#this fucker appears in my eyesight and I go “YOU”

[old-desert]

Inktobertale 2024 Day 10: Tides

Emotions, they're like waves.

[authorautumnbanks]

Wish I Could Curse You (5)

Series master list

"Kagome, get behind me!" InuYasha moves to shove Kagome behind him. He quickly draws the Tessaiga and points it at Suguru. His ears swirl around and hone in on Suguru. His white hair fluffs up in agitation. If he were an actual dog, his fur would be standing up.

What is Suguru doing here? Kagome shoves InuYasha to the side and steps around him. She points a finger towards Suguru. "Wait a minute, that's Suguru, he's fine," she stresses, but InuYasha just snarls in response.

A curse appears behind Suguru, with its teeth bared. The cursed energy is oppressive. She's not a curse expert or anything, but this feels like it might be a special grade.

A bit overkill in her opinion and not welcome here on the shrine. She lets some of her powers leak through, enough to show that curse she means business if it gets any closer to them.

So help her if that thing attacks InuYasha. She'll exorcise it and then rip Suguru a new one for not listening to her.

"Damn it, Suguru, put that thing away now before I purify it. InuYasha is my friend. He's not an enemy and I'll be so pissed off if you try to fight him or so help me." Kagome stomps her foot, feeling more like she's back to being a teenager and trying to keep InuYasha and Koga from killing each other. "And you know how I feel about curses on these grounds."

Her chest rises rapidly, like she's run several laps around the shrine grounds. It's a good thing she does not contribute to the curse infestation because the negative emotions boiling in her gut are enough to take down a nation. He needs to withdraw his curse like now.

The curse inches forward, but stays a reasonable distance away. It must feel her own powers rising in preparation for an attack. She will not allow that thing to go after InuYasha. Sure, Inu could probably kill it - exorcise it - whatever, but that's not the point. Kagome cannot handle another blood bath on these grounds.

She's barely keeping it together as it is.

"Kagome, I know you aren't thinking straight. He must have done something to you," Suguru replies. A giant worm that looks like a baby with a swollen face wraps itself around his waist. He pulls out what looks like a pair of nun-chucks. "Vermin, I don't know what kind of trick you are playing, but I don't take too kindly to those trying to harm my people."

InuYasha scoffs. "Vermin? Says the worm-fucker." He waves the Tessaiga around.

"He's not playing a trick on me!" Kagome holds out both hands and blocks Suguru's view of InuYasha. "Do you even hear yourself? How would he be able to do that? I'm a priestess. Such magic does not work on me." Her words don't make much of a dent. The curse looks back at Suguru and then creeps forward.

It takes small measured steps as though it is afraid of getting closer while also being afraid of what Suguru may do to it if it does not comply. It should be more concerned about what she will do to it if it does not back the heck back. Her mood is souring faster than spilled milk.

As grateful as she is that Suguru does not want harm to come to her, he is overstepping.

"Look, if I was under his control would I be able to do this?" Kagome turns to the side so Suguru and InuYasha are both within her eyesight.

"Oi! No!" InuYasha exclaims, sheathing his sword. "At least let me go to the grass—"

"—Sit boy."

Thud!

"Fucking hell," InuYasha grumbles from the ground. The curse fades away as quickly as it came.

Kagome pulls her powers back in and lets out a long-suffering breath. The air tastes sweeter without that thing around. Her arms shake ever so slightly. She takes in a couple more breaths and tries to regulate her breathing.

It's fine. No one got hurt. There will be no more battles here.

She's gonna have to go around and tinker with the barrier after this. Clean the grounds. Scrub the house down.

"The hell? Did you just command him?" Suguru doesn't put his weapon away, but he lowers his hands as he walks forward. His dark almond-shaped eyes widen as he takes in the scene before him.

It must look otherworldly to people who aren't used to such things.

"It's subjugation beads," Kagome explains. She bends down and holds out a hand to InuYasha. "Sorry, Inu. He was convinced you put some kind of spell or curse on me. Though I don't know why, since you know it shouldn't work on me. And get rid of that thing."

"Theres a lot I don't know about you, Kagome. The last thing I know is what does or does not affect you. I mean, you fell for Satoru's charms." The last part, Suguru spits out like it is the worst taste in his mouth. "And you are hanging out with this... InuYasha." The worm wrapped around him sucks in the weapons and then fades away.

Kagome swallows down the bile.

"Who the hell is Satoru?" InuYasha takes her hand and then dusts his pants off. "Is that why you haven't been coming around?"

"Don't worry about it." Kagome rolls her eyes. She hasn't seen Satoru since that day he showed up at the shrine and then that random encounter at the grocery store where he pestered her for her number. He hasn't come around since, but he sends her messages every day about everything and nothing at all.

She never should have given him her number. A moment of weakness on her part. He's too attractive for his own good and should be avoided from here on out.

"Really?"

"Really."

Suguru clears his throat. "Is this curse yours, then?" His jaw ticks. She can practically see the steam rising from him.

"Oi! I have had enough of this bastard. First vermin, now curse? How about I shove Tessaiga up your ass?"

Kagome sighs and places a hand on InuYasha's chest. "InuYasha isn't a curse. He's a half-demon." This is so frustrating. The last thing she wanted was for Suguru and InuYasha to meet. As far as she is concerned, there is no reason for Suguru to know more about her than he needs to, but here they are. Now she has to explain things.

Why couldn't Suguru just not show up uninvited? He knew she was going to be busy.

"A half demon?"

"Half human, half demon," she explains. "He is not a curse though, and he doesn't mean anyone harm. Right Inu?" Kagome raises a brow at InuYasha, who just grumbles under his breath about stupid humans.

Suguru still looks not convinced, but he doesn't look as though he is going to attack InuYasha either. "How many demons do you know?"

"Um.. enough? That's not the point here. Why are you here? I thought you were going to exorcise that curse without me." She quickly changes the subject. "Did you not go home and rest first?"

"I was worried about how you left. I had to make sure you were okay," Suguru says, lowering his voice. His words are like honey dripped in poison. As much as she wants to believe him, something keeps her back. Like he's trying too hard to win her over.

She frowns, more perturbed by why she doesn't trust Suguru. He hasn't done anything to her. He's even showed her how curses work and how to properly exorcise them, so no one else has to suffer the same fate as her family.

"Can I just get the baby shit and be on my way?" InuYasha cuts in. "You know Hana is trying to nest and shit." He crosses his arms.

"Don't make me S-I-T you again." After all this time, Inu is still as rude as ever, though he has a point. There is no real need to have him sticking around if she isn't in danger. "I got everything in the kitchen." Kagome heads towards the house, stopping to reach for Suguru's hand on the way.

Suguru allows her to tug him towards the house. Kagome peeks a glance at their intertwined hands. He's been pretty clear about what he hopes blossoms between them, but she can't bring herself to make that leap.

The problem must be her. Her mind is a mess ever since... that day. She blinks, dispelling the image.

Better to focus on the situation at hand.

"So, you were getting the baby supplies for him?" Suguru glances over his shoulder. Kagome can feel the animosity brewing between him and InuYasha.

"Yep!" she chirps, overtly sweet to drown out the tension between those two. "InuYasha's wife is due any day now, so he's a bit anxious to get back to her." She leads them into the house and towards the kitchen, where all the gifts sit on the table.

"And you couldn't get your own stuff?" The accusation hangs in the air, just waiting for its target.

InuYasha bares his teeth and flips Suguru off. "Listen here, ya wanna be tough guy. The only reason why I'm not beating your ass is because of Kagome."

Kagome pinches her nose and counts to three. Nope. She's still annoyed with them. "Can we just not for like five minutes? Suguru, I know you don't like curses, obviously, but InuYasha is not in the same category as those things. He's just like us. He's half human," she stresses.

"Sorry," Suguru amends, leaning on the table and somewhat blocking InuYasha from her view. "I'm still worked up. It's not every day you come across a demon."

"Where's Hobo? I liked him better."

Kagome's mouth drops. "You can't say that! That's so rude," she hisses.

Suguru's mouth goes taunt. "Hobo? Are you talking about Hojo?"

"Yeah, that dude was way better than you. At least he had some sense about him."

"Okay, I think it's time for you to go on home now, Inu. I'll be around later this week, promise." She steps to the side, ignoring the way Suguru's expression darkens. She'll address him after InuYasha goes home. "Do you need any help carrying some of that?"

InuYasha gives her a 'be real' expression. He scoffs and lifts the bags. "You been spending too much time with these humans."

Kagome holds her tongue. InuYasha's wife is human. Funny how he forgets that whenever he wants to get on her case about not visiting the past as often as she used to. It's not that she doesn't miss everyone, but her family got hurt because she was off helping villagers instead of helping her family here.

Inu doesn't get it. The past is his time. His home. This is her home. It's not so easy to pick up and go. There is no one else to run the shrine. No one else to keep things going.

"Goodbye, Inu." She walks around the table and pushes him out the door. "Hurry up and go," she whispers. "I'll keep Suguru distracted. He doesn't know about the well."

"Seriously? Fine. Whatever. But I don't like the guy. He smells funny."

Kagome rolls her eyes. Everyone in this time smells funny to InuYasha. He's just being paranoid, as usual. Everyone is an enemy until proven otherwise. It's a wonder he managed to settle down with how little he trusts people outside their group. She gives him a nod and then closes the door.

"Sorry about InuYasha. He's pretty protective of me."

"He knew your ex? Doesn't seem like the kind of man you would bring around a non-sorcerer."

Kagome falters. What's with the interrogation? She should be getting on his case for showing up unannounced when she told him not to do that. "A hat takes care of Inu's ears, and his hair doesn't stand out that much." She swallows back the 'Satoru has white hair too' and continues on as if she wasn't thinking about bringing up his not best friend.

"It seemed like you were going to go off with him and forget about our plans," he says with a sigh, hurt tugging at the corners of his lips.

Plans? They had that curse to exorcise, but didn't he say he would... oh fuck!

"Suguru, I—"

He waves her off. "You've been through a lot. I get it. You know I lost my parents to curses as well." He rises and stands closer to her. So close, he could reach out and touch her. "I haven't had lunch if that's what you meant. The curse will be more active tonight, so we should still exorcise it later, tonight as planned."

Kagome sighs. Busted. She was totally gonna go back to the past with InuYasha and hang out with the others for a bit. Staying in the shrine is stuffy. Everywhere she turns, there are memories she can't shake. "If you haven't eaten yet, then we could go grab something to eat now."

"A date then?" He smiles, as though he knows he has her in his trap. "That's how you can make it up to me."

"You don't give up, do you?"

"I know what I want." He runs his knuckles down her cheek and then toys with a locket of hair. His eyes soften.

She opens her mouth right as her phone buzzes over and over in her pocket. She flashes Suguru a regretful smile and pulls away to check her messages.

Satoru: Let's meet up tomorrow night. Scratch that. I'll pick you up. Wear something comfortable.

There's an attachment of a blindfold? The heck is that supposed to mean?

Her brows furrow. Suguru comes up behind her and curves his body around hers with his hands flat on the wall. She's trapped. Kagome turns around right as he leans his head down.

His lips seal over hers and the phone clatters on the ground.

[seungstarss]

𝐁 𝐄 𝐓 ≛ 25 hypocrite

wc: 1.5k +

「 12:00 PM : ❛❛ YOU FUCKER ❜❜ 」

The coldness settled over the night sky as the time approached nine. Y/n adjusted the hem of her shirt, tucking it in, as she turned around one last time to look at herself in the mirror. An unpleasant feeling settled in her stomach when she thought about what she had planned on doing this evening. Her confidence was through the roof in the morning, as she rambled on about her feelings as if it was nothing serious. If he turned her down, she was convinced she would have an indifferent attitude towards his rejection. Y/n was not the type to keep secrets because they bothered her as she kept thinking without acting on it. She wanted an outcome. She wanted to get it over with. Plus, the girl wasn't too deep into her new crush and genuinely didn't care if he didn't reciprocate the same feelings. Or so she thought.

Y/n heard the car honking outside her window, the loud sound echoing through the quiet neighbourhood. Taehyun was pissed. Grabbing her jacket and a small purse, Y/n scurried down the stairs, out of the main entrance, as she locked her door shut.

"Tae's going crazy because of you," Reiko shouted from inside the car through the rolled-down window. "We rang your phone like ten times!"

Y/n hurried over to Taehyun's car, sweating from the warmth of her wool coat. "Sorry, sorry, I left my phone in my purse, so I didn't hear."

Taehyun, who was sitting in the driver's seat, playfully rolled his eyes as he motioned for y/n to get in the car. "You should be glad we love you."

Y/n giggled, getting into the passenger seat of the car. She greeted Kai and Luna, who were sitting in the backseats alongside Reiko.

"Looking good!" Kai beamed, giving Y/n a thumbs up as he nudged Luna.

"Oh- yeah, hey Y/n, you look great," Luna spoke in a hushed tone, almost inaudible.

Y/n sighed, shaking her head in disapproval. "You guys look better!"

The whole car erupted into laughs, almost as loud as the blaring music Taehyun had on.

"You can never take a compliment!" Reiko teased, leaning back in her seat, delighted by the sight of her friends having fun.

"She really can't."

Jake slumped on the couch, eyes unfocused as he recalled Luna's texts and Sunghoon's expression. He shook the thought off, aggressively running his hand through his neatly styled hair. "I'm overthinking. It's not even that serious. You're just pissed she doesn't like you." Jake thought, attempting to shift his attention onto the girls who stood in the corner, staring him up and down. They were clearly attracted to him, and he was interested in taking his mind off the thought of Y/n.

Getting up, Jake's eyes landed on a couple in the corner, whispering in each other's ears. There was a familiarity about them. However, his eyesight forbade him from making out who they were. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, squinting to catch a better glance of the two, who were now giggling. Before he could approach them, a cold breeze caught his attention— the entrance door swung open, and in walked Y/n, trailing behind her friends.

Their eyes met for a second, causing Jake's heart to ache, longing for something more than a shared glance. Y/n smiled softly at the sight of a familiar face, greeting him with a shy wave. She hadn't seen Jake in a while, and on the inside, she missed his innocent smiles and squeaking giggles. On the other hand, Jake only reciprocated with a slight nod of acknowledgment, before turning his back away from Y/n.

"Why aren't you going to say hi?" Jay appeared next to the boy, handing him a plastic cup.

Jake grinned at Jay's comment, taking the empty cup Jay had offered. "I don't know. I don't think she's here to see me today."

"What do you mean?" Jay questioned, sipping his drink. "Then who is she here to see?"

"Never mind, it's nothing. Anyways, have you made up with Sunghoon?"

"I'm going to after the party. We haven't talked in days, and I feel like the fight we had was pretty petty. We're friends, and we can't have this pushing us apart." Jay smirked, proud of what he had just said.

Jake rolled his eyes at the overconfident boy. "Yeah, you should apologize."

"I will! I will!" Jay massaged his temples, clearly anxious about saying the words "I'm sorry."

"Alright, if you say so, let's go get some drinks. Heeseung is probably at the drink station right now."

"Sounds good."

"Are you actually going to confess?" Reiko half-screamed at y/n, who seemed unbothered by her friend's constant worries. "Isn't it a bit too early? What if you get hurt?"

"Y/n, don't do it!" Taehyun warned, gripping onto her arm, not wanting to let go.

"Wasn't this supposed to be a fun party? We can't have you breaking down in tears!" Kai chimed in.

"Y/n should do whatever she wants," Luna spoke, leaning against the column. " and who said she was going to get rejected."

"Exactly! It'll be a learning experience," Y/n grinned at luna, gripping her bag tightly, not knowing she, herself, was nervous. "Plus, there he is!"

Reiko's eyes landed on a familiar tall, slender boy, dressed in all black, talking to a shorter girl with artificially bleached blonde hair. "Uh, he's with fucking Seoyeon right now. Are you sure you don't want to—"

Before Reiko could finish her sentence, y/n was already making her way towards Sunghoon, who was occupied by Seoyeon's flirtatious giggles. "Sunghoon, Seoyeon, hey!" Y/n spoke, waving at the pair.

Seoyeon, who had on a short beige dress, smiled back at Y/n and tapped Sunghoon on his shoulder. Turning around, the boy smirked at her presence, nudging Seoyeon to leave. She rolled her eyes, grabbing the cup in Sunghoon's hands before making her way to the drink station.

"Hey Hoon," this time, Y/n spoke with a slight tremble in her voice. She didn't realize she was going to feel so vulnerable and nervous in his presence. "I need to tell you something."

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the marble column, curious about what she had to say. "Yeah, of course. What is it?"

"Okay, this might be all of a sudden, but I really wanted to get it off my chest."

Sunghoon grinned at her comment, eyes full of anticipation. "Wait, before you say anything, let's walk and talk. I wanna get a drink."

"S-sure," y/n muttered, following Sunghoon towards the drink station.

"What is it?"

She played with her sleeve shyly, eyes darting everywhere but Sunghoon. He stopped at the entrance of the drink station, tilting his head, waiting for y/n's answer.

"I like you."

Sunghoon's shocked expression lasted for a second before his facial expression twisted. His once agape mouth now pulled itself into a sly grin as he started to shake with laughter. Everyone at the drink station heard y/n's sudden confession, most of them wide-eyed, unable to move. All except for Seoyeon.

She approached Y/n and Sunghoon with a crooked grin plastered on her face. "Aw Y/n, that's so cute! Never knew you were into my boyfriend." Before anyone could mutter a single word, Sunghoon pulled Seoyeon into a kiss, still maintaining eye contact with Y/n

All expressions drained from y/n's face, heart dropping to her stomach. Her chest felt tight and constricted, unable to fill her lungs. She attempted to take in oxygen, but it hurt to breathe. She felt confused, angry, and heartbroken at the same time, watching Sunghoon smirk in at her, while Seoyeon made out with his unmoving lips.

"Y-you had a girlfriend this whole time, and you still played me like that?" Y/n croaked, attempting to stop her tears that threatened to fall. "Why did you do that to me?"

Breaking away from the kiss, Sunghoon threw his head back in amusement, mockingly laughing at the shaking girl. "Didn't your friends warn you? Didn't they tell you that I didn't take relationships seriously? Maybe if you weren't stupid, you would've listened to them."

Before y/n could reply, Jake sent a blow across Sunghoon face, causing him to lose balance and collapse. The commotion directed everyone in the party's attention to the two.

Y/n's group hurried towards her, pulling her away from the scene, attempting to comfort her.

"What the fuck happened," Reiko spoke, voice breaking in pain. Her arms wrapped around y/n, pulling her close, attempting to soothe her pain. "We just took our eyes off you for a second, and this is what happens?"

"I'm gonna kill him."

"Taehyun, no," Kai argued, pulling him back. "I know you're angry because of that jerk Sunghoon, but Jake already punched him. It's going to get messier if you get involved. "

Luna stood wide-eyed at the unraveling situation as it dawned on her— she was played by Seoyeon. The scheming girl used Luna's wavering feelings to turn her against her best friend.

"Sunghoon, you fucker." Jake growled, grabbing the bruised boy by the collar.

Sunghoon only chuckled, amused by Jake's reaction. "Why are you doing this to me? You're actually into her, am I right? And you're the one that started this all. You're such a hypocrite it's fucking hilarious."

Without saying another word, Jake slammed his fist into Sunghoon's face.

𝐁𝐄𝐓≛ /. MASTERLIST

⇦ previous | next ⇨

SYNOPSIS. after jake takes a new liking to his friend’s diligent liberal arts partner, he decides to start a bet with his friends. “lets play a game. whoever can win her heart gets anything, anything they want.”

a/n: i’m sorry this is pure word vomit

taglist.

@fiantomartell

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[zintranslations]

Kaleidoscope of Death, Ch. 120

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates

Chapter 120: The Thirteenth Door

Right after the new year, it came about time for Gu Longming to enter his door.

Ruan Nanzhu selected a sixth door hint slip, and on it was a name familiar to all—Minotaur. A monster from ancient Greek mythology with a bull's head and a human's body that guarded a maze.

In the myth, it was a creature of an extremely violent temperament born of a human and a white bull. Shut away in the Labyrinth on the island of Crete, it ate seven pairs of boys and girls each year. Then it was killed by a bastard son of Athens, Theseus. Point was, there wasn't much intel to gain about the door from a hint like this. Only once they went in and encountered the actual situation could they connect it to the hint on the paper slip.

Lin Qiushi also showed this hint to Gu Longming ahead of time. After Gu Longming received it, he expressed his thorough gratitude for Lin Qiushi, and Lin Qiushi too was forthright with a vaccination—he said that in this door, he could not be responsible for Gu Longming's life, and Gu Longming ought to prepare himself accordingly.

Gu Longming agreed to every stipulation, and said he had already prepared himself for never coming out.

Their time of entry was roughly the tenth of the lunar new year, when celebrations were trailing off, leisurely vacations were coming to an end, and everybody grew busy again.

Lin Qiushi readied everything and began to wait for the door.

The tenth quickly came. It was a bright, sunny afternoon, and few people were in the mansion. There was only Lin Qiushi sitting in the living room eating Lu Yanxue's freshly cooked pumpkin seeds. Lu Yanxue's culinary skills were, as usual, the best; the pumpkin seeds she fried up were flavored with the five spices and fragrant as all hell. Lin Qiushi could pass an entire afternoon with just a handful of the stuff.

Ruan Nanzhu had already gotten changed and was waiting upstairs. Lin Qiushi saw that it was about time, and so hoisted his hefty backpack and headed upstairs to go look for him.

Due to their last door, Lin Qiushi intentionally stuffed his bag with a great number of food items. Daily necessities from outside could be brought inside, but weapons that were more against the spirit of the doors were not. Guns and other firearms, for example, could not be brought inside.

Once you'd entered the doors, of course, there might exist some special limitations, like in the sanitarium door when the NPC told them the rule where they could not eat food brought in from the outside. The reality was that these kinds of limitations were rare, but all Lin Qiushi wanted to achieve was the principle of Better Safe Than Sorry. At any rate, the condition from the tenth door where they had to open a chest if they wanted to eat had left quite the shadow on his psyche.

Lin Qiushi entered Ruan Nanzhu's bedroom and sat with him on the bed for a while. Then he felt the atmosphere around him change. It took only the time of a blink for Ruan Nanzhu, who had been sitting right beside him, to disappear without a trace. Lin Qiushi pushed open the bedroom door in front of him and saw that what had originally been the hallway was now a series of twelve black metal doors. What a familiar sight.

He walked to the sixth door and gave it a tug. The next moment, Lin Qiushi was sucked in by an immense force. The scenery around him was also altering dramatically, and by the time he opened his eyes again, he could feel a faint rocking beneath his feet.

Lin Qiushi took a closer look, and discovered that he'd appeared on a large old ship. It was just about sunset, and there were black clouds frighteningly low in the sky, as if they were going to smother the horizon at any moment. Inky seawater tossed before him, blown into violent waves by the winds.

Lin Qiushi smelled the gamy salt of the ocean, and because of the excessive waves, the ancient deck beneath his feet was ceaseless in its swaying. He saw that on the floorboards, there were seaweed-clung creatures clutching at the wood, making for an immensely uncomfortable sight.

Lin Qiushi took a few steps forward and saw in the ship cabin a dim-glowing light. He followed the corridor to the interior, and heard miserable wailing coming from inside.

"Uwaaaa, why am I here? What the hell did you all do to me?!" It had been a while since he last heard these cries of a newbie—Lin Qiushi was actually a bit surprised. He spotted the crying person immediately. It was a young woman, wiping at her tears with her hands. "You goddamn perverts, you guys must have kidnapped me. I'm going to call the cops and have you all arrested!!"

Most people were listening to her sob in silence. Newbies, after all, only ever reacted in so many ways: most cried; some tried to run; and some, of the truly psychologically frail sort, came in and pretty much had an immediate meltdown.

Lin Qiushi stood where he was. He noticed that around this girl were a few people who didn't look so good, who also seemed in various degrees of panic. They clearly weren't prepared to enter a door, and were likely newbies like the girl. But at least they weren't wailing endlessly like the young woman, and were still calm in comparison.

Lin Qiushi's gaze searched through the crowd and very quickly found its target—a woman seated in a corner and smiling at him.

The woman wore a long dress—the same outfit Ruan Nanzhu wore before they came in.

Lin Qiushi had the script in his head, and he took his time approaching the woman and holding out his hand: "Yu Linlin."

"Zhu Meng." The woman took his hand and smiled. "The red thread of destiny found us inside this door, let's cherish this meeting."

Lin Qiushi couldn't help but laugh.

"Indeed. Let's cherish this meeting."

Really, this little drama queen of his—putting on a show even when there was no stage to be had.

Just as the two were talking, a young man came tumbling in through the door. Though his face was unfamiliar, his clothes told Lin Qiushi his identity—it was Gu Longming, who'd agreed to meet with Lin Qiushi over the internet.

Gu Longming was entirely soaked. Once he came in he began to curse under his breath: "fuckers, throwing me on a lifeboat—why don't you just throw me into the ocean huh? Goddamn jealous of my beauty or what—"

Though he kept his voice down, Lin Qiushi's hearing was superb, and so could easily hear all the crap he was spewing. For a moment, Lin Qiushi himself didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Of course, he didn't laugh. He only cleared his throat once and covered his mouth with his hand, swallowing down the urge to smile. Gu Longming's eyes lapped the gathered people and very quickly fell upon Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu. He came over with a bright grin, greeting the two as if they'd just met completely by coincidence.

As a matter of act, this little trick where they faked a chance encounter was only useful for the earlier doors. Once in the later doors, that old fox-spirit manifested in everyone, and not having a partner actually made you the odd one out.

As for whether or not somebody would identify them as part of the same crew, Lin Qiushi used to worry about that. Now though, not so much.

The cabin of the old ship wasn't big, nor was it bright. The only lighting equipment was a handful of tiny kerosene lamps overhead, flickering periodically with the sway of the ship.

The sky grew darker outside, and the number of people kept increasing. Finally, it stopped at the count of fourteen.

Everybody assessed their surroundings as they met up with their own teammates. The crowd seemed to be very quickly divided up into teams, with the handful of newbies left out. Without much choice, they had to make up their own team.

Just as the crowd grew noisy with discussion, a middle-aged man came in from the outside. His get-up looked a bit like a medieval pirate, and he carried a swaying kerosene lamp in his hand.

"Welcome to the Black Skerry," the man spoke. His voice sounded quite raspy, like the effects of long-term drinking or smoking had brought about irreversible damage to his throat. "I hope you all have a good time here."

After he finished saying this, he laughed like a maniac, and his high-pitched laughter, like fingernails scoring a chalkboard, sent goosebumps rising along the skin.

"In ten days, the Black Skerry will reach harbor," the man said. "Our voyage will end then, so please enjoy our wonderful time together."

Just as he finished speaking, somebody rushed out of the cabin. Lin Qiushi first thought that this person had gotten scared, but not long after, there came from outside the sound of violent vomiting—it seemed that some unlucky bastard was seasick.

"Where in the world are we?" The sobbing young girl had also been scared by the man before her, and she spoke: "are we filming a show? I'm really, really scared, can I please quit? I don't want to play anymore, I'm begging you…"

The man completely ignored her. He merely went on watching the crowd with a cool gaze.

The girl seemed to want to go up and take hold of him, but when she got to his side she suddenly stopped, face draining of all color. She then backed up a few steps, as if she'd seen something truly terrifying.

Lin Qiushi's eyesight wasn't as good as Ruan Nanzhu's, and due to the dim lights he didn't see a thing. It was Ruan Nanzhu who quietly explained the situation to him:

"That person's covered in some sort of black insect."

Gu Longming shivered.

"Is he dead or alive then?"

"I don't know," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Doesn't look too good either way."

Under typical circumstances, only the NPC who provided them with the key information was somewhat normal. If even that NPC wasn't normal, then there really weren't any normal people to speak of.

Lin Qiushi hadn't imagined that their door this time would be an ancient ship. And by the looks of things, the time limit was ten days.

"Come along, I'll take to to where you'll sleep," the man said. "It'll be dark soon…and it'll rain."

After this, he began that manic laugh again, and the group was even more disturbed.

The man brought them to the guest cabins and began divvying up the rooms.

Most of the rooms here were doubles, with a rare triple here and there. At first, Lin Qiushi was assigned a double, but Gu Longming brazenly went and found a man to switch room numbers with, strong-arming them into a triple.

"You'll bargain for even this sort of thing?" Lin Qiushi shot Gu Longming a look of admiration.

"Well I'm scared of dying, aren't I…" Gu Longming said. He didn't want to sleep alone, and though it wasn't quite right to be a third wheel, being a third wheel was much better than being dead.

Ruan Nanzhu’s smile was inscrutable.

"That's fair."

They'd planned to inspect the entire ship, but because the night was already so dark, moving about outside would be too dangerous. They would rest first, and wait until tomorrow to make plans.

And so the three got their key and went to their room, getting into bed after quickly washing up.

When Ruan Nanzhu went to change, Gu Longming took the opportunity to poke at Lin Qiushi, whispering, "yo, not cool man, how come you didn't tell me you had such a pretty girlfriend?"

Lin Qiushi answered a vague: "…mh."

"Oh she's stunning," Gu Longming said with a sigh. "If I had a girlfriend like that I'd want to stick around her every day too."

As he spoke, he looked to Lin Qiushi with an expression that was both envy and admiration.

Lin Qiushi watched him back and wondered how he would react if he knew Ruan Nanzhu was drag queen. Of course, it wasn't something he could tell Gu Longming now. Gu Longming was not yet part of Obsidian, and the fact that Ruan Nanzhu wore drag was Obsidian's biggest most vital secret…

After Ruan Nanzhu got changed, he came back inside.

"What are you two talking about?"

"Nothing," Lin Qiushi answered in brief. "He said you were pretty."

Ruan Nanzhu replied with a meaningful oh.

Gu Longming: "…" Why did a chill suddenly go down his back?

The beds on the ship all emanated a damp smell—very uncomfortable for the people lying on top. At this point, the waves and wind were getting bigger, and even the sleeping quarters were beginning to rock. Lin Qiushi remembered that ridiculously seasick, endlessly vomiting pal of theirs from earlier and thought that that guy was pretty much done for.

The sky outside gradually darkened in entirety, leaving only the bellowing winds and the sound of waves beating against each other. With his eyes shut, Lin Qiushi grew drowsy—but before he could fall asleep, he was woken by a sudden crack of thunder. It was like lightning had struck right above their heads. With the loud boom, all three of them awoke in an instant.

After that, it was the pattering pour of rain. The rushing rain and the howling wind—they seemed on the verge of destroying everything.

Their quarters rocked even harder. Lin Qiushi sat up in his bed.

Through the window, he looked to the black evening outside. He saw, however, two illuminated lights. It seemed like the only light sources on deck were kerosene lamps, but how did these lamps stay so bright in the middle of a thunderstorm…? Just as Lin Qiushi wondered this, he suddenly felt that there was something off about those two lights, and Ruan Nanzhu, sitting behind him, spoke up quietly:

"Don't look anymore."

Lin Qiushi, "hm?"

"Those aren't lights," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Those are eyes."

A pair of yellow, inhuman eyes. The owner of the eyes spied through the darkness with malicious intent, as if a beast looking for its prey.

Lin Qiushi instantly looked away, and asked, "what is that thing?"

"I don't know, I can't tell," Ruan Nanzhu said. "The shape is humanoid, but it doesn't seem to be human."

Lin Qiushi's brows lightly furrowed, but by the time he looked out the window once more, the eyes were gone.

Thunder rumbled on and on, and that stench of ocean salt grew thicker and more cloying.

Ruan Nanzhu climbed into Lin Qiushi's bed, and holding each other, the two very quickly returned to sleep. However, the only bachelor present Gu Longming didn't have such luck. Lying beside Lin Qiushi, he stared with plaintive eyes, thinking that in the following days, he'd be fed enough dog food to bloat.

The rainstorm lasted until dawn, and though the rain let up, the weather did not turn any sunnier. Black storm clouds still hovered over the ship, and when the alarm rang, Lin Qiushi actually thought it was not yet morning. He checked the time, however, and saw that it was 8AM. It was just still dark outside.

"Good morning," Ruan Nanzhu greeted Lin Qiushi.

"Good morning. It's so dark outside today."

"It's probably going to keep raining," Ruan Nanzhu said. He walked out onto deck with Lin Qiushi and watched the black waters roil underneath the ship.

Looking up, they couldn't see any land, only the endless swath of sea. Only the old ship beneath their feet felt like any sort of reality.

This sort of isolating environment was easily taxing on the psyche. Even for Lin Qiushi, the scene before them was discomforting.

"Come on, let's go get breakfast," Gu Longming called to the two.

"He's pretty thick-skinned," Ruan Nanzhu commented after hearing Gu Longming's call.

"Yeah," Lin Qiushi said. "His nerves are petty good."

Inside the doors, you didn't have to be too smart, but you definitely had to be brave enough. Before terrifying situations, fright could make a person abandon a large part of their cognitive abilities. The smartest person could lack a strong heart and still do worse inside the door than the obtuse, oblivious Cheng Qianli.

The three went to the dining area and found there an atmosphere that could very well be called lifeless.

Lin Qiushi didn't know why at first. After he saw the menu, however, he couldn't help but also feel a touch of depression.

All the ship offered was fish. And it wasn't even fresh fish—Gu Longming poked at a dead-eyed staring head with his chopsticks and said, "is this thing even edible?"

It was disgusting just to look at.

"It looks gross," Lin Qiushi said. "Try a bit?"

Gu Longming took a bit of meat from the gills and gave it a taste. His expression twisted.

"Fuck, did they deduct the food budget for this door or what? It's disgusting. It's like they’ve had it outside for three days. You try it?"

Lin Qiushi, "oh no, no thank you."

Gu Longming: "…"

The breakfast served in the dining room was, for the most part, stale fish. Aside from that there was only flavorless noddles and peas. The environment had already been vicious enough, but the food in front of them now was salt on top of the wound.

But Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu didn't care at all. After seeing the inedible breakfast they snuck back to their room and fetched from their bags the food they'd prepared.

Gu Longming watched as they pulled out a bottle of chili sauce, eyes bulging out.

"You guys even brought Lao Gan Ma? Did you come here to picnic?"

"Want some?" Lin Qiushi drizzled the Lao Gan Ma over some noodles they'd brought out of the dining hall.

"Yeah yeah yeah. More please." Gu Longming's expression was shameless.

With breakfast finally done, they got ready to search the ship.

There were a total of three decks in the ship, constructed a bit like the sailing vessels of the great nautical era of the Middle Ages. It was extremely old, was all, covered in the marks and traces of times past.

Beside that NPC, they didn't see any other crew members on deck; there was likely only the one NPC on the entire ship. Wait for the ship's return was the mission the NPC left for them this time, but Lin Qiushi had thorough reason to believe that if they couldn't find the door in ten day's time, this voyage of theirs would cycle back and repeat—and they'd experience the ten days all over again.

When Lin Qiushi climbed onto the second deck, he heard a sort of thumping sound, and was uncertain if Ruan Nanzhu and Gu Longming had heard it as well. So he asked, "did you guys hear that?"

"What?" Gu Longming didn't seem to have heard.

Ruan Nanzhu said, "I think I did, but not very clearly."

"I think it came from the corner…" Lin Qiushi followed the sound forward. "Let's go see."

But before they could get close, Lin Qiushi was hit with a thick, fishy stench. It was disgusting and nauseating to smell; fortunately Cheng Yixie wasn't here, or he might have passed out immediately upon smelling it.

The source of the sound and smell was the same room, and they were close enough now that both Gu Longming and Ruan Nanzhu could hear the thumping noise as well.

The three of them slowed their steps, and through the window, looked into the room.

It was a kitchen with knives and other tools hanging inside. The most eye-catching thing, however, was the dense masses of dead fish hung up on hooks all over the sides.

A person in an apron stood in the center of the room with their back towards them and head down. They were chopping something. After some observation, Gu Longming almost gagged, and said, "don't tell me he's making our breakfast—"

Ruan Nanzhu was very calm.

"It's possible."

Gu Longming did gag. He'd even had a bite of that fish that morning.

Lin Qiushi gave Gu Longming a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

This person in the kitchen, however, was the second living NPC they'd found on the ship.

The three of them stood watching in the kitchen doorway for a while, and saw that besides chopping fish, this person didn't do much of anything else. And so they decided to go see elsewhere first.

Very soon, they discovered a more peculiar room. This room was locked, and curtains were drawn over the window. It was quiet inside, but they could still smell that thick waft of stale fish. Lin Qiushi initially thought the smell had clung to them from the kitchen, but after a careful sniff, found that it was coming from inside the room.

"Do we go in?" Gu Longming was pressed against the window trying to look in, but he could see nothing.

Ruan Nanzhu gave this some thought, before saying, "let's try," and getting out a hairpin to pick the lock.

Watching his adept motions, Gu Longming's eyes widened. Then Gu Longming glanced at Lin Qiushi.

"Is this…is this a basic skillset that y'all come with?"

Lin Qiushi grinned as he joked, "yeah. You have to learn to pick locks if you want to join us."

As he said this, there was a click. Ruan Nanzhu really got the lock open. But oddly enough, after he unlocked the door and gave it a push, he found that though the door lock was undone, there was another lock hanging on the inside. The chain on that lock held the door closed, and they could at most manage a crack—it couldn't be opened at all.

"Wait," Lin Qiushi suddenly said, stopping Ruan Nanzhu from going up and pushing the door. "Stop for a second. There's movement inside."

Ruan Nanzhu halted, and just as he stopped mid-step, a hand, sharp-nailed and covered in scales, reached out of the door. And through that crack in the door, a pair of yellow eyes looked out, peering at the world outside with malicious intent.

Translator’s Note:

The name of the ship could more simply be translated as “Black Reef,” but “Black Skerry” sounds more like a ship name? Let me know if you think otherwise (or know if it’s a specific reference to something).

Lao Gan Ma is a brand of **hot sauce (edited: 7/26), as you can probably tell from context. The original next never uses “hot sauce” though, and just call it Lao Gan Ma in both the prose and the dialogue.

[Ch. 119] | [Ch. 121]

[lillian-nator]

The Prince Of The Antarctic Empire Au (PAE AU)

The Prince of the Antarctic Empire

BASIC INFO: Wilbur is 18, Techno is 22, and Philza is 28, Tommy is 5. (At the start).

SO

It all starts when Wilbur finds this kid on NewFoundLand territory, and this kid - who is like 4, mind you - is beating the shit out of some Zombie’s

Like he is using a cobblestone sword - but is just like, messing these Zombie’s shit up.

Wilbur, being the responsible adult he is, goes up to the boy - who is like extremely thin, and seemingly weak - and asks him if he wants to have dinner at his house.

The kid says yes - after a lot of negotiation - and, after Wilbur gives a brief introduction of himself, the blonde boy introduces himself as Tommy.

During this dinner, Wilbur tries to get the boy to open up about himself, but he is extremely untrusting of adults - specifically tall ones who find him in the woods.

A few things Wilbur learns about Tommy:

He is 5 years old, but he knows he looks younger

He doesn’t remember having parents - he was pretty open about it when Wilbur asked him where his Parents were - but he knows that they either left or died, he has been alone for two years.

He doesn’t want to intrude on Wilbur; multiple times he declined the offer to ‘make himself at home’ or to ‘check out the bathroom’ or ‘the guest bedroom’

He is acutely aware of his surroundings. He also has insane reflexes - Wilbur guesses that these two facts are a factor of him being alone from such a young age.

Several times, Tommy caught something that would’ve rolled off the table - Wilbur knew that these things were out of eyesight for Tommy, but he still reached out his hand and caught them without looking away from Wilbur - also, more than once, he moved his leg away just as Wilbur’s dog would’ve ran into the boy. 

Throughout the little chatter that Tommy offers, Wilbur Soot notices one more thing - the kid is funny. Really, really, funny. With the small remarks, and comments, and rebuddles, he can tell that this boy bounces off really well with Wilbur’s sense of humor.

For some reason, he finds himself laughing with this 5-year-old boy more than he had with his brothers mere nights before.

Wilbur Soot notices one more thing during dinner.

He has fallen in love (platonically you fucker) with this boy - and he won't let go.

Between his small giggles, and bright smile, and blue eyes. Tommy’s demeanor, or the way he can make Wilbur laugh, or the way Tommy held Wilbur’s hand when they walked back to his house -

Wilbur had found his little brother. He wanted to take care of and protect this kid for the rest of his life. Wilbur wanted to make Tommy giggle everyday, and teach him everything Wilbur knew about the world, he wanted to keep the boy safe - it seemed like Tommy needed that the most, the kid had been alone since he was 3 -

Wilbur Soot, whether TommyInnit liked it or not, was going to raise this kid.

That night Wilbur sat Tommy down for a small talk, that basically went like this:

“Hey, Tommy?” Wilbur drawled, looking at the blue-eyed boy, who had been sat on the floor next to Wilbur’s dog, Fluffy. (I know that’s Techno’s dog, and I know that Wilbur’s dog is PeeDog - but that’s a bit weirdchamp to put in a story.)

“Yeah, Mr. Wilbur?” Tommy had automatically answered while petting Wilbur’s dog - who had also taken an odd liking to the blonde.

“Would you like to stay the night?” Wilbur stated a small smile growing on his face.

“No - no. It's okay. You don’t have to. Really, Mr. Wilbur -” He had stopped petting Fluffy in favor of looking at the man alarmed

“No, Tommy. I want to help you.” Wilbur started, voice soft. “How about, you stay here for tonight, and then tomorrow morning, we will go from there okay?”

“I - Okay.” Tommy confirmed, looking up at Wilbur with more hope in his eyes than Wilbur thought was humanly possible. Tommy longed for a home for so long. The problem was that every kind adult he met, reminded him of a lost memory of his parents - he was filled with regret, and sorrow everytime someone offered him a home.

Wilbur though, Wilbur was different. Wilbur was young, and rendered all of his abandonment issues useless - Wilbur made Tommy feel safe. Tommy felt as though Wilbur wasn’t going to leave him.

Over the next two weeks, Tommy really warmed up to Wilbur.

He couldn’t tell all at once, but overtime, Tommy really trusted him, and Wilbur caught onto this.

He could tell in the little things Tommy did:

Like how he stopped asking every time he wanted to use the bathroom

He stopped picking around his food before eating it.

He would wait for Wilbur to wake him up at 8, instead of waking himself up at 6 am.

He wanted to start helping around the house - this made Wilbur’s heart melt.

The first time Tommy asked to help doing the dishes, Wilbur almost died right then and there.

Wilbur had to teach Tommy how to dry the dishes while he sat the small blonde on the counter.

If a small step stool appeared in the kitchen the next day - nobody mentioned it.

The most heart-warming:

Tommy had started calling Wilbur “Wil”

It happened a 10 days after Wilbur took Tommy in, the two of them were having dinner when Wilbur asked Tommy to fetch him an extra plate.

Wilbur often forgot that he had built the house to suit a 6’5 man’s needs and not a 3 foot tall child’s. Even with the step stool, Tommy struggled to reach the glassware.

A small “Wil, can you help me reach?” was heard throughout the house.

A large, goofy smile formed on the elder’s face, as he went to go help the younger. Tommy called him Wil - not Mr. Wilbur - not even Wilbur: Wil.

Of course Wilbur did help Tommy, he went over and lifted the boy up by the waist and put him on Wilbur’s shoulders. The boy then grabbed the plate with ease, giggling as Wilbur bounced back to the table.

Two days later Wilbur came up with the nickname “Toms” as it seemed fair. While “Tommy” was technically a nickname, Wilbur wasn’t sure if the boy would answer to Thomas - so it felt right for Wilbur to make up his own nickname.

Tommy secretly, really really, liked the name. It made him feel special - and hey, if it made him really, really happy, to know that someone cared about him enough to give him a nickname, he wasn’t gonna go telling people about it.

And if Wilbur noticed that Tommy smiled a little brighter every time he used that nickname, he never brought it up, he just made sure to use it a little more the next day.

  SO, on the 15th or 16th day of Tommy staying with Wilbur, Wilbur’s brothers happened to stop by.

Wilbur should’ve seen it coming sooner or later - really. He missed the meeting they were supposed to have last week, he hadn’t come by to the Antarctic Empire like he was supposed to, he hadn’t been returning their calls. He was uh - he was busy.

He was with a certain blonde.

Philza, and Technoblade landed the plane on the shore of NewFoundLand - about 40 feet away from Wilbur’s house - that August night, and obviously they were worried for their brother. Wilbur though, Wilbur had other issues at hand:

He had been showing Tommy his guitar. The blonde seemed to have a fascination with musical devices, and Wilbur tried in every way he could to get his eyes to light up, or for Tommy to frantically ask questions about it. It honestly reminded Wilbur of himself - Tommy’s need to learn and soak up the world around him.

“And this Toms,” The older man watched the boys eyes light up in delight with the mention of the nickname. “This is the E-string.” Wilbur had plucked the low-sounding string to Play for Tommy. The blonde stood up from his seated position on the floor to get closer to Wilbur, and examine the guitar strings.

He carefully picked Wilbur’s fingers off the string with a look of pure curiosity on his face. His small fingers plucking the low note his eyes grew wide and slightly startled when the music came out.

“But I thought you said this one was ‘E’ Wil?” Tommy had pointed to the thinnest string on the guitar.

“You’re right Tommy. That one is E. That is High E.” Wilbur pointed out the thinnest string, using Tommy’s finger to pluck it, with an affectionate smile playing on his face. “And this is low E.” He used Tommy’s hand to pluck the other string.

“Why did they name two strings E? That’s stupid.”

Wilbur laughed, “I wish I knew Toms, I wish I knew-” He was cut off by the sound of a plane landing. Wilbur’s smile faltered for a second before standing up from his criss-crossed position on the floor, and holding out his hand.

“We are going to meet some people Tommy, okay?”

Tommy nodded with a weary smile, but he trusted Wilbur wholeheartedly. He took a hold of the brunette's large hand, and headed outside with him.

The two brothers pushed each other over as they got out of the plane, loudly laughing and yelling “Wilbur, you’re not dead are you?”

Before they could see Wilbur coming out of his house they heard a very distinctive voice yell, “No, I’m not dead. I’ve been busy!”

Technoblade spoke up this time, “What could you have been doing that you missed your trip to the greatest Empire in the World?” He snickered - whatever Wilbur had been ‘Wilburing’ for the past few weeks, Phil and Techno would tease him relentlessly over it.

But when Wilbur came out of the small wooden house with a 5 year-old trailing behind him - they were surprised.

Phil’s eyes widened at the small mess of blonde hair that appeared behind his brother. His mouth formed an ‘o’, as he met his brother’s face with knowing eyes/ He automatically kneeled down to the boy’s level. At eye level, Phil’s dark blue eyes were met with bright sky-like ones.

He smiled warmly at the young boy, who had been hiding behind Wilbur, holding onto his hand for dear life.

“Tommy, these are my brothers. Philza Minecraft, and Technoblade - the King of the Antarctic Empire.”

“Your brothers?” Tommy questioned.

“Yeah,” Wilbur said with a soft smile, he net down to get to Tommy’s level leaving only Techno standing. “These are. You wanna say hi?”

Slowly Tommy nodded, going in front of Wilbur, with the ladders hands on his small shoulders.  

Phil spoke up first. “Hey Tommy! Is that right?” Tommy shyly nodded his head. “I’m Phil. I’m Wilbur’s older brother. It’s nice to meet you.”

To Phil, he was seeing a younger Wilbur. Sure, Wilbur had brown hair, and deep doe-like eyes, but they were two in the same. The blonde clearly trusted Wilbur - clinging onto him for dear life. Wilbur was such a cute kid, could probably get away with anything if he wanted to, he was so sweet, and innocent - and anyone wanted to help the poor kid.

Looking at Tommy and Wilbur, it seems that history was repeating itself, as all Philza could see was himself with a younger Wilbur.

“Hey.” Techno had followed Phil’s lead and introduced himself to the kid.

“Hi” Tommy finally said to the pair.

Wilbur looked between Tommy and his brothers, before scooping Tommy up and over his shoulders. Resulting in the former erupting in a fit of giggles and squeals. “Come on guys,” He nodded his head to his brothers. “I have a lot to catch you up on.”

Later that night, Tommy had fallen asleep in Wilbur’s lap. The ladder holding the small boy in a protective grip against his chest, while the other two questioned him.

“So you just found him?” Techno questioned.

“Yes! We’ve been over this - he was fighting Zombies.” Wilbur answered, acting annoyed.

“How many were there?” Techno grilled.

“I don’t know!” Wilbur faked exasperation, but quieted down when he saw Tommy slightly stir. “Like five or six.”

“And he was keeping them off him? All by himself?” Phil asked in a worried tone.

“Yes!” Techno’s eyes widened. “He was beating the shit out of them Phil, and with only a cobblestone sword.”

“This kid? Really? He’s so small.” Techno asked curious, his eyes scanning over the small blonde.

“Yes, really.” Wilbur put a hand in Tommy’s hair, as Tommy buried himself slightly deeper into Wilbur’s neck.

“Why can’t you just give him to the orphanage? You know the ones towards western Canada?” Techno suggested, no emotion playing on his face.

Wilbur had to stifle a gasp, as Phil and him had similar looks of horror on their faces. “Tech” Wilbur scolded.

“Techno, Wilbur’s already grown attached to him, besides, the boy likes it here, we can’t just give him up.” Phil tried to reason with the young king.

“Whatever.” Techno scoffed. “Doesn’t mean I have to like him.”

“You didn’t like Wilbur, when I first brought him in, and look where we are now?” Phil reminded the pink-haired man.

“This is different.”

“Sure, sure it is.” Phil laughed, leaving to go get another coffee. “Whether or not you like it. Tommy is a part of our family now Techno.”

Techno just sat there.

“Yeah,” Wilbur sighed, getting up to bring Tommy to bed. “I’m not letting him go.”

SO, guys. Later today I will be putting some shorter stuff on world building. Anyone is free to write in this AU if you want. Otherwise, I think as “(this is home)” is closing, I will be starting up this AU, and I will be writing this and my You Said Family Went to War AU from now on - once I finish the final chapter of “(this is home)” 

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Hey, I love your writing! Could you please write one where it’s slytherin! Sirius and gryffindor!james. Can you make it that they find out their mates like they have creature inherences ( since their both pure bloods). At Hogwarts btw if it was unclear. Don’t feel pressured to write this if you’re busy.

((A/N: I’ve never written creature inheritance before, so it’s a little choppy))

Personally, Sirius thought this whole thing was a load of shite. Not like it was fake, because it was definitely real, but it was an absolute pain in the arse. It was going through puberty again, and he'd hated it the first time, thanks. And also? This was worse. He felt like a bloody toddler again, unable to control his magic. It's not like it was lashing out at random or summat, but his spells rarely turned out the way he wanted. Too much power or not enough, and he never knew which way it would go.

Regulus kept assuring him that he'd be ecstatic when he finally settled and got his creature inheritance, but Sirius would prefer to just be comfortable now. Besides, the only creature in the Black line was Veela. Sirius had too many people staring at him without adding a magical element to it. Did he mention the whole process was shite? Because it was. In addition to his magic not responding like it should, his entire scalp itched and his eyes responded to any big change in lighting with pain and his gums ached like a fucker. It made eating ridiculously difficult, and it had been that way for three weeks straight. It was supposed to all even out on his birthday, but that didn't make it any less miserable to live through.

He would love to commiserate about it with someone, but there were only a few other people in Hogwarts that had the possibility for a creature inheritance, and he wasn't exactly friends with any of them. He wasn't friends with anyone other than Regulus actually, so commiserating-- if it was going to happen at all-- would have to wait a few years.

When Sirius got his creature inheritance-- gasp! Veela! what a surprise!-- he walked into the Great Hall and wanted to walk right back out again. He didn't really know how to control the allure. Make that, the allure was running rampant and he couldn't make heads or tails of it-- the fire throwing part had been easy; he hadn't even had to practice-- but even that wasn't enough to make him want to leave. He took one glance at the Gryffindor Table, saw one James Potter, and realised there was a connection.

His parents had sent him a book about Veela inheritances when he started showing signs, and there had been a section on mates. Recognizable on sight. And that's what James Potter was. Sirius had two words for that: 'hell' and 'no'. It's not like Potter was bad looking or an unforgivable arse, but he didn't exactly like any Slytherins, and Sirius was one. He knew that mates weren't something that could be avoided, but how the hell did he explain that to Potter? 'Hi, I know the most time we've spent together was in detention from hexing each other for like, the entirety of fourth year, but you're bloody gorgeous and also we're mates? Wanna hook up sometime? Maybe spend the rest of our lives together?' Yeah. That wouldn't go well.

Sirius wished he could leave-- after all, who needed breakfast every single day?-- but there were appearances to keep up, and everyone would give him shite if he left right now. He was supposed to not act any different now that he had his creature inheritance. He was supposed to pretend he felt the same and didn't think he was better than anyone and all that rot. Nevermind that Sirius had thought he was better than everyone else from the age of five.

He didn't bother to keep in a sigh as he walked to the Slytherin Table.

"What?" Regulus asked, because of course Regulus was with him-- just to be clear: not complaining.

"Everyone's staring."

"Of course they are. You're the first wizard to get a creature inheritance at Hogwarts in the last decade."

"Hooray," Sirius said flatly. "I'll just pose for photos then, shall I?"

"There's no need to be a prick."

"How long have you known me?"

Regulus rolled his eyes, which was pretty much the response that Sirius had expected.

*

Sirius might have stared at James. A lot. It wasn't his fault, okay? There was no ignoring your magic screaming at you to go be with someone, but Sirius refused to give in so easily-- just to give him something to do, his classes were kind of boring right now.

So he stared, but he didn't talk to James. Maybe he should make friendly chit-chat between classes so that they had a foundation other than rivalry and the other person being gorgeous. And okay, it's not like they were total strangers, but being friendly with each other wasn't something they were familiar with. Like he said, rivalry. 

He got caught by James one time in the corridor, but he didn't bother to pretend like he hadn't been staring. It was only the two of them, after all. An empty corridor was a rare thing this close to the Great Hall, but not so surprising this time since it was dinnertime. They were probably the only people not eating right now.

"Is there a reason you're looking at me all the time?" James asked.

"Yes," Sirius said and didn't elaborate.

As expected, James looked bewildered. "Are you going to tell me why?"

"No. What were you in the library for?"

"Books," James said. He was trying to make his voice flat, but it was obvious to Sirius that he was hiding something.

He cocked his head curiously-- an unfortunate habit he'd picked up since his creature inheritance, replacing his usual skeptical eyebrow raise. "For what?"

He shifted, holding his bag tighter like he thought Sirius would snatch them from three meters away. "Nothing," he muttered unconvincingly.

"C'mon, who am I going to tell?"

"Stop mocking me."

"I wasn't aware that was something I was doing."

James glared at him.

It was probably the mate part of him that found it attractive, but Sirius had never had the smartest taste when it came to men. "Honestly. It was an innocent question."

"So you weren't staring at me because you... y'know, know?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Sirius said honestly.

James sighed, relaxing from the somewhat rigid posture he'd been holding. "That's good. Or- I guess bad? If you knew, I could ask- but no, we're not friends."

"What's got you in a spin?"

James chewed on his lip.

Sirius's heart beat a little harder in his chest at seeing that-- his imagination was more than happy to provide him with ideas about James's mouth-- but he was going to ignore that for the moment. There were more pressing matters, like what the hell James was talking about. "Honestly, who would I tell?"

"Your brother."

"Right, but who would he tell?" Regulus didn't have any friends either. Their parents had made a point to tell them that they could only trust family, and now look at them. "And who would care?"

"Most people care about creature inheritances. You should've heard the way everyone fawned over you when you presented."

Sirius snorted. "Yeah, I have eyes, love; I'm well aware of how much attention people were paying me." Then, because it was more important, he said, "So that's what this is? You're coming into a creature inheritance too?"

"No," he said instantly, then he shifted. "Maybe. I dunno, that's what the books are for. I thought you could, like, tell from looking at me or summat."

"I don't have a creature sensor."

"Well how was I supposed to know that?" James asked defensively. "Nobody knows anything about creature inheritances unless they have it, and then they keep it in the family because it's personal. It's not like I could just ask you."

"Couldn't you ask your parents? Like you said, it's a family matter."

"There's no history of it in the Potter line. Whoever was a creature that married in? They never recorded it. I went over the bloody family tree with a fine tooth comb, and I came up blank."

"I don't know how much help I'd be. Different families, different creatures," Sirius said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall.

"I don't need specifics, but- Merlin, did it buggering itch like this for you? I feel like I'm going to crawl out of my skin."

"Can't say that happened to me, no. Mostly it felt like my teeth were about to fall out."

"Right," James said, nodding, "Veela have fangs."

Sirius cocked his head again. "Most people don't know that." 

James blushed. It wasn't very noticeable, but Sirius had eyes on him-- he had a theory that he had enhanced eyesight specifically when it came to his mate, but there was nothing to verify that; it just felt like he was capable of noticing more about him since becoming a creature. "I've done some research."

Sirius hummed, smiling.

*

"Nice wings," Sirius said, trying to keep from looking overly delighted.

One of James's wings snagged against a suit of armor because he'd been walking too close to the wall. "They're a pain in the arse," he muttered, flushing bright red as he tried-- and failed-- to get himself out.

Sirius walked over and stepped behind him. It was a lot easier to do it from this angle. Push, nudge, and he was free. "I kind of thought your wings would be red."

James turned to face him, and Sirius had to step back or risk getting hit in the head with a wing. "Why? Because I'm in Gryffindor?"

"That, and because you look so good in it. I'm not sure black is your colour."

"I look great in black, and you know it," James said.

He did, but Sirius wasn't about to say that. "Do these things not go away?" Sirius asked, looking at the wings curiously. This was the first time he'd seen him since his birthday, and it was no exaggeration to say that James had never looked better. Ill-coloured wings aside. It's not like the black feathers made him look bad or summat, but red would look better.

"If they do, I haven't figured out how." Then James squinted at him. "Did you change your hair?"

"No? It's the same it always is." Which is to say, fabulous. But he hadn't changed it at all. When he'd become a Veela- oh, maybe that's what it was. It had looked different to him in the mirror after that, but Regulus had said he didn't notice anything. "It did change on my birthday though. Maybe you can finally see it."

James reached out, strands of Sirius's hair sliding through his fingers. "It's beautiful," he breathed.

"I get that a lot," Sirius managed to say while sounding normal, but all he wanted to do was step closer and lean into it.

*

Unsurprisingly, James was the one to kiss him first. Sirius kept wanting to, but he also kept chickening out. So it wasn't really a surprise that James made the first move. What was a surprise, was about a month into their relationship-- still a month away from the end of the school year-- and James stopped a rather delightful snog to say, "Does this seem kind of sudden to you?"

"Er, no, we had to sit through like ten hours of class in order to get here."

James chuckled, pressing leisurely kisses to his cheek and down his neck. "No, I mean..."

"You mean?" Sirius prodded when he didn't continue, running his hands down James's back and into his wings. His fingers worked on straightening his feather automatically.

"I dunno. Like, I always fancied you, but after my creature inheritance, it's like I couldn't take my eyes off you."

"I know what you mean. Probably the whole 'mate' thing."

Abruptly, James stopped what he was doing and tilted his head up to look at him. "What mate thing?"

"That creatures have." When James still looked confused, he added, "Because we're mates?"

"Like... soulmates?"

"I guess? There wasn't a whole lot of information about it in the books my parents sent me. I don't think they thought I'd meet my mate at Hogwarts." Sirius snickered. "Their heads would explode if they knew it was you."

"Wait," James said, sitting up, "you knew about this?"

"Er, yeah?"

"Since your birthday?"

"Yeah."

James looked upset, which Sirius didn't understand in the slightest. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Sirius sat up when it was clear that James wasn't willing to let this slide. "Because we weren't exactly friends? You say that you fancied me back then, but it sure as hell didn't look like it. What was I supposed to do? I wasn't going to walk up to you and say we were destined for each other. You would've hexed me."

"I would not have."

"Sure," Sirius said flatly.

"Alright, so I might have overreacted if you told me, but it's not like you wouldn't have too in my place."

"Is there a reason this is bothering you?" Sirius asked. "It all worked out. I didn't trick you into anything by not telling you."

James opened his mouth to answer, then paused and frowned. "That's true," he said, sounding a touch bewildered. "I mean, this goes both ways, doesn't it? You didn't tell me, and I didn't tell you when I first noticed something was going on so..."

"So we can keep kissing?" Sirius said hopefully.

"You're so bloody weird."

"That sounds like a yes."

James snickered. "It's a yes."

*

"Woah," James said, eyes wide.

Sirius may or may not have snarled unkindly at being woken up before he was ready. "Sorry," he muttered. It was a gut reaction to flash his fangs when he wasn't happy, and when he was tired, it just sort of happened. He yawned, fangs retracting.

"I didn't know you could do that."

"Mm."

"Really though, you have to get up. You'll get caught if you leave any later."

"Don't care," Sirius said, snuggling his face into the pillow.

"You told me to make sure you get up."

"Past-me was an idiot."

"I trust past-you more than tired-you."

Sirius opened one eye to glare at him. When that did nothing, he turned to pouting. "Are you really going to throw me out?"

"Using your allure is A. cheating and B. not going to work."

"I should date someone who's nicer to me," Sirius grumbled, slowly pushing himself up with another yawn.

James snorted. "You have fun with that." He nuzzled at Sirius's cheek before giving him a quick kiss.

[purplylinos]

painful glitters ♡ kim hyunjin

♡ requested; no

♡ genre; star tear disease, angst. that’s literally it

♡ pairing(s); gn!reader x hyunjin

♡ word count; 1.5k

♡ warnings; mentions of not eating, explicit language, major character death

♡ description; in a world where glitter isn’t necessarily a favored thing, it happens to hit hyunjin of all people. falling for you was a terrible idea in the first place, she hated that her heart betrayed her. in the end, she couldn’t deny that it wasn’t going to happen. it was impossible to think that you even knew hyunjin herself existed outside of that damned coffee shop.

♡ notes; and we’re back w loona yeah yeah <33 this is my first time hearing about the star tear disease so! if there’s someone in particular that i should credit pls pls let me know :) 

blinking and hearing the faint twinkling sound sent a pang through hyunjin’s chest, it was finally happening.

she had awaited the noise for who knows how long at this point. she knew her love for you wouldn’t be returned, only knowing each other in the coffee shop.

the coffee shop. nothing more, nothing less. 

just the damned coffee shop.

fuck.

where you would sit behind the register with your chin in the palm of your hand, eyes lighting up whenever hyunjin bounced in to tell about some random animal she had met on her way to the cozy building. how dumb was she to think that was going to give her some sort of hope at a relationship?

why was it you?

hyunjin sniffled before moving off of the couch, staring at herself in the bathroom mirror. there they were, the first three stars and flecks of glitter accompanying them, sitting on her left cheek. pressing her lips together, she wiped the glitter away from her cheek, sucking a breath in. her hope was diminishing quickly, there was no way things could clear up. a few shaky breaths later, hyunjin left the bathroom and switched the light off, climbing into bed with a sad smile.

she had two weeks. two weeks to try and get this sorted out, or she would lose her vision forever.

and it’d be your fault.

you, you, you. all of this traces back to you.

hyunjin went three days without leaving her apartment, the amount of glitter and stars being left on her cheeks and pillows growing as time passed. on the fourth day of what would soon become a sparkly hell, hyunjin sat up and wrapped her arms around her body, a heavy sob wracking through her body. ”why? why?” she half-yelled, gaining the attention of her tabby cat, who sat at the edge of the girl’s bed. all hyunjin wanted was you. she wanted your arms to be wrapped around her shaking body, she wanted you to kiss the pain that hit her heart away, to make the faint twinkling and restless nights, the sharp sensations in her eyes, all hyunjin wanted was for you to fall in love with her, for all of the horrible things to stop. 

you were almost intoxicating in a certain aspect. a getaway to an alternate reality, a world of bliss. 

hyunjin needed that world of bliss in a terrible type of way. she never knew she could be so desperate for something that was so obviously out of her grasp.

but the universe never let her have her way.

the fifth day. nine days left with somewhat normal vision. it had been a while since hyunjin had eaten properly, and it was showing in her weight and complexion. she was paler, she had lost so much weight in so little time. you wree doing so much that you weren’t even aware of. it had gotten to the point where hyunjin was incapable of just dusting the stars and glitter off of her pillowcases, she left whatever fell off of her face there. one could see the occasional stars and glitter flecks decorating her hair and back. 

a heavy sigh slipped through the girl’s lips before hoisting herself out of her bed, swapping her sweats and hoodie for a pink turtleneck and black leggings.

pink. a color you looked damn good in. 

you, you, you. everything reminded her of you.

a quiet sob fought its way out of hyunjin, a faint twinkling coming along with it. hyunjin darted into the bathroom and switched the light on, studying herself in the mirror.

she was so pale, so skinny, bags were present underneath her eyes as if she hadn’t been getting enough sleep. she blinked a few times and pressed her hands against her face, pressing her lips together before switching the light off and finding the nearest pair of shoes and slipping them on. she was 90% sure they didn’t match her outfit, but the glitter that pooled in her eyes made it difficult to see anything 100% clearly. 

glitter. caused by you.

and to think that this was only the fifth day. 

she grabbed her keys off of the coat rack, leaving her apartment and locking the door behind her. the coffee shop. that was the only thing on her mind as she hurried down the stairs, walking briskly on the sidewalk as if it was the last thing she was going to leave her apartment to do. she had to see you, if it was the last thing her body was going to be capable of. pushing the door open to said building, she was greeted with a warm gust of air blowing out of the shop and your bright smile from behind the register, one that quickly faded -- presumably from the state of hyunjin’s physical appearance. “oh shit, are you okay?” you asked with concern laced in your voice as you moved from behind the counter, running to hyunjin. “what happ— oh..” you, the once panicking cashier’s eyes, filled with a sense of compassion, sympathy, hyunjin couldn’t tell. 

“day five,” she mumbled, answering your unanswered question. 

“whoever doesn’t have the audacity to love you back is the stupidest fucker in the world.” hyunjin’s breath caught in the back of her throat, a sad smile being displayed on her face.

“if only you knew,” she responded, her voice barely above a whisper. 

not smart to refer to yourself as ‘the stupidest fucker.’

she couldn’t stay here, she couldn’t slip up and say something, that wouldn’t make you fall in love with her on the spot. it wouldn’t save her, it wouldn’t save her eyesight.

even though the disease wasn’t fatal in itself, the side effects of not being able to see, of not reaching out to find help. they were bound to kill her.

��text me, okay?” hyunjin noted softly, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze before turning to leave the coffee shop. 

“w-wait,” you called out, taking a small step forward. “is there anything i can do to help?”

fall in love with me.

“no, i wish there was. i’m sorry.”

that was the last time hyunjin had opted to see you.

countless unanswered phone calls and text messages made hyunjin’s phone buzz to life, yet she never found the motivation to answer them, knowing they were all coming from you, the source of her problems.

the tenth day had approached, and glitter absorbed more than half of hyunjin’s vision at this point. she couldn’t lie to herself, she was more than amazed at the pretty glimmers that everything in her room gave off, but it became harder and harder to see clearly to the point where she was confined to her bed. thankful for the day she accidently knocked over her cat’s dry food, at least he didn’t have to live out a terrible fate. you were the only person running through hyunjin’s mind. four days left until she completely lost all ways of sight.

because of you.

hyunjin’s phone never ceased to stop buzzing, yet she couldn’t bring herself to answer it. half the reason being she couldn’t see what was going on majority of the time, the other half being the fact that she doesn’t want you to know.

she didn’t want you to know how she was doing, how close she was to losing her vision, how close she was to dying.

how you were the one who did this to her.

day eleven was the worst yet. everything had an incredible shimmer to it. hyunjin couldn’t even change the direction of her eyes without wincing in pain. every time she blinked, one could hear the soft twinkling of the glitter falling from her eyelashes. it was getting worse, and there was nothing she could do about it.

she couldn’t properly eat, she could never see what she was grabbing, or cooking. she could never drink water without swallowing multiple flecks of glitter and the occasional star fleck. she could hear her tabby cat pattering around the apartment, but it didn’t make matters better for hyunjin. in fact, she felt terrible knowing that at some point, she was going to have to leave her baby kitty behind. 

day twelve, day thirteen, day fourteen.

they all seemed to merge together into one. hyunjin couldn’t see anything, each glitter fleck reflected off of one another. her breathing was shallow, kitten resting on her chest. almost as if he was telling her it was okay to let go. hyunjin’s head felt fuzzy, she was caving quicker than she could have ever expected. taking her last few breaths, there were three things that she couldn’t help but let fill her ears. 

the sweet tinkling of the glitter falling from her eyes, her kitten peacefully purring on her chest, and you finally pushing your way into hyunjin’s apartment. the younger felt at peace. she was fading, and she was okay with it.

“hyunjin? hyunjin?! hyunjin, please for the love of god! stay with me, you’re gonna be okay, come on. please, please, please.”

you stood in front of hyunjin, reading the engraved stone over and over again. “i’m so sorry” was all that you could muster up to say. closing your eyes, you sobbed quietly, a few small glitter flecks falling from your eyes.

oh, fuck.

[bangtanlalaland]

whoa | kth ft. jjk (m.)

synopsis ↳a bet between you and the infamous skater in town: kim taehyung, is made to get him off of your back once and for all. but the turn of events takes you by surprise, making you feel like whoa!

→part of the bring it back collection!

— 1970’s!au

→pairing: rollerskater!kim taehyung x high school student!female reader     ↳featuring: coworker!jeon jungkook

→genre: smut, pwp, crack (highkey this time)

→word count: 4.7k+

→contents ⨯ warnings: basically just a bunch of horny students exploring themselves (yes, everyone in this fic is of legal age ok plz don’t come after me), tae is a total dom with a big dick (IDC what anyone says!! TAE’S cock IS HUGE. he literally RADIATES BDE. don’t @ me), JK is such a dork (what a fucking bunny), also: subby JK, a hint of comedy (more like MC’s insulting each other), just filthy bathroom oral sex (f + m receiving), threesome, some TAEKOOK action (yes, i said it) deepthroating, breathplay, squirting, fingering, pussy/ass slapping, cum swallowing, snowballing (oops)

a/n: srsly this is PORN!!! just another SLUTTY & unedited smut fic with -0.0000% plot & SO rushed just because I’m a SLUT for BANGTAN & I’m so COCKHUNGRY for these BEASTS & I’M NOT ashamed!! (plz SEND HELP) FORGIVE ME.��

song rec: “whoa” by snoh aalegra

Ugh.

How much you hate him is beyond words. He always stumbles in the local skating rink you work at, flashing that cheesy, boxy grin of his at all the cooing gals around town. Especially on the weekends, when you work. With it being your last year of high school (finally), you’re an 18 year old, (soon to be graduate) within a month, and you’d decided to pick up a part-time job for some cash to purchase your prom dress when the time comes. Sadly, your job only pays you $2.50/hr to deal with Taehyung Kim’s dumb shit. He’s always showing off in the rink, shooting those dumb finger guns, paired with a wink, at the dense gals out on the floor — constantly performing exaggerated spins and backwards skating techniques.

So lame.

Not just that, but the idiot always staggers into the rink sporting some fancy looking, silky blouse with aviator sunglasses, creased slacks, and those dumb strands he styles into a mullet. Who dresses like that anyway? Surely not anyone within your age bracket. He never even bothers to rent the rollerskates you guys have, always bringing his own pair (the gold ones, yes ew. gold. what an old man) — clearly a cheap fucker.

Can’t stand it.

Not just his promiscuous tendencies, but you’re about one more “Hey Toots,” away from clocking out of your shift forever. Yet, here you are again. Working the closing shift. On a Saturday.

Your figure slumped over on the counter, nearby the numerous rows of roller skates behind you. You deliberately chew your Dubble Bubble gum, a large bubble forming from your mouth with much force from your lungs.

Pop.

Your coworker, Jungkook, arrives with a gum scraper in hand looking dorky as usual.

“Alright, that one family with like a dozen kids just left. And fuck have I had my daily dose of gum scraping for today!”

You’re not even sure why Jungkook is within your perimeter, considering that he’s in charge of working at the Snack Zone section of the skating rink. He who is also an annoying brat  — forever complaining about kids spilling mountains of their popcorn everywhere or teenagers manhandling the arcade joystick games, which causes for a call to schedule the maintenance guy, in hopes he’d come to the rescue. Or even worse, when children have too much to eat and their undigested meal ends up somewhere out on the floor or inside the rink. Which in return results in parents threatening to have you all fired, because as you quote one time a customer shouted: “You’re all nothing but a buncha lazy, no-good-for-shits!”

But hey, you both work at a skating rink. What else could he expect?

Jungkook pauses, noticing your attention elsewhere, and he follows your line of vision. All eyes on Taehyung.

Just look at him. All flirty and dumb-looking.

“Geez. Why don’t you just go ahead and suck his dick while you’re at it?” Jungkook yells over the blaring music of The Bee Gees now playing on the wanky stereo of the establishment.

Your attention draws quickly to the idiot standing next to you, your eyebrows furrowing in response. You take the opportunity to pinch him on his arm.

“Ow! What the hell?!” He screeches, rubbing the area you’d attacked, paired with a pout of his lips.

Turning around with your back facing the counter, you retort, “Spare me! Besides, I wouldn’t suck Taehyung’s dick even if he were the last man on Earth and my life depended on giving blowjobs. And I mean it!”

Jungkook takes a thick gulp. The shocked, deer-like expression on his face persuading you to turn your gaze where his eyes meet, and sure enough there was Taehyung Kim. His elbows bent and leaned over the counter, tipping his stupid sunglasses down onto his nose — eyeing you up and down with that stupid smirk he always dishes out.

“Hey Toots,” He slips, with his deep-baritone voice and a wiggle of his eyebrows that causes you to cringe — fists and teeth clenching in reply.

“What do you want, Taehyung?” You ask with a hint of attitude in your tone. Your arms folding in response to his usual tactic, having grown used to it by now. Noticing your uptight form, he lifts from the counter and straightens up, blowing a whistle with his lips in an “o” shape.

“Feisty,” he adds, his tongue peeks out to glide across his bottom lip. You take note of the action, feeling somewhat uncomfortable.

“I like it.” You’d hope your cheeks didn’t give away your sudden embarrassment at his comment. An awkward silence falls upon you both, all while he conceals his deep stare onto you from behind those glasses. Your eyes narrowing in on the male’s form in front of you. Jungkook suddenly clears his throat, capturing both of yours attention.

“What the hell was that?” You roll your eyes so hard, you’re sure you’ll have a headache in three… two… one…

“What’s gotten you so ‘worked up’ today, hm?” He emphasizes the worked up part, as if he knows you so well. His form leaning against the counter again, a failed attempt to get closer to you. Your gaze turns toward him with a dissatisfied expression, immediately jerking your head back.

“As if! Why are you even here? Don’t you have anywhere else to be? Like, like-” You scan your surroundings attempting to find anything that’ll persuade Taehyung to leave.

Bingo.

To your left, near the lockers, a group of blondes giggling and cooing over the idiot talking to you.

“Like with them! They are totally checking you out.” You emphasize with your eyebrows, and Taehyung follows your eyesight, also taking note of said girls. He tips his sunglasses and winks at them all, resulting in screeches and more coos from them. You cringe at the sight of it, wishing you had your attention set elsewhere.

“See? You should just go over there. They’re literally calling your name,” You probe in hopes he’d just leave you the hell alone. The aura of his stroked ego on the verge of suffocating you if he stays even a minute longer.

He hesitates.

“Hmm… Don’t really feel like it.” His gaze turns to you yet again.

You’re seething. You can’t even believe the audacity of him right now.

“Besides…” He continues, leaning further in to meet your eyes.

“A little birdie somewhere told me that,” he runs his fingers through his mullet, “A feisty thing wouldn’t give this stud a blowjob, even if its life depended on it.” Your cheeks are on fire at this point, but you don’t give in. You refuse to be patronized by the whore himself. Just as you were about to retaliate with a damn good comeback, Jungkook rudely interrupts.

“If I were “birdie,” I’d say “it” is lying.” Your gaze snaps toward him with furrowed eyebrows. He holds his hands up, as if surrendering to your harsh gaze. Taehyung grins that dumb, boxy smile of his.

“You’re not helping, Jungkook!” You roll your eyes at him and focus on the cocky eldest.

Taking a deep breath, you slip, “That’s right. It won’t give you the time of day to suck your dick. Besides, you wouldn’t even last for a good 5 minutes.” He scoffs, impressed by your assumption. But also intrigued at your “play hard to get” persona. He contemplates if he should test the waters, his hormones taking the wheel.

“Well,” He begins, cheeks hurting from the wide grin shown on his face. You watch in disgust as he continues, “Why won’t it make a bet then, huh?”

“Pshhh, are you kidding? For what? And what’s in it for it?” Your arms crossing in your stance. His fingers tap against the glass, display counter, as if he’s thinking. His gold rings shining in the ambience.

“If it can make me cum in 5 minutes-” You cut him off instantly.

“Then you will leave it alone forever!” He nods slowly in response, somewhat hesitant.

“Okay… And if it can’t make me cum in 5 minutes, then I get to stay. As I please.” Taehyung grins, extending his hand out. You follow his motion, interlocking your hand with his.

“Tonight. It does this tonight, after closing. Deal?” You demand, Taehyung replies: “Deal.”

Great. Jungkook’s sudden, overly absurd slurping from his Slurpee cup cues his presence is still here. Some part of you ponders how his beverage suddenly appeared.

“Kook, why don’t you help us?” You ask, having thought of an idea.

The slurping abruptly stops. He stares between the two of you with those doe-like eyes, clearly dumbfounded. Taehyung’s eyebrows rise up, obviously he’s amused.

“Woah there, Toots. Didn’t know you were that kinky-”

Your palm finds its way up, cutting him off, “Please,” you retort. You turn your gaze to Jungkook who’s awaiting your appraisal.

“Do you still have that stopwatch your grandfather gave you?”

With wide eyes and his lips still wrapped around his straw, he shakes his head in a “yes” gesture.

“Good,” You smirk. Although you hate Taehyung with all your guts, you refuse to miss out on this opportunity. Once and for all, you want him to vanish from your sight. To be gone and not bother you anymore. And if it means you have to get on your knees and get to work, then why not? At least, he’ll be gone from your life just as you wished.

Next thing you know, you’re on your knees, in the girls bathroom, with Taehyung towering above you, his arms crossed, lips quirked, and bulge slightly poking within his slacks. He leans on the wall, having placed his sunglasses in the middle split of his blouse. You take a thick gulp, attempting to ease the dryness in your throat.

“I’m waiting, Toots.” He coos with that smirk on his face.

Fuck.

How did you get yourself in this situation?

“Now, Kook!” You command the youngest who stands outside of the bathroom door. His thumb pressing the top, start button on the stopwatch to begin the time. Inside, you quickly unbuckle Taehyung’s belt. He helps to unloosen his trousers, dropping them to the ground in one swift. His tight, bright green briefs on full display, showcasing his slender legs. You can clearly see the outline of his cock, which sends a surge of something straight to your core. Your fingers find placement on the band of his briefs, pulling them down past his knees. His lengthy, member sneaks out — semi-hard. You lick your lips while wrapping your fingers around him, preparing to devour his lower half. You can’t believe you’re about to suck Taehyung’s dick. Seriously, why were you even born in this generation?

“4 minutes!” Jungkook warns, eyes glued to the ticking time.

Shit.

You take that as a cue to lick one stripe from Taehyung’s balls to the tip of his cock. He groans in response, head falling back at the feel of your warm, wet tongue painting your saliva onto his member. You continue licking along his shaft, stopping at the head and making sure to wrap your lips around him there. He loves when you do that, and you know this because he hisses, his cock now fully erect, and you adore how thick and long he is. You faintly taste the salty flavor of the precum that seeps from his slit. His hand snakes onto your hair, grasping your head to guide you further down his cock. He relentlessly bucks forward, desperate to journey himself further down your throat. Completely caught off guard, you grab ahold of his thighs and give in to Taehyung fucking your throat.

“Ahh, fuck!” He slips, glaring down at you gagging on his cock. His eyes shut instantly, a hidden attempt at not trying to cum so quickly. 


“3 minutes!”

Jungkook’s warning fuels Taehyung to slow his motions, not wanting to make himself cum yet, courtesy of the bet. But it feels nostalgic for him. The other part of him doesn’t want to stop, not having control of his hips thrusting in and out of your mouth. Your saliva drenches his cock and drips down to his balls, your eyes close naturally to focus on not dying from choking on him. Your nails dig into his flesh and graze along his thighs, somewhat a warning that you need to come up for air. But he wants..

Needs a release.

“That’s right, sweet thing. Don’t stop.” The fact you’re on your knees, submitting and literally choking on this idiot’s dick sends an odd sentiment to your core yet again. Maybe it’s just your hormones? Because you still hate him.

Oh, how much you hate him.

But, Taehyung aches to cum all over your face, to release himself into your mouth or wherever you please just so he can rid that pang deep within his groin. You scratch faster, leaving behind trails of your markings, you feel like you’re on the verge of passing out if you’re not let up. You force Taehyung’s thighs with a push, and you’re finally released from his grip on your hair and his cock in your mouth. You fall back, gasping for air and coughing as your chest heaves and tears stream down your cheeks.

“What are you trying to kill me or what?” You retort, wiping your eyes and gazing up at his lanky figure, gradually gaining your breathing pattern back to normal.

“2 minutes!” Taehyung heaves, his chest rising and falling. You take a moment to regather yourself and bring your thoughts together to continue.

“Fuck,” Taehyung slips, while taking a deep breath. You inch toward him, wrapping your fingers around him to pump his shaft a few times. Strands of Taehyung’s hair stick to his forehead, a result from perspiring, he snakes his hand into your hair, petting you softly as if you’re a cat. Your remaining hand lands on top of his thigh, feeling them flinch slightly as you encase your lips encase around the head of his cock, closing in on the flesh and sucking harshly. Your tongue glides around the mushroom-shaped tip, spreading your saliva all around and teasing his slit. He flinches again, clearly turned on and on the verge of an orgasm. You hurry yourself with one goal:

Make Taehyung Kim cum.

You relax yourself and ease him further and further down your throat, but this time you force your eyes to remain open. His length rubs against the flesh of your mouth, your tongue gliding under his shaft. You continue to keep your eyes focused on his, almost as if you’re staring into his soul. Tears prick from your eyes, liquid forming past your lids yet.

Keep watching him.

“1 minute!”

It’s almost as if that sudden warning sparked something in you, persuading you to instantly make Taehyung cum. Your tongue finds its path down to his balls, sucking them softly and caressing them ever so gently. You glide your tongue back onto him and gag on his cock yet again, thrusting your mouth back and forth repeatedly. He moans and groans, thighs suddenly trembling as his hand pushes harsher on your head; he fucks himself back into your mouth. Taehyung had always liked teasing and bothering you. He admired how annoyed and flustered you get around him, which gave him all the more reason he’s in “la la land” by having your mouth filled with him entirely. He’s convinced it’s probably the only way he could get you to shut up. Unfortunately, on your end, it’s the opposite. Taehyung still won’t shut  his mouth. In fact, it’s open right now. And your name (yes, your actual name) falls from his lips. And not just once, or twice, but numerous times.

“Fuck! I-I’m going to-” He can’t finish his sentence, but you’re aware of his warning, a coy smirk appearing on your face. His fingers wrap around himself as he pumps furiously, his grip on your head still present as he aims straight into your mouth. His erect cock stiffens itself and the sudden rush of an orgasm washes over him entirely. His thighs tremble as his cum shoots rapidly down your throat, in streams of white.

“Alright time’s up, guys!” Jungkook cues. He awaits the arrival of you both from the bathroom. After a few beats and…

Nothing.

“Guys?”

He presses his ear against the cold, metal of the door and hears faint sounds of moaning. He double checks the time on the stopwatch, surely he wasn’t off. But being the curious dork he is, Jungkook decides to push open the door. As he rounds the corner, to his right, he finds your figure leaned against the wall with Taehyung buried between your legs. He makes out the shape of Taehyung’s head moving left and right furiously, clearly he was eating you out. Jungkook’s mouth gapes open and eyes widen at the sight. Your now audible moans rushing through his eardrums, shooting straight to his cock. Taehyung’s obscene slurping on your pussy echoes throughout the ambience. Almost like a gravitational pull, Jungkook treads slowly toward the two of you.

“Always wanted to eat this little pussy of yours.” He pauses, his fingers run along your folds, he stops at your clit to give you a harsh slap, making your thighs tremble in response. He wraps his lips around your clit again, rolls his tongue around the bud and continues in between breaths, “I see the way you always watch me out on the rink. Bet you couldn’t wait for an opportunity like this.”

Your eyes shut instantly, hips bucking forward against Taehyung’s tongue. He glides along your folds and dips his tongue inside you, fucking you with the muscle. Your fingers trail into his loose strands, grazing his scalp as your thighs tremble slightly due to his actions. Your eyes peer open at the sight of Jungkook watching you both like a peeping Tom. You giggle at the sight of his “deer in headlights” expression. Taehyung laps at your clit, and wraps his lips around the bud, sucking harshly as you did with the head of his cock earlier.

“Ungh, mmm Taehyung,” you moan in between breaths, feeling the approach of your orgasm deep within your gut. He peers up into your gaze, relishing in your fucked out expression as he sucks your clit. Jungkook rubs the impending boner that’s hidden behind the fabric of his work jeans. Taehyung pulls away and takes note of Jungkook’s aching tension. You whimper at the loss of his slick tongue.

“What are you doing- Fucking idiot! Why’d you stop?!” You whine like a little child, with a pout of your lips. Taehyung gestures a “come here” motion to Jungkook.

The youngest hesitates for a moment, silently contemplating what the hell is going on but the desperate heat boiling inside of him cries for a release.

“Have a taste, Kookie.” Taehyung eases Jungkooks shoulders down to kneel along with him, his frontal set at an eye-level view of your pussy — that glistens of your juices mixed with Taehyung’s saliva. Jungkook peers up at the elder, and Taehyung winks back while sneaking his hand on the back of Jungkook’s head, forcing him to feast on your cunt. Kook’s hands fall onto the wall behind you, attempting to keep some leverage due to the sudden action. His nose is met nuzzling your clit while his lips suck on your soaked pussy lips.

Taehyung hisses, his hand applying more pressure.

“That’s right, Kookie. Eat her up.”

Jungkook moans in response, having no choice but to take you into his mouth and follow Tae’s demands. His tongue darts out, slithering along your folds, and the vibration from his moaning courses through you. Your hand finds its way into his chocolate strands, pulling and tugging while he eats you as if he’d been starved the entire day, which to you partly doesn’t make sense since he’s in charge of the Snack Zone.

“Oh, fuck! J-Jungkook, ahh!” Your head falls against the wall behind you, the coil in the pit of your tummy on the verge of cumming, that is, when you feel an odd slight tinge of something cold paired with someones finger inserting your cunt. You lift your gaze down to find Taehyung has slipped one of his ring-covered fingers inside of you. He taps your inner thigh to motion your legs to spread further apart, and you follow suit. Jungkook watches in eagerness, grazing his nails up and down your thighs. He takes initiative to lick your clit while Tae fingers you relentlessly.

“Want you to cum for us.” Taehyung eases a second finger and rams back and forth repeatedly, hitting that spot within your walls that has you finally tipping over the edge, combined with Jungkook’s small, pouty-like lips wrapped around your clit and sucking on for dear life. With his opposite hand, Taehyung grips your ass cheek and lands a harsh smack onto your bottom.

“Fucking cum for us, Toots.” In an instant, a shockwave of pleasure immerses within you, your body begins trembling of your orgasm. Your moans turn into an inaudible scream, and suddenly gushes of your arousal sprinkle all over Tae’s and Kook’s clothes and just a tad on their faces. The liquid flows down your thighs, the remaining dripping onto the floor of the restroom. Jungkook takes you by surprise, as he licks up your juices that continue down your legs. You shudder in response, Taehyung follows and licks your other leg, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs.

Jungkook pulls away, taking a deep breath, “Fuck, that was hot.” You notice the tent that’s grown within Jungkook’s jeans, your pussy throbs at the sight. And then by surprise, Taehyung runs his hand over the bulge, pressing into Jungkook’s clothed erection, his eyes widen at the sudden contact.

“What? Think I don’t notice you either, Kookie?” Your mouth flies open at the sight. Taehyung presses his lips to Jungkook’s, his tongue easing into his mouth instantly. Jungkook moans within the kiss, his hands finding their way into Tae’s mullet. The lewd sounds of their lips smacking draws you in further, also wanting a taste. As if he’d read your mind, Taehyung breaks the kiss, noticing your reaction.

“Aw, somebody is feeling left out hm?” His hand laces with yours, pulling you closer to them both. He pushes the back of you and Jungkook’s heads to have your lips meet together. He sets on his knees to unbutton Jungkook’s jeans, while you pull away from the kiss to join Taehyung, giving him a quick few pecks of your own. Jungkook watches in amusement, his cock rock hard and leaking within his briefs. Taehyung takes the lead and unbuttons Jungkook’s jeans, pulling the zipper down. You aid in the removal of his pants, pulling them all the way down past his knees, and you marvel at Jungkook’s toned thighs.

“Whoa, Kook,” You smooth your hands along his thighs, his soft, supple skin feels like silk under your fingertips. He blushes at your compliment.

“You like?” He teases, flexing his muscles. You tease back, kissing his obvious bulge through his briefs. He sucks his teeth, rutting forward. Taehyung rubs him before pulling the band of his underwear all the way down and….

Plop.

Jungkook’s cock springs up, with a thin line of precum leaking from the rosy-shade tinted, tip.

“Fuck,” Taehyung slips, licking his lips.

You also lick your lips at the sight. Before you could even think to touch him, Taehyung grasps his length, stroking in a slow manner. Jungkook’s moan that slips, and you take that as a sign to kiss along his thighs. Taehyung continues to stroke, admiring the thick vein that protrudes along his shaft. You grasp Jungkook’s ass cheek, gripping and rubbing the firm tissue.

Slap.

“Ungh!”

Holy shit, he likes it.

Slap.

He moans again, biting his lower lip. And…

His lips part in a hurry, paired with furrowed brows. You know he’s going to moan again, his chest suddenly pauses from breathing. You look to your left and Tae has his tongue swirling around the head of Jungkook’s dick. He pulls away and teases with another kitten lick.

Finally…

He wraps his gorgeous lips around the tip, and the euphoric tone of Jungkook’s deep, breathy moan fills your ears like a melody.

“Oh, fuck. Mmm- fuck.”

Jungkook’s head falls back with his eyes shut. Taehyung takes his thick, throbbing member down his throat. He uses his free hand to grab Kook’s other ass cheek, granting a harsh smack just as he did with you. You note Jungkook’s adam’s apple bobbing as he gasps for air, thrusting himself into Tae’s mouth. You never knew a neck could look so hot, combined with his sharp jawline being a killer. Some sick part of you wants to see that asshole Tae choke on Jungkook. So, you find yourself pushing the back of his head, pressing him further down his length. The gag sound that emits from Taehyung’s throat makes your core quiver. His spit draws out, soaking Kook’s member.

“That’s right, fucking take it,” You coo, cherishing the act of these two idiots pleasing themselves. Taehyung hums, the vibrations sending a wave of sensations through Jungkook.

“Ah, fuck- Keep- Doing that, you’re going to make me cum so fast!”

Your grip pulls Tae by his strands, forcing him off. Now panting for his breath, he wipes the wet residue from his mouth. Now it’s your turn. Your lips wrap around Kook’s thickness, loving the warmth of Tae’s saliva already having coated him. Just as you did, Taehyung pushes you further in, making you choke slightly. You relax your throat, taking Jungkook all the way in, who you can’t understand how his cock manages to fit in you, considering how thick he is. Jungkook focuses on you with wide eyes, appreciating your form taking him all the way in.

You pull away with a pop and grip his member, stroking him with one hand while licking from his balls to the underside of his shaft. Taehyung joins you to suck his balls, and you both take turns teasing Kook’s head. Jungkook’s fingers find their place on the top of your heads, guiding you and Taehyung, as both of your tongues glide along each side of his shaft. His thighs begin contracting, an indication that his orgasm is approaching. His gaped mouth serving as evidence.

“Cum in our mouths, Kookie.” You and Taehyung open up, your tongues and throats on full display.

“I-I, fuck. I’m cumming.”

With his eyes shut, Jungkook grips whoever’s hair he can, jerking himself off. Spurts of his yummy cum streams into your mouth, coating your tongue with an undetectable flavor. He lets out a shuddering moan, his lower abdomen contracting as his orgasm takes him over. You hold his cum in your mouth, closing it shut. Taehyung has his mouth open and it’s almost as if you both can read each other’s minds. You peer over and open your mouth over Tae’s, releasing the lewd mixture of your saliva paired with Jungkook’s cum.

Taehyung moans at the sentiment, holding for a brief moment to add his own fluid to the concoction. He stands on his two feet, and Jungkook watches with an exhausted look in his eyes, somewhat curious of his next actions. Taehyung rises his eyebrows, as if a silent demand to open. Jungkook stills for a moment and catches on quicker than you thought. With the difference in height, he squats a little and reveals his throat to the eldest. Taehyung leans down and closed their lips, releasing the substance of your fluids, his fluids, and the youngest’s cum.

Jungkook seals his mouth shut.

“Swallow it.” Taehyung demands with a stern tone, his voice somewhat raspy and also fucked out but still deep as usual. Kookie makes no choice but to obey, like the good little, boy he is.

He takes a thick gulp — the mixed secretions now having flushed through and inside him.

“Good,” Tae expresses.

“Whoa,” You add, dazing into a daydream and slightly drained from tonight’s ventures.

The three of you remain in silence, an awkward tension filling up the space. Jungkook seems to have noticed, having pulled his garments back on as if signaling his departure. Then, the reminder that you can’t find your panties dawns on you. Clearly, Tae took them and probably has them stuffed in his stupid slacks. But before stepping out, Kook breaks the silence.

“So much for a bet, right?” He blurts out with a slick smirk.

[sweebat]

Short segment of an au I have. 2k mini-fic under the line. 

Warning: Graphic descriptions of violence

“Drake…?”

Standing at a height of over twenty feet tall, armed with razor-sharp fangs and poignant talons and claws, with its muscular body adorned with thick armor and glimmering scales that illuminated through the darkness of the night, the beast loomed over the motionless body of his dragon—his childhood friend whom Ryouga raised since he was a hatchling.

Drake laid upon the moist ground in a bloodbath. His limbs were strewn about in a haphazard manner as though he was tossed and thrown around like a ragdoll. Along the entire length of his body, spreading from his face to his chest, torso, flippers and all, were deep, gaping wounds. Burn marks littered his skin. His arms and legs harbored bite marks and scratches with entire chunks of flesh missing. The leather of his wings was shredded until only a handful of loose sheets remained, dangling from the frame by mere threads of tissue alone. His blood leaked into the soil as much as it stained the rest of his scales. But then, Ryouga caught sight of it. At the base of his throat, Drake’s impermeable hide peeled away, leaving behind a dark crater that oozed with his own blood. The loose flesh struggled to hang onto his body as best as they could; however, even from his position, he saw that the wound deep enough to reveal bones underneath. With his throat torn out, his poor dragon suffocated in his own blood and…

The other behemoth snarled lowly as it inspected its mauled prey.

Ryouga tore his attention away from Drake and towards the killer.

Frozen with fear, the man watched while the massive dragon hovered over the corpse. Blood trickled from its crimson-soaked mouth. A slimy, purple tongue slithered out from the crevice of its maw before stroking along the bloodied pathway along its lips. It lapped up the remaining fluids before releasing a low bellow, a satisfied rumble of some sort.

A lightheadedness overtook Ryouga as the scope of the tragedy set in. His heart sank into the pits of his stomach, pounding heavily while doing so. His lungs refused to breath, and when it did, it was short, erratic, and ragged. His hands trembled, and his legs quivered. A painful bubble swelled at the back of his throat—tears formed at the corners of his eyes, worsening his blurred vision before a single blink cleared his sight for a brief moment.

“N-No…” Ryouga uttered.

Decades of raising his dragon, all that work and care and…

The iridescent dragon ushered another snarl. With its massive teeth protruding from its maw, the dragon leaned towards the fallen Drake. Its mouth unhinged completely, and it prepared to devour and further mutilate the body of his cherished companion.

His frozen hands balled into a tight fist.

His sadness shifted into a fit of rage.

Without a hesitant thought, he screamed at the glowing dragon. “Get away from him!”

The gigantic monster came to a sudden halt. It steadily closed its mouth while raising its head and turning away from the dragon below it. Before Ryouga knew it, a pair of glowing eyes pierced down at him. It released a low growl as the spiny armor running down its backside gradually rose in agitation. The dragon hunched onto hinds, twisting its body until it faced the small human standing behind. The spines and scales on its backside fanned outward, adding more girth to its already-impressive size.

Ryouga flinched when it locked its eyes onto him, but he shoved the fearful sensation into the depths of his heart.

He refused to let this fucker eat his friend. “Come on, you bastard!” He barked at it, swinging his arms to affirm its attention on him.

It unleashed a deafening roar.

The ear-piercing sound caused him to recoil in pain, but as he was recovering from the stunning effect, the large dragon lunged towards him. Its tuckered wings extended outward fully, engulfing the area in its shadow—with the same illumination as the rest of its form, the shroud of light from its wings blinded Ryouga, forcing him to cover his face with his arm if he valued his eyesight.

As he braced himself for a fatal impact, for claws to pierce through his skin, or fangs to rip his body in half, crushed in the powerful jaws of the beast—

A sharp whistle reverberated through the field.

Seconds passed. Ryouga noticed that the light was prominent, still, yet his body remained intact; not crushed or swallowed or blasted into oblivion.

He slowly lowered his arms. Eyes squinted to nullify the effects of the bright light, the first thing he saw was a gigantic, bloodied snout hovering inches away from him.

“Gah!” He cried as he stumbled backwards and away from the merciless killer. The spontaneous movement as well as his shock caused him to lose his balance. With a noisy thud, he fell onto his back.

The dragon, however, remained motionless.

Another whistle rang out—this one sounded more like a specific and ghastly tune than a single sharp noise.

Like an obedient dog responding to the commands of its master, the large beast retracted from the human, folding its wings back towards his backside; although, it released a series of low growls and grumbles as it did so.

“You really are foolish if you thought you could go up against my galaxy-eyes.” A deep voice sounded from above Ryouga’s position.

He jumped in surprise at the voice of person, and then he jerked his head towards the source of the sound, towards a small, rocky outcrop overlooking the clearing.

Through the radiance of the dragon, he caught the clear form of a humanoid. A man, in fact. The man stood on the rocks with his chin held high, arms crossed, legs straight. He gazed down at Ryouga with callous bluish-gray eyes—it harbored a hint of arrogance that crawled under his skin and infuriated him. The man’s blond hair was bulbous, almost, with a curled tip at the ends. Dark teal bangs encircled the base of his yellow hair, where it appeared almost like a crown of antlers. White trousers with a white undercoat, as well as white leather gloves, clung onto his pale and toned body. A large metallic belt wrapped around his waist, and attached to it were bundles of small, brown sacks. Over this, he wore a dark coat with a flaring tailcoat lined with markings of some sort, but Ryouga was too far away to tell what they were. He was dressed modestly with class, yet by his rugged appearance, he appeared more like a lone bounty hunter than a law-abiding enforcer.

Ryouga’s eyes hardened into a fierce glare. Shaking with rage, he scrambled to his feet before screaming at the newcomer. “That thing’s yours!” He pointed at the monster, the galaxy-eyes. “It murdered my friend, you fucking bastard!”

The man scoffed. “Friend? That thing of yours is no friend.”

His teeth gritted. Ryouga raised a fist, and the desire to pummel this guy into a pulp rose exponentially. “What did ya say!”

“It’s a Number,” explained the blond matter-of-factly, as through the designation was enough to justify Drake’s death. “My job is to exterminate every single Number out there. It’s not my problem that your so-called ‘friend’ happens to be one.”

Before he could berate the stranger for killing his dragon for no particular reason—and even if he had one, Ryouga would still be furious—the man continued.

“I was going to let my galaxy-eyes nourish himself, but I guess I could have a heart and let you finish mourning whatever’s left of it.”

“You bastard! You’re gonna pay for this!”

The man snorted in amusement. Finished with the conversation, the blond whistled yet another tune.

The galaxy-eyes rumbled lowly. Its wings gradually unfolded once more. After reaching its maximum length of several meters long per wing, the dragon propelled into the air through a series of gradual flaps. The gusts of wind knocked Ryouga off his feet, while the man above remained unfazed by the increasing flurries. The dragon took to the high skies; in a wide turn, it swooped down at the man on the rock.

Ryouga could do nothing but watch as the dragon quickly seized its master in its claws before launching above the canopy of the forest. The dragon and the man disappeared over the tip of the leaves, and as the distance between Ryouga and the killers grew more and more with each passing second, the powerful glow diminished until it disappeared entirely.

Ryouga was left alone with no one except for the cold body of his dragon.

He growled in annoyance. They got away so easily, but then he let out a frustrated sigh. There was nothing to be done about that even if he wanted to…

He turned his head to the large, unmoving form a little while away. The earth around him was scorched, yet it was also moistened by the blood spilling from his lifeless companion.

He somberly staggered over to Drake. A shaky hand stroked across the water dragon’s tough beak and smooth scales. As his fingers ran down the surface, it stained itself in the dragon’s blood. He stopped as his bloodied fingers traced under a hazy and dull eye.

His anger dissolved into sadness.

Not even an hour ago, the dragon was nuzzling into his lap, purring and lively, and now…

“Drake…”

Utterly exhausted, with his arms wrapped around the dragon, uncaring of the crimson sludge that smeared on him as he did so, Ryouga shifted into unconsciousness, wondering what he was supposed to do now that his dragon was gone.

— —

He awoke at the dawn of sunrise to the sound of boots on gravel. It was approaching him from behind—slowly, steadily, but not discreetly.

Who…

“You are grieving,” stated an unknown voice. It was high-pitched and child-like, but at least he knew it wasn’t that jackass from last night.

Ryouga grunted. He held onto the stiff body of his dragon. Off the corner of his eyes, he noticed scavengers creeping their way from the edge of the clearing to the exposed wounds, starving to pick the flesh off of the bones.

An annoyed growl erupted from him. “What does it look like.” He snapped at the child, or whoever this was.

He just wanted to be left alone.

The child laughed. “It looks like you want revenge.”

Ryouga froze upon hearing the assumption.

He jerked his body around. How does this kid know—

It was him.

A child bearing a metal mask—he heard of this mysterious figure in passing within towns.

The boy stood there with the horizon rays of sunlight illuminating him from behind, making it difficult to examine him apart from the most jarring characteristic of the boy. Engulfing his entire face was a silver, elegant mask. It had a slit for his right eye and half of his mouth, but other than that, the rest of the area was covered completely, making very difficult to read his expressions.  

“What are you doing here,” he started with caution.

He heard that this child was a pawn of some otherworldly beings.

He heard that this child had no soul.

He heard that this child was not to be mingled with.

“I simply sensed your sadness.” The child laughed. “And I have a way to get rid it.”

Get rid of his sadness…?

“No thanks,” Ryouga muttered before turning around. He looked down at Drake. The dragon’s eyes glazed over, and it appeared more lifeless than ever.

As much as he wanted revenge against the murderers, it won’t bring his dragon back to life.

The child manifested directly over him, standing less than a foot away from where he kneeled. “What if I said you can bring him back to life and let you have your revenge?”

Ryouga jumped backwards in shock at the sudden appearance. As he absorbed the words of the child—"You—You read my thoughts!?“

The child giggled manically. "Perhaps~”

His eyes squinted. He had no idea what this child was playing at, but the thought of it intrigued him. Although skeptical, he pressed on. “What… What do you mean by that? What sorta trick is this?”

“No trick,” answered the child. The child ran his gloved hand across Drake’s scales. The blood was dried by now, and the stroke was so light that it left no stains on the flawless silk. “I mean exactly as I said. Your little precious dragon will be reborn, and you can get your revenge on that meanie Kaito for hurting him.”

“Kaito, huh…”

The child’s smile grew wide behind his mask. “There are powerful forces out there, Ryouga,"—he never told him his name—"and I can connect you back to them.”

[soft-black-teabag]

OMG WHY ARE U SO PRETTY UR EYEBROWS AND HAIR AND EYELASHES ARE LIKE SO THICK AND PRETTY AND MODEL-LIKE ASBJKDBAKJ AND UR EYESHADOW IS SHIMMERY AND PRETTYY AAAA AND U HAVE A LITTLE DIMPLEEEE

I-

I mean, I get compliment about them a lot, but just between the two of us, I'm gonna tell you that my hair are little bitches that will just go where they want, not where I put them. My eyelashes too, those fuckers are just more straight than me, like, damn, they won't bend with anything and it's actually annoying sometimes because they get kinda in my eyesight. But I don't really think they're really model-like, oof, but thank you for the sweet words!!

My sister put eyeshadow on me because she was going ballistic about "oh, my baby is growing up, my baby is growing up, you're so gorgeous omg" and her brain just went like g l i t t e r.

I actually have a bunch small dimples around my face, I don't think they're actually considered dimples, but they are holes on my face so whatever. But I have an actual really really really faint dimple for sure on one of my cheeks, sometimes it appear in the other one too, but they rarely shows and they really are barely there and basically no one knows they exist sjsnsj.

But yeah, thank you, you're really an angel🥺🥺💞💞💞

[rebelheartsmustbefree]

(Standing in the Flames)

Ewan: 

Did death bring with it smells? I’d never been dead before, but I suppose it could. My sense of smell being assaulted by numerous scents. Vile one's. My limbs moved.

“Motherfucker!” The tone in my voice somewhere between a dog whistle and glass smashing pitch.

No, I wasn't dead, surely there wasn't this much pain in death. There couldn't be, that all-loving God wouldn't allow it....Wings. The thoughts of my untimely death halted. Wings was safe as long as I was here, there’d be no more looking for me, for that face. An inner calm came over me; it didn't stop the pain from assaulting me, hitting in nauseating waves, but it was something. I moved my head; my teeth clamped together. Tightly. My limbs felt like lead; they couldn't move, I couldn't make them move, and this time it wasn't because they were tethered to a table. Finally, my head lifted. My limbs laid at odd angles on the makeshift bed. My head fell back, not the comfiest of landings but better than hitting the table. Pain wracked my spine. Fucking hell. If I could shift....the air around me shimmered....nothing.

Nothing for hours, between bursts of pain, I tried. I failed. Between bouts of unconsciousness, I tried. I failed. Faces came and went,  Gretchen, came and went. I was a freak show for them to stare at, prod at when it pleased her. Hear my screams of pain as they moved my broken limbs for their enjoyment. One guard had the audacity to piss on my leg. I would enjoy killing him. My mind became lost in the maze of my head with each needle. These people had been doing experiments on shifters for year's. Murdering us, trying to learn our secrets, trying to understand our DNA and why it was so different from theirs. Fucking werewolves. Why the fuck weren't they happy with just being able to change into wolves? Arseholes.

Isaac:

*I could hear Jason screaming my name, his hand shoved up against my throat. My mind was slowly coming back online, the darkness fading from unconsciousness and the darkness of reality I realized was much, much worse. I shoved Jason off of me and scrambled over to Marie, my hands gathering her up and pulling her lifeless body into mine. NO. This cannot be happening. I won’t let it. I close my eyes and give everything into trying to heal her. Come on sweetheart, come back. Deep down I knew. She was already dead before I came out of that bar looking for her. Before I was attacked and hit the ground. But the side of me that knew that lost the battle of wills, still trying to save her anyway. 

My throat was already in the process of healing, all my grace seeming to be focused on patching me back up, Marie be damned. The more I tried to fix her the slower the process of my own healing was, blood still trying to gush out from the wound. FUCK. Jason was down here with me, his arms closing around us both. I could hear his words, in an effort to comfort me but no words would work.*

Isaac, she’s gone..you can’t bring her back. You have to let yourself heal. 

*My head shot over and I glared at him, tears streaming from my bright blue eyes. I couldn’t help her. Healing is one thing but bringing people back from the dead isn’t something we try to do as Angels. We can but we don’t make a habit of it. And with this cut across my throat taking all my grace and sucking it up for itself, I didn’t have enough in me to save us both. I didn’t have a choice. My body made the choice and the celestial being side of me chose selfishly.*

Ewan:

The sweat dripped down my forehead, my body covered in it like a blanket. My broken, shattered limbs shook. I wretched, the contents of my empty stomach fighting it's way up my gullet, my throat and finally into my mouth. Bile. Fuck, I wasn't dead. I blinked, how long had I been here? Why hadn't I died yet? I’d begged. Pleaded for death, which hadn't come yet. I lifted my head; the room spun, more bile. My legs still at odd angles, green and yellow oozing from open wounds. Flies buzzing around my arm, the muscle curling, turning black.

 I dropped my head, the stench in the room I could only imagine; I’d been put back in here at the end of every ‘session.’ No bath, no shower, no toilet. I’d rather have been gutted, my head severed. Each time, when I believed I couldn't feel any more pain, they’d find ways to inflict it. Some new test or experiment to try on me. 

Tears fell from my eyes, the material below my head, soaking them up silently, keeping them as though holding on to a secret.

The door opened that scent I wretched again. Gretchen.

“Hello, Ewan...” Her voice is perky, too perky. “Today we are going to open that chest of yours.” 

Her head appeared above mine, her finger on my chest as she outlined a heart with her nail. 

“Let me die.” 

“Oh, no...the fun is just beginning.” A sadistic, twisted tone in her voice.

Isaac: 

*I had to go. I couldn't be here when the police showed up. They would take one look at me and immediately have too many questions. I was covered in blood. My own blood but there was now no wound at all. Not even a trace, a scratch, nothing. So they would assume I did this to Marie. Jason shoves as me and tells me to get out of here, the sirens are nearing, closing in bit by bit. 

But when it came down to it, I couldn't leave her. Everyone in the bar knows I was here tonight and asking everyone to lie would not be okay. And clearing their minds is the last thing I would want to do to people I care so much about. This shit was going to come down and fast.* 

Jason. Tell them I went after the attacker. I'll be right back. Just tell them that! 

*I yell at him as I start running from the bar. I had to get away from all the blood at the scene for this to work. I was going to track that bastard down. There was no way with a throat wound, that my blood hadn't gotten on him. I am going to find this fucker and it is over for him.* 

Ewan:

My legs didn't work, that was obvious from the fact my shoulders were dislocating under the strain of my body weight. Hung from a wall by arms, blood dripping from the muscles and ligament around my wrist where there was no skin left. Gaping skin on my abdomen where their fingers, hands and instruments had been. I had to wonder if I had any insides left in there. The drugs they'd given me had at least numbed me this time; it was a shame they couldn't have numbed my brain and taken my eyesight. 

 My eyelids lay closed; my body jerked now and again, my back hitting the wall, no feeling I just knew it was there. I continued to try to change, shifter into anything; at this stage, I would take a worm, a gnat, a fly. For the love of fucking God anything. I’d fought through this for the only thing in my life that made sense anymore. The only thing that had given me peace. Wings. In my mind, I’d been back to that cottage a million times. More tugging on my body. Words are spoken between these people; I can only hear certain ones. Obscure words in random order. There was no point trying to put them together, trying to form a sentence. I didn't care.

Isaac:

*He wasn't hard to find. My blood was the strongest beacon in the free fucking world. Even the most minuscule trace of my blood could be tracked by me. Only me. My grace was unique and no other Angel had this combination of human and celestial DNA. He was a couple blocks down from the bar, just behind that little shop Ewan and I went to before our get together. I had to immediately shove that warm thought out of my head. Sentimental shit had no business being in the forefront of my mind right now. I had one thing on my agenda and it wasn't reminiscing. 

Thing about me is I can be the most loving, caring being you'll ever meet.. until I've hit that line and crossed it. The line where you've fucked with my family, you've hurt me and killed one of my own. The most random act of violence. Senseless. 

The closer I got to our attacker, the more I could smell him, smell my blood on him. He had no idea what was about to hit him. I was up on him and shoving him onto the ground before he had a chance to turn around and see me. The Isaac that everyone knew was pushed aside and the vengeful Angel was full on and ready for blood.* 

Bet you didn't expect me to get up from that.. did you? *My words were practically seething from between gritted teeth, my hand had the back of his neck and his face shoved into the pavement. I had no idea what was happening to me. Shirt was gone, a blood stained chest now exposed and my wings fully expanded behind me. The flare from my blue eyes blinding as I reached that boiling point. He was dead to rights.. my hand coming down to the back of his head to obliterate him entirely until he calls me, 'Jason?!'.* 

What? *I spat out and shoved at his body until he turned around. Maybe this wasn't random after all.* Who fucking sent you.. and you better talk sense quick. 

Ewan:

The hours passed, I knew that because of the pools of blood at my feet when I did open my eyes. I tried to continue to take myself away, now and again though I’d be jolted back against the wall, I was shackled to right now. There was a comfort to be taken from being at the cabin: a commotion, words being shouted dragged me back again. My head lulled on my chest, I trying to lift it, fighting my eyes this time to open. Perhaps someone had found me, Wings? He’d found me, come to get me out of here. I felt the hope begin to spring in my chest; I could do this. I lifted my head painfully, slowly, my vision blurry. 

“Wings.” A mere whisper fell from my lips. Figures rushed around, colours folded into each other, no outlines.

“Wings.” One of those blurred blobs headed my way; I blinked furiously trying to get my vision to clear. “Wings.” My voice a little louder this time, the hope had travelled through my body like my blood, springing up everywhere. He was here. He was here. 

As the blurred vision got nearer the crumbled bones of my legs tried to stand a loud crack, my body slumped against the chains holding me. “Wings...here.” The blurred vision stood in front of me.

“Wings....Thank you.” I swallowed, it felt like nails fighting to get down my throat. It didn't matter; he was here. He had come. I felt my mouth attempting to smile. I wasn't sure what was taking him so long, his smile, he was smiling at me. He knew it was me. Those dimples. I blinked again.

“Wings? Is that Jason, dear Ewan. He won't be rescuing you anytime soon.”

The image in front of me cleared, Gretchen.

“Jasons dead.”

Isaac:

*He begrudgingly gave up a few details, none of which told me anything that made this whole shit show make sense.*

What the hell does Jason have to do with any of this? *My hand tightened around the guys throat and lift him off the ground by it, I kept my face in his, still seething. It was then that I realized that my wings were on full display by the saucer sized eyes the guy in my grasp had.*

He called you Jason.. But also Wings.. Now I know why. *He scoffed and actually had the audacity to reach up and try and touch them but my reflexes were much quicker. I caught his wrist and snapped it back, laughing darkly at how the bone crunched within my hold. His apparent amusement faded real quick after that. And then I knew what this was all about. This must be about Ewan and this fucker must be one of the guys that Ewan has been running from.*

He was wearing my face wasn’t he? Ewan. Is this why you came after me? Cut my throat and ran like a fucking coward? *My heart began to race. The plan was to grab this guy, fuck him up and smite him without hesitation. But he had information. This was about Ewan and the bullshit ran deeper than what it appears to be on the surface. With nothing more than a blink, I will us back to my apartment and sit his ass down in a kitchen chair. Before he could even realize or put up a fight, I had him tied up and gagged. He wouldn’t move. He couldn’t. And for good measure, I placed an old enochian ward on the rope, making it impossible to wriggle out no matter how strong the guy was.*

I’ll be back. I’m not done with you. *With that, I find a shirt and let the cloak settle back in place, wings tucked back away and headed down to deal with the cops that just arrived.*

Ewan:

Could time stand still? Could words float in the air? I blinked. No. No. It was Wings, I’d seen him. I’d seen Isaac; it was a trick. I blinked again. My eyes frantically searched every inch of the face in front of me. No. No. 

“Wings....Wings...” I croaked.

He was here. He was. I pulled on the manacles restraining my wrists; a scream rushed from my throat as pain wracked my body. Why didn't he hurry? They'd find us; he’d be caught then too. Wings quickly. Hurry.

“Ewan.” The sound of the voice floated to my ears; it was him. He was trying to tell me he was here, but I knew, I knew I’d seen him. 

“Ewan.” Again.

I'm here; it's me. Isaac, it's me. The other hand pulled at its binding, another scream. My broken legs slipped in the pooled blood, getting no traction even to attempt to stand. WINGS!! My brain screamed. 

“Fucking listen to me, Ewan.....your friend, Wings is dead. Peter cut his throat open and let like the trash he is on the floor.”

NO. No. No. It wasn't true. The words had been said, but they weren't making sense. I’d seen him. He was here. He’d come for me.....

Isaac:

*The cops came, asked about a million questions I didn’t have time for or wanted to answer. But I knew I had to comply and play human. To pay no mind to the man bound up and tied to a chair in my dining room. He had answers and I would do everything I had to, to figure out what the hell is going on. Lynn stood beside the gurney, the body of Marie zipped up in the body bag. Marie had no biological family unless you counted her ex husband which we definitely did not. We were her family. Lynn like her sister. It would be us that would handle all the arrangements. Starting with Lynn heading off to the morgue. I motion to Jason to go with her. She didn’t need to be alone right now. No. I needed to be left here to take care of things. The cop grabs my arm, repeating his question.*

I came out and found her like this and all I could think of was to have Jason call you guys and I ran out there trying to find the attacker. 

*The officer jots down the information I just relayed to him and closes his little notebook. He gave his condolences once again and they were on their way. With the bar now closed and everyone else taking off, I was here alone to do what I needed to. Climbing the stairs two at a time, I get back to my apartment and shut the door behind me. The man in the chair had wide eyes once again. I tore the gag out of his mouth roughly and before I had a chance to say anything, he’s stammering.*

Look, I am just carrying out orders here. Doing as I’m told. Your friend was a casualty of the job. 

*The balls on this guy to just refer to Marie as some fucking casualty. The back of my hand struck him across the mouth, busting his lip open immediately.*

Don’t you fucking talk about her. She wasn’t just something in your way. She was my family. All of these people are my family and you fucked with the wrong guy. *I gripped his hair in my fist and yanked his head back, making him meet my icy blue eyes.*

 Now...who are you and where is Ewan? 

Ewan:

I shook my head, it wasn't true he was here. I felt my eyes fill up, no he was here. 

“He’s dead. The trash had to be taken out Ewan, and now....no one knows you're here. I wanted to make sure of that. I intend to keep you for a very long time.” The voice gleeful.

He was here. He was here. I blinked furiously clearing my vision. My broken limbs slipping again and again as I tried to make my legs work. Bones rebreaking, as I pulled against the shackles. The muscles making noises as the shackles rubbed against them, blood fell from them. An anguished scream ripped from me as I continued to fight. The vision in front of me, twisting and turning.

And....there he was, smiling saying my name, how sweet it sounded from his lips.

“Ewan...” His arms wrapped around me, those dimples perfect.

“Wings....My Wings had come for me.” There, right there was the cabin. I felt my lips smile. It was over.

“He's unconscious, take him back to his room. We will continue tomorrow.” Gretchen instructed one of the lab workers.

Isaac:

*So far I had gotten out that this evenings attacker was named Peter, that he was just another cog in a bigger machine and that him going missing wouldn’t bother the whole big picture of their operation. I stepped back and watched him, stalking around his rope bound form that now had many wounds that he bled from. He wouldn’t give me more information if he died on me. I lay my palm on his shoulder, letting the grace slowly flow from my fingers and into his body. He would heal, just giving him enough to not die on me.*

There’s one question you keep skirting around and it’s a very important question, Pete. Where is Ewan?

*I really didn’t know what he had to laugh about, but he did. Choking on his own blood as he did so. I was through with fucking around with this guy. Just as I was about to haul off and slap this asshole again, he opens his mouth and more hateful words come out.*

Why do you care about that fucking thing? The only reason she keeps him alive is so we can run tests on his DNA because he is a freak. *Another laugh, spitting out blood onto my floor.* He is some bottom feeding entity, not like us. You.. though that has to be the best face I’ve seen him use, you are something different. I saw those wings. Those glowing eyes. I heard the dialect you used to bind these ropes. You’re an Angel and I cannot figure out why you would waste your time with a lab rat, our lab rat. 

*And then that was about the time I couldn’t take anymore. I pulled back my hand and landed it across his face so hard that I could hear his cheekbone crunching beneath the contact. Ewan seems to be a trigger, my wings were back out and on display again, those bright blue eyes burning a hole in that mother fucker. How dare he talk about him like that?*

You’re going to show me where they are holding him or I will pull you innards out through your mouth, Peter. I don’t care anymore. I just want him back and I’ll let you go, healed even though you killed an innocent and tried to kill me. Do we have a deal?

Ewan:

The world was perfect again; somehow, Wings had found me. Now here we are, the cabin, the snow, our friends coming tonight. The smile on my face had been continuous since we got here, how many days had that been? I couldn't remember. I looked down at my arms, my legs....flashes of pain rushed into my head, my hands went to my temples as I bit my lip to stop me from groaning out....Our friends were here; I opened the door, a sight to see. Jason, Marie and Lynn. Marie’s outline shimmered, like a shifter, maybe she didn't know what she was? I could explain it to her.... My hands shot to my temples, the pain....flashes of silver appeared in front of my eyes. I turned around looking for Wings......

“Is he awake yet?” Gretchen asked the guard; all he did was shake his in answer.

“There's no point in torturing him if he can't see it.” She opened the latch door, looking at my broken body. She slammed the looking hole closed.

Isaac: 

*Good ol Pete agreed and I refrained from turning him inside out. We took the way by foot, my hand at the back of his neck with a death grip that let him know I wasn't in the mood for any sort of negotiation. Traveling through all the back alleys and shortcuts I could find, not wanting anyone to stop us with questions. Which since it was about three in the morning, chances of that were slim. All I could think about was Ewan. My stomach was in knots ever since Peter told me what they were doing to him, why they hunt Ewan. 

I swallow down the lump in my throat. The thought of him being shackled up brought back my own painful memories of what the Garrison wants to do to me, and have tried doing before. I would lay down my life to keep Ewan from going through that hell. Peter croaks out instructions, telling me where to turn. We were on the outskirts of town and I could see the old building up ahead. It had been abandoned for as long as I could remember so at first I questioned whether Pete was telling me the truth or not. But the closer we got, the more I could sense Ewan. 

We had spent enough time around each other that I would never forget the way he smells.*

Okay.. I brought you to him, now let me go. You said you would. 

*Ahh.. the smell of fear. It was rolling off Pete and filling my senses. It was delightful. Especially after what he did to Marie, to me and what fucked up shit he was part of that would hurt Ewan. The grip on the back of his neck tightened, I lifted Peter up off the ground so his feet would kick and protest the height. The fire tore through his body quickly, his screams muted by it consuming his throat first since that's what I was holding him by. When he was fully engulfed in flames, I dropped his charred body to the ground, smirking down at it.* 

I lied, mother fucker. 

Ewan:

My arms wrapped around my head; the pain had taken me to my knees. “Wings.....Wings....” Jason, Marie and Lynn stood watching, not coming near me. Flashes of silver blinded me. “Wings...Wings” Why wasn't he here? He was here, he came for me. He was here. I shook my head, the floor distorted, it became brown. No, no, no.  I opened my eyes.... There was no cabin; I was back in the room. I was here. Pain ripped through every limb, every part of the skin that covered my body. I remembered, I remembered, the second round of pain tore from my insides, it was my heart tearing to shreds. No, no, Wings was dead. The bellow echoed around the empty room, my whole body shook......my vision blurred.

Marie’s shimmering figure laughed. Jason smiled. Lynn was dancing. A blurred figure stood in the doorway, I smiled. “Wings?”

“Get that bastard out of there and wake him up. I need to....experiment on his voice box.” Gretchen's order was simple enough.

Isaac: 

*The little hairs pricked at the back of my neck. All celestial senses now in overdrive. Ewan was here and he needed me. He needed help. I carefully opened the door and stepped inside, closing my eyes and sussing out the counts of heartbeats. 

One.. two.. three.. four.. five..

And one more.. slow and ragged, injured. I smelled blood. It was him. Five people and six counting Ewan. These fucks had no idea what was about to go down. I listened carefully, followed voices. My wings allowed me to move about with barely a foot on the ground. I hovered around corners, nearing those voices, the first heartbeat was in front of me. 

Out from the shadows I came up behind the man, never expecting me, or death. But he got both. I didn't have time to mess around with fighting, making myself known. With a quick snap, he hit the floor in a crumpled pile of bones. 

Four more to go. 

I round another corner and it opens into what looks like a laboratory. The smell of blood hits me like a ton of bricks. This was all Ewan. I was seething. More than I ever had before. I would be damned if I would lose someone else tonight. He was mine and I would fight for him. I hear a woman and it stops me in my tracks. It must be the one Peter spoke of.. talking about Ew's voice box. 

And then faintly.. the sound that could have broken my heart where I stand. A faint 'Wings' from a room beyond this one. I was close. 

Bullets greet me as I charge into this laboratory, slicing them away with each swipe of my wings. I could feel the hot lead tearing through my flesh, missing me mostly and then ripping through my feathers. I didn't care. I kept coming. And that's not what they expected at all. Suddenly guns are being thrown down and the two men, the ones who look like they were twins, come charging right at me. 

Their last and fatal choice. I caught both of them by their throats and let the holy fire within my fingertips devour their flesh. Throwing them down at my feet, the woman standing there with a look that was half fear and half curiosity, looked over to the other man before shifting into a wolf right in front of me. Both taking off before I could chase after them. 

Ewan. I rushed into the small containment room, finding him lying there. What wasn't bloody was broken. What wasn't broken was infected. But his face.. I fell to my knees and gathered his face in my hands, the glow already trying to seep into his flesh. It knew what to do.* 

Ewan.. Ewan can you hear me?

Ewan: 

The blurred figure in the doorway wouldn't come into focus, no matter how hard I blinked. And I blinked a thousand times or more. My hands flying to my head. Pain. The people in the room shimmered. Pain. I screamed. My eyes blinked, a voice was saying my name. The blurred vision cleared a little; the room had changed again.

“Ewan, Ewan.” Those dimples, those lips. No, no, they'd tricked me before. My shattered heart knew, No. 

My broken, shattered hand reached out, not doing or going where I wanted it to.

“Kill me, Gretchen, please,” My ragged voice begged. “I want to be with him.” My eyes closed; he was still blurred in the doorway. Why wouldn't he come to me? Why? 

“Wings.”

Isaac:

*He was definitely not okay. Not even in the fucking least. I turned my hand over and placed the back of my hand against his forehead. He was burning up and by the looks of his hand eye-coordination, he wasn’t seeing clearly either. When he reaches out in my general direction, I am mid reach back to him when his weak voice comes through and his words break my fucking heart.*

I’m right here, Ewan. *I rested my forehead to his, my wings though a little damaged from the gunfire I went through, they closed around us as I gathered him in my arms. We had to get the fuck out of here. Everytime I tried to move him was making him cry out in agony. He kept asking this Gretchen bitch for death. He was completely lost in his pain right now. There was no reasoning with him. I had no choice. I lower my mouth to his, kissing him softly. I hoped he knew how much he meant to me. My hand drops to his chest and the other hand rests on the back of his neck. Just like Jason and his hangover, it was time for some sleep, to put his tortured mind and body at ease for now. 

His whole body went lax, making it easy to hoist him up in my arms and carry him out of this hell hole. Once we were outside, I carefully laid him down on the ground and walked back over to the building. There was too much blood in this place, Ewan’s blood. The bodies with my name on them were already burnt to a crisp so there was only one thing left to do. I placed my hands on the side of the building and closed my eyes, letting out a roar that was loud enough to wake the dead. The building didn’t take long to turn into an inferno. My eyes were still a fiery blue as I turned back to reclaim the man I came for, the man I killed for and scorched earth and flesh to save. I plucked him up back into my arms and knew exactly where we were going. I need to take care of him and nothing would stop me. With Ewan secure in my arms, my wings did the work and got us out of here. I don't give a second thought if anyone would see us or not. We disappeared into the night with the glow of the building afire long behind us in seconds. 

At the edge of the woods, silently watching the scene play out here in the wee hours of the night, two wolves watch as the Angel takes flight with their prey in his arms.*

#TBC

[rmjagonshi]

Whole Again Chapter 24

Whole Again on AO3

Getting their passports stamped should, theoretically, be simple. It was unlikely that there were too many people around at his time of night. Stanford checked his watch; roughly eight in the evening. Maybe the office wasn't open. But with the storm they sailed through, it was unlikely that the Port Authority was closed as ships were likely seeking refuge. Stanford wanted to move forwards with this…circumstance. He still hadn’t made up his mind about what was happening. He wasn't sure if he could make up his mind. But his sailing partner no longer wished him any harm. This was an experiment. Empirical testing. What would his partner do when exposed to others? The unicorn necklace prevented him from doing any real harm beyond basic human action.

It wasn't as if they actually could avoid people forever.

Stanford waited as he watched the body of his brother walk along the dock to the office of the Port Authority. He watched even as he tethered the ship to the mooring piles, following him out of the corner of his eye. It was also a test for himself. Could he let…his partner…go off on his own?

Stanford barely got the ropes tied before he leaped off the ship after Stan.

He caught up to the body of his brother in front of the Port Authority Office. The lights were dim, but on, and Stanford could just see the silhouette of a man sitting at the front desk through the front window, the light from a television flickering in the corner.

Stanford placed a hand on the back of his partner’s shoulder, eyes snapping to the rainbow threads around his neck. He hadn’t even realized how tense he was until the sight of the necklace released it. His mouth twisted into a false smile as he peered into his partner’s face. But Stan didn’t look at him. His eyes were wide, mouth a tight, white line.

He was frozen.

It didn’t take Stanford long to figure out why.

He read over the bold letters fastened to the side of the building. It didn’t read ‘San Juan’.

They had missed Puerto Rico by several hundred nautical miles.

“We have to leave. Now. Sixer, we gotta go.” Stan had turned to him, gripping his bicep in a bruising grip and trying to pull him back to the ship. Stanford held firm.

“We can’t. We’re out of supplies and our electrical is out. We’re lucky we actually made it to port.” He was used to being the voice of reason. And if they had any hope of leaving Colombia, they needed to have their electrical repaired. Stanford could do it himself with enough supplies, but he wasn’t the engineer Fiddleford was. He would like to have some assistance just so he didn’t electrocute himself.

Stan shook his head, muttering strings of words that Stanford could just make sense of.

“Why here? It HAD to be here, didn’t it? No other fuckin’ port we coulda hit? Not safe for us. I LEFT IT! I left it here. Fuck you, Sanchez. Two years, I ain’t going back.”

“Hey. Breathe. You…we look different, now. Two days. Tomorrow we get food and supplies, and the day after I’ll fix the wiring. We’ll lie low.” Stanford gripped Stan’s arms, holding him steady.

Stan’s face was ridged. Eyed narrowed and jaw clenched. His jowls twitching in time with his rapid pulse.

“There isn’t really an alternative, is there?” But Stan wasn’t really asking a question.

There was. There was an alternative. Stanford’s eyes snapped to the fibers peaking out of the white shirt collar. But that wasn’t really an option either.

Stan’s eye found his, following Stanford’s gaze to his exposed collar. Stan gritted his teeth and gave one firm jerk of his head. NO.

Stan took a deep breath, hands going slack on Stanford’s biceps. His eyes steely and piercing.  

“Fine. Two days. But you do what I say. Keep yer head low and follow my lead.”

Stanford nodded once, jaw tight.

Stan gave one last squeeze before releasing him.

The the glass door wedged against the floor as Stan tried to push it open, a screeching filling the front room and covering up the ding of the overhead bell.

The man at the front desk startled, feet slamming to the floor from their position on the side table. The television was blaring some action movie.

Stan’s posture changed the instant he crossed the threshold. His shoulders rose and squared, mouth twisting into a smirk, eye flashing. Stan was a showman, though and through. Stanford had refused to go on one of Stan’s ‘Mystery Shack” tours, despite his brother’s goading. He still felt that the museum was a mockery of the real paranormal, but he understood the appeal of false danger. Seeing Stan flip his appearance so completely was a marvel. A mask so flawless, Stanford would have never known otherwise.

A trait, it seemed, he had always had.

Stanford shook his head to ride himself of the thought. It was creeping. Slowly creeping like vines or a plague over every happy memory he had. Days of beach combing, riding their bikes on the board walk, birthdays and Hanukkah celebrations. All of them tinged yellow, black veins worming their way into every memory.

Later. I can deal with this later. Focus on the ‘here and now’.      

The man at the counter eyed them warily. Pulling out a log book and flipping a switch on the register.

They logged the ship, but their passports gave the man pause. Twins from America on a dinky refurbished fishing vessel were not the most common of sights. Apparently, they were odd enough to warrant a second look as the man passed a scanner over the back page of each book to verify their authenticity.

“You don’t have eyepatch in photo.”

Stan gave a half-hearted laugh and flipped up the novelty eyepatch, now real, for the guy to see.

“Boating accident. Cable snapped. Still healing.”

It was still healing, technically. The skin knitting together rapidly and causing puffy scars to lace across his eye and bridge of his nose. The patch didn’t cover everything, edges of scars peeked out from behind black cloth. The man looked ready to be sick, but accepted the passports and stamped them. After some negotiation and a substantial bribe, they paid their tourist and mooring fee. And there wasn’t much left over.

Stan was still grumbling about the bribe as they left the Port Authority office, grimacing as he thumbed through the few bills he’d gotten back after exchanging what money they had.

“We’ve got just enough for a taxi and one night. We’ll have to hit a bank tomorrow. Looks like we’re eatin’ whatever we can get from a gas station.”

They had walked back to the boat to collect their bags. Stanford had pulled out his phone and was attempting to look-up a map of the area, but was struggling to find a signal. The battery indicator blinked and turned red. Less than 20% left.

“Don’t bother. I snagged a map as we left.” Stan tugged the folded map from his sleeve and handed it to Stanford. ‘I’ll get us packed. You call a taxi. I don’t fancy walking more’an a quarter mile ‘less we have’ta.” Stan was starting to slur his words again. It was best for them to get rest soon.

Stanford called the taxi service listed on the map, speaking in slow and formal Spanish and asking the man on the other end to slow down and repeat himself a few times. In the end, the man had simply shouted at him in broken English, “Port Authority. Two old gringos. Got it. Ten Minutes.” Stanford frowned at the phrasing, he’d have to ask Stan what this word meant later.

After nearly half an hour sat waiting in the parking lot, the dull mustard yellow car pulled up beside them. Popping the trunk so they could load their bags. Stan pulled open the passenger door to talk with the guy as Stanford took the backseat, unfolding the map to locate the nearest exchange bank.

Stan the the driver talked back and forth in Spanish, laughing occasionally as they rode. Stan flipped up his eyepatch again and their driver just whistled long and low at the scars. He thumbed back at Stanford a few times, and the driver gave a wide smirk. Stanford tuning them out. Streetlights and headlights from passing traffic rhythmically illuminating the inside of the car. Stanford, once again, regretted not receiving the bionic eye implant in Dimension St-34M_P4nK. His eyesight had always been bad, but the years were catching up to him and his night vision was going faster than he was comfortable with.

“Ya know, I like yuz. You’re good people, eh? Not like them snooty gringos that come through on them yachts.” The man was speaking English for Stanford’s benefit. Stan just laughed. “Tell you what, Flat rate. And I’ll take ya’s ta the The Sanctuary. Fancy, but safe for gringos. Don’t want ta get caught up in any cartel shits. They been pickin’ you gringo tourists up fer ransom more an’ more. Damn fuckers practically run e’erythin’. But ‘cuz they gringos, poliza don’ do nuttin’ abou’ it. Ahe, ma English is bad. But you know.”

Actually, Stanford didn’t. He had no idea about the current politics of the world. He hadn’t bothered to do much research before they set off. He knew the U.S. was currently in a sort of war with Iran, but that was the extent of his knowledge. No wonder Stan was uncomfortable being here. Stanford felt sorry for the people that had to live through it.

He was starting to see the byproduct of that kind of criminal activity. Everything from store fronts to parking lots had gates and bars. The windows on some second-floor buildings were also barred. Fire escapes if they had any, stopped short of the ground by about eight feet. The sidewalks were sparse. No benches, only the occasional bike rack. All empty. There was hardly any greenery. No lawns or patches of grass. No plants or trees. Not even piles of leaves from the changing seasons. A claustrophobic cage of concrete and steel.    

They pulled up to a concrete wall on the river side of the street. Stanford could make out the tops of spindly trees and the top of some peaked roof building. The gate was closed, but a gentleman in the guard station flipped the leaver without giving them much notice, pulling the gate back. The area beyond the gate was radically different from the one they had just driven though. The grass was green and lively, even in late December. The trash that had lined the road was gone, instead there were the plants and trees that were common in city sides in the U.S.

Their driver pulled up to the front building, flipping a switch on the meter box so that the numbers rolled down. Stan paid as Stanford pulled out the bags. He checked his inside pocket again, thumbing the glass vial through the fabric. The RV and El Diablo, and a few choice weapons were safely tucked inside in case of emergency. They had separated the size changing crystal and flashlight, the crystal now hanging from Stanford’s neck on a loose cord, tucked inside his sweater.

“’EY, Stanley! You call me if you need more rides, OK? I give you discount.” The driver called out from the window, waving at them.

Stan called back from the entrance. “Will do, Maxi. Thanks for the ride.”

The entry for the Sanctuary was like walking into a cathedral. Tall arched ceiling, and tiled floors lined with plush rugs. Chairs and sectionals were pushed against the wall and in little clusters, decorative plants hung from wall hooks and sat on end tables. A brief sniff of the air told Stanford that they were real.

Ain’t no way we can afford this. This is gotta be a five-star hotel. Fuck hotel, this is a resort!

Stanford was inclined to agree with his partner, but before he could respond, they heard shouting from across the room.  

As they approached the front desk, a man in a silk robe that easily cost more than the Stan O’ War II was complaining loudly to the clerk about the humidity in his room. Both brothers stopped a good distance from the volatile man.  

“The air is too stale! Now I’ve been waiting for half an hour for someone to do something about it, and you say he already came!”

“Sir, I sent someone up but…”

“That homeless looking man?! Of course, I wouldn’t let him in. So he can rob me? Are you crazy? Can’t you send someone more respectable?”

Stan frowned, mouth grimacing and nose wrinkling at the level of disrespect the man exuded. Stuck up snob!  

The clerk sighed, looking defeated. “I’ll see if someone is available.”

“Oh, I know how you people are. That means you won’t do shit. Fine! Here. Twenty U.S. dollars. Worth a fortune to you people. Now send someone to fix the humidity in my room!”

The man slammed a twenty-dollar bill on the counter and marched away, furiously wrapping his robe around himself and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

A flash of white dropped in his wake and fluttered to the floor. Stanford ran over to it without thinking. It was silk, soft as sin and running over his fingers like water. The corner was embroidered with a gold curl and the initials M.B.

“Sir, you dropped your handkerchief.”

The man paused, hallway to the elevator when Stanford called out to him. He turned, red faced and scowling. His eyes scanned Stanford’s appearance and sneered. It wasn't the first time Stanford felt self-conscious about his looks. He was dressed in a weather-beaten blue jacket, his classic read cable knit and salt crusted jeans and boots. He also hadn’t shaved in several weeks and was finally starting to grow a beard.

The man sniffed, wrinkling his nose as some imperceptible smell and reached out to take the handkerchief back, but paused when he caught sight of Stanford’s hand. Even after all these years and though countless other dimensions, nothing quite put him on the defensive as someone noticing his hands.

‘Mutant!’

Stanford felt his stomach clench, and the age-old fear crawled up his spine again. But he wouldn’t run. Not this time. He didn’t need to.

“Ford…”

He ignored his partner’s call, choosing instead to smile at the man as he held up the handkerchief. Just far enough from him to be offering it, but close enough that the man would have to enter his space to claim it.

The man said nothing, simply marched up to Stanford, snatched the silk square from him and bolted to the elevator doors.

He heard his partner give and audible sigh when the elevator doors closed with a ding.

He turned back to Stan, tucking his hand in his pocket and adjusting the bag strap on his shoulder.

Stan just gave him a soft smile before turning to the counter and the much-relived desk clerk. Poor doll.

Stan spoke to her in Spanish, soft and pleasant, with a slight air of flirtation. The woman gave them both an amused look. But when she named the price of a room, Stan’s smile disappeared.

They didn’t have enough. The taxi ride, even with the discount, had eaten just enough into their cash that they were short. Even the smallest room available was out of their budget. Not to mention the late check-in fee and registration fee for not having a reservation.

Stan groused, reluctantly pulling out his bank card and handing it to the clerk. They had wanted to keep their profile low, paying in cash left an electronic trail. The clerk scanned the card, the machine beeped, then buzzed. The card had been denied.  This was a problem.

But the clerk felt sorry for them. She walked them over to the entertainment plaza building and unlocked the doors so Stan could use the ATM. There were several lined up against the front wall of various banks. Stanford was quite fond of the Automatic Teller Machines and the bank cards that came with them. They were infinitely more convenient than carrying around large wads of cash, but they also were left open to electronic errors. The credit chips in used in the multiverse were better; they were tied into your unique genetic code so that even an alternate universe version of you couldn’t hack into your bank account.

But the ATM also denied Stan’s card. Their account had been frozen. Suspicious purchases bought in Iceland. With all that had happened, neither one had thought to check-in with the bank to let them know they were in Iceland. Now they were stranded with little more than $50 U.S. dollars in a very dangerous area with a ship with a fried electrical grid and no food.

“DAMNIT!” Stan kicked at the wall, swearing again as the concrete absorbed the impact and a wave of pain rolled up his foot and leg.

“Wha’dd’ya wanna do, Sixer? Suppose we can go sleep on the boat, but that won’t do nuthin’ for food. An’ we don’t have enough to get ‘er looked at either.” He sighed, flopping against the wall and giving Stanford a tired look. “Suppose we could try and give’em a call, but I don’t suspect we’ll get an answer this time a night.”

They stood in silence a few moments, the poor clerk standing by awkwardly, fiddling with the keyring and hoping these old men would make up their minds so she could go and do her job.

Stanford glanced at her from the corner of his eye, frowning. He pulled his phone out and called the only number he could think of. “Hello. Maxi? Stan’s brother. You know anywhere we could make some quick cash?”

*~*

Stanford had been hoping for a late-night pawn shop, maybe even an advanced loan establishment, just enough to cover the night until they figured out their bank account. Maxi had gladly driven back and picked them up, taking them further into the city and following back roads filled with trash and broken wood pallets.

Stan and Maxi had spoken so rapidly and so hushed that Stanford didn’t bother keeping up. Maxi dropped them off a few buildings away from an old storage building located behind an animal feed storefront. Maxi leaned in close to Stan, whispering something urgent. Stan only nodded in reply before reaching for his wallet. “Not this time. This time on me. You call me when it’s over.”

Stan patted Maxi’s shoulder and got out of the passenger-side door, Stanford following after. They walked silently to the old concrete building before turning down the side ally. A red glow from a burning cigarette emanating from the darkness. Warning bells were going off in Stanford’s head, signaling that this was all kinds of wrong. That they were much safer heading back to the ship and fishing off the dock, but Stan grabbed his jacket sleeve and tugged him forwards. He tried to catch Stan’s eye, but was only met with worn matte black.

They could hear shouting and the clanking of a cowbell from inside. The barking of a hound echoed after. A fighting ring. Dogs, cocks, people. It didn’t really matter which, all that matted was that they should keep walking and find someplace safe.

But Stan wouldn’t let him go, wrapping his fingers around his wrist and thumbing the Vegvisir band wrapped around Stanford’s wrist.

Fat lotta good it’s doing! Leading us here. Should just chuck it.

Don’t. It looks good on ya. Besides, you like it. You wear it all the time.

Stanford shook his head, ignoring Bill’s words and instead focusing on where Bill had led them.

“Best be moving on grandpa. Ain’t nothing here for ya.” The bouncer regarded them briefly before flicking the ash off his cigarette.

“Here to make a bet. Word is the money’s good tonight.” Stan responded, unswayed by the size of the bouncer.

“Got any cash?”

Stan pulled out a few bills from his breast pocket, flashing them briefly. The bouncer nodded, dropping his cigarette and crushing it under his heel before leading them inside.

“Ya need to check in your bags, gramps. We ain’t a bunk house.” Stanford’s grip tightened on the strap of his bag. They weren’t carrying anything valuable. Least not in bags. Stanford resisted the urge to check his pocket for the glass vial again.

The low bark of a bull mastiff drew Stanford’s attention. The hound had a muzzle strapped to its head, but it didn’t look like the metal was going to stop it if the dog was determined to bite.

“Aie, Aie, shut up. Stupid mutt.” The bouncer unlocked a side door, more a closet than anything, and held out his hand for their bags. With some reluctance, they handed them over, pausing a moment in front of the hound’s nose before they were tossed unceremoniously on the floor and the door was locked again.

“You wanna bet, go see Mitch. He’s at the front table.”

Stanford could just make out the man muttering as they walked, “Stupid fag gringos.”

It was only then that he realized he was still holding Stan’s hand. He let go, tucking his hands in his pockets a moment before Stan leaned into his side and whispered harshly in his ear. “Don’t do that. They’ll think you’re gonna pull a knife or somthin’. No one’s gonna care about your hand here.”

Stanford did as he was told, smoothing the cloth of his jacket instead.

They reached the front table where a short balding man sat smoking a cigar and thumbing through some bills from a metal cash box. A chalk board sat propped against the wall to his left, a few names and tallies etched on its surface; odds ratios in bold under each match-up. There were four matches written up, the top two crossed off, already taken place. The third was raging on beyond the doors, passed the crowd. The fourth had been X-ed out. A single name in one column and a blank space where the challenger should be. The odds for the named fighter were 4:1 on.  

“’Ey. Match just started, you wanna make a bet, you do it here.” The man flicked his cigar into a plastic cup on the table. “Won’t be much money ta be had tonight. Newbie dropped out. They’ve been lookin’ fer someone ta take his place, but ain’t no one step up yet. All too scared of Pedro. You still wanna make a bet, you can. But this is the last match of the night. Neither one the house favorite.”

Stan took a moment to contemplate the scoreboard before answering. Even if they bet everything they had, they wouldn’t make very much. It might get them into a room with a mattress on the floor, but nothing in the way of supplies. But who to bet on? Stanford peeked in the open door to watch the fighters. There wasn’t any indication which one was whom. The shorter fighter looked like he had the advantage, but it was the first round and neither looked outclassed. He still thought this whole idea was stupid, but the next words out of Stan’s mouth cornered sensible in a dark alley and beat it for its pocket change.

“How much to enter?”

Stanford whipped his head to look at his partner, even more convinced that Bill had lost his ever-loving mind! Not that he’s ever had any sense, but at least he wasn’t this irrational. No one Stanford had ever met had ever had such a lack of common sense. No one but Stan.

He still hadn’t decided on what to call this…hybrid person. Partner seemed the best fit now. Stanford ignored the shit-eating grin that reverberated down their mental connection.  

“Hah, funny grandpa. I like you. Tell ya what, you bet on Antonio, he’s more likely to win. Still only 3:1, but it’s better than nothing.

Stan just grinned wider. He cracked his neck, rolling his knuckles and squaring his shoulders.

“How much to fight?”

*~*

The money guy had called down the owner, realizing Stan was serious. No amount of protesting from Stanford dismayed him. The owner was enormous. Easily over six foot and built of solid muscle. He wasn't thin either; torso thick and bulky and arms as wide as Stanford’s neck. An ex-pro boxer by the looks of it. He was intrigued by Stan’s request, but had laughed at him too. Telling him he could enter if he wants, but they would just throw his carcass out in the back alley when he died.

“I’ll be fine. Just let me in the ring and I’ll show ya what I can do.”

“You’re outta your mind gramps. But sure. You wanna fight, go ahead. Tell ya what, you survive, I’ll pay out $100,000.”

Stan grinned, dollar signs glittering in his eye. “Dollars?”

“Pesos, grandpa. Pesos.”

Stan let out a dark and dry chuckle. “And If I win?”

“Jackpot’s sitting at 2,350,000 pesos.”

Stanford had called him crazy when they shook hands, Stan just shrugged him off.

Stan had gone back to the check in closet to pull out a pair of loose-fitting shorts from their bags. Stanford had followed him, closing the closet door behind them. An audible click echoed in the tiny room.  

“This is crazy. We can still get out and get back to the docks. We can think of something else.”

“Nope. Mind’s made up. I’m doing this.” Stan didn’t even bother turning around as he undid his jeans.

“You’ll die! You can’t use magic anymore.” There wasn’t much space in the side closet. It was only big enough to store the patrons’ stuff, if they had any. “Not unless you expect me to take that off you. Is that what your expecting? Goad me into…”

“No!” Stan shouted, head snapping up. He took two steps to stand closer to his brother. “I don’t want that.” Stan’s hand thumbed over the scar on Stanford’s cheek, still visible though healed. He frowned at the memory, of straining to seal the wound closed even as his magic dwindled. Apology dying on his lips. Instead, he simply smirked and patted Stanford’s cheek. “I don’t need magic to win this. We need money. This will get us some.” He stepped back to pull his jeans off, tugging his socks and shoes off along with them.

“You’re being reckless. You’re putting yourself needlessly in danger to...” He flapped his arms looking for the appropriate wording, averting his eyes and trying to keep the blush from his cheeks, “To show off, apparently.”

“Maybe.” Stan…winked…maybe, but his face soured with his next words. “But if we’re going to argue about ‘needless danger’, we should talk about how you walk headlong at anything even remotely out of the ordinary. You have no idea if things might be friendly or not, but no, you just have to go study it.” Stan had pulled on his shorts and was stuffing his clothes into Stanford’s bag.

“That is the inherent danger in field study. And I understand and calculate the level of danger before I approach. This is just suicide! I can understand gambling, Bill, but this?! Do you have any idea how illegal this is? How much danger we are really in?”

Stan’s shoulders tensed at the name, hands stilling on the bag he was hunched over. His knuckles turning white as he clenched and unclenched his hands.

Maybe Bill was just looking for a fight. If that was all, Stanford could oblige. But Stan’s voice cut through the building tension.

“Yes. This isn’t my first round in a cage fight.”

Fine. If Bill was going to play Stan’s history, he’d bite.  

“You aren’t young anymore. You haven’t kept your body in peak condition for decades.” But Stan had stood up by then, turning and shedding his shirt in one swift motion, letting it drop on top of the bag. He held his arms out, loosely set on his hips and he straighten his back and flexed.

Looking at Stan now, Stanford picked up on all the little things that reminded him they weren’t young anymore. His hair was the most prominent. Gray. All of it. Stan was always hairy, even back in high-school, but it had only gotten worse with time. At least his body hair had. Stan was balding. The hair at the back of his head only hid the skin beneath in the faintest of light. Next, his gut. Stan hadn’t aged well. Though, now with the understanding of what Stan had been doing the past forty years, Stanford can’t blame him. But there was no question that Stan was packing more weight than could be hidden. Pecks more flab than muscle. And without the help of his girdle, it was, for lack of a better word, ‘hanging’ out there for everyone to see. Stan’s face carried so many lines now. Lines zipping back and forth across his forehead. Creases bordering his eyes and puffy eyelids. Forced laugh lines from his years of being a wannabe carnival barker. Lips chapped from the salty air. Pockmarks and discoloration around his jaw. Skin sagging a bit around his neck.

He was a dead man walking if he followed through with this.

“Let me fight instead.” The words were out of Stanford’s mouth before he could stop them.

“No way.”

“I’m fitter than you. I may not have the raw strength you do, but I can hold my own.”

“Not happenin’ Stanford. I can put myself in danger. I won’t put you there.”

Stanford’s eyes blinked before a dark laugh passed his lips, brought forth from decades of grief and hate.

“’You won’t put me in danger’, huh?” He snarled, ripping back the fabric of his jacket and sweater to show the scarring on his wrist. A dark band with radiating veins to his forearm and the back of his hand. Two more on his other wrist and neck. Permanent burns. Charred tissue beneath the skin. Courtesy of the torture he’d endured to keep the world safe from Bill. “What about this then? What about after I shut down the portal? You’re so worried about putting me in danger, you weren’t then.”

“I’m not that person anymore!”

“Bull shit you’re not! I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. You act just like you always did. Selfish and self-serving. I was just too blinded by your flattery to notice!”

“Stanford, I…”

But there was a knock on the doors seconds before it snapped open.

“Hey gramps. Boss wants ta know if yer ready?”

Stan walked past him, reaching the door and walking into the entry way.

The owner led them back into the tiny side room with a sink and drain in the center. Stanford stood to the side and watched as the owner and another guy inspected Stan’s physique. The owner’s eyebrows jumping in surprise at Stan’s muscle mass despite his age. It was clear Stan was a boxer, or used to be, with the way he carried himself. It was something the owner of this little underground boxing ring had picked up on. Stan flexed when asked, jabbed at the air to show off his form, and tested his grip on the owner’s fingers. Even Stanford caught the slight wince and creaking of bone when Stan squeezed. Stanford’s fingers twitched with every touch, eyes trained on the rainbow fibers, now visible, resting against Stan’s collar bones. The two men left after a few short minutes to draw up the odds, mumbling about how tonight was going to be interesting.

“You can still back out.”

“Can it, would’ya. Win or lose I get somthin’. And I intend to win.”

The door creaked open and a kid pokes his head in the gap. He glances over at Stan a moment before tossing Stanford a roll of tape, shaking his head. They could hear shouting and something like glass breaking. “Pedro ain’t happy he’s going against an old man. I’d say your goodbyes, amigo.” The kid slipped out, closing the door quietly. Stan was standing in the middle of the room doing some light stretches. Shoulders rolling back and forth in their sockets, trapezius shifting under surprisingly tight skin.

“He was impressed. Ya see that look he gave me? Like he found a gold nugget where he thought was gonna be dog shit. Ha!”

“Bill…”

“Stop with that! I ain’t him!”

“You aren’t Stan either.”

“More now than I was then. Just let me do this.” They fell into an awkward silence as they waited.  

The owner came back, trailed by what Stanford assumed was ‘Pedro’. Pedro was short, bit shorter than Stan’s height, but he was stacked. The kid was hardly older than 20, abs sculpted and hips thin. His muscles visibly shifted with each movement, veins popping up on his skin. His jaw was chiseled and smooth. He looked like a poster boy for some band or car magazine. On the surface. But there was something there rippling just beneath the surface that clawed at the air between them. A beast barely restrained by a thin rope. The veins in his neck and face pulsed. Teeth looking more like fangs in the dim light.  

Stanford did not like Stan’s chances against Pedro. Hell, he didn’t like his chances against Pedro and he was in better shape than Stan. The kid, and he certainly was compared to the two of them, exuded so much testosterone that Stanford could smell it. It was obvious why this kid was the house favorite. His eyes held a level of rage Stanford was unfamiliar with. The kid wanted blood. He’d been denied a challenge and now he was going to take his anger out on Stanford’s partner. He gulped.  

The kid turned to the owner, speaking in rapid Spanish, gesturing to them both. Stan shouted above the bickering, “¡Oye! Como el infierno, te dejo tocarlo a él!”, standing in front of Stanford, pushing him back a step. But the owner shook his head and stood firm. “Fine, gramps. I’ll fight you. Kiss your fag boyfriend goodbye, cuz you ain’t walking out of that cage. I’m gonna kill you.”

Stanford gaped at the kid’s words, but Stan just grinned and held out his hand. “I look forward to it.”

The kid scoffed, reaching out to squeeze Stan’s hand, hoping to feel the bones break under his grip. Stan returned the grip in equal measure. Bones not breaking or creaking, but instead, clamping around the kid’s hand like steel. His grin split his face in half when the kid flinched.

Pedro pulled bag, and strutted back to the main room, likely getting ready for the match.

The owner, who’s name Stanford had neglected to remember, watched Pedro go, turning back to them both with a shrug.  

“Last fight’s still on. I suspect it’ll be a long one, so you got time. We’ll call you. And you’ll have to take the eyepatch off. What name you wanna go by? Gotta call out something when the match starts.”

Stan thought about it for a bit, humming as he twisted the question in his mind. After a moment, he smirked, ripping the eye patch off and letting the boss get a good look at the healing scars covering the empty socket.

“The One-Eyed Beast.”

*~*    

They weren’t allowed gloves. No protective gear. Not even shoes. Just tape. Stan’s glasses tucked into the collar of Stanford’s sweater.  

“Too many people trying ta sneak in weights and blades. Bare hands means I can’t hide nuttin.”

Stanford’s hands shook even as he meticulously wrapped each of Stan’s knuckles. The white tape stood out against the tanned skin. Cool and textured verses warm and soft. The contrast cut through Stanford’s psyche. Like he was replacing the smooth flesh with something inhuman. Weaving the tape around each finger, stabilizing his metacarpals and wrist. His fingers slipped on the tape as he tried to tuck and tie it off. Once, twice. His hands wouldn’t cooperate.

His mind kept flashing back to Stan’s opponent. He didn’t know why, but the kid scared him. Something about the kid…man terrified him. His eyes weren’t human. The man was an animal. Stanford could see it in his movements, the way he sized them up. He was no more tame than the bull mastiffs being walked around on lead, snapping and growling at any perceivable threat.  

Stan wove his untapped hand through his fingers. Clasping them tight and squeezing. “I got it. It’s ok.” Stan pulled back to finish the knot before starting on his other hand.  

Stanford bit his tongue until he tasted blood.

A knock on the door came far too soon. They were preparing for the last match of the night.

Stan was up and out of the door in a few short strides, Stanford trailing along behind him, a bundle of nerves.

The chalkboard propped up on the wall had been altered. ‘One Eyed Beast’ in the challenger column beside Pedro. 10:1 odds. He’s surprised it wasn't lower. People were lined up to place their bets, ecstatic that Pedro was going to fight tonight.

They followed their escort to the main room, weaving in and out of the people lingering and milling about. Guard dogs growling and barking as they walked past. They were standing in front of the cage now, Pedro already inside and looking ready to tear the head off the next person who crossed him. That next person, unfortunately, being Stan.

A brief hush swept across the crowd. They had seen who was up. An old favorite against a newbie. An old newbie. Stanford didn’t let their age bother him much, least not when they were running circles around dangerous anomalies. But here. Around other people. Their age was distinct. They were in their sixties. Wouldn’t know it for how easily they kept up, but they were getting older. Stanford woke up with twinges of pain he didn’t remember having before. And Stan had apparently been fighting back pain since his late forties.

But the man standing in the cage wasn’t the man Stanford had been helping to wrap his hands. No. Like crossing the cage threshold had changed him. He stood taller. Stan’s biceps pulled taut against the skin, curving and accentuating his arms. His gut was still there, but he’d lost weight in the months at sea, and the top level of flab hid a strong torso. Stan was thick. Had always been. He’d been a heavyweight since those first lessons all the way back in middle school. His legs were still as thick as ever and had grown more definition as they became accustom to the sea. The overhead spotlight gleamed off the sweat already forming on Stan’s skin. He was practically glowing. A force of nature now stood where his brother once did. He held himself steady on the uneven and unstable elevated cage. More a plywood slab braced on random stacks of cinderblocks. Chain link fencing weaved around the structure and was attached to the ceiling and floor. He didn’t look scared or nervous. Hell he looked downright gleeful.      

A thickly accented jeer echoed from across the room.

“The hell is this?! Get this gringo grandpa outta here.” Angry responses and jeers erupted in waves through the crowd. Stanford felt the hackles rise up on the back of his neck. He and Stan could handle being out-numbered, but not like this. There were well over a hundred people clamoring for a chance to make a bet. But despite the jeers, Stan was calm. His face plain, perhaps even a smirk, as he eyed his opponent.

A deafening clang rang in Stanford’s ears. The cage door had slammed closed. A ‘referee’ was locking the heavy padlock and chain. Too late to make a run for it.

This was insanely foolish. Even more so than restarting the portal. At least Stan had the misfortune of not fully understanding the ramifications of opening the link to other dimensions. This, Stan had full knowledge of the consequences. And he was still standing there. The unicorn necklace still sparkling against Stan’s throat. The spell was supposed to be a protection against Bill. Against his powers to manipulate the world. He could only hope that wasn't the only thing it protected against.

Stanford flexed his hands repeatedly, eyes trained on the two fighters. A speaker mounted somewhere overhead crackled and sputtered, announcing the beginning of the next match. Cheers and boos echoing from everywhere as the fighters were introduced. Stan seemed to relish in jeers and heckles. When he didn’t react, the voices grew louder, bottles and crumpled paper cups being flung at the cage to bounce off the fencing.

Stan just grinned.

The clang of a cowbell broke through the crowd’s noise. The match had begun.

There weren’t rules in underground fighting. Anything went. The winner was the one who could walk out.

Pedro came in with a flurry of punches, aiming for Stan’s torso and head. Stan braced and took the beating. Blow after blow to ribs and arms. Stray fist connecting with his face. But Stan hadn’t faltered yet. When Pedro pulled back, readying a roundhouse, Stan’s left fist connected with his jaw. Pedro stumbled back. He wiped the sweat from his face and glowered.

A scream, pulled from the bowels of hell, clawed its way through the kid’s throat. He dove to grab Stan’s torso, but he shifted, trapping Pedro in a headlock and pulling him off balance. Fists wailed on Stan as the kid tried to free himself. An arm wound around Stan’s leg. A knee to the kid’s jaw. Pedro was released. Stan taking four steps to the other side of the ring.

He was using the kid’s rage and confidence against him.

Pedro recovered quickly, eyes blazing at being humiliated by an old man. He charged again. Fists low. Stan sidestepped, but Pedro anticipated the move. His aim struck home.

Stan doubled, gut and chest taking the damage. Quick and light jabs countered some of Pedro’s blows, but not many. Stan took a step back. Then another. He was being backed into a corner. A second later, the kid dropped to the floor, legs pulled out from under him was a subtle sweep.

Stan danced around him, putting distance between them.

Downed twice by an old geezer. Pedro was livid.

But the clanking of a cowbell singled the end of the first round.

The guy taking bets was walking around the crowd, calling out odds and taking more cash from eager patrons. He passed close to Stanford, notebook and a spool of tickets in hand. Stanford watched him, eyes flicking back and forth between Stan and the man collecting bets.

It couldn’t hurt.

A second ring of the cowbell started the next round, but Stanford had lost his place near the front of the crowd. He could see flashes of movement over the tops of people’s heads. Shouting and grunts. A dog growled and barked from somewhere to his left.

Stan’s voice rang above everything. A sharp grunt of pain. Stanford pushed people aside, knocking over drinks and scattering empty bottles. He was prepared to climb the damn cage when a strong arm looped around his waist and pulled him back. One of the bouncers. He was let go and shoved back behind a faded red line drawn around the ring. A man at his side, drunk off his ass, stumbled with him.  

“Hey, gringo. You gotta stay back, or they’ll kick you out. Don’t worry, your money’s on Pedro, you’ll win.”

Stanford just turned back to the cage.

Stan was winded. But so was Pedro. The kid had an arm wrapped around Stan’s neck, free hand flying repeatedly into Stan’s chest and gut. But Stan jerked Pedro’s leg to the side, sending the kid wobbling back. Sta was on the defensive. Only fighting back when the kid caught him. The kid was trying to get him in a headlock, but Stan weighed more. He leaned and threw them both to the floor. He used the opportunity to pin Pedro’s arm. The kid had no leverage. Stan’s elbow came down on the kid’s nose. A sickening crack. Stan let go and stood with a stumble, taking position again.

Pedro charged, leaning away from Stan’s swing and barreling headlong into Stan’s left side. His blind side. Stan’s back connected with the cage. He was cornered. Pedro pummeled him, fists flying to any place they would land. Face, neck, chest, gut. Stan sagged. And audible crack cut through the fervor.

Stan’s knuckles connected with Pedro’s temple. It was the window he was waiting for. Stan returned each blow with one of his own. Four more to the temple. One to the left side of his jaw, then the right. A swift uppercut to the gut. Stan alternated between high and low jabs, leaving Pedro little opportunity to block. One punch to Pedro’s jaw slid further, cracking across the bridge of his broken nose.

The ref rang the bell, but neither fighter stepped back. Punches flying every half second, Blood dripping from noses. Neither one was bothering to block anymore. Fists came undone and fingers clawed at skin. Nails scratching gouges.

A hand wrapped around the rainbow threads and jerked. But a flash of pink light pushed it back. Shouts from the ref called forwards two man with cattle prods. The poles were slid through the gaps in the cage nearest the two fighters. Stan turned, pushing Pedro into the sparking pole. A scream. The smell of searing flesh. But they just backed further into the center of the ring. Just out of reach.

Fingers dug into a throat and clamped down. More retaliated with pressure to an eye. Knuckles connecting with teeth and jaws.

Bets had stopped. No one knew who to bet on. Shouts and barking and camera’s snapping pictures.

Stanford’s heart was in is throat. He couldn’t swallow, let alone breathe. His ears rang with white noise, not comprehending the sounds echoing in the dingy warehouse. Blood and sweat flung off the two fighters. Four men with cattle prods circled the cage in hopes that they would come close enough to break it up. Every so often the ref would walk around and ring the bell. He may as well have been waving a banner for all the good it did.

But it was nearing the end now. They weren’t going to last much longer. One last punch. One last connection between knuckles and bruised tissue. It was over.  

A body hit the floor with a sickening thud. The crowd fell silent. Blood filled wheezing could be heard from the lump on the floor. The referee shouted something in Spanish, smashing the bell against the cage to amplify the sound. The victor pulled away from the lump to stumble back to the center of the ring. Huffing. Knees weak. Blood flowing freely from his nose. That fucker gave him a hell of a beating.

Stanford was beside the referee in seconds, pushing past him the moment the lock was disengaged. He ignored the shouts from the referee even as the man tried to grab him and pull him back. He twisted out of the grip on his hood and entering the cage. Two steps in, he was beside the lump. Blood splattered around it on the wood dais. The wheezing was intense so near. It was wet, blood and saliva dripping from the parted mouth.

Stanford spared barely a moment beside the lump, racing past and across the ring to his brother. Stan was hunched, legs shaky and hardly holding him vertical. Stanford’s arms were around him instantly, wrapping him in a crushing hug.

“Fuck! Fucking hell! I thought you were dead for sure. God! Don’t ever do that again, you sick bastard!”

Stanford’s words were mouthed against Stan’s jaw and ear. His fingers threading through the sweat damp hair at the back of Stan’s head. He felt more than heard Stan chuckle, the rumble of his voice sending little vibrations against his jaw.

“Heh…I’m alright…nerd. Not outta…the game yet.” He huffed. Stan’s laugh dissolved into wet coughs. Stanford held him tighter, bracing as Stan hung onto his body for support. He only pulled back when Stan winced. He wrapped Stan’s arm across his shoulders, doing his best to hold Stan’s weight. Stan leaned into him, ignoring the blood dripping from his nose smudging over the blue fabric of Stanford’s jacket.

The ref just stood, dumbfounded, holding the cage door open as they stumbled down the steps. The crowd parted and Stanford’s eyes zeroed in on an empty bench. He pushed Stan towards it, ignoring the stares and hushed murmurs following him.

Stan let gravity do the work as he sat, leaning back and to the side to ease the pain in his ribs. The dim light hid much of the damage. But it was bad. Even Stan’s latent healing was going to take time to fix this. That was if his injuries didn’t kill him first. Stanford was running his fingers down Stan’s sides, feeling the cracked ribs and wondering if they needed wrapping when someone tapped his shoulder. A young kid, far too young to be in a place like this, held out a water bottle to him, wide eyed and awestruck. He took it with a nod, squeezing it to check for leaks and tampering. He smiled at the kid when the lid made a crack when he opened it. Stan snagged it from him, hand only partly unwrapped, and downed it in four large gulps. They ignored the men climbing into the ring to tend to Pedro.

The owner was ecstatic. Nearly everyone had bet against Stan to win, and the house had raked in a killing. He’d come over to them after the match to congratulate Stan on his marvelous victory. “Beast you are, huh? Haven’t seen a fight like that in a while. Think Pedro’s out for a while. I’ll send someone over with your money.”

A man and an armed guard approached them while Stanford helped Stan back into his shirt. He spoke to Stan in rapid-fire Spanish, going back and forth a bit before he pulled out a fat envelope from his jacket. The man counted it out slowly, enunciating each bill amount as he went. $1,000,000 pesos. Just over $300 U.S. dollars. Substantially less than what was promised. But Stanford wasn't going to argue with a rifle hung at low ready. It seemed Stan wasn't too keen on it either; he grumbled, but took the envelope and stuffed it into his shirt pocket.

Stan raised an eyebrow when the money guy handed Stanford a second envelope stuffed with crumpled bills. $10 U.S. dollars pick-pocketed off some snobby tourist bet on a 10 to 1 odds became $333,325 pesos. It wasn’t much, but was enough to get them supplies and to get Stan the hell out of Colombia. Not bad for a night’s work.

Stan shot him a devilish grin when he tucked his own winnings away. But there wasn’t much time to discuss anything as their bags were tossed at them and they were promptly escorted out of the back door. A voice rang out after them in both Spanish and English: “Get the Fuck outta here! You come back, you die!”

Stan just waved. Leaning heavily into Stanford and limping as the bruised muscles in his side spasmed.

“You bet on me? Thought you said it was a stupid idea.”

“It was. You can barely stand. But it wasn't like I was going to bet against you.”

“Where’d you get the money?”

“Remember the man from the inn?”

“No, you didn’t!”

“You aren’t the only one with quick fingers.”

“HA! Knew you had some rebel in ya!”

“Yes, well, we can celebrate after we get someplace safe.” Stanford fished out his phone to call Maxi again. The cab driver was quickly becoming their new best friend.

“Yeah, think the only reason we walked outta there was because the house won a shit ton.”

*~*

They didn’t go back to the Refugio El Santuario. Not willing to explain how they had come into so much money so quickly. Instead, they had Maxi drive them to the Ribai, bit further south on the main strip along the coast. Not as ritzy, but hey, a pool and room service were classy enough.

They paid in cash. Stanford excusing his ‘drunk brother’, claiming the blood was caused by an overzealous bar fight. The clerk just shook his head and passed them the key card.  

There was an elevator, Thank Christ, that took them to the third floor. Stanford unlocked the room with the provided keycard and stepped in, nudging Stan to wobble to one of the neatly made beds. The soft white sheets and mattress give under his weight as he flops back.

“Ow. Ow Ow Ow. Everything hurts. Bathroom’s yours first. I don’t think I could shower just yet. You signed us in using pseudonyms, right?”

“Yes. I am aware of…your…history. I felt it was appropriate to use a bit of caution.” Stanford walked the perimeter of the room, fiddling with the mechanism strapped to his wrist.

“Hey, Nerdbrain. I get you wanna ‘secure the area’ but you haven’t slept in almost a day. Door’s locked and there’s a secondary lock. Only thing we’re in danger of is getting bedbugs.”

“You’re right.” Stanford’s shoulders slumped as his body lost much of its tension. He removed his jacket, draping it over the nearest chair and sitting down on the free bed to remove his boots.

The sweater came next, black sleeveless undershirt covering his torso. A quick use of the crystal and flashlight and Stanford was opening his medical bag. He cleaned off the blood dripping down Stan’s face. Something he had done more often over the years than he was willing to remember. The suture kit put to the side when the cut on Stan’s cheek closed on its own. Instead, he spent the time cleaning and disinfecting the scrapes and gouges left behind from Pedro’s attack. Stan hissing as the alcohol touched his skin. But he said nothing. Neither of them did. Stanford worked meticulously, smiling faintly when he eyes caught Stan’s. His glasses and eyepatch still tucked in Stanford’s jacket.

He was cleaning the blood from Stan’s hand now. Working the alcohol-soaked cloth under his fingernails. Stan shook it loose from his grasp and ran his fingers over his cheek. Once again tracing the line branded there.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

“I’m sorry I scared ya.”

Stanford sighed at Bill’s words. “No, you’re not. You were going to do it anyway.”

“Yeah, but I still didn’t want to scare ya. And I wasn't gonna let you try either.” Stan’s fingers had drifted lower, passing along his jaw and resting, curled, against his neck. White skin stark against the faint dark band.

“Bill…”

“I’m NOT him, Stanford.” Stan sighed; all fight draining out of him. He was too tired to fight about this anymore. He just wanted to sleep. “I use ta be. Not anymore. Don’t wanna be anymore. Don’t wanna hurt ya.” Stan swallowed down his next words. He wasn't sure if they were real. They felt real. But there were a lot of things that had felt real that turned out to not be.

“How can I know that for sure? You’ve tricked me before.” Stanford was still looking at him. Eyes still soft. He hadn’t left yet. And that gave Stan hope.

“I guess ya can’t. But I’m still askin’.” He shouldn’t. It was too much to ask of his beautiful Sixer. But Ford was right, he was selfish. He wanted things to be alright between them. They’d been friends. More. He wanted that. He was sure Sixer wanted that too. But trust. Trust was a hard thing to piece back together once broken. It wasn't like Stan had broken it intentionally. I wasn’t even his fault this time. Just some memories old and dusty memories from a dead life that he didn’t want to be a part of anymore. He was past that. He wanted to be past it so badly.

“Let me prove it. Give me a chance ta prove it.”

Stanford lifted the hand by his neck, holding it between his own. Fingers curled loosely around each other. Fingerprints tracing over black scars.

Soft, salt chapped lips brushed against Stan’s jaw. Forehead pressed to his temple. Stanford breathed.

“Okay.”

First Chapter

Previous

Next

[chaos-burst]

Fic prompt: Just any kind of hurt/comfort where Beau is the one being comforted

[refers to the demon mentioned in this ficlet]

This is definitely the worst day in Beau’s life.

And that is quite impressive considering how many shit days she’s had.

Fucking fuck of a demon, reading their deepest insecurities and fears, spelling them out in front of everyone and blinding her on top of it. Beau hates his fucking guts.

Beau can’t see shit and that raspy voice in her ears makes her heart almost beat out of her chest. Anxiety floods over her like a cold wave of brackish water trying to suffocate her.

“Beauregard, the unwanted child, always second best only, never good enough. Ruining the family reputation. No friends, no love, a father who wishes you were dead instead of your brother and a mother who withered away in grief over her first born child. Instead of being thankful for all the privileges you received, you became arrogant and stubborn, lashing out. And where did it get you? Into a ragtag group of misifts, running away from their problems and leaving misery wherever they go. Mollymauk died because of you. You think he has forgiven you? Your brother was a better person than you will ever be. They did not want you, Beauregard. What makes you think that anyone will ever want you?”

Beau is shivering, cold sweat breaking out on her brow. She is blind but terrible pictures appear in front of her inner eye, Molly dead, her father shouting, Antoine’s cold, pale body lying broken in the grass--

“Beau, don’t listen to him!”

Beau shakes her head. She realizes that she’s crying while the demon pries into her mind, searching for the deepest and darkest places.

“They will leave you sooner or later”, the demon whispers and Beau is hit by a wave of nausea when she hears the satisfaction in the raspy voice. “They don’t even like you, Beauregard. You are unloveable, unknowable, unwanted.”

“Beau!”

Beau sinks to her knees because she cannot stand any longer.

“Stop talking shit about. My. Friend!”, Jester shouts. Beau is just a shivering mess now, the voice echoing through her head.

“Beau, it’s alright”, Caduceus’ voice is right beside her and a big, warm hand is carefully put on her back.

“We’re not going anywhere”, Nott croaks and she sounds as if she’s been crying. This demon is the worst.

“You think you can say anything to me that is worse than the shit I keep telling myself every night, you fucker?”, Beau hears Caleb say and then there’s a loud explosion and a terrible scream, followed by the crackling of flames.

“Beau, it’s over. Everyone is alive. Are you still blind? I can help!”, Jester’s voice is shaky as she places her hands on Beau’s face and a second later her eyesight returns to her.

She suddenly wishes that she was still blind so she wouldn’t have to look into all of their concerned faces.

“‘M fine”, she croaks, mortified, still shaking and embarrassed.

“You are not fine, you’re a terrible liar”, Jester says quietly and hugs her. Beau stifles a sob and before she can say anything else, Caduceus has joined the hug and then Nott buries her little green face in Beau’s side and then Beau can’t see anything anymore because there are tuffs of pink, blue and purple hair in her face.

“He’s the worst fucker we ever killed”, Molly mumbles somewhere beside her.

“Yah. He’s such a dick!”, Jester exclaims.

“You are not unloveable, Beauregard. You are not”, Caleb says.

Beau wishes she could stop crying but the tears just keep coming while she buries her face in Jester’s shoulder.

“We love you so much, Beau”, Jester whispers. “So, so much.”

“Love you, too”, Beau sniffs and keeps holding on for dear life.

“We’ll never leave you, it’s a promise.”

Beau hopes that some time in the near future, she can whole-heartedly believe it.

[depressed-sock]

Kiyo Thief part 4

Thief part 1 ; part 2 ; part 3

A Fallen Hero Fanfic

A Familiar ‘Annoying’ Face

2nd

 You're breathing heavily hands on your knees as you stand over the three thugs that were trying to rob the electronics store. They probably don’t have much on them but it’s better than no-

 “Hey!” You spin aiming a kick towards the voice’s head, only to find your leg caught in his grip and you suddenly on the floor. Rubbelguy stands above you with a smug smile, “You know you should really work on that environmental awareness.”

 ‘You should work on not getting your fucking wallet stolen asshole,’ you bite back your remark there’s no need to out yourself to him. Is this going to become an insistent irritating problem? Not being able to sense this fucker sneak up on you? Why is he even here anyway? This is clearly not a high-level heist requiring his attention.

 “Go fuck yourself,” you kick out at him but he quickly dodges backward. Your back on your feet before he can do anything else. You can’t riffle through pocket’s while the ‘hero’ is here to watch over you so you may as well leave.

 “Hey! Please wait I just-” You slam the door maybe a bit too hard into his face.

 4th

 “Hey, Rubble fucker! Catch!”

 “Will you stop calling-Offf”

  “Uhh...Whoops?”

 6th

 Alright, that’s another one down, now-

 “Come here often?” He expects the kick but not the punch that plows into his stomach.

 Shit, you didn’t mean to actually do that, “Goddamnit! Stop sneaking up on me!” This situation is so much worse than accidentally stealing his wallet. Maybe you should go back to that before he tries to throw you in jail for assault.

 He holds his stomach a bit and sends you a wink, “At least I’m not falling head over heels again.”

 You suddenly have to suppress an incredibly strong urge to hit him again. “Maybe next time you do you’ll land in hell.”

 “Ouch, Is that your way of saying you don’t like me?”

 “No,” You move closer to him grabbing his shirt, why is he wearing civs while fighting crime?, “I’ll tell you to your face if I don’t like you Rubbelguy.” You let go and turn to leave doing your best to ignore his existence.

 “Wait… does that mean you don’t like me? Or that you do- Wait! Oh, come on!”

 8th

 “Hey, kid! Good job with taking them down!”

 “Call me a kid again and I’ll shove my foot up your ass.”

 “... I’m so tempted to make that dirty.”

 “I’m going to push you down the stairs if you do.”

 11th

 How? How does he keep finding your vigilante persona? This is ridiculous and getting out of hand. You haven’t even been able to riffle through the pockets of the people you’ve knocked out because he suddenly appears out of nowhere. His entire presence letting out an air of judgment everytime you so much as look at something wrong. Or maybe that’s just your imagination, afterall you can’t actually tell what he’s thinking.

 Either way, you’re fed up, tired and hungry. You want him to go away and leave you alone. Speaking of hungry, when was the last time you ate anyway? Maybe last night? Or was it the night before? Or.. you don’t know...Fuck.

 You try to block the Empress of Flames punch, why are there so many people wanting to be rulers?,  a wave of heat bursting off of her as she grabs your arm a sadistic smile on her face. It’s so hot, everything feels so incredibly suffocating.

  Her mind is a weave of chaos that reminds you of a few others you’ve fought… It has the intense unpredictably that Lord of the Fucks had. Until you got him angry but you can’t risk getting her angry, she might roast both you and Rubbleguy alive… Is that why everything is so hot right now? Is she roasting you alive from the inside out? You can feel yourself faltering, a black film starting to form around your eyesight.

 Rubbleguy must see you struggling because he moves in, knocking her grip off you and pushing you behind him. “How you holding up Kid?” he sounds worried but you can’t bring yourself to care as the black starts to take over your vision.

 “I’m..not..a..ki-” the floor feels so much cooler than you expected.

…

 Something cool rests against your forehead, it feels so nice… wait... Empress! You jolt up your hood falling back. No no no no. Your hand reaches up and your goggles and mask are still affixed to your face. Thank fuck.

 “You should lie back down,” your head whips around. Shit too fast. Dizziness suddenly hits you and you nearly fall forward off the stone bench you were lying on, “Woa, shit,” he grabs you holding you steady.

 “What?” happened? It’s so hard to speak, your throat is so dry.

 “It seems Empress’s abilities can heat up a person's body temperature to dangerous levels,” he helps you lay back down on the cool bench, then holds a cold water bottle against your forehead, ��I would have taken off your jacket but considering I saw what you did to the last guy that tore a hole in it I figured it was safer not too.” He smiles softly at you and you think it’s a nice smile, it feels genuine. “You should probably drink this,” he shakes the water bottle above your line of sight a bit and you find yourself licking your dry lips.

 You don’t want to remove your mask, what is he recognizes you? What if he hates you? But you need to. Fuck. You try to sit back up and he moves to help you but you wave him off. You pull your hood up and turn so he can’t see your face. You hold out your hand blindly and you feel the coldness of the water bottle in your grasp.

 You move the mask slightly just enough so you can drink the water freely; greedily gulping it down. It helps but your still so fucking thirsty.

 “I’ve got two more,” you feel him hold another water bottle to your shoulder, and you take it, gulping it down quickly. You sigh in relief but a nervousness suddenly crawls it’s way up your spine. You find yourself crushing the empty water bottles in your hands. Why would he do something like this? Is it some kind of trick? It doesn’t feel like it, wouldn’t he have unmasked you if that was the case?

 “Thank you,” the words are quietly whispered but you know he heard it.

 “Hey, It’s no problem ki-”

 “Sidestep,” it slips out, you’re so fucking tired of being called kid. “Just call me Sidestep... Charge,” you bite out his name painfully. Fuck maybe you’re giving him too much rope to run with. You don’t have to be able to read his mind to know that he’s grinning at you. Oh fuck, you’re going to regret this so fucking much.

 “Sidestep, huh... because you keep sidestepping my advances?” goddamnit you shouldn’t have said anything.

  “I was going to be nice and keep calling you by your actual name but I changed my mind, Rubbelguy.”  

 “Wait, shit. It was a joke.”

 “Your jokes suck,” and so does your crappy smile.

 14th

 “Hey Sidestep!”

 “No.”

  “I didn’t even-”

  “NO.”

 16th

Your body is shaking from exhaustion when you feel the presence behind you. The irritation you feel is currently unequaled, the nonstop pestering was finally breaking your nerves.  "Leave me the fuck alone!" Your hands ball into fists and you don't bother turning around to face him. You just want him to go away, to stop bothering you.  "I'm sorry?" That's not Rubbleguy… fuck. You spin around to find Sentinel hovering a few inches off the ground, his expression both unamused and confused by your reception. Fucking hell.  "Uhhh...I umm I thought you were someone else," you weakly explain. You hadn't expected any of the other Rangers to show up, you should have but Rubbleguy has ruined all your common sense. He just keeps showing up, you don't even know how he keeps finding you but every time you've turned around since meeting him he's there. Smiling at you, being a condescending asshole with his 'goodjobs'.  Does he think your inept since your fight with Empress? Or does he suspect you've been stealing off the people you've 'defeated'? He won't stop using the name you gave him either. ‘Sidestep this’ ‘Sidestep that’ his presence was all around an annoyance. Maybe he knows you're not legit and he's trying to get you to incriminate yourself with his pestering? Is he now getting the other Rangers involved with his scheme?  Sentinel lets out a loud sigh pinching the bridge of his nose, "You're the kid Ortega's obsessed with, aren't you?" Its posed as a question but you feel he's already certain of the answer. Obsessed with? Shit, that doesn't sound good. "We need to talk."  "Alright," you shrug your shoulders stuffing your hands into your pockets, motioning your head as you turn and walk down an alley. You're not talking about this here, in fact, you'd rather not talk about it at all but you don't think that's going to be an option.   He sets on the ground watching as you start to climb up the nearby buildings fire escape, "If you want to talk on the roof I can carry you."  "No thanks," you prefer being able to hold onto something that can't be shot out of the sky. "Besides I'm not going all the way up and you," you point towards him, " are staying right there." You sit on the second story escape legs dangling over the edge. Not high enough that you couldn't escape if need be but enough to have space between you and him. He could easily fly up to reach you but the illusion of having a higher ground advantage helps calm your nerves a bit.  "Are you done?" He looks completely fed up with your shenanigans already. Maybe if you annoy him enough he'll leave.  "I guess, what exactly is this about?"  "Do you want me to get Ortega to leave you alone?" Your shocked into a dumbfounded silence. You hadn't expected that, why would he care if Rubbleguy is bothering you? But he does care, you can feel it. The worried thoughts that Ortega is pushing boundaries he shouldn't be.  "I don't know," you look away, your hand nervously rubbing against your neck. He's been persistent, annoying, condescending, and an absolutely smug asshole but…  No, there should be no buts you should take Sentinels offer you should… but… you don't want to. He’s been all those things but you can’t deny the kindness he’s shown you. Even if it’s all an act… You also don’t feel as lonely as before. No, it’s more you didn’t realize how lonely you were before he started following you around.

 “If you ever want him to back off and he’s not listening, tell me and I’ll get him to stop.”

 “I can take care of myself,” you bite back. You don’t want anyone’s help.

 “I know… but Ortega can be…” He winces trying to find the right words.

 “A pest? Annoyingly persistent? A fucking idiot?” Too caring? Too kind? Too trusting? You’ve got a growing list of exactly what he is.

  Sentinel let’s out a laugh and shakes his head, “All of that and more.”

  You sigh, “Yeah but I think you saving me once is more than enough.” wait...you didn’t just…

  His eyes narrow on you and suddenly you feel him trying to go through his memories trying to place you, “Is that so?”

  Shit. Fucking shit! Backtrack! Backtrack now. Give him something else to focus on.

 “Yeah, you helped me realize I’m transgender,” NOOO, not that way. Why would you fucking tell him that! “I mean.. Not literally helped me... More figuratively?” This is not helping you! This is making it worse! SO MUCH WORSE!

   He’s staring at you shocked, shit shit shit. “How so?”

   Don’t answer that, just run. Run far away, “I read about you in the paper, That you were openly transgender. I didn’t know the word so I looked it up and suddenly so much shit made sense and I had a word to describe what I was feeling and I really shouldn’t be telling you any of this,” you’re rambling and now you're standing and you’re going to run away and go stick your head into your ratty old blanket and go scream.

  He lets out a soft laugh, staring at you like he’d just found something… you don’t know what he found, you’re not sure you want to be a found something. You jump off the fire escape, “Well if there’s nothing else I’ve got to go… faaar away,” you begin to turn but you find yourself stopping momentarily, “Please...Please don’t tell anyone.”

 “I won’t,” his eyes soften as he stares at you accompanying a small sad frown, you can feel the empathy coming off of him. He knows, he understands.

 “Thank you.” You run and you don’t look back.

[fairytellerxo]

as requested by @gemini0410 : Angel and his S/O moving in together would include and of course the crew aka Gilly, Coco and Ez are all involved lol

It was finally moving day. Which meant it was finally happening. Angel had somewhat settled down and was more excited than anything to live in a home with his lady. His girl. His wifey. His pain in the neck that he loved so much. He looked around, taking in the sight of the boxes and his crew. Each was offering up their best effort. EZ seemed to be playing Tetris and trying to get all of the belongings in the truck. Coco, well, he was simply he was being Coco, letting out a string of my bads as he worked on finishing a cigarette. “Be careful with that! Noemi would kill us all if that box dropped! It has her fucking expensive shoes in there!”

“My bad!” Coco laughed as he tossed the box to Gilly who made no move to catch it. The box hit the ground and the contents spilled out. “My bad!”

“We’re gonna die.” Angel moved to the box and started picking up the shoes before glancing around to make sure Noemi was nowhere in eyesight of the mess. “She’s gonna pop up and kill us all.”

Noemi shook her head as she came up behind Angel and grabbed his hips. “See, I knew this would be a sight for sore eyes, you bent over for me.” She thrust forward and laughed as Angel righted himself and spun around, an irritated look on his face before he smirked. “What?”

“You wish,” He winked at her. “I didn’t drop nothing, we don’t know how this even happened. I think you didn’t pack this box right Emi.”

Gilly looked at Noemi and smiled. “Wait, so he’s never bent over for you? He always and I mean always used to bend over for me. I don’t know, he just didn’t enjoy it anymore.” He started laughing before taking a sip of his beer. “Why didn’t you guys just move into this place together?”

“Because I ain’t living in no fucking loft that doesn’t allow me to park my bike.” Angel huffed as he looked at his friend. “You promised you’d never speak a word of that to any one man.” He grabbed the beer. “Babe beat him up right now!”

“Love is love,” Coco sat a tiny box on the back of the truck and shrugged. “You know, we normally charge for moving services…”

The brunette nodded slowly as she looked at Coco. “I mean, I’m not against seeing that happening at all.” She shook her head slowly. “Listen, I’m willing to pay you in beer and pizza. The beer is at the new place and I can order the pizza to meet us there as soon as we finish up here. Or I can make some food for you guys. I’m quite an amazing cook.”

“Both!” Gilly nodded eagerly as he started to load boxes quicker. “Pizza and tacos!”

EZ moved off of the truck and shook his head before wiping his face on his shirt. “I’m the one that should be paid in beer and food. I’ve been doing all of this shit.”

“Oh, okay.” Angel looked at his little brother before rolling his eyes. “See, always taking credit. Didn’t we move the boxes out of the house for you? Huh? Babe, he’s lying we helped.” He pulled Noemi into a hug and grinned. “We helped a whole lot.”

Noemi smiled at EZ and nodded. “I’ll get you your very own pizza. Come on though guys, let’s get this all loaded up. I’m ready to relax and eat. I can’t drink but I’ll happily eat.”

…

“I honestly didn’t think you could cook,” Coco looked at Noemi and shrugged. “You just don’t look like the type to know the difference between a skillet and a pot.”

Noemi shook her head slowly as she handed Coco another plate of food and a beer. “Thank you I guess. I enjoy being underestimated. You really thought Angel would move in with someone who couldn’t cook for his ass?”

“Never!” Angel shouted as he shook his head. “My mom told me to never marry a woman who can’t cook. She didn’t use those exact words. She said it in a nice but blunt way.”

EZ laughed and nodded. “Mijo, don’t think I’m gonna be cooking for you every night when you have your own wife. Sundays maybe but you deserve to starve if you don’t pick a woman who can cook for you.”

“My mom never cooked for me,” Gilly shook his head as he grabbed another slice of pizza. “But look at me. I managed to always find a girl who’d feed me well.”

“Meaning, he ate the women. That’s why we never get to meet them.” Angel laughed as he looked at his friend. “He likes the thicker ones, more flavor, and more meat.”

“I am dying.” Noemi covered her face and laughed before she patted Gilly’s back. “I have a friend you’d like. She works with me. She’s a Spanish teacher.”

Angel shook his head as he looked at the group. “I really do appreciate all of you for helping us move all of Noemi’s shit into this place. God knows this place needed a more womanly touch and I think we got it now.” He smiled. “I guess our next big milestone will be welcoming in the baby Reyes whenever they decide they want to make an appearance.”

“No problem man,” Coco nodded as he patted Angel’s arm. “We’ll be here every single time she makes dinner. Gotta switch it up.”

EZ nodded slowly as he looked at his brother. “At least you finally seem to be getting your shit together. We’re happy to be a part of this. Like Coco said though, we’ll be here when she makes dinner.”

Noemi laughed as she looked at the men. “I don’t mind feeding you guys. We’re family now and that’s cool.”

“Para familia,” Angel pulled Noemi into his side and rested a hand on her belly. “We’re a bunch of ragtag motherfuckers but it works.” He gave a single nod to his brother. “Now, don’t fuck up our house, you guys can crash here because you each drank too much.”

“What!? You’re being responsible?” Gilly playfully teased Angel and laughed. “He’s a changed man! I cannot believe this pendejo.”

He groaned and shook slightly. “Ain’t none of you dying on my watch. We got all the sofas out, so that’s cool and we got a bed in the guestroom. EZ gets that obviously because he’s probably gonna spend a lot of time here, so it’s his home away from home.”

“It’s good though guys, you’re all welcome here.” Noemi smiled. “Now, let’s set up a real table and bust out the poker set. I got some fuckers to beat in poker. Let’s hear your shit talking now.”

“You ain’t gonna beat EZ.” Coco shook his head. “He got you.”

“We’ll just have to see.” She smirked. “Come on now, let’s set up a game and we can still eat and whatnot.”

“Let’s do it.” Angel nodded. “I’ll set it up, relax and make sure they don’t spill shit on the carpet.”

“You really did change him.” Gilly looked at Noemi. “He seems happier too.”

“I didn’t change him, he changed himself.” Noemi smiled. “He chose to be a different version of himself. I love him. He could still be stubborn and fighting me on all of this and I’d still love him regardless. It’s unconditional.” She shrugged as she looked around. “You guys are cool, really cool. I’m glad I’ve gotten the chance to know you all.”

“My bad!” Coco laughed as he picked up his beer from the floor. “You won’t even see it.” He chuckled. “It’s a Corona.”

“Not even a day,” Angel tossed a rag to Coco. “Not even a day with this new carpet and you are already spilling shit. I know we didn't’ remodel this place for you to already be spilling shit on the carpet.”

“We put in all of our hard work into this place and Coco is over here spilling.” EZ clucked his tongue and shook his head. “I cannot believe this at all. Get it together man. You know how hard this place was to fix up.’

Coco shrugged. “I didn’t mean it! It just happened, my bad.” He looked over to Noemi. “She’s not trippin’ off of it. It’s coo’.”

Noemi nodded as she took the rag from Coco. “Better a beer than that plate of food.” She took the bottle too. “Come on, let’s play poker and talk shit. I need that in my life.”

“You better know what you’re asking for.” EZ smiled. “We’re not gonna go easy with the shit talking. Be prepared.”

“She got it.” Angel nodded. “She’s the biggest shit talker I know and that’s saying a lot. Let’s make it interesting though. Winner gets the last pizza.”

“I’m winning.” Gilly nodded eagerly. “That pizza is gonna be mine.”

“We’ll see about it.” The man smirked. “I guess this is the start of a new tradition. Let’s have fun.”

[missblushyrose]

Doggy Kisses

A/N: This is a request from an anonymous user for the prompt, “Don’t make me come get you”. To be clear, this is not shipped romantically, so please do not reblog this with ship tags. Enjoy!

Connor emerged from his own bedroom with such energy that can be seen from a mile away, given from the renewal of a good night’s rest (which would be at least five hours for deviant androids). Until after the events of the android revolution and his newfound deviancy, the android never thought much on sleep, and he was beginning to see why Hank slept in often. Unlike his former stasis mode, laying on a forgiving mattress and being engulfed by soft, warm blankets as he drifted off to dreamland felt... relaxing; blissful; genuinely recharging. 

He then turned his attention over Sumo, who was simply curling himself into his usual position within a corner of the living room, softly growling in his sleep. The android presumed the large dog to be dreaming of chasing cats, given the motions being made and the low snarls emitted from his throat.

Do dogs dream? He pondered to himself, his LED flickering a light yellow in thought momentarily before returning to blue. He proceeded toward the dozing canine slowly, stopping to kneel in front of him. Gingerly placing a hand atop the dog’s head, he gently rubbed the furry scalp. “Time to wake up, Sumo...” He coaxed gently.

On cue, Sumo’s eyelids unfurled, fluttering lightly before he caught a glimpse of the android in front of him. And so to greet him back, the large dog stood on all fours and proceeded to shower one of his masters with an array of slobbery doggy kisses on his face and neck, causing the prototype to nearly fall back onto the floor in a fit of giggles. Connor didn’t try to stop him, though; in fact, he loved being covered in the dog’s affectionate licks, despite how messy they were or how much they tickled.

“Good morning, Sumo,” Connor addressed to Sumo in between giggles, to which was acknowledged with a light bork and a series of tail wagging. “I take it that you’ve had a pleasant night’s rest?” He petted the dog’s head, which was responded with happy panting. “I’ll only need a minute to rinse my face, and then we can play. Would you like that?” Another bark was emitted.

With a light scratch behind the dog’s ear, Connor rose to his feet and made a beeline towards the bathroom. He stood in front of the sink and, having turned the faucet on, proceeded to catch a fair amount of water in his hands, only to toss it back into his face. Not more than a minute, his face was clear of dog saliva. He reemerged into the living, after having dried his face, and back to Sumo. Over the next few minutes, Connor spent his spare time indulging the large dog, petting his head, rubbing his warm belly, and cooing nonstop.

Of course, Connor could hear a faint sound of snoring emanating from Hank’s bedroom from the moment he had first stepped out this morning. A few weeks of living with the older man had given him the opportunity to know more about him than he had discovered during their time together with the deviant investigation, and his sleeping habits were no exception, especially on their off days. As much as did not wish to disturb the lieutenant’s slumber, a part of him wanted to give his father figure a proper wake-up call - one more uplifting and mood-boosting than the occasional stir caused by nightmares.

An idea was uploaded into his CPU, and he turned to Sumo with a scheming simper plastered onto his facial features. “You know, Sumo, I think Hank could use some of your affection. Would you like to greet him with some rousing ‘good morning’ kisses?” Sumo’s ears perked up upon hearing his human’s name, and his tail wagged in agreement. Connor smiled and motioned for the dog to follow him as he trailed towards the master bedroom.

Connor twisted the doorknob and the door was ajar, just to where he would be able to adjust his eyesight toward a slumbering Hank, who appeared to be sprawled out beneath the comforter that became askew from the occasional unconscious tossing, nasally snores erupting from his gaping mouth.

He creaked the door to a wider gap, granting an entry for Sumo, who bolted past him and towards the sleeping mass within the sheets. The large dog jumped onto the bed with ease and leaned in toward the human’s face, eagerly stroking at his cheek with his thick tongue.

A torpid groan rose from the lieutenant’s throat as the heavy licks slowly stirred him from his rest. “Aaagh... Get off meeee... you big oaf...” He mumbled drowsily before his sight grew less fuzzy, enabling his focus, which was primarily on the gigantic mutt in front of him that was licking his face. In his own bed. “The fuck! Sumo, get the hell outta here!” He barked, pushing the dog’s face away from his.

Sumo merely licked over his own snout with a huff before hopping off the bed, retreating past the smiling android and back to his claimed spot in the living room.

Hank stretched and yawned before turning his gaze to the prototype standing in the doorway, leaning against the door frame casually - maybe a little too casually. Something was up, and he could tell. “Connor... why was the dog in my bed?”

“Sumo just wanted to wish his owner a good morning,” Connor shrugged his shoulders meekly, the smile never faltering.

Hank sighed and ran a hand through his smoky gray hair before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright, let me rephrase that. How the hell did Sumo get in here?”

“I can only deduce that he pushed the door with his nose.”

“There wasn’t even a crack in the door. Unless he managed to turn the doorknob, there’s no way he could’ve gotten in.”

Connor simply shrugged, his smile growing coy. “He is a powerful dog, Lieutenant.”

Hank glowered at the younger-looking man from his place. He could see the intent in his smile. That little shit. “Oh, cut the bullshit, Connor! I know you let him in!”

Connor opened his mouth and placed a hand where his heart would be as if feigning offense. “Hank, I know that Sumo is not allowed on your bed, considering the fur he leaves behind tends to rouse your own annoyance; I would never do that!”

“Jesus, what time is it...?” Hank asked lazily before shifting his gaze to the right, where his digital clock rested on a bedside table, His eyes just about bugged out of his head upon registering the ungodly time displayed before him. “Eight o’clock!? In the fuckin’ morning!? You little fucker!” He roared.

“It seemed like a proper time to wake up,” Connor grinned, the lieutenant’s growing irritation amusing him immensely.

Hank drew out an exasperated sigh before he looked up at the android with a menacing stare, his lips curled up into a devilish smirk. “Connor... don’t make me come get you...” He let a low, playful growl rumble from his throat.

The cheekiness in Connor’s grin had turned into wobbly nervousness as he pushed himself off of the doorframe, a combination of excitement and dread shining in his chocolate brown eyes. “H-Hank...” He sputtered, his tone wavering.

Hank quickly threw the covers off of him, paying no mind to the messy display of the disheveled comforter and askew pillows. “C’mere, ya plastic asshole!” He called out as he vaulted out of the bed. 

With an alarmed shriek passing through his lips, Connor took a 180-degree spin and bolted from his stance in the doorway, with Hank taking off after the fleeting android within a New York minute. Connor made a desperate dash to the door of his own bedroom and turned the knob within no time he stopped in front of it, throwing it open and granting himself access as he rushed inside-

“Oh, no you don’t! C’mere!”

Connor squealed out as he was suddenly pulled into a pair of warm arms, back pressed against the older man’s chest as he was carried towards the living room. In the midst of his giggly protests, he was tossed onto the couch, Hank quickly perching himself onto his legs, preventing any attempts to escape.

Flashing a wicked grin at the android pinned beneath him, Hank turned his head towards Sumo, who stood in front of the couch, panting and wagging his tail. “Sumo! Attack!” 

Happily doing what he was told, Sumo drew himself closer to the two and wedged his snout into the crook of Connor’s neck, the cold, damp nose reducing the prototype to a giggling puddle instantly.

“N-Nohohohooo! Ahahahaha!” Connor tittered, raising one of his shoulders in an attempt to block out the dog’s wet nose as he gripped at the couch cushions. “Sumooohohohoho!”

“Good boy, Sumo!” Hank praised, doing absolutely nothing to stop the large dog from inflicting Connor with the tickly sensations brewed from the nuzzling and sniffing. “Keep going! And give him some kisses while you’re at it!”

“Nohohoho! Dohohohooon’t!” Connor protested, only to cut himself off with a squeal upon registering the tingly sensations of Sumo’s tongue dragging along the sensitive skin of his neck and ears, sometimes caressing the underside of his chin. “Nahahahaha! Suhuhumohoho, plehehease! Nohohoho mohohore!”

“No more? Aww, what’s the matter, son?~ I thought you loved Sumo’s kisses!” Hank cooed with faux disappointment, beaming sadistically at the android’s plight all the while.

“Thehehey tihihickle!”

“Oh, they do, huh?~” Hank questioned with a raised eyebrow, simply poking fun with the younger man, having already known that bit of information. Without giving the android do so much as utter a response, he clutched at his wrist and tugged his right arm up over his head. “C’mere, Sumo!” He patted his own thigh with his free hand, the dog prancing closer to his human owner on instinct. “I think our buddy Connor wants more kisses! Get his armpit, boy!” He ordered with a prod to the aforementioned area to pinpoint where to attack next.

“N-Nohoho! Hank, don’t let him do this! Don’t- Ahahahahahaaa!” Sumo then plunged his huffing, wet nose into the hollow of his underarm, only for his big, soft tongue to follow suit and drag at the artificial skin, making Connor give off a sharp flinch as he fell into fits of frantic laughter, his cheeks lightly tinted with a blue blush. He regretted selecting a plain tank top to be part the sleeping attire of his choice. “H-Hahahahank! Hehehelp mehehe! Pleheheheease!”

Hank smiled and shrugged his shoulders in response. “If you say so...” Instead of pushing Sumo away, like Connor had hoped for, Hank took his free hand and proceeded to squeeze at his left hip, adding onto the android’s torment.

Out of reflex from the jolt-like sensations of the squeezes at his hip, Connor bucked his hips upward in an attempt to evade the hand constantly gripping at the protruding artificial bone, but he was not able to do so with the older man’s weight keeping him firmly planted onto the couch. “Eeeek! Ehehehehe!”

A low whine was emitted as Sumo nudged against the fabric-covered side with his nose as if trying to nuzzle into the skin underneath.

“Oh, you wanna go for his belly now, eh, Sumo? Here, let me get that shirt of his out of the way...” Hank grasped the hem of the loose piece of clothing and tugged it up to the android’s chest, ignoring the ongoing protests spurting from his smiling mouth. In an instant, he grabbed both of the younger man’s flailing wrists with his own hands and pressed them into the couch. “Sick him, Sumo! Give that tummy of his some love!”

A shriek came forth just as Connor opened his mouth to sputter another protest that was interrupted by the ticklishness caused by the dog’s thick, slobbery tongue, lapping at his toned abdomen with long, moderately quick strokes. He shut his eyes tightly, partially filling mirthful tears. “Aaahahahahaaaa! Nohohohohooo! Hahahahaaank!” Unable to cope with the sensations, the android tossed his head back into the sofa cushions, disarraying his dark brown tresses. 

Hank chuckled warmly at his son’s desperate pleas and surprised himself by letting up on him, releasing his wrists and scooting from his legs as he lightly pushed the canine’s head. “Alright, Sumo, he’s had enough.”

Sumo drew out a light huff in response and assumed his position on the living room carpet, curling up to laze around as per usual.

Turning his gaze back to the android, who was sprawled out on the couch in a fit of decrescendoing giggles, a hand resting on his forehead as if to hide his turquoise-shaded cheeks, a seemingly genuine smile laying between them, Hank gently fussed with the kid’s hair, as if it wasn’t already messy enough.

“Haaank!” Connor whined lightly. Having his hair messed with plagued him with annoyance, and Hank knew that.

Hank barked out a laugh upon hearing the android’s pathetic whine before pulling his hand back. “Well, since I’m already up, we may as well take that big oaf for a walk.”

His ears perking up as the last word reached them, Sumo’s laziness had turned into vigor, prancing around the living room and barking with excitement all the while. Not even the sound of both men erupting in laughter would falter the dog’s enthusiasm.

Connor pushed himself up into an upright sitting position with his hands neatly folded in his lap, having recovered from his recent laugh attack “I’d like that, Hank,” He replied with a warm smile, to which his father figure mirrored with a gentle pat on the arm.

“Alright then. We’ll get dressed, and then we’ll head out. But, err... you might wanna rinse off first. You’re full of dog slobber.”

“Oh, am I?” Connor purred, a smirk tugging at his lips and his eyes gleaming with playful intent.

A grey eyebrow scrunched upward with befuddlement before both brows furrowed as the android spread out his arms and leaned toward him. “Hey, whoa, whoa! Don’t even fuckin’ think about it! Connor? Connor! Ugh, Jesus!” Hank squawked as Connor threw himself at him, arms tightly wrapped around him to prevent any access of escaping, rubbing himself against him to transfer the dog saliva onto him. “Get off me! Don’t make me get Sumo again! Sumo! Attack!”

Sumo, still trotting around with elation, excitement consuming him, paid no mind to the command.

“Fuckin’ traitor! Selling me out to a fuckin’ android! Agh, Connor! Stop it!”