around his throat like a prayer.

“Don’t you fucking dare say anything about him you goddamn piece of shit,” Remus snarled,  "He is nothing like them— nothing like me! And that’s… that’s none of your business! That’s what it is! Do you hear me?”

Orange just grinned, his unreadable face flickering. Remus throttled him back and forth, slamming his head into the dirty floor of his room. Orange’s face never shifted. Still cold, unreadable. Remus dug his nails into his throat. His breath came in shallow puffs.

“Do you fucking hear me?”

Someone knocked on the door quietly. Janus, probably. Remus held fast to Orange’s neck.

“Do you hear me, motherfucker? He doesn’t hate me! HE DOESN’T HATE ME!” Remus screeched. All Orange did, the absolute bastard, was raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Look at that, I got you out of bed. You should thank me, Green.”

Remus punched him in the nose as hard as he could, a loud crack echoing through the room. Orange’s blood dyed his knuckles a shifting cascade of color. 

The door quietly creaked open.

“I heard something fall, and then yelling,” Logan began carefully. "I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Remus looked up from where he knelt on the floor, hands clasping at nothing but air. Cowardly bastard had up and vanished without a trace. Even the blood had vanished from his knuckles. Logan was still looking at him, tray in his hands, angelically haloed in the light of the hallway. Remus coughed, attempting (and probably failing) to not look like he had just tried to brutally murder someone.

“Hi, Logan, what’cha got there?”

“Janus said he didn’t see you at breakfast, so I, um. Grabbed some pancakes Virgil made, and made you a little plate. Are you alright?”

Remus stood, brushing dust off of his dirty pajama pants. He hadn’t washed them in… had he ever washed them? He sat back on the edge of the bed. 

“I’m perfectly peachy, Logan.”

Logan frowned. “It’s 9… 9 something. I didn’t check the time before I came up. But I thought you’d be hungry.”

Remus tilted his head, sloshed the sludge of his brain around trying to find coherent thought. The urge to scream at Logan welled up within him, a thick feeling in his throat as if he was about to puke up a torrent of slugs. He wanted to ask him for so many things- stay with him, hold him, tell him he doesn’t hate him. He gingerly pat his bed. 

Logan stepped inside of his room, closing the door behind him. Remus turned on the lights with a clap of his hands. Logan sat (on the bed,) facing him, and set the tray between them. There was a plate of pancakes— probably banana nut, knowing Virgil— as well as two glasses of water with lemon on the rim, and an orange. Two glasses of water.

“Were you planning on eating with me?” Remus asked quietly. Logan picked up one of the glasses.

“If you wouldn’t be averse to that,” he muttered. Remus snorted.

“You know I love spending time with you.”

Logan sipped his water, the slice of lemon bumping his glasses a little. Remus couldn’t help but stare. He wanted. He wanted. He didn’t know what it was, but whatever it was, he wanted. 

“How have you been?” Remus asked. Logan swallowed a mouthful of cold water. 

“Well. And you?”

Remus picked up the fork and knife on the tray, gingerly cutting into the stack of pancakes. He poked one with a fork, and lifted it to his mouth. Banana nut, just as he’d expected. He hated the taste of banana nut, but Logan didn’t know that. 

“Good, I’ve been doing good. I couldn’t get out of bed this morning, but besides that, I’m all good. I haven’t washed my sheets in close to twenty years and I’m so glad I’m not a human or else they’d smell absolutely horrible and be covered in dead skin.”

Logan looked down at the blanket. Remus chewed slowly.

“That’s okay,” Logan mumbled.

Remus chewed, then swallowed.

“Do you still have that pearl I gave you?” He asked.

Logan sipped his water. Remus’ heart started to pound.

“Do you still have that pearl I gave you?” Remus repeated. Logan lowered the glass from his lips, then nodded.

“Of course I do. It’s beautiful, Remus.”

“Just beautiful? No little scientific quip about pearls?”

Logan opened his mouth, then closed it. He cleared his throat.

“Cleopatra, according to legend, dissolved crushed pearls in vinegar to drink them. The pearls would dissolve in the vinegar, since pearls are 85-90% calcium carbonate, which is also the main component of snail shells, and eggs. Calcium carbonate is also suspected to be found on Mars.”

“Space oysters!” Remus said between bites of pancake, “speaking of Cleopatra, how has Roman been doing? Get it, since Cleopatra fucked Caesar and Caesar was Roman, though I doubt Roman is getting any. Did you know Cleopatra made a vibrator by sticking a bunch of bees in a dildo?”

The corner of Logan’s mouth twitched up.

“That is quite an interesting fact.” “So how is he? Roman, I mean.

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, he’s been hanging out with Virgil a good deal. They were working together. I… don’t know if Roman is feeling any better, though. The two of them, surprisingly enough, seem to bring out the best and worst in one another. Roman makes Virgil brave, in an odd way.”

Remus nodded.

“I regret teaching him to cook.” 

“Who, Virgil?”

“Yes,” Remus said, “cooking’s my thing and I hate him so much and I hate Roman too, they left me, they hate me, and I hate them.”

Logan went silent.

“...Virgil made those pancakes. Do you want to move downstairs? We could make pancakes, and they wouldn’t be his.”

Remus nodded. 

“That sounds great! Are you sure the others won’t be there?”

“The kitchen has been mostly empty since Roman and Virgil’s little… escapade. It would be just the two of us.”

Remus stood, leaving the tray of food on the bed.

“Alright then! Race you to the kitchen!”

He lept off of his bed and burst through the door of his room, almost slamming into the wall before turning and running down the stairs on all fours. He toppled over his arms, and slid down the rest of the stairs on his back. His feet touched the floor, and he sprinted into the kitchen, only to find Logan already standing there.

“How the fuck?”

“I teleported,” Logan said, a small smirk lighting up his features. He still held the glass of water with a lemon slice on it, “we’re not real, remember?”

“You little shit,” Remus said with a smile. Logan raised his glass in a mock toast. Remus walked over to the cupboards, keeping his eyes on Logan the whole time. He wanted.

“The griddle is still out at least,” Remus observed, “Virgil never was one to clean up his own goddamn messes. Now sit down, unless you have an award winning pancake recipe!”

Logan sat, and said “your pancake recipe has won an award?”

Remus snorted.

“No, but Janus once told me it deserved an award.”

He knew the steps. Get the flour. Scoop some into a bowl, then baking powder, eggs, sugar… it felt like too much. He’d made it so many times. Now it felt like too much.

Logan stared at him.

“...do you wish for me to help you make them?”

“Yes, please,” Remus said, absolutely relieved, “get the flour.”

Logan stood from the table, and went over to the cabinet. He reached up, and Remus couldn’t help but stare at his arms as he got the milk and eggs out of the fridge.

“You should wear less clothes,” Remus said, “you have nothing to be ashamed of, really, you’re just as handsome as everyone else here.”

“Nobody else is here except you.”

“Are you saying I’m not handsome?” Remus teased, conjuring a bowl.

“I certainly am not.”

Logan pulled the flour down, as well as the baking powder. 

“Is there anything else we need from the cabinet?” He asked. Remus grabbed the milk, eggs and butter from the fridge.

“Salt and sugar, and the rest is moist ingredients!”

Remus used his fingers to squeeze 3 tablespoons of butter from the stick, watching Logan get all the ingredients lined up on the counter.

“How much of each ingredient do you need?”

“One point five cups flour, like, four teaspoons powder, tablespoon of sugar. You seem much more alive today, is that because the others aren’t around?”

Logan sighed.

“I constantly remind you that I have to keep up appearances in front of the others—“

“And I constantly tell you that you don’t have to listen to them. You can make them listen, too.”

Logan took out the measuring cups, starting to measure the ingredients. Remus melted the butter into the bowl with a snap of his fingers, then cracked the egg into the bowl.

“How would you suggest I go about making them listen?”

Remus giggled quietly.

“Patton’s afraid of death, right? Just threaten him. Say you’ll tear his throat out. Or stomp on his neck until he dies. And then when he comes back up you explain everything to him! Or you just scare him! Make your face all scary and spook him!”

Logan frowned.

“I don’t think that would do much for the situation, especially considering that Patton doesn’t listen to you because you scare him.”

“Have you tried asking Patton and the others to listen to you?” Remus asked, stirring the butter and eggs together. He wasn’t really focused on the recipe, just on Logan. That odd heaviness still lingered, but he tried to push past it.

“No, I don’t think so. If I did, it didn’t work.”

Remus sighed.

“My offer still stands, you know. A cottage, a castle, anything you want.”

Logan looked up at Remus, then back down at the measuring cups.

“I can’t, I’m sorry. With how much Thomas’ emotional state has been spiraling, I can’t leave him or the others unsupervised. Relations between the sides can move from arguing to breakdown inducing levels of tension.”

“When has that ever happened?”

Logan frowned. All of the ingredients sat neay measured in front of him, sat on the counter.

“Besides the memorable incidents concerning the wedding, Janus was the one who encouraged you to become more present in Thomas’ day to day life, was he not?”

Remus shrugged. He walked over to Logan, grabbing all the measuring cups and dumping them into the bowl, one by one, haphazardly mixing them together with a summoned spoon.

“I’ve always been in Thomas’ life, and I always will be. I just decided to become more present in his life, to piss off Patton and Virgil. So I’d wait until he was about to sleep, and scream my ideas into the imagination, which certainly terrified Patton and Virgil.”

Logan raised his eyebrow.

“You did all that because Janus told you too?”

Remus stared at Logan blankly.

“He’s the only person that’s always been there for me.”

An awkward silence fell between them. He mixed the contents of the bowl until all of the chunks of flour and baking powder were mixed in, making a liquid smooth batter. He considered adding blueberries or chocolate, but Logan liked simple things. Water with lemon, saffron crocuses. Remus looked over to Logan. 

“A cottage, would that be nice for you? Or would you want a more modern house with lots of bells and whistles? A smart house like that one Ray Bradbury short story, you know the ones with the lions and the kids and the lions ate the parents? I could make it in the crocus field you helped me make and you’ll have infinite saffron— you’re frowning, is that not nice? It sounds pretty nice to me.”

Logan shook his head.

“I’ve told you many, many times, I can’t.”

“Because of how your little light sides would feel?” Remus snapped, “What about how I would feel?”

“And how do you feel?” Logan asked sharply.

“I want to eat your heart,” Remus blurted. He felt his face burn. Logan blinked, staring right at him. 

“I don’t have a heart, Remus,” Logan whispered.

“What if you had a heart, if you were human? Would you let me eat it then?”

Logan looked away from him, staring down at his hands.

“If you wanted to,” Logan mumbled.

“I do,” Remus exclaimed, “with saffron and sea salt!”

Logan’s face burned bright red. His hands pressed flat against the counter, and he turned to Remus.

“It’s a damn shame I’m not human then,” Logan spoke, “because I would love every second of that.”

Without thinking, Remus dropped the bowl and the spoon, letting batter splatter all over himself and the stove. He turned, pressing himself close to Logan, placing one hand on his chest where his heart would be. It covered his shirt in batter, but Logan didn’t seem to mind.

“Then let’s pretend we are human.”

Logan turned to face him, eyes wide, and face flushed.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

Remus smirked. He leaned in, just enough to smell the coffee on Logan’s nervous breaths.

“Do you want me to?” He asked. Logan swallowed. He looked over Remus’ shoulder, then grabbed his wrist. 

“What about the others?” Logan whispered. Remus’ face fell. He set his hand on Logan’s cheek.

“If this makes you happy, the others won’t care who kisses you,” he promised. Logan smiled softly. 

“Then I want you to, Remus. Kiss me,” Logan said breathily. Remus leaned just a little closer, foot happily tapping against the ground.

Remus leaned in closer, closing the distance between them, and gently pressed his lips against Logan’s. He tasted like coffee, warm and inviting, and something very familiar. Probably spit. But it was good, because it was him, it was Logan, Logan kissing him and moving his hand from his wrist to the small of his back. Wonderful, so wonderful. Remus pulled back, just for a breath he didn’t even need, and pressed his lips to Logan’s cheeks, then his nose, his brow bone.

“Is that necessary?” Logan mumbled. Remus laughed quietly, pressing a small kiss to Logan’s eyelid. They fluttered open. Remus stared into his eyes, and cupped Logan’s cheek in his hand.

“A cabin,” Remus muttered, “a cabin where we can be alone and I can kiss you all the time, and you never have to be scared again.”

Logan sighed, leaning closer to Remus. They bumped their foreheads together, Remus wrapping his arms around Logan possessively. 

“I can’t leave. But we can still kiss,” Logan whispered.

“I’m so glad I got out of bed.”

“What the fuck is going on?!?”

Remus turned his head quicker than he ever thought he had before. There, standing in the middle of the kitchen, Virgil glared at them.

“Oh, hi Virgil, don’t you look cheerful as ever,” Remus crowed. He looked back, Logan’s face as pale as a pearl. 

“Get the fuck away from him,” Virgil ordered. Remus tilted his head.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, then I’ll fucking kill you.”

Remsus’ brows shot up. 

“Over what, you perpetually pissed purple pussy? Just because Logan wanted me to--” “I doubt he wanted anything from you,” Virgil growled, “what could he possibly fucking want? Get away from him. Now.”

“Why don’t you just ask--” “Get. Away.”

Remus glanced back at Logan. Any trace of emotion had vanished, replaced with that cold, stony stoicism. Remus wanted to grab him. Grab him and scream at him to say something, scream until something got through to him, scream until Logan realized that even if he did piss the light sides off, he wouldn’t be alone, they’d always have the ocean and the kitchen and one another--

“You are a really, really shitty person, Virgil. And the worst part is that I don’t even think you see it. I mean, what gives you the goddamn right to come wandering in here and tell me what to do, and assume what Logan wants?”

Virgil took a step forward. “I know that he wants nothing to do with a shitbag skunk-cunt like you.”

“Oh, what an original insult!” Remus exclaimed. He laughed, then the smile suddenly dropped from his face. ”Actually, it isn’t. That was the same thing I called you when you left me, left me behind to rot, you and fucking Roman, and you know, I know what you want with him. You want everything about him, you want to leech off the love he gets from the others since none of them fucking love you, and you know that deep down, don’t you? That nobody likes you!”

Remus reached behind him. He grabbed Logan’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Logan’s hand was limp in his grasp. Virgil glared at him. “Wow, I’d sure be hurt if you weren’t such a fucking hippocrite. At least I’m wanted. I may have my moments, sure, I can be paranoid and snappy, but that’s not my constant state of being. You’re just a rabid dog. Sure, Janus may tolerate you, but once he really figures out how useless you are, he’ll leave. I’m sure that’s why he suddenly decided to play nice with the light sides, he realized that you couldn’t do anything for him anymore-- you certainly can’t scare me or Patton-- and you’re useless to him, time to throw you away like the shitsack you are. You’re useless to everyone, you know? If you just locked yourself in your room for the rest of Thomas’ life, nothing would change. You’re Roman’s lesser half, his fucking shadow-- are you crying?”

Remus touched his face. It was wet. His feet felt like they were glued to the floor. 

“What,” Virgil mocked, a shaky smile on his face, “Can’t handle the heat? Then get the FUCK out of the kitchen!”

Remus raised his arm to throw a punch. Logan’s grip tightened on his hand.

“That is enough, both of you,” Logan said calmly. He stepped in front of Remus, letting go of his hand.

“Virgil, thank you for being vigilant, but I assure you it’s fine.” Virgil stared at Logan’s chest. His usually neat dress shirt had a messy stain in the shape of a hand, right over his heart. “Did he hurt you?” Virgil asked.

“He didn’t hurt me, I’m okay. We were having a simple conversation, nothing more.”

Remus stared at him sadly. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. They weren’t just talking, they had something. They kissed, for gods sake, they kissed--

Remus grabbed Logan’s shoulders and spun him around. He slammed Logan against the table, and kissed him deep and hard, desperate. Logan’s hand pushed against his chest. Remus could feel Virgil’s hands grab his shirt and yank, the collar choking him, but he didn’t need air or water or food, he didn’t need anything but Logan, his Logan--

Logan shoved him away with both hands, staring at him sadly. As if he was nothing but a hurt animal. 

“I--” 

“Virgil, let go,” Logan said. Virgil let go of his shirt with a quiet grumble.

Remus stared at Logan. He backed away, until he could feel the stove against his back, the heat of the griddle.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Virgil shouted. Remus stared at the floor. If Virgil said anything else, it was lost in the dark tidal wave of emotion that hit Remus. He didn’t even know what it was. He was drowning, and the water was devoid of any life. Dark, too dark, too cold. He shook. A sudden heat jolted up his arm-- when had he set his hand on the griddle? He could smell his skin cooking. Bubbling. He watched Logan. He said he wanted to kiss him, he said he wanted him to, and they kissed and it was so wonderful. Virgil left. Logan walked out behind him. His palm burned on the griddle.

“What’s cooking?” 

Remus looked up. Orange sat in front of him at the kitchen table, straddling a chair. Remus stared at him, trying to see past whatever Orange did to make himself imperceptible, but his form kept on shifting in dizzying spirals of color, like oil on water. Remus slowly raised his hand from the griddle. If he was human, the skin would be white and blistered, maybe even peeling in a few places. But just like Logan, he wasn’t human. His hand was fine.

“A heart,” Remus mumbled, “and I’m eating it with saffron and sea salt.”

Orange tilted his head.

“There’s no need to repeat yourself, Remus. I heard everything. And I’m here to say that I told you Indigo would leave.”

Remus moved without thinking. He rushed at Orange. Instead, he collided with a chair, sending it clattering to the ground.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” Remus screamed. 

“No you won’t, because you know I’m right. I’ve always been right.” This time, Orange sat atop the counter. Remus summoned his morningstar with a flick of his wrist.

“No you’re not, you’re not right,” Remus growled. He swung at Orange. Orange vanished into thin air before it could even come close to hitting, the heavy iron ball instead slamming into the counter. It cracked the counter, and sent flour flying.

“I’ve always been right, Remus!” Orange said from in front of the fridge. He leaned against it oh so casually, “I’ve been right that you’re only playing house because you think they’ll all leave. Well, look at you now. Making pancakes, right? How sweet.” Remus swung again. The morning star collided with the fridge. It dented the door, and made a horrible screech of metal on metal. He pulled back, ready to strike again.

“You believe that Indigo deserves to be listened to no matter what, correct?” Orange asked. He laid on the table. Remus swung. The morning star collided with wood, splintering the wood.

“I take that as a yes,” Orange said. He was back on the table. Remus swung again. It hit the table in the same place as last time.

“Fucking stay still!” Remus screamed.

“You think he should be listened to no matter what he says or does. No matter who he truly is. And yet, you hold yourself back.” For the third time, the morningstar slammed into the table. This time, it broke through, splitting the table in two. Splintered wood flew in every direction.

“You cook because that makes you palatable,” Orange repeated. He sat on the stove. Swing. The griddle broke under the force of the morning star.

“But you aren’t.”

Swing. Miss. Break.

“You are a monster, that’s how you were made, that is who you are.”

Swing. Miss. Break. 

“You’re really good at swinging that thing around. Did you know that Lucifer was called the Morning Star? And he got punted out of heaven for defying God. His brother was an angel, I believe.”

Remus stilled, panting. Orange stood on the countertop, back pressed against the cabinets, 

“You’re nothing like them. You are the parts of humans that they hate, the beast in the brain, a reminder that humans evolved from animals. They hate you, Remus. They all do. Because they don’t understand you.”

Remus’ hands tightened around the morning star. Orange tilted his head.

“If Indigo loved you, wouldn’t he have said it by now?”

He hefted up the morningstar, and swung recklessly at Orange. The wood of the cabinet splintered and cracked. Glass shattered with a massive crash, like a wave hitting the shore, and millions of glinting shards flew at him, some sticking in his skin and others harmlessly bouncing on the tiles. 

“You are so much more than what they think you are,” Orange said, breath tickling the back of Remus’ neck, “so why try to make them like you? Do you really care that much about them? They’ve done nothing but abandon you, Remus. Over and over again. Nothing has or will change that.”

Remus whipped around, morningstar in hand, but Orange was gone. Remus dropped the morningstar. It clattered to the ground with a thud. He opened his mouth to scream, but no words came out. Nothing came out. He shakily walked to the destroyed table, and sat down on a chair. He looked around. Broken glass littered the floor. The stove had a massive dent in it, and the griddle had been snapped in two. The fridge had a dent, the counters had a dent and harsh scratches from his mace’s spikes, and the realization that he did that just because Orange made him angry made bile rush up his throat.

He didn’t scream or cry or vomit. Just stared at the mess he’d made.

Really, he’d made a mess. Maybe Logan didn’t want to kiss him. Maybe it was an experiment to him, like that stupid fucking schedule that had started this all, made Logan come to the kitchen, see him cooking…

Remus closed his eyes.

When he opened them, he sat on the edge of his dock, watching the glowing waves crash against the shore without end. The place he’d shared with Logan, offered him everything he wanted. Their skin was pale under the moonlight. Remus pulled his knees up to his chest.

He still owed Janus rabbit. He’d make it, then that would be the end, and he’d never set foot in that fucking kitchen again.

He watched the waves.

Tag list: @alexalexisalexej @breezy-skribblz @the-real-comically-insane @gravestone-monarch @heartwitchhouse @appleflavoredkitkats

[little-ligi]

Summer of Whump - No.9

No.9 - Animal Fandom - BBC Merlin Wordcount - 1475 @summer-of-whump

This prompt, just happening to land on @mercelotweek angst day, cried out for a Mercelot fic, so I am squeezing in a cheeky second submission 😉

The sword shattered against the giant winged creature’s side, splintering into fragments that fell to the forest floor. The beast’s head whipped down and it screeched at the man attacking it, its piercing raptor eyes focussed sharply on him as it stretched its wings. The man dropped the now useless hilt of his sword, turning and sprinting away, towards Merlin, as the creature reared.

“Run! Run!”

Merlin scrabbled to his feet, almost tripping on the loose leaf-strewn ground. The man caught Merlin’s arm, his hand warm and strong where it wrapped around his bicep. He pulled Merlin up to his feet and dragged him along with him as he ran towards the cover of the trees ahead of them. Horrible shrieks followed them, along with the pounding of heavy feet, getting closer and closer.

It was so close to them that Merlin felt the rush of air on his back as it swiped its taloned paw after them, just missing him by inches. The other man stumbled slightly, his hand falling from Merlin’s arm, but he kept running. Merlin, with his longer legs was now half a stride ahead of the other man as they ran the last few yards towards a fallen tree, and he could hear the other man panting. Merlin looked back briefly, then wished he hadn’t. The creature was gaining on them.

Continue reading on Ao3, fanfiction.net or below! 👇

Launching himself over the fallen tree, Merlin felt the man’s hand on his shoulder again, before it gripped tight into his shirt. Together they leapt up and over the large trunk. The hand in his shirt pulled him down the other side, and they ducked against the tree, out of the creature’s sight.

It screeched again as it soared over the log, its wings flapping. It flew over them – either not seeing them, or just deciding they weren’t worth it – and soared up into the sky with a few beats of its powerful wings. Merlin craned his neck to follow its flight, to make sure it wasn’t turning around for an attack from a different angle.

When it appeared it wasn’t, he sank back against the tree trunk.

“It’s gone,” he panted, slightly disbelievingly. He looked over at the other man, his gaze flickering over the stunningly handsome face and the low, loosely-laced shirt on the man’s heaving chest. He was a very attractive man. And incredibly brave too. “You saved my life,” slipped from his mouth as he gazed at his rescuer.

The man turned to him, his dark brown eyes scanning Merlin quickly, as if he was checking him for injuries, before flicking up to meet his eyes.

“I’m Merlin.” He held his hand out, and the man reached to grasp it firmly.

“Lancelot,” he supplied. Then his hand slid out of Merlin’s and his head lolled back against the tree trunk behind them. He let out a groan and his eyes rolled and closed.

Concern soared through Merlin’s chest. He leant closer to Lancelot. Lancelot’s other hand fell from his side, revealing a large, rapidly growing bloodstain on his pale blue shirt.

“Oh no…” Scrabbling up onto his knees, Merlin leant over Lancelot, gently tapping his face.

He just groaned, his eyelids fluttering but not opening. Merlin gently slid his fingers underneath the sword belt around Lancelot’s waist, his fingers plucking the leather out of the buckle and unfastening it. He rolled the hem of his shirt up to see the wound. It wasn’t quite as bad as Merlin had feared; a relatively shallow slash just under his ribs. But the edges of the wound looked a little grimy and raw. The creature’s talons clearly weren’t the cleanest.

Wishing he had a waterskin with him to at least try and clean the wound, he carefully brushed away a few grains of dirt from the skin around it. He tried not to notice how tanned and soft Lancelot’s skin was, instead focussing on finding a way to stop the bleeding. If only he’d put his neckerchief on this morning, he’d have a useful makeshift bandage.

Then he remembered his mushroom collecting basket; there was a small cloth in there. He’d dropped it when the horrible creature had attacked him, he could quickly run and fetch it. He was loathe to leave Lancelot alone, even for a minute, but it was either that or take his own shirt off to use and he didn’t think that would be quite the best option.

Scanning the surrounding trees, and the sky, quickly to be sure the beast was nowhere in sight, he pulled himself up to his feet with the fallen log. He climbed over it and ran as fast as could to where his basket was tipped on its side, round little mushrooms strewn out the top. He paused to scoop as many as he could back into the basket – he didn’t fancy having to come out here again if he didn’t fetch enough for Gaius. Almost tripping over on his own feet again, he sprinted back to the fallen tree, Lancelot still slumped against the side of it exactly where he had left him.

Unceremoniously, he dumped the basket, fishing the cloth out of it. He gave it a good shake, and folded it into a careful square.

“I’m sorry, this will probably hurt,” he said. Just because Lancelot was unconscious didn’t mean Merlin wouldn’t talk to him.

He lifted the light shirt again, chewing his lip, then placed the folded cloth onto the wound and pressed firmly. He wasn’t sure how hard to press, he knew pressure was good, but he didn’t want to cause any extra pain. He really needed to pay a bit more attention to Gaius when he was trying to teach him things.

His fingers flexed over the wad of cloth. His thumb brushing just beside it. It took a lot of self control to not let his hand run over the enticing plane of Lancelot’s stomach. His chest was rising and falling heavily, his breathing a little laboured and Merlin frowned.

“Lancelot? Lancelot can you hear me? Can you wake up?” he tried, the hand that was not keeping pressure on the wound lifting to tap Lancelot’s face, his fingertips resting just a little longer than necessary on his lightly stubbled jaw.

Lancelot groaned again, but showed no other indication that he might wake up.

What really bothered Merlin though, was the heat he could feel in Lancelot’s cheeks. He laid his palm on his forehead, flinching back at the heat of it. Was it normal for a fever to set in so soon after an injury? Maybe the beast’s talons were poisoned? Perhaps it was just the pain and shock.

Either way, Merlin wasn’t happy about it. He’d feel much better if Gaius could see Lancelot. He made up his mind; Lancelot was coming back to Camelot with him. There was no way Merlin wasn’t going to repay him for saving his life.

He peeked under the improvised bandage, relieved to see the bleeding had stopped. After dabbing at it once more, he took the cloth away and unfolded it, refolding it so there was a relatively unbloodied patch. Putting it over the injury, he held it in place while he pulled Lancelot’s shirt down to cover it, then very gently wound his belt back around him, using it to secure the bandage and keep it where it should be.

“There,” he said, patting Lancelot’s chest reassuringly. “We’ll get you to Gaius and he’ll fix you up.”

Another groan and Lancelot’s eyelids flickered, revealing just a tiny slither of deepest brown irises that slid towards Merlin.

“Thank… you,” he murmured, the words barely forming more then a breath, a wince etched into his face.

“You’re welcome. It’s alright,” Merlin soothed, patting his shoulder and trying to catch eye contact before Lancelot’s eyes slid closed.

But Lancelot drooped again, his chin falling to his chest, his dark hair flopping on his forehead. Merlin tenderly pushed it back, catching himself before he started running his hands through the lovely waves of dark hair.

“Right, let’s get you back then.”

He undid his own belt, looping the handles of his mushroom basket over the belt before refastening it, the basket now bumping against his hip. Then stood up, chewing his lip as he surveyed Lancelot. He wasn’t strong enough to lift him… he’d have to use magic to carry him, and just hope he stayed unconscious and wouldn’t see it.

He hooked his hands under Lancelot’s arms and pulled him up, muttering a spell as his lifted him onto his shoulder. Settling his magically reduced weight across his back, he started back in the direction of Camelot.

What exactly was Gaius going to say, he wondered? He’d sent Merlin out to collect mushrooms and here he was coming back with an injured new friend.

[thevindicativevordan]

My Take on a Superman Video Game

I've seen other people give their takes on how to approach this, and given Superman and video games are two major topics of interest for me, I thought I'd give my pitch.

So first off, I’m giving him a health bar. Yes I know some people will b**** and no I don’t care. I don’t care what people who get their Superman knowledge from YouTube or Instagram “fact” pages think about the character, and all the other attempts such as the city health bar in the Returns game didn’t satisfy me. So right off the bat he’s getting a health bar. Second: it’s time to start showing casuals areas of Superman lore they either don’t know about or aren’t very familiar with. The reason for that is people think they “know” Superman so we need to immediately show something they DON’T know about or HAVEN’T seen already to get them to not immediately dismiss Superman out of hand based on memes or whatever. Which leads into my third creative point. Third: I’m not setting the first game in Metropolis. The Arkham games didn’t immediately throw you into an open world Gotham, they built up to it. The Spider-Man PS4 game started off with an open world because they were able to build upon dozens of Spider-Man games that laid the ground work for them. The first Superman game in decades needs to avoid biting off more than it can chew, and throwing Superman into an open world feels like a bad idea. So where can it be? Well there are options. There’s Warworld. There’s Apokolips. But I think the best location is one that’s intrinsically tied to Superman and his Kryptonian background, and serves as a nice counterpart to Batman starting out in Arkham Asylum: The Phantom Zone

The Asylum was a great starting point for Batman for a couple reason: 1. It’s the iconic prison where Batman leaves his Rogues, 2. It’s gothic and horror esque vibe crafts the perfect atmosphere, and 3. it’s place as a center for examining the mind makes it great for exploring Batman’s mental state. For similar reason the PZ is the perfect place to start off Superman: 1. It likewise is an iconic prison for Superman Rogues 2. It’s science fiction and horror mixed together which crafts the perfect atmosphere for Superman to kick ass or be introspective, and 3. It lets Kal come face to face with his Kryptonian heritage in the nastiest way possible as he’s dumped into a place filled with prisoners his father helped exile as well as all the other monsters and criminals other races have dumped there. So he’s going to the Zone but how does he get there and what’s the story? It would be boring if he just walked in. Here’s the pitch: It’s Year 2 of Superman’s career. He’s already established himself as a hero in Metropolis and worldwide. The public knows he claims to mean them no harm and that he only seems to do good deeds, but they know very little about his origins and are divided as to his true intentions. The problem is Clark himself doesn’t really know his origins either beyond knowing he’s an alien from another planet. His only relics from his home planet are the rocket, a tablet written in a language he can’t read, and a curious device that doesn’t seem to have any use. As a show of goodwill, and because he hasn’t made any progress understanding them himself, Clark turns the tablet and the device over to STAR Labs for study. One day as he’s beating down some Intergang thugs, reality twists, and suddenly Clark finds himself in a place that is definitely not Metropolis. The “earth” is chalk white, the sky is a purple, green lightning flashes around as far as he can see, and where the sun should be there’s instead a black hole. Somehow Clark and the terrified Intergang thugs have ended up in the Phantom Zone with no idea of how they got there and how to get back.

The thugs accuse Clark of transporting them there and attack him, with Clark suddenly realizing his powers are fading in this place with no sunlight. Luckily a stranger arrives and aids Clark in dispatching the thugs. Clark thanks him for his aid and then asks who he is. The stranger pauses and tells Clark: “My name is Dru-Zod, a general of Krypton”. He raises a hand for Clark to shake. “I was a friend of your father, Kal-El”. Zod tells Kal about the place he’s in, and his history with it. He tells him that other humans have been brought here as well besides the Intergang thugs, including many of Clark’s foes. Zod informs Clark that the likely culprit for their arrival to the PZ is the very first prisoner Jor-El ever banished to the Phantom Zone: Xa-Du the Phantom King, who has spent so long imprisoned that he seems to have obtained a degree of control over the Zone that gives him strange powers. Kal is told that if he does not collect the scattered humans and escape the Zone soon, he and the humans will become trapped there, as anyone who spends too long in the Zone eventually becomes unable to leave without special equipment on the other side to bring them back, thanks to the way the Zone warps the inhabitants. Kal’s mission is clear: Collect the scattered humans, defeat and pacify his foes trapped there with him so they can be brought back as well, and defeat the Phantom King before he tears a hole between the Zone and the real world that could cause catastrophe for Earth. That’s the basic story pitch, next I’ll go into gameplay mechanics and what Rogues I’d use.

Clark starts the game having been de powered back to “Golden Age” power levels due to there being no sun in the PZ. Zod teaches him about Sunstones that grow naturally in the PZ, which will allow him to slowly re-empower himself. The Sunstones ward off the PZ’s influence and basically act as perk points for Clark to unlock and upgrade his powers. At the start he can’t fly, he can only run and leap. Zod acts as Kal’s mentor throughout the game, teaching him about Kryptonian history and how to read the language. He also tutors him in the dangers of the Phantom Zone as well as training him to hone his powers. Kal gets the feeling there’s more to Zod than he’s letting on though, and some of his comments raise Kal’s suspicions. The base of the game is the Fortress of Solitude.

It’s backstory is that when Jor-El first discovered the PZ, he built the FoS as a research outpost to study the place. It’s packed full of Kryptonian tech and it has the ability to shift back into the natural world. Zod couldn’t use it because it’s caretaker Kelex only responds to House El members. However it won’t shift back until it judges its user “sterilized” in order to avoid contaminating the natural world with the Zone’s influence. Because Kal was brought over so suddenly and without the proper tech, he has to use Sunstones to purge the Zone from his body before the Fortress will respond to his commands. This is a nice way of tying the gameplay and story together. Kal needs the stones to save the civilians and to go home, which helps explain why he might do side quests rather than stick with just the main questline. Civilians Superman has to rescue in the Zone: Lois Lane, Perry White, Jimmy Olsen, Dr. Veritas, Ron Troupe, Dr. John Henry Irons, Dr. Hamilton, Bibbo, Dr. Hank Henshaw and his family, Commissioner Henderson, Captain Maggie Sawyer, Detective Turpin, members of the Newskids Legion, Morgan Edge, and other OCs or nameless civilians. Kal also meets Krypto, who was transported into the Zone by Jor-El in order to watch over the Fortress as its guard, in order to keep it safe so that Kal might one day reclaim it. Rogues: Some of Superman’s Rogues have been teleported to the PZ as well, and unfortunately they have their own plans for escaping the Zone, even if it means they have to kill Superman to do it.

Metallo: John Corbyn is a cyborg soldier that served in the US Army under Sam Lane and was created as the government’s Anti-Superman deterrent. After a fight with Superman in his early career left him crippled, he was bonded to a nanosuit that equips him with various weaponry capable of killing Superman. He believes Superman transported everyone there as part of a first strike against humanity. Parasite: A Lexcorp lab experiment gone horribly wrong, Rudy Jones is a science fiction vampire who needs to kill to sustain himself. He absorbs the memories and skills of whoever he kills, and he is able to transform his body into various weapons (think Alex Mercer from [PROTOTYPE] to know what I mean). He’s hunting the civilians to feed on and has his eye on Superman as well. Livewire: Leslie was a vlogger with a far looser code of ethics than Clark. Her “reporting” eventually angered the wrong people who attempted to have her assassinated. Instead Leslie ended up with powers over electromagnetism, and a grudge against Morgan Edge who she believes was behind the Intergang hit on her. Edge is her target but she doesn’t mind stepping over Superman’s corpse if she has to. The Terran (Terra-Man): Krypton wasn’t the only planet to discover the Phantom Zone. One alien race banished the immortal hunter known as the Terran, whose human name was Tobias before he was abducted by aliens who were interested in the potential of the human meta gene and wanted to experiment on him. Their experiment was a success and Tobias broke free, using their own weaponry to hunt them down and carve a bloody path across the stars. Eventually he was transported to the PZ and is now desperate to escape. Mr. Mxy: Who is this creature? Neither a human nor seemingly an alien prisoner of the PZ, Mxy engages Clark in a series of puzzles that reveal secrets about the PZ... and foretell of threats to come. Red Cloud: An enforcer for the Invisible Mafia, her only loyalty is to her boss Leone. Her identity is a secret from Clark for now and she intends for it to remain that way. Silver Banshee: Not every human teleported to the PZ was unchanged. Some reacted much more strongly to the Zone’s influence. One former human has now been twisted into the sinister Silver Banshee, driven insane by the whispers in the Zone and the alterations to her body. She poses a formidable threat to Clark in her current state. Xa-Du: The Phantom King and first prisoner of the Phantom Zone sent from Krypton. Zod claims he was insane even before he was sent here but his incarceration has done nothing to improve his health if so. Gleefully plotting his return to the real world, Xa’s only desire is to raise an army of super zombies with himself as their Necrogod ruler. His time in the Zone has given him control over the degraded Phantoms, and he can channel the energies permeating the Zone into a variety of attacks (basically he’s a space necromancer). His aim is to corrupt Kal-El and the Fortress and use both to travel to Earth and he will never stop hunting Kal. Non boss mooks for Clark to fight: Phantoms - Some of the inhabitants of the Zone have degenerated into the ghostly Phantoms, their only desire to spread their suffering to others. They have been so warped by the Zone they’ve become a part of it and are thus incapable of permanently dying. Shades - Much more powerful Phantoms, Shades retain some memory of their former lives and posses some of their former skills. They serve as the elite of Xa-DU’s forces. Shadowbreed - Native creatures of the PZ, these beings feed on the light of the SunStones and thus see Clark as a meal as well. They possess various animals of the PZ to attack and feed on him. Eradicators - Once these machines served House El in their study of this place acting as defenders. But time has eroded their programming and they now seek to destroy even the Last Son of their old House.

That's the basic of my pitch, I think it's a fairly manageable one that addresses a lot of the arguments you get from people about why a game "wouldn't work" or whatever.

[kurowrites]

In the Forest

Well, here’s the anti-anxiety fluff. It’s also 1.30 am so I should probably sleep.

--

Lan Wangji walked through the forest, looking for Wei Wuxian. He had already been at the Jingshi, the library, as well as some other favourite hide-aways of his, but had not found him there. That did not leave many other options. Either Wei Wuxian had left for Caiyi Town without telling Lan Wangji (which was unlikely; Wei Wuxian would have at least sent a messenger, or rather, an unfortunate disciple temporarily downgraded to the status of messenger), or he was here.

Though it did little to warm the cool mountain air, the late afternoon light gave the forest a strange, almost otherworldly glow. This mysterious feeling was only intensified by the calm silence that surrounded Lan Wangji, had wrapped him in its gentle embrace.

He liked the peacefulness of this forest. One day, Wei Wuxian might get restless again, and he might spirit Lan Wangji away on another few weeks or months of travel. But no matter what beautiful and horrible sights that Lan Wangji would lay eyes on during these travels, part of his heart would remain here forever. It did not help that this place was so full of memories of all the people he had loved.

All the creatures he had loved.

In between two large fern fronds, a curious pink nose appeared, and a moment later, the rabbit it belonged to followed with a quick hop.

Wei Wuxian must be close.

Lan Wangji waited for the rabbit to approach, and bent down to lift it up once it had moved close enough.

“I am not the first visitor today, am I?” he asked the little rabbit as he gently stroked its ears. “Let us go and find him.”

He carefully moved though the underbrush that the rabbit had emerged from, and, within moments, found himself on a small clearing.

Indeed, Lan Wangji had not been the first visitor today. There was another visitor who had come and never left, and he was currently fast asleep.

Wei Wuxian must have snuck here to feed some treats to the rabbits – snacks that he shouldn’t really be feeding them. He must have sat down in the warmth of a particularly comfortable ray of afternoon sun, encircled by greedy rabbits. That warmth must have gently ensnared him and lulled him to sleep right where he had been sitting.

Lan Wangji stood at the edge of the clearing for a moment, observing the sight in front of him. Wei Wuxian lay nestled in a patch of grass, his eyes closed and his pose completely relaxed. At least three rabbits were loosely cradled in his arms, also asleep. Some of the more audacious rabbits had settled in the basket that Wei Wuxian had brought, squabbling over the last remaining treats that Wei Wuxian had no doubt illicitly planned to feed them. The rest of the rabbits dozed somewhere in the vicinity of Wei Wuxian, apparently encouraged by the fact that Wei Wuxian was not actively bullying them for once.

The rabbit in Lan Wangji’s arms started to wriggle around, asking to be let down so it could join its siblings. Lan Wangji bent down to let it go. He watched it hop away and join the herd of dozing rabbits surrounding Wei Wuxian.

Looking at Wei Wuxian’s peaceful sleeping form, Lan Wangji felt a deep exhaustion in his own bones. He had not spent enough time with his husband lately, not at all. Sect business was always demanding, and rare were the times that they had for themselves, completely uninterrupted by tasks and duties that wanted to be fulfilled.

But no one would care to look for them here, Lan Wangji realised. Lan Sizhui and his brother would perhaps be able to work out where they were. But they were both delicate enough not to come trampling in here like a horde of wild donkeys.

It was a perfect opportunity.

Gently shooing some of the dozing rabbits away, Lan Wangji made his way to his husband’s side and laid down onto the now cleared soft grass next to him. Almost as if he could feel Lan Wangji’s presence, Wei Wuxian stirred and turned towards Lan Wangji as soon as he had done so, but he did not wake. With a private smile, Lan Wangji wrapped his own arm around Wei Wuxian, indulging in the sensation of holding his husband close; of hearing his soft snuffling sounds as Lan Wangji closed his eyes, the rabbits in Wei Wuxian’s arms still cradled in between them.

Before Lan Zhan even knew, he had dozed off as well, uncaring of the curious little rabbits chewing on the hems of his robes in the hopes of more forbidden treats.

He woke up when the sun went down, extinguishing the last remaining warmth of the day as dusk set in. Next to him, Wei Wuxian sneezed lightly.

“Wei Ying,” he murmured, kissing the crown of Wei Wuxian’s head. “It is getting cold. We should return to the Jingshi.”

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asked, sounding slightly confused. “You’re here.”

“Hn,” Lan Wangji confirmed. “I was missing a husband.”

“Oh, just one?” Wei Wuxian joked. “I’m sure you could have done with one of the many other husbands that you have.”

“Only Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji reassured him, and Wei Wuxian, apparently mollified, gave him a kiss for his exertions.

“Very well, oh husband mine,” Wei Wuxian said haughtily, once their lips had parted again. “You shall be permitted to take me back to the Jingshi.”

And because he was a spoiled little prince, he waited for Lan Wangji to stand up and lift him from his comfortable throne of grass, and laughed happily when Lan Wangji gave him a twirl before setting him down on his feet.

He waved at the most steadfast of the rabbits that had remained with them until sundown. Then, he took Lan Wangji’s hand to pull him to the path that would lead them back to the Jingshi. Now that it was getting cold, he was eager to return to the warmth of their home.

“Thank you for finding me,” he said, swinging their interlinked hands between them as they walked. “I might have frozen to death out here otherwise.”

“The rabbits would not let that happen.”

Wei Wuxian shot him an amused glance. “You have a lot of trust in those rabbits of yours.”

“I have a lot of trust in my husband, too.”

“Aw, Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian cried. “Don’t say things like that!”

Lan Wangji had been entirely serious, however. He did trust Wei Wuxian. And he hoped that Wei Wuxian would never have a reason again to doubt his trust and hide from him.

After a moment’s consideration, he decided that it was not imperative to return to the Jingshi just yet, and crowded Wei Wuxian against the next tree with two quick steps. As long as he kept Wei Wuxian warm, there was nothing he could complain about.

If Wei Wuxian’s little gasp and eager hands were any indication, he had no complaints.

And then, once Lan Wangji had kissed his husband very, very thoroughly, he would think of more things to say that would make his husband squirm and blush.

[jaskiersvalley]

I just thought of the shelter getting a pet goat that was rescued from a farm and theyre like ???? We do cats and dogs and the occasional rodent but like, a goat??? And Geralt is like "I know the EXACT person for this job" and that's how Eskel ends up with Lil Bleater, and any other unusual animal that gets handed in.

You. I love the way your mind works. Especially because this gives me an excuse to write more Eskel. (Like I need an excuse. I totally was going to write a serial killer AU if my head hadn’t been turned by this ask...) But anyway. You’re right, Lil Bleater absolutely needs to make an appearance in this AU.

Predominantly, the shelter was for cats and dogs. Sometimes someone brought in a guinea pig or rabbit but it wasn’t often. Usually, the owners of those could be redirected to a more suitable shelter and everyone was happy. What Jaskier couldn’t stand were the people who tied their beloved pet to the gate or left some poor creature in a box on the doorstep. Those animals were almost always in need of Geralt’s attention, traumatised by being so literally dumped. A few hours tied to a gate without water or attention never did anyone any good and turning up to work to find a stressed and scared animal tied up was never a brilliant start to the day. However, it was something that happened with a disheartening frequency but nothing could have prepared Jaskier for arriving to open up, only to find a goat on a leash, standing next to the gate. The leash was so short, the goat couldn’t chew through it but it couldn’t do anything else either, other than stand on shaking legs.

“Oh you poor thing,” Jaskier approached slowly. He had no idea what to do with the goat. If he put it into a kennel, the dogs would probably stress it out but a cat pen was not big enough. Untying the leash, he watched it walk, making a beeline for the grass.

After a minute of letting it graze, Jaskier tugged the leash gently, intent on at least giving it some water and making up a carrier to rest in behind the front desk while he figured out what to do. It was still early, Jaskier got there for seven to do morning rounds before the shelter officially opened at nine. At least Geralt was going to be in at half past to help with the morning rounds.

Sure enough, Geralt was there on time, greeting Jaskier with a small kiss, Roach trotting at his heels. She zeroed in on the carrier with the goat immediately, snuffling it until told to leave alone.

“Who have we got here?” Geralt asked with a sad voice. He knew a carrier meant someone in need of a vet. Crouching down, Jaskier saw the moment he registered their unusual guest.

“I have no idea what we’re going to do with a goat.” The admission hurt and Jaskier shrugged. “Found it tied to the gate. No note, poor thing couldn’t even lie down.”

Geralt stayed crouched, looking thoughtfully at the goat. Roach sat down by his side and stared too, just as serious.

“Trust me on this?” Geralt asked, already pulling his phone out, knowing Jaskier would say yes. However, he waited until he was actually given a verbal confirmation before dialling a number. “It’s me- yes, I know it’s early- No, just put him on- It has to be him, yes- Fuck you three are a nightmare- Just come to the shelter- I’m okay, just hurry.”

Twenty minutes later there was a knock on the shelter’s door and Jaskier opened it to Eskel, Lambert and another man. They all marched in, looking a little rumpled as if they’d been woken up from sleeping in a puppy pile. Geralt nodded at them as he came to the foyer, Roach left behind for now.

“Eskel, there’s a carrier behind the front desk, it’s one for you.”

Without questioning it, Eskel moved to look while Lambert and the other man hung back with Jaskier who was giving them a look, trying to figure it all out. Seeming to remember his manners, the stranger stuck his hand out for Jaskier to shake.

“Cahir. I have zero clue what’s going on. But I’m here and I’m supporting my boyfriends because it’s too early in the morning to do anything else.”

That had Lambert snorting and snaking a hand around Cahir’s waist. “Babe, you never have a clue what’s going on. And you never do anything but support our idiocy.”

Jaskier had many questions, predominantly about the fact that he’d last been introduced to Lambert and Eskel as though they were Geralt’s brothers. It was confusing. However, his attention was absolutely snatched up by a veritable coo from behind the desk as Eskel discovered the goat. There was the sound of the carrier being opened and soft words of encouragement.

Standing up, Geralt beckoned the others silently closer and they quietly approached to peer over the edge of the desk. Eskel was sat on the floor, goat with two hooves on his knee, sniffing him.

“Aren’t you a gorgeous girl?” Eskel murmured. Deemed friendly enough, the goat hopped into his lap and he gathered her to his chest with a small bleat that was too quiet for a goat of her size. If Eskel had been besotted before, he was positively melting, holding the goat to his chest as he stood up.

“Well, she’s definitely used to being handled,” Jaskier commented as he watched Eskel walk to Lambert and Cahir with the goat.

“He’s not named it,” Lambert muttered to Cahir, “We have a chance here.”

“Guys,” Eskel was staring down at the goat, “meet Lil Bleater.”

“Fuck!” Lambert cursed but he didn’t look mad. If anything, he was smiling just as badly as Eskel.

Cahir seemed horribly entertained by the whole thing. He reached to give Lil Bleater a scratch between the horns. “So when you were saying that the garden looks empty, even with the chicken run, what you were trying to tell me is you want me to build a goat pen next to it, right?”

The innocently hopeful look Eskel shot Cahir had Jaskier’s heart melting. He didn’t think Cahir could say no to such a look, even if he had wanted to.

“Told you I have a solution,” Geralt murmured, wrapping around Jaskier from behind. “She’ll be doted upon now.”

“Geralt, your brothers-” Jaskier had no delicate way of asking without sounding like a dick. “Are they fucking?”

Suddenly Lambert laughed and he turned to look at Jaskier. “You didn’t actually think we were brothers, right? Do we look anything alike?”

Come to think of it, there was only a passing resemblance between Eskel and Geralt. He was trying to think of a polite way of digging his way out of the situation rather than make it worse.

Thankfully, Eskel beat him to it. “Brother is quicker and more accurate than best friend.”

“I know I’m kinky but even I draw the line at incest,” Cahir piped up, looking far too amused. “My standards may be low but come on, do I really look the type? We just met! Do I give off such vibes?”

Jaskier blushed and tried to apologise and deny it and make amends all at the same time. Snorting, Geralt gave him a squeeze around the middle.

“They’re just fucking with you.” Turning to look at the other three, he smiled. “We have work to do. Take your goat and get her settled in. Thanks for helping out with her.”

Bidding their goodbyes, Eskel carried Lil Bleater out, wrapping his coat around her carefully, making a warm cocoon against his chest. Geralt hummed as he watched them leave. “I’ll bet you a blowjob the goat pen never gets built and she will sleep in their bed.”

Three weeks later, Jaskier was on his knees and had never been more happy to lose a bet.