#I considered removing them (not something you can do with scars though)

[evilminji]

You know... >.>

My Dad always used to tell me, if I get a Genuine Genie(tm)? Get a lawyer first. Before I make my Wishes(tm), so they can help me word them correctly.

Obviously, a human lawyer would not be foolproof... BUT! What about a Ghost Lawyer?

Like? Obviously Desiree would be PISSED. How DARE you twist HER wish twisting! Her THING is "what you believe is your heart's desire always comes at a terrible cost" which is what she DIED to learn.

So obviously she would NEVER, willingly, bend her Obsession for ANYONE. And you'd have to make a DAMN good case to that Lawyer for why he ISNT breaking the law by helping you. Probably some "you can: save the life of an unconscious person against their will/shove an unobservant person OFF the train tracks, even if they get hurt, to save their life" clause.

Like? Using a ghosts Obsession against them? Bad. Illegal.

Using it against their will, to save OTHER ghosts, who are in immediate danger? Not illegal, but they will be PISSED. Still not great though, you will want to apologize and fast.

So like??? Reality Bending Power. Patrick Star Method of "what if we MOVED the city... somewhere else?" Considered at 1am. Team of Ghost Laywers, acquired.

Amity and all Limnals are REMOVED from the DP-verse.

Wish worded juuuuust so. Any ghost that forms there? Yoink! Instantly removed to the Zone. Natural Portals? Cut off. Let the whole Reality fade out at an accelerated rate, as no NEW energy is fed into the system. Entropy will do, what entropy does. Exactly as they wished it.

They hated Death so much, they speed up the heat death of their ENTIRE universe by Eons. Congratulations, you guys "Won". Enjoy the wildly more fragile flora, fauna, and general ecosystems. Now that none of you have that ambient Ectoplasm strengthening your bodies. Yeah, the things you used to shrug off? Those are gonna maim or kill you now.

Doesn't MATTER if you "learn your lesson" though! Cause this is WAY past that point! This is "cutting off the tumor before it kills us" territory, and buddy? Amity ISNT the tumor. Go forth a grow, just like you wanted.

They won't be here to fix your messes anymore.

Because Danny got himself a dictionary thick "I Wish..." contract. Which was worded, as it needs to be, in one loooooooong run on sentence. Shouted "I Wish what's written on THIS, as it is currently, and without any form of editing or negotiation!" As fast as he could. Yote the document in Desiree's direction. And Flew like an INCANDESCENTLY pissed off Genie was trying to set his everything of fire.

Which she was.

Thankfully, Paulina came in clutch with her History of all things Jewelry, world fashions, and Make-Up knowledge. That, coupled with the Power Of Rich Friends(tm)? (Sam. Her mother was THRILLED to take her Jewelry and clothing shopping for something other then blacks and dark purple. They went on a jet setting whurl-wind tour. Sam actually kinda liked a some of what she found.)

They have Apology Bribes.

They shamelessly HIDE behind the mountain of Apology Bribes, while they explain themselves. Is Desiree HAPPY? No. But those bracelets are magnificent and she DOES deserve nice things. Those silks will really bring out her eyes. And she... DOES... admit...

Maybe...

That things are not... SAFE. Any longer. Danny TRIES. Everyone else can see it. And he's made incredible strides! Even convinced his lunatic parents. Though they're still not quite POPULAR. (WAY too pushy and invasive with their questions, for most people.) But the fanatics in white?

They nearly killed Box Lunch. If her father hadn't BEEN there...

And the poor man will have that scar on his back for the rest of his afterlife. Desiree can see why Danny is pushing. Does she LIKE it? No. But...

She supposes she will content herself with the suffering of the Fanatics in White and all who support them. THEIR wishes, twisted. Their ugly heart's desires.

Fine.

"SO YOU WISH IT. SO IT SHALL BE!"

And? The ghost town of what WOULD of one day grown into Amity, had the witch's there not been found by those they had fled from, which sits in long rotted ruins, amongst the trees in nowhere Illinois? Poof! Two "Towns" are switched.

The roads out of town coming to a clean line stop, meeting not even goat paths. Just trees. Old growth.

But it's not ALL of Town, is it? Faces missing. New, confused, faces from every corner of the map, taking their place. No Limnal left behind. No supporter of the GIWs genocide, brought along. Family's kept together where they could be. But by the few, scared and upset, green flashing eyes of children in the crowd?

It seemed for some, it was easier to fear and hate, then love their children.

Already they were being gathered up by school teachers and PTA parents. As everyone tried to figure out what had happened. Concerned, quite muttering a dull roar as everyone tries to coordinate.

Red Huntress joins Danny and Dani in the Sky. She doesn't get a word in. Wanted to know what the HELL was going on. She was with her dad in Chicago! Dani was in Taiwan! Literally! As in, sitting in a SUBWAY station one second, the next? Outside!

But they don't get to demand those answers. Because there is a sonic boom on the horizon. And then? Floating... weird... not ghosts?

Uuuuuuhhhh?

Hi?

That much blue... sure is a Statement. Like the cape and... bloooomers? Shorts. Bikini bottoms? It.. it's a Cool Look, dude! No, really. They are being VERY supportive here! If YOU like it? That's the only thing that matters!

Red Huntress smacks the Danny/i's Repeated upside their heads and demans to know what the Not-Ghosts are doing in their airspace.

Oh YEAH. Good point! What she said! And can it WAIT? They're kinda going through A Thing right now...

Kon? Wants it on record he loves these guys. They're hilarious. The LOOK on Clark's FACE?? He wishes he could frame it. Preserve it for future generations. Thing is? There was NOT a town here a second ago.

Well, bout 30 minutes or so, but you get the idea. One moment? Tree noises. Bam! Thousands of people! Obviously the checked it out. Only to be met with two... three maybe? Heros who have NO IDEA who they are.

Clear Reality warping shenanigans. Might be time travel or multiverse. Question is... are they STAYING? And if SO? What now...

@hdgnj @ailithnight @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @dcxdpdabbles @mutable-manifestation @hypewinter

[onyourowndaisymae]

seventy-two pacts

have some sol thirst (i would go feral if this were me)

content + warnings: suggestive, solomon x reader, solomon has visible pact marks and reader does too

word count: 462

"damn."

the word comes out quickly, before you can even think. you cover your mouth in embarrassment-- justified, considering you couldn't keep your reaction in-- but you can't peel your eyes away.

solomon's peeling off his shirt. in the midst of joking around and pouring some for you two to enjoy, he'd knocked the rim of one of the glasses against the bottle, spilling it all down the front of his shirt. so, to avoid soaking himself further, he immediately began to take the long sleeved garment off.

then you said it, and now he's frozen, shirt halfway off.

can you blame yourself, though? you've seen your fair share of shirtless men, as is expected when living in the chaos of the house of lamentation. but they're all smooth-skinned and flawless. some of them have a couple of scars here and there from the great celestial war. their muscles were obviously impressive in their own right. but they all missed something that solomon had-- something you're just now seeing for the first time.

swirling black lines run across his pale skin, curling around muscles, decorating the smooth planes of skin in intricate designs. from across the table, you can make out little latin characters. pact marks. a lot of them. the ornate symbols decorate the exposed part of his lower abdomen, luring you in with strange words and beautiful lines before disappearing beneath his beltline. do they-- do they follow his v-line? holy shit, you're about to start drooling--

"haha, mc, my eyes are up here!"

his charming, light laugh catches your attention. his eyes are sparkling with mirth, lips curled into a cheshire grin as he removes the rest of his shirt and bunches it in his hand.

the pact marks dance up across his broad shoulders and down his arms. they're gorgeous, arcane and mystical as they sprawl down his biceps and spill onto his forearms. you've seen his sleeves rolled up before, so you knew he had a few pact marks, but-- 72 pacts never looked so damn good.

the seven pact marks on your skin had always been a point of your own fascination. but seeing the sigils on solomon's skin made you wonder if you'd ever be covered the same way.

"i need a new shirt," he declares, smirking at you. he take a couple steps towards his room, then stops when he sees you still at the table. "c'mon."

"huh?" you feel like you've missed something.

"you think you've seen all of my pact marks? no, my dear apprentice, i have plenty more where that came from. and since you're so curious, i figured i might as well show you."

you scurry up from your spot and follow him like the obedient little apprentice you are.

[sallie-nathalies]

Bachelors and Bachelorettes and tatoos

From less tattoed or willing to have one, to more tattoed.

DONT HAVE AND IT'S NOT EAGER TO HAVE ONE:

HARVEY has no tattoos. The needles make him nervous, and he's never felt the need to get one. He prefers to keep things simple and free from the permanent commitment of ink.

MARU has never considered getting a tattoo. The idea just doesn’t appeal to her. For her, tattoos seem like something that lasts forever without serving a real purpose. She values practicality and doesn’t feel the need to mark her skin with something she might regret later.

PENNY It's not eager to the idea. Pam, her mother, has a few tattoos herself, but Penny, consciously and unconsciously, wants to distance herself from her mother’s choices. However, I imagine that once she settled into a stable home, she might reconsider after of couple of years. Maybe she would get a small one, something personal.

ELLIOT doesn’t have any tattoos either. But in this group, he is the one who is more open to getting one, though if it's one with you. You maybe will tell him that getting a couple tattoos is a bad idea, but he will say that it will be okay. After all, there’s something poetic about removing a tattoo linked to a past relationship if things don’t last.

HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT IT:

ALEX has thought about getting a tattoo, probably related to Gridball. However, he knows that his grandparents wouldn’t approve it, so he just won't do it. He wants to respect their views, he knows that he won't understand tattoos.

LEAH has often thought about getting a tattoo but can’t settle on a design. She worries that whatever she chooses might lose its meaning over time. Even if it has deep significance now, she’s concerned that in a few years, she might grow bored of it. Leah is looking for something with lasting importance, but she just hasn’t found it yet.

EMILY she wants to get a tattoo. But she doesn't want to simply visiting a tattoo parlor, paying for the service, and getting inked. Anyone can do it. She dreams of traveling to an exotic place and earning the right to be tattooed, perhaps as part of a cultural experience.

SAM has piercings but not tattoos. He’s thought about it a lot of times, but he just can’t pick one. He has ideas, like getting a marine symbol to honor his father or the names of his family, including you and your children. He even considered marking important dates or things he loves, like pizza or music. There are so many ideas, but not enough skin for all of them. He’s still waiting for the perfect design to come along that feels truly right.

HAVE AT LEAST ONE:

HALEY has a minimalist tattoo of a sunflower on her wrist. Some people might call it "basic," but she loves it. It’s simple, cute, and holds significant meaning for her. She doesn’t care if others think it’s basic, it's her body and her choice and she loves it.

ABIGAIL has a tattoo that’s hidden from her parents. She got a small sword tattoo after a heated argument with them about her future. It was an impulsive decision, but it gave her a sense of purpose at the time. If you ever marry her, she might add more tattoos to express herself and to cover some of her scars from her adventures.

SHANE has three tattoos. Two of them are Celtic knot designs on his arms, to connect to his Irish heritage. He did another one during a spring break with his best friend (Jas's father). They were drunk, and it was one of those impulsive “hold my beer” decisions. It turned out to be a terrible tattoo, and when you first saw it, you couldn’t help but laugh. But Shane doesn’t want to remove it. He considers it part of his past, and eventually, he plans to add more tattoos, including one of a rooster fighting, to symbolize his victory over past struggles. He also wants to get the names of his children and yours tattooed on his hand, between the thumb and the index like this as a constant reminder of what matters most in his life.

SEBASTIAN has several tattoos, and one arm is completely covered. He loves talking about each one of them to you: the little frog, the woods he grew up in, and the robin bird representing his mother. But his favorite tattoo is the one he got during your honeymoon. He’s the type to prefer an intimate, private ceremony and then go off on an adventure, just the two of you. Afterward, he got a tattoo related to something special you saw during the trip—whether it was flowers, a waterfall, a lost chapel, or an animal. He thinks that even if things don’t work out between you two, the tattoo would always carry a meaningful story, and he could remove it as a way of symbolically letting go.

PLEASE, IF YOU LIKE THESE HEADCANONS, REBLOG AND COMMENT, IT HELPS ME TO GROW!

[icallhimjoey]

writing idea: group hang at a rage room/smash room that ends up in a meet cute.

eeeeeee thanks for this request! it's a quick lil thing, hope you enjoy! tw: mention of blood and a cut in your face Wordcount: 1.7K

---

Not His Thing

Joe hasn't stopped feeling the uncomfortable flush of guilt in his face for the past half an hour. He feels awful.

Smash rooms, as so it turns out, aren't really his thing.

"Stop saying you're sorry."

"Yea, sorry. I'll stop. Sorry. Sorry." Joe jokingly takes all blame immediately, because he is obviously an idiot who can't do anything right at the moment.

You smile through watery eyes, your nose tinged red and half your face numb from the cold. You've been pressing a towel-wrapped ice pack to your cheekbone for over twenty minutes now, and it's done wonders for the bleeding and for the pain. Not so much for the panic and the lightheadedness that followed though, but all things considered, you feel fine.

Your fun day out with friends has been cut short, though.

"Does it hurt still?" someone asks you, and you expertly control your voice, give them a steady, "No, it's just cold, now." but your eyes are still watery.

When you remove the ice pack for a member of staff to have a look at you, they tut worriedly and tell you to just hold it in place a moment longer.

Joe did this. This is Joe's fault.

Joe tries his best not to wince at the swelling he can see. At the size of the cut he left in your face. God, your face. You are likely going to need stitches. He remembers getting a cut in his own face, right in the middle of his forehead, and how that bled for hours. The worst part though, is that it'd left him with a scar.

Joe can't believed he scarred someone.

"But I am sor–" Joe tries, not overly loud, he doesn't want to make you jump.

"Stop it. It was an accident. Accidents happen, don't worry." You reassure him once more, and you really mean it, but it does nothing for Joe's culpability.

He did this.

Joe had swung a bat at porcelain, and you'd been in the wrong spot at the wrong time. A shard of vase had gotten stuck in your cheekbone, just below the protective glasses you'd been wearing.

You imagined it'd just been a scrape, had only let a small, "Ow," pass your lips upon the impact, but then you'd gone to touch it, and felt something solid there still.

Stuck.

Skin wet.

The liquid warm.

Something solid.

Something sharp.

Your fingers painted red, and the sight of it had nearly made you faint. Joe had never seen colour drain from someone's face quite so fast.

Joe already knew that his fight or flight response was freeze, but being confronted with this cowardly personality trait like this was terrible.

Joe hadn't ever seen a girl panic the way you had from something he was responsible for.

He'd just stood next to you in his protective gear, big shocked eyes behind his plastic safety glasses, entirely unsure of what to do.

And then you'd wobbled on your legs, and he had just shot an arm out.

For the lack of strength you'd held in your legs, Joe was surprised by the death grip you had on the sleeve of his overalls.

Your blood covered hand went back to touch at your cheek again, but Joe was able to grab hold of that wrist just in time. And then, with weird tensed upper bodies that held onto each other, Joe'd lowered you down onto the ground because everyone around you kept repeating for you to sit down, to get onto the floor.

You sat down, and then only seconds later, lied down before you could lose consciousness all together. Your friend lifted your legs up and even though your eyes looked scared, the two of you were giggling. Laughing at the silly situation.

And Joe had just stood there.

Useless.

Your skin looked extra pale next to the bright red of the blood that dripped down your cheek right into your hair and it was... sort of beautiful. Awful thing to focus on when he should've actually been doing something helpful, but Joe just... looked at you, and thought you looked lovely.

Looking at you now, still teary, but smiling, he's still scared it'll flare up again. Your panic. It's unlikely, you're sat on the floor, leaning against the wall near the exit, but your cheek doesn't look good. He feels bad going back in to launch a hammer at a printer, or whatever, so he's hovering. Some of his friends are too, just like the staff is, making sure you're drinking your water, telling you to stay seated until your breathing has returned to normal.

Your friend has gone to get the car, and she said she'd be quick, but the second she was out the door, you'd cracked a joke. Said you'd see her in an hour if you were lucky.

You shudder through another inhale, and it makes Joe's eyebrows twitch up a little. You see it happen and release your breath in a laugh.

"If I were to go with just how you're looking at me, I'd believe I was actively dying," you joke, and everyone around you politely smiles through worried grimaces.

"I feel fine. I'm fine, honestly. It's just a minor cut. It feels," and like an idiot, you remove the ice pack and shove a dirty finger right into the cut on your face.

You feel how wide the cut is, and how deep into your cheek your finger sinks.

"Fi–..."

The wave of nausea is a surprise to you, and the way Joe shoots into action when you sag to the side because your head is suddenly too heavy is a real surprise to him.

"Hey, hey, okay, careful, careful..." Joe holds you by the side of your face that hasn't got a huge gash in and curls his fingers around as he carefully tries to hold you up.

"Maybe you shouldn't..." he starts, and finds the ice pack you've dropped with his other hand. "...play with that."

You kind of want to go to sleep.

Close your eyes and have a nap.

You lean into the hand that holds you and the instant comfort after shooting pain is nice.

But then the ice pack gets softly pressed against where your skin's broken and your eyes laser back into focus.

"Hi," Joe says when you make eye-contact. He smiles, though it's wobbly.

Maybe you aren't as fine as you thought you were.

"I'm fine?" you ask, feeling panicked like a real loser.

"You're fine." Joe assures you, voice soft but level enough for you to believe it. That's what's important, he thinks. If you believe it, you'll calm down enough until your friend gets back and she can take you to hospital.

"You're okay, focus on breathing, all right?" Joe redeems himself. This is what he should've done half an hour ago, when all hell broke loose. "That's all you've got to do. You're fine."

"I'm fine." you repeat after him, and force yourself to take a deep breath. "I'm fine." you're reassuring yourself now, and with one hand cupping your clammy face and another cooling where you're hurt, you press your own hands to your chest and ground yourself with your eyes closed.

It's awkward because there's other people there, but Joe's glad he gets to hold you for a bit. It's admittedly an unconventional way of being close to someone he's just met, and he still feels mortified, but... you're pretty. Even with dried blood covering half your face.

If this is how he meets the love of his life, it can be an embarrassing story he will gladly listen to at every single birthday party until he dies.

"That hurt." you say after a moment, and smile, eyes still closed.

"You're fine." Joe says again, but whispers it now.

"I'm sorry," you say like this is your fault. "I should've known not to agree to come to this," you confess, eyes blinking open now, and if you're startled by how close Joe is to you, you don't show it. "I'm not really angry enough for this. I don't think smash rooms are my thing..."

Same, Joe thinks, and he smiles, gets some of his confidence back when he sees the flush returning to your face. "Maybe there's some anger now?" he asks, because you should be angry. At him. Look at what he's done to you.

You don't understand what he means, this handsome stranger, and you frown in confusion. Before you can ask, and before Joe can explain, the door opens and your friend barges in, completely out of breath.

"Quick! I've stopped right in front and I'm holding up traffic!"

And just like that, Joe and staff help you move back up onto your feet.

You're fine.

You're helped out to the car, but halfway down the pavement, you're walking by yourself and are getting into the car without any help.

It is just a cut on your cheek.

"Can I, em," Joe starts, staring through the glass of the door at where you cup a loose hand over your cheek to protect it when you put your seatbelt on with the other. "Can I get her details?" he turns to a member of staff.

"Huh?"

"I'd love to send a card," he explains, and from behind him, he can hear one of his friends softly chuckle.

Joe'd forgotten he was even there with anyone.

"A card, or a bunch of flowers?" one of them starts.

"He's going to write her a love letter," one groans, already annoyed by the idea of it.

"Gifts her ten grand, just because he feels bad," another jumps in, and they're laughing, slapping shoulders. They're making fun, pretending to be Joe, mimicking the face he made, how he'd helplessly stood there, joking about how the one time Joe joins them for something, this happens. It's all shit they'd held in whilst you were there still, and it's all spewing out now, no holding them back. Joe doesn't even try.

"Come on, we've spent long enough not smashing TVs in."

And bats, hammers and axes get picked back up.

"You coming?"

And Joe smiles, though it's not very convincing.

"Nah," he says, and walks over to that staff member. He needs to get your details.

"I'm good."

There was no way he was going back in there, because smash rooms, as it turns out, aren't really his thing.

the end

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

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@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn0628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

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@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[star-hoon]

VERSION OF ME — (p. sunghoon)

"CAN YOU LOVE THE VERSION OF ME, I DON'T LET ANYBODY ELSE SEE?"

— MASTERLIST

pairing: sunghoon x fem reader (oneshot)

includes/warnings (16+):  comfort/healing from dark past! au — fluff, angst, profanity, comfort, implied reader has scars, mentions of food/eating  (let me know if i missed anything!)

word count: 1.8k [not proofread]

synopsis: you and sunghoon have been dating for a few months now and he is the definition of your prince charming. but you are finally forced to uncover what you've been hiding from him, and it makes you fear you’ll lose him.

DISCLAIMER: this fic does mention/imply reader has SH scars. it is mentioned without detail and sunghoon is comforting reader about them. *as someone who used to SH, i would never ever mean to trigger anyone. so if this could potentially trigger you, do not read/please proceed with caution.*

author’s note: omg thank you to everyone who read my 'obsessed' & 'intermission' AND for over 110 followers!

i hope you're all okay with this fic idea even its a little on the darker side. but i promise its fluffy n hoon is a sweetie. this one is dedicated to all of you out there who have overcome hardships in the past or dealing with hardships right now, with physical or mental scars. you are so strong, beautiful, and loved!! <3

VERSION OF ME SOUNDTRACK

it was yet the end of another long and arduous day at work. you dragged your feet into the doorway of your apartment, hanging up your bag on the hook in the entry way and removing your shoes that you could feel were forming blisters on your heels.

sighing, you make a beeline to your bedroom. nothing sounded better than a hot shower to change into some comfy clothes. well, maybe one thing sounded better.

cuddling with your boyfriend sunghoon. and his deep voice and hearty laugh. and his silly puns and dad jokes. and him getting so excited talking about film cameras. just—him.

you had never been one to be very clingy nor dependent with your boyfriends. you just valued your own time and pursuing your own goals, but that doesn't mean you care about them any less.

that's why when you and sunghoon started dating 4 months ago, you felt something click in that regard. he fully understood your introverted ways and wouldn't be like the previous guys and complain about feeling 'neglected' or that you were too cold because he knew exactly how it felt to need alone time/your own space and he respected it.

but even still, when you are together he treats you like an absolute princess. carrying your purse for you when you go shopping, opening the car door for you, standing on the side of the sidewalk that faces the street. he also emotionally cared for you, listening to you rant about things big and small and always reassuring you the day before you have a big presentation at work. you felt so deeply cared for and understood, it made your affection for him blossom even more every day.

today was a day that both you and sunghoon had busy schedules so you weren't going to see each other. but you missed him and wanted nothing more than his comforting presence to fill your currently empty apartment.

you made your way to the bathroom, removing your uncomfortable work clothes. as you stood there uncovered you caught sight of yourself in the mirror. you stared down at your arms, the dark marks that littered your skin. you knew you couldn't hide this from him forever.

before you could let any more negative thoughts consume you, you hopped into the shower hoping the hot water can wash away your stress and worries.

after your shower that probably lasted a little too long in some water that was probably a little too hot, you heard a knock at your front door. you peeked to the corner of your phone amidst the tik tok scrolling 10:38 pm.

considering how late it was you were suspicious so you tiptoed to the front door, glancing through the peep hole. it was sunghoon. even though you should feel giddy and excited at the sight of your boyfriend, a twinge of panic arose. you were just wearing a tshirt so your arms were fully exposed, not expecting company. you ran and grabbed the first hoodie you could find. it happened to be one of his.

you opened the front door and there sunghoon stood as handsome as ever, with a bouquet of flowers and a takeout bag. you pouted at the sight in front of you—you were the luckiest girl alive. this was exactly what you needed after a day like today.

"hi hoonie" you softly greeted him, gently hugging him and he leaned down to give you a peck on the cheek. "...what's all this?"

he spoke as he took off his shoes and made his way into the kitchen. "sorry for dropping by so suddenly, i knew weren't planning on seeing each other today but i knew you had a long day and you were gonna be home late so i thought you would want some food. it's your favorite from the restaurant downtown." you nearly started crying, how could be so sweet?

"don't be sorry. thank you, you are seriously the best hoon i missed you a lot today."

"i missed you too. just sit and relax baby, i'll plate everything up for you" sunghoon always insisted on plating food even if it was takeout. he believed it made it taste better, the notion always made you laugh.

despite offering to split the meal with him, he insisted he didn't want any saying he ate dinner earlier. but as you two sat at the dining table chatting about your day, you fed him forkful after forkful anyways.

after finishing the meal you convinced sunghoon to let you wash the dishes. he eventually complied, standing next to you at the sink drying the 3 total dishes you had to wash.

no matter how small the gesture sunghoon was willing to do anything and everything to make it easier for you. you were convinced he came straight out of a fairytale—but your fantasy was going to come crashing down.

"y/n...why do you never roll up your sleeves when you wash the dishes? they're gonna get all wet!" his tone playful.

"i-its fine hoon, these are just a few dishes anyways" you try force a small laugh as a chill runs down your spine.

"come on sweetheart lemme roll 'em up for you..."

"i said it fine-"

his hand reaches towards your sleeves, pulling them up your arm slightly. you reflexively move away from him, your mind went into overdrive.

"SUNGHOON STOP! I SAID IT'S FINE!" your arm harshly shoved his body away from yours, the glass you were holding flying out of your hand. the sound of the glass shattering on the kitchen floor seemed to echo in the room.

silence fell between you two. your eyes wide and brimming with tears, your chest heaving from your heavy breathing. all you could was cup your hands over your mouth, your eyes looking at the broken glass a few feet away from you and then to your boyfriend. his expression made you sick. he has never looked at you this way. you couldn't tell if he was scared, angry, sad. it didn't matter.

"hoon i-i'm so so sorry, i didn't mean to push you. fu-fuck the glass i'm sorry i'll clean it up" large streams of tears flowed down your cheeks and you managed to get the sentence out in between sobs.

you felt yourself spiraling. you dropped to your knees and crawled towards the broken glass. the sight of the the pieces blurry from your tears and you picked up the pieces with your hands and putting the shards in your palm.

sunghoon was more confused than angry at you, it all happened so fast he barely had time to react. but seeing you pick up the shards of glass with your bare hands snapped him back to reality. he dropped down in front of you on the floor.

"baby stop! what're you doing?! you'll hurt yourself" his voiced laced with concern. he put a hand on your arm and cupped the side of your face with his other hand, wiping the tears away with him thumbs.

you couldn't stop the tears from escaping you. you couldn't believe what you just did. sunghoon was just trying to do a sweet, innocent gesture for you and in the end you hurt him. you didn't deserve him. you knew you couldn't hide it from him forever but you didn't think it would all end like this.

he leaned his forehead to yours, searching to meet your eyes. you just couldn't look at him.

"please y/n, what's going on?" his eyes wide and he pleaded for an answer. catching your breath after what felt like countless sobs, you gently placed the shards back on the floor.

"i need to tell you something hoon."

you followed sunghoon's order to meet in your room as he swept up the broken glass. you sat on your bed as you prepared how you were going to explain all of this.

you didn't want to lose him. he was the best thing that has ever happened to you. all you could imagine was his mortified or disgusted face when he sees your arms. the thought made all your tears resurface. sunghoon sat down next to you on your bed.

"i'm sorry for pushing you hoon. i shouldn't have done that." you took a deep breath before continuing.

"i-i've been hiding something from you since we met. i knew i couldn't h-hide it forever, but i never knew how or when to tell you." you didn't know what else to say to explain. you silently pulled up the sleeves of his hoodie you were wearing.

your arms illuminated by the lamp on your bedside table. silent tears ran down your face as you exposed yourself to him. you have never felt so vulnerable, bare, and scared in your entire life.

"sunghoon i-" before you could say anything else, he pulled you into a silent embrace. one hand pushing your waist to be flush against him, and the other to the nape of your neck.

you eventually muster up the courage to pull away to look up at him. silent tears flowed down sunghoon's cheeks. your eyes widened, sunghoon never cried. your lip quivered at the sight. it was your turn to wipe the tears from his cheek as he did for you earlier.

"um i don't really know what else to say but this explains why i've always covered up my arms around you, why i never was intimate with you...even though i really really wanted to..." you let out a chuckle through your cries trying to lighten the mood.

"...i-i'm sorry i'm such a mess. i know you probably didn't want this going into the relationship. i just- i'm so sorry hoon... i get it if this too much for you."

"you don't have anything to be sorry for y/n..." he grabbed your hand to lace it together with his.

"...this is definitely not an easy thing to share. it just breaks my heart to see someone so kind, smart, and beautiful could do this to herself" he kissed your lips, one of his salty tears landed on your lips.

he used your currently intertwined hands to lift up your arms, placing gentle yet tender kisses to each mark on your arms, your breath hitching at his every touch. this was the first time anyone has been so close, seen you at the most vulnerable. and yet he is treating you like you are made of porcelain.

"this isn't too much y/n. i still think you are the most beautiful person i've ever met—inside and out. this is just a reminder or how strong you are and you overcame whatever you faced in the past. i hope one day you can open up and confide in me because i'm here for you baby. through the good and the bad, especially the bad. because i love you."

your heart melted at his comforting and sincere words, now shedding tears of joy.

"i-i love you too hoon, thank you"

taglist (open!): @laylasbunbunny @blackberryrains

ramblings: this made me so soft and healed my past self 🥺 would you guys like to see more full fics/series or oneshots like this?

thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think <3

reblogs, likes, & comments are always appreciated!!

[quinnydoll]

Through The Thicket

A doll has been sent on a very important task today: gathering mail. It asked its witch for something it could do for her, and she told it to head out and get the mail for her.

"This one can't find its shoes! What is it to do?" Asks the doll, looking around the front of the house, curiously.

The witch smirks some, and jokingly speaks, "I guess you'll just have to go out barefoot." The doll of course, takes this seriously, and heads outside of the house without shoes before its witch has a chance to stop it. It crosses the threshold of the stone-paved path into the soft grass on the surprisingly long past to the impractically distant mailbox. Soon, it reaches a path in the sun, with overgrown old tracks which a wheeled vehicle once rode. The grass is dry, and a sparse thicket peppers the ground where it considers stepping.

It hesitates, but slowly and carefully, it takes a step forward in the brush dried by the harsh sunlight. Luckily, its first step is into a patch of still soft grass, which grants it a little bit of confidence as it takes another step. This step lands directly into a spot of goathead stickers, which plant themselves sharply into the balls of the doll's left foot. It lets out a sharp screech, to rival the texture of the barbs that have now buried themselves within its foot, trapping themselves between its toes, and the sting permeates through the area.

The doll collapses, doing its best to relieve the weight from the bottom of its now thoroughly pinpricked foot. Carefully, it pulls the pointy intruders out from their space, feeling them largely pull free, but on occasion, the points seem to snap off into splinters inside. The realization dons on the doll that the walk is going to become increasingly painful. It quietly curses its witch for sending it on such an arduous journey, as it slowly lifts itself back up to its feet to try and continue towards the mailbox.

The process repeats itself a few times as the doll takes a few more steps forward, but it eventually figures out where to step which doesn't hurt as much. Slowly but surely, as it carefully places its feet, it figures out where it doesn't hurt as much to walk. It finds a way to safely traverse the path, and finds its way to the mailbox and back without much more issue.

"This must be the lesson Miss wanted to teach it!" The doll realizes, as its stride begins to resemble a dance through the safe portions of the path, each step following a rhythm and order as it reaches the door, with envelopes in hand.

As it opens the door, it's quickly snatched up by its witch, "I was joking when I said you'd have to go out barefoot! Are you okay? You didn't hurt your feet, did you?"

"It did, but it learned something! It first found the-" The doll is cut off as it's pulled further inside, and sat down on a comfy chair while its witch retrieves a pair of tweezers to remove the fibrous needle-like natural pins.

The witch sighs as she carefully begins the process of removing the painful intrusions, "I appreciate you for getting the mail for me, but you didn't have to go out like that. Now, tell me about the lesson you learned." "It initially found the path hard to navigate without hurting itself, but when it slowed down and treaded carefully, it began to notice wherever it could put its feet that was safer. It slowly learned what to look for to avoid hurting itself any further!" The doll doesn't even seem to wince after every little pin pull as it tells its story to the very worried witch.

She smiles some as she looks at the doll's eyes, "Good doll. Though, you really didn't have to learn that like that."

"O-oh! before it forgets, it cursed you under its breath the first time it hit the painful bit, and it wanted to let you know so it can dispell the curse..." The doll's gaze is now downtrodden.

The witch raises an eyebrow, "A curse, you say? What exactly did you say to curse me?"

"It said... 'F-fuck you...'" The doll looks even more dejected and scared as it quotes its curse from earlier.

At this, the witch throws her head back, as she erupts with laughter, and pats the doll on the head, "I'm sure I'll survive your curse, little one. You don't need to worry."

The doll pouts as it begrudgingly receives the affection from its witch. It's glad that she's confident that she'll be okay, but it does wish she would take it more seriously...

[gunsandspaceships]

Have you ever digged into the science surrounding Tony's heart condition? What Yinsen managed to achieve? How Wu repaired Tony's heart Magnet and shrapnell aside what I am particularly intrested in is damage to Tony's heart. There is something intresting about Tony's heartbeat in the Obaidiah scene after reactor is removed. You would expect it to be rapid considering the stress but is is super slow, indicating that he may actually need a pacemaker.

Hi! I have this in my queue (I have about 600 things to write) and some of them concern his health and heart in particular. This will be very important for something big I want to show, but not today/in the near future. Maybe in a few months.

I can answer your questions though (but not in detail):

What Yinsen managed to achieve? Well, he said that the remaining shrapnel was heading for Tony's atrial septum, which is the muscular wall that separates the two upper chambers of the heart. This means that the shrapnel was heading towards his heart not from the outside, but was already inside. The purpose of the magnet was to prevent damage to the walls of the heart. And here we have some problems with the magnet (and with reactor) - it would pull shrapnel to another wall of the heart (between the shrapnel and the magnet). So I'll need to do more research on this to understand how this might actually work (if at all). How could the shrapnel enter the heart in the first place? It could penetrate his heart from the outside, but we would have extensive damage, or it could be carried in by the bloodstream. And with or without the magnet, it couldn't stay there without moving, hurting his heart more and more over time. In any case, his heart was already damaged.

How Wu repaired Tony's heart? They used Extremis.

It is assumed that it repaired his heart and all the damage to his chest, leaving a thin scar on his skin from reactor. Although there is no information on how his version of Extremis actually works. I mean, if it leaves a scar on the skin, it doesn't repair all the damage, but instead replaces some of the tissue with fibrous connective tissue. Another topic for in-depth research.

There is something intresting about Tony's heartbeat in the Obaidiah scene after reactor is removed. You would expect it to be rapid considering the stress but is is super slow, indicating that he may actually need a pacemaker.

Well, yes. His heart was damaged. And the shrapnel made sure that it continued to be damaged. This means scarring of the organ, which in turn means high risk of heart rhythm problems, heart failure and sudden cardiac death. A reactor is a source of energy that can produce electrical discharges. And with some additional tech, he used it as a pacemaker. There was a lot of stuff in his chest.

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: Star Wars: The Acolyte

Pairing: Qimir x fReader

Chapter Rating: M

AO3

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

EIGHT

You dream. The fire no longer blazes. It’s just logs in a small clearing surrounded by a field of wildflowers that sway in the breeze. The light is low and the sky is streaked in ombre pastels. Your master sits with his helmet on, upper half disrobed again and back turned to you. The temptation to touch his scars eats at you and you close your fist, dissipating the desire. He raises a hand and beckons you over with two curled fingers.

“What is this place?” he asks you, when you sit down next to him.

He angles himself towards you and you mirror him so that you’re facing one another. There’s a speck of dried blood just under his chin and you reach out to scrape it away with a fingernail. He grasps your wrist and tugs your hand into his lap. Next to him is a bowl of soapy water and he reaches in with his other hand, wringing out the excess water and begins to run the warm, wet cloth down your forearm. The grime from the day wipes away. Where the rag and soapy water came from, you couldn’t say. But it feels so good you don’t really care about its origins.

Your eyes dart around, taking in the dream scenery. A waterfall rushes behind you and your bodies are close enough to the riverbank’s edge that one small push would tip you straight into the water. You reach out beside you and pluck a pink wildflower. Spin it between your fingers. You swallow back your nostalgia, knowing better than to get emotional about dreaming up your homeworld now.

“I don’t know. I thought it was just a place my mind conjured just like last time. Just a dream.”

Though it’s real, what this place was for you is a dream. It holds everything you will never have again. What you tell your master is a half truth only. You know this place well. But don’t dare think the name of it. There are some secrets you still wish to treasure for yourself.

“Hmm,” he hums before dipping the cloth back in the bowl and wringing it out again. Fingers carefully clasp your chin and he tilts it upward, wiping away the grime on your neck.

“I thought you were just a figure I made up in my dream too, but—”

“I’m very real.” He thumbs the line of your chin, then trails upward, tracing your bottom lip. “Does that bother you?”

“Not at all. You’ve helped me.” His thumb traces the full outline of your lips. “Thank you for today, by the way.”

He removes his hand but you grasp his wrist and draw his thumb back to your lips. “I couldn’t just let my pupil die,” he says.

You kiss the pad of his thumb, so soft and tender before releasing him.

“He wouldn’t have killed me.” Your master dips the rag again then drags the cloth up to your ear. “But I have to ask, why did you spare him?”

“Why do you think?”

Your heart is already erratically beating in your chest due to your master’s touch but readjusts to a frenetic pace at the thought of what will be required of you. “I need to kill him.”

“Should be easy,” he replies. He continues to clean your body as you consider his words.

It should be—should be—should—

You swallow, your mouth now dry and desperate for moisture. The thought of killing your father is difficult enough to consider. His power over you is something you can’t seem to shake and there’s still immense hesitation on your part. You might prove to be a useless pupil after all. What would be your options then? Run? You would have to spend the entirety of what remains of your life on the run. You’ll be running regardless, but what your master asks of you is too much.

“I can’t.”

“You can. You will. You just need to find your purpose. Which is why you’re here. With me.”

“I think I need more than purpose. I watched you snap a neck with your bare hands.” You lift your own hands and flip them back and forth, staring. “I don’t think these hands are capable—not when it comes to him.”

“Why do you continue to lie to yourself?” Your master stills, tilting his head curiously.

“I’m not.” Your hands fall to your lap and you pick at your cuticles. He stops your picking, covering both of your hands with one of his.

“You and I both know what you felt when you had your hand around my neck.” His modulated voice dips low as he squeezes water from the rag with his other hand and you watch it stream in a wobbly line into the bowl.

“That’s different,” you whisper.

“Is it?”

“I like the power but I couldn’t kill you—wouldn’t want to.”

“But you want to kill your father. We both felt that too. And you have great strength in the force.” He begins wiping the skin of your right arm free of dirt and grime. “He has never been loyal to you. Easily discarded you. Disrespected you. He is incapable of loving you. You’ve seen it. I’ve seen it. And don’t you want that? To have someone learning to love you? Willing to learn?”

“Is that what you’re offering?”

The cloth falls into the bowl and he presses his palm to your chest. Your heart thuds against it. “It’s what you are offering yourself.”

“I will need your guidance.”

“You already have it.”

You sigh. “Is this supposed to be the lesson then? Gentle cleansing?”

He stills. Slightly pulls away. “Yes. I am helping you learn that by caring for yourself and seeing who you really are, you will stop abandoning yourself. You need to accept yourself. Every time you do that, a piece of you can find your true purpose. And it is in knowing your true purpose that you will find victory.”

“That’s a lot of words just to say you think I stink and need a shower.” Your attempt at humor falls flat, unlike last time you met with him.

There’s a heavy, modulated sigh as your master runs his hands up your arms, digging his fingers deep into your muscles. All the jokes, conflicting thoughts and tension leaves your body with the way he handles you. Your mind drifts in an ever revolving reverie of just how good it feels to have his fingers on your skin. Pleasant pain is pulled out of your weary body by the stroke of his hands. You don’t know how long you stay suspended in time as he rubs every ache out of you while your eyes flutter closed, experiencing a peaceful bliss you haven’t ever before. Though you’re not sure you deserve this. You’ve done nothing to earn it.

“You deserve this,” he says, “to feel good. I’m teaching you to realize that. You’ve lost yourself.” Fingers dig into your neck and you let out a small moan. “But you will learn to grieve the person you lost and accept who you are now.”

At this point, as he massages at the base of your skull, you will believe anything he wants to say.

His fingers still again but you keep your eyes closed, reveling in his phantasmal touch that still lingers on your skin. You feel the warmth of his hands again as they curl around your shoulders and then the cool contact of his helmet against your forehead. It’s almost impossible to believe that he’s capable of killing so many Jedi when he is so gentle with you.

You slowly glide your fingers up and down his forearms. Crawl them up his biceps and wrap them around, squeezing. Dust your fingers back down and toy with his hands. You touch your fingertips to his knuckles and then lift one of his hands to cup your cheek. You show him a brief glimpse of what it means to love you as you press your cheek into his palm, soaking up every last bit of warmth from his hand. As if you could imprint the entirety of his essence into your skin. Barely rotating your head, you press your lips to his palm because you can’t kiss his lips. It’s a shame he wears that helmet.

“Why won’t you show me who you are?” you ask after some time, linking your fingers together in your lap. The desire to kiss him everywhere becomes overwhelming with each passing minute. “Is it because you don’t think I’ll like the sight of you?”

“It’s because you already know me.” He pulls away and gives you a gentle shove back into the grass. He crawls over you, the muscles of his arms flexing as he holds himself above you. “And you’re taking forever to figure it out. But for now, you should wake. Qimir is waiting for you.”

Your dream world crumbles into a million blurred fragments as you’re pulled from slumber.

[justforclowns]

Cost of Recompense

Price of Forgiveness (The clown epic by @birchbow ) Ageswap Au.

~4,350 words.

Warnings: clowns, light knife play, mentions of torture, overall kinda horny and self hatey vibes.

This and all following chapters will be posted on Ao3 in time but I am on a waiting list and very impatient. Woe, clowns be upon ye.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Relax, little brother." He coos at you gentle.

Relax. Motherfucking relax, he says. 

Your name is Kurloz Makara and how are you supposed to relax with your lordship laid bare beneath you?  

He isn't fully bare. He has just shed the dark shall he usually wears amongst the faithful and removed the tight purple shirt beneath. You can see the dark, scar littered expanse of his chest rise and fall with his breaths. You can pick out the scars made by others and those most likely self inflicted. You linger on the damage self done. It serves as a reminder as to why you are here; in the Big Top, on the throne, straddling the king of colors lap with a short blade in hand held just above his stomach. 

You were not built correctly. Ever since you were small there has been something about hurting other trolls that got to you a little too strongly to just be a macabre interest. The way a troll in pain would writhe and how those beautiful short breaths would leave them all sharp through clenched fangs. It got to you something fierce. You learned the lesson young that you ain't right in the head. You were only a little less young when you learned to hide that fact. 

You hid it well all things considered. At 7 sweeps you made your way through conscription and onto the holy fleet no issue. Horns held high but not too high till you earned your place. And earn it you rightly fucking did. 

It wasn't easy by any means. You managed, though. Carved yourself a badass reputation and a good standing amongst the kin you do so cherish. You hold a passion for the family and a need to prove yourself unmatched by any troll you've met before. One comes close but you will not spare that heathen a single thought. 

Some said you had help. That your sign already held weight in the church which granted you special treatment. It wasn't exactly the biggest mystery that you and His High Holy Hilarity were cut from the same cloth. Put the two of you next to each other in front of someone with eyes and even they could get the idea in their head. As for the idea that he gave you any motherfucking boons, that you didn't earn, just by virtue of being built the same never had any frond to stand on as far as you were concerned. But people still thought it. 

You proved them wrong time and time again. Mission after mission and sweep after sweep you proved it was all 100% you that got you where you were today. Some of the rumor spreaders got brave with their claims and brought them right to you, displeased with your success and too stubborn to accept that they were wrong.

You got a skill in you to turn the brave away running. 

Through voodoo or club or just sharp wit you took every challenge worth taking as another chance to show you weren't fucking around. So if those that think you're riding your ancestors coattails are still out there they at least have the brains to keep their filthy mouths shut about it. 

You would never use your ancestors' status to your advantage. Even if it had nothing to do with pride you would just feel wrong using him that way. You admire him a good deal and not just because he is the head of your church. 

You admire him maybe too much. You have now, for a while. Which is why you can't fathom the situation you are currently in. 

Your eyes snap up to The Grand Highblood's face when he shifts closer to you. His hand, bigger than yours but not much colder, wraps carefully around your forearm. You are trembling. When did you start trembling? 

"Are you having second thoughts?" He asks. His voice is smooth and low, the slightest breathy hitch at the end that makes something possessive and stupid stir inside of you. Your eyes stay on his face, his pretty face, like the one you see in the mirror but aged and softer around the eyes. Kinder, the rumors say, when it gets to reprimanding kin who done what some could consider a shallow wrong. Soft fucking pusher for the family. So soft. 

You open your mouth to respond yet the words fail you. Of all times. Of all the times in your 12 sweeps of life, why now? Why? 

He is looking at you. The excitement his eyes held begins to fade to something more resigned. He smiles so sweetly at you. "I understand," he tells you, removing his hand from your arm. "Ain't no shame in backing out brother. Was a strange request to begin with. I understand if you can't get your chill on with- nngh!" He shudders as you drag the knife from his collarbone to just above the hem of his pants. "Oh fuck-"

You bite back a groan as you skillfully flip the knife in your fingers and drag it back up. You aren't pressing enough to cut him deep but you do begin to see thin purple lines appearing along his flesh. These cuts burn with the touch of air, sharp and precise, opening up just enough to let the nerve endings fire off in panic. You drove a man mad with a couple hundred of these one time. 

The muscles in his stomach flex and he shudders again. "A-aah~ ah c'mon motherfucker you can go harder than that c'mon I've seen you work." He encourages.

He has seen you work. Seen you pry answers from prisoners maws way too quickly for your liking. Much to the suspicious awe of your fellow churchmates. Your skill in inquisition got so well known that he came to see for himself one night. You didn't know he was watching when you raked deep gashes down a heretic’s arms and pinned them closed with those wicked stinging needles you've come to love. You didn't know that when you stepped out of that room and he was there, smiling and giving you praise, that he may have been feeling just as electrified as you were at the moment. 

He must have felt it. He must be feeling it if the way he lifts himself up against your blade is anything to go by. The high pitched noise in his throat you don't dare call a whine makes your insides twist and shiver. Shakes the words you've been searching for loose from your thinkpan.

 "You like this?" Your voice comes out a breathless whisper. You feel stupid for asking, he must like it if he is letting you, there's no way he would let you this close if he didn't. 

Unless that soft pusher of his is telling him you need it. Unless you slipped up somehow and he saw the aching need to cause hurt that you have inside you. Unless he is forcing himself to take it as he thinks no one else will- Unless- 

The shaky whimper that comes from him along with "Oh brother please-" snaps you from your thoughts. Back to reality you smell the slightest twinge of blood in the air. You look down and see that while you were having a miniature double damned crisis he had shifted close enough to you to have pierced himself ever so slightly with your knife. Just a few inches above the arch of his hip a pool of royal purple fills and finally drips down his side and disappears. Your throat feels too dry and your mouth too wet. 

You have drawn the blood of your holy king. You have cornered him on his throne and cut into him. He is shirtless beneath you, those kind round eyes watching you with fondness undeserved.

You don't feel the knife slip from your hand but you do feel his arm come up around your back. You do hear his soft, sing song praise at the edge of your conscious mind. 

"Good." He tells you. "You did good. We don't gotta do no more than that. Felt good brother, don't go getting harsh on yourself now. Ah shit you poor thing…" 

"Good?" you shoot back at him. Looking up to his face, bristling with the feelings this whole situation has brought up. What is this to him? Why is he doing this? He always looks at the family soft but does he let the family sit in his lap and take knife to his flesh? Does he rest his hand on their back and praise them for doing so? "I stabbed you and you tell me I did good?" 

He chuckles. "Well, yeah. Hardly call that a stab, little brother. It'll be gone in a night at worst." His hand moves along your back in a slow motion. Your claws twitch. "What'd you think of that? Tell me." 

You can't disobey him. 

"It felt like sin, but not. Felt too good to be right. I thought- I thought you were going to laugh at me." You say. His eyes widen a little and his hand gives a soft squeeze around your waist. "I thought this was some fucked up joke. Some, motherfucking- some prank or cruelty done on me to amuse you." 

"Aint nothing like that-" 

"I thought I was dreaming, for a second. It don't feel real. Having you here, having you so open to hurting. My Lord you asked me to-" the words trail off in a pathetic wheeze as they leave you again. 

He just stares at you for a bit. You know your face can be cold and unreadable like ice when you want it to be and fuck if you don't want that real hard right now. He sees through you clear as still water anyway. His hand on your back moves up to tangle into the roots of your hair, you try to resist but fail and end up pressing back against his hand. 

"I asked you to hurt me, didn't I?" He asks even though there's no need to clarify. You don't think you could forget what he said if you tried your damnedest. The way he came to you in the halls as you wandered without reason, asked you to walk with him, talked with you like normal then got real quiet. Got a favor to ask you, little one he had said. Don't have to be doing it if you find yourself unwilling but I got a curiosity in me I think you could help sate.

He took you to the Big Top and made brief yet rattling inquiry on your desire to cause pain. Rumor spreads even as you try to forget the words whispered that made every drone season harder than the last. You winced despite yourself when he simply asked You like causing pain, brother? He did not look at you with distaste. Or with plain curiosity as he claimed to hold. He was fascinated. 

Things moved fast after that. Patience was never a virtue your lordship took much pride in. After you had affirmed his claims he had gestured for you to come up to his throne. He invited you up onto said throne, into his lap, and set the knife cool against your palm. He had asked you to…

"-take the knife to me as you like, that's what I said, yeah?" Your Lord's tone is calm, even, as if he is just double checking the facts on an arbitrary mission report form. You nod at the words because that really is what he said and here you are all rattled right to the marrow at it. 

"Cool, and that's what you did. Did it real gentle like too." 

"I stabbed you-" 

"Hey, knock shit right the fuck off." He frowns at you for the first time today. Disapproving on your statement of fact. Your hands twitch and while you don't know where the knife went you still got claws and the urge to tear into him again. Make him get his understanding on good and true about what threat you pose. You would never. 

"I'm fine, little one." His hand rubs gently at the back of your skull. "Better than fine. That was… that was real motherfucking sweet what you did for me." 

For him. He asked, you delivered. He commanded, you obeyed. You did good.

Your face must do something ugly with how his hand briefly stills. The fins on his ears twitch as he looks you over. You're ready for the disgust to settle into his features but it never comes. 

His mouth opens a second just to close the next, tongue flicking over his lips as if he was nervous. You almost laugh. Nervous, The Grand Highblood? Impossible. 

He breathes in slow, you catch the movement of his chest with your peripherals. Messiahs you want to sink your teeth in and taste him. What he says next is like a slap in the face. "Did you like it..? Would you want to do it again?" 

You look at him, really look at him. Surely there would be something, anything, letting you know this was all in jest. You hate to think so low on your Lord's humor but if this ain't some bad joke you don't know how you'll deal. 

You find nothing but sincerity in his eyes. Round and dark and royal as they come while still walking on land. Maybe a little hope but you quickly disregard it as your own. 

"I…" the sound cracks out of your throat. He grants you time to get your shit together. Moves his hand from your head down to your back, heavy but gentle. You shiver at the feeling. The sheer size of him and everything else about him.

It wouldn't be wrong to say you thought he was fine as fuck. Everybody with a working set of ganderbulbs must. Tower of lean muscle that he is, got legs for nights that had you near running to keep up with him in the halls during your first few perigees on ship. You're only a little ashamed at the fact you snuck glances whenever that dark shall left his shoulders. 

You imagine what you may feel getting to cut such a pretty motherfucker again some night. Then imagine if that pretty motherfucker was your king. Getting to hear him say 'brother please' again in that whispy way. Wondering what sounds he would make if you pressed harder, how much he could take if a stab in the hip would heal in a night. 

It all makes your bulge do something down right shameful with how it twists and tries to slip out. Your legs attempt to close and are stopped both in part by you realizing how obvious that would make your predicament and by the body you're still straddling.

You glance down, glaring slightly at the obstacle between your knees, only to be met with the still bare lower abdomen of your Lord. You look back up, not too quickly, and look at his face instead. He is watching you, lips slightly parted and eyes curious again. 

"I… that sounds… are you fucking with me?" 

He seems a little taken aback by your words and you fear you fucked up before he starts to laugh. You let out a little wheeze of a chuckle as well, compelled by whatever joy he has found in this scenario. He smiles at you, clear and bright. 

It takes on a sly edge as he says "Shit, if you're offering. I ain't gonna take what you don't wanna give, little one. Fuck. Fucking does sound good though. Especially when you got those miraculous hurting hands." His eyes drop down to where your hands rest against your thighs. If you were a fool you'd say he looks enticed. 

You feel your face heat up under your paint. A cocktail of emotions are swirling around in your head. Arousal, shame, confusion, to name a few. 

You take a sharp breath- watch his hands twitch- and exhale it slowly. "My Lord, I- … A brother could get a real twisted idea of what all you're asking of him. Give me the grace of speaking plainly on it. If you please.” You say, keeping your voice even, not even letting a hint of begging come through. 

The Grand Highblood sighs softly at that. He shifts underneath you, sitting up straighter. You go to move but his hand clamps down on your thigh, keeping it in place. Fuck but he's real big- and he let you get a knife in him what a day- 

"Grace you ask for is grace I will give, little one." He looks at you, a little more serious. More familiar too how you see him on the night to night. He spares a glance over your being before he continues. “I want you to hurt me. Only in ways that you want. If how you want it is to just swing around every other scattering of nights when you get the itch I'll gladly take it.” 

-Before you can even start to reel at the idea of being your Lord's torture booty call he continues-

“If you want something more steady, like the beating of a pusher, fit with all its running blood and fluttery fits, then that I can also happily do.” He tells you, looking at you fond again. Not seeing through you straight out the back but like he can see inside you. He doesn't look disgusted by what he thinks he's finding. 

You blink at him. Your mouth is an unreadable line because you will it so. He blinks back at you like a delayed mirror. You think you gather what he is saying but it's so outlandish and wild you cannot ignore the doubt it stirs in you.

“Plainly, My Lord.” You remind him brazenly. 

He laughs his soft sing song laugh at you before saying “Wanna be matesprites?”

You die. You think. That's the only explanation for the rush of everything that fills you up and threatens to blind you over three simple Alternian words. Or you're already dead and this is some hall of illusions you must endure as punishment for your transgressions. 

When you come back to yourself he's looking at you softly, with slight concern, the same look he had when he told you it was okay to back out.

Before he can tell you the same again you manage to say “Yes.” without a waiver to your voice. “If it pleases you.” You add, because you’ve been more mannerless tonight than is truly smart. 

He smiles, but it's quirked at one end, following the tilt of his head. “Would please me just fine. Would it please you though, little brother? Talk plainly at me.” He chuckles, tossing your request back at you like it's all a hate-friendly game. 

“Abso-motherfucking-lutely it would, My Lord.” You say in a near whisper, watching his face. The more genuine turn of his smile and the crinkles at the edges of his eyes show he is well and truly pleased with you. 

“Bitchtits,” He says, and wraps the other of his long arms around you to pull you up against him. You manage not to make any embarrassing sounds of delight or startlement but it does take you a shameful few seconds to realize that he is hugging you. That's it, just a hug, a simple act of affection you've seen even hate-friends give to each other on the off nights. You return it half a moment too late but you do return it. 

He's broader than you by virtue of being your own body type scaled up several notches. Being pressed flat to the expanse of his chest lets you almost feel the beat of his pusher. You can smell so much of him, his hair, his skin, the faint lingering of his blood and you certainly smell how it took him to have you put knife to his flesh. Maybe there is a rumbling sound he is making that is too low for you to hear yet, or maybe there isn't.

It's nice. It tells you what you're too stupid to realize with just your eyes. He is alive and he is happy. You squeeze him slightly and he returns the favor. Delayed mirror. 

You're taking a risk, both of you. Him so high and important and you so closed in and quiet. To let another in could spell disaster. Specifically each other. You could be planning to take his place for all he knows. He could rule you unfunny and excommunicate you. 

When you pull back, maybe hoping to voice some of these concerns, he just smiles at you. His eyes are lazy and fond, his breathing is going steady again as he comes down from the excitement of the morning. You can't bring yourself to ruin this moment for him, so you take heed of one of the first lessons all laughsassins must learn: keep your motherfucking mouth shut, motherfucker. 

He keeps smiling even as you both get your shit together, settling down after the impromptu knife play and quadrant dealings. He finally lets you off the throne. You get your feet under you and feel less dizzy than you probably should. A quick mental check tells you that you did not die, your body is fine, and nothing is missing. With that out of the way, you spare a glance over to The Grand Highblood. 

He rises as well, towering over you once again. He quickly finds the knife and literally tosses it back into his sylladex; the blade flying over his shoulder and into the flashing colors before both promptly disappear. Fuck but his modus really is wild to see up close and he's so cool for knowing how to just go with it. Another way he's blessed you imagine. 

You get to see it flash again and barely make out the various things that come out get quickly tossed back in get flung out get juggled till he finds what he wants and it all goes away. All in a matter of seconds. The Grand Highblood stands there with a new shirt in his hand like it ain’t no thing. He catches you looking and looks all the more pleased for it. 

He re-dresses and you're mad about it. Which is wrigglerish and stupid, you remind yourself. You can't rightly ask he stay half naked for you. At least not yet. 

If he means this all to be for true maybe one night you will have the right to ask he stay naked. Fully naked. Just to let you look at him in all his hurting glory. Regal and holy and yours and fuck your bulge is in a Messiahs damned knot and your head ain't much better. 

“Off to ‘coon now, brother.” You hear him say. You only blink at him but he still finds the question in it quick enough. “Was late already when I pulled you out the halls, even later now. Both of us got shit to do come moonrise. Don’t we, little one?” He tilts his head at you, leading your thoughts with the question till you find the answer buried in the back of your pan. 

You do have shit to do. You were asked, at some time that is eluding your memory, to assist one of the laughsassination feeders with a ship wide lesson. Did she ask you herself? Given you can’t fully recall the interaction you would say she did. You can’t miss that.

You don’t curse or even sigh. You just lower your shoulders a bit in defeat. He chuckles all the same. You manage to give him a small smile that he returns to you bigger and brighter. 

“Suppose we do. Thank you for your time, My Lord.” You say, all formal. It gets a small snicker out of him and you feel like you’ve won something. 

He leads you to the giant double doors of the Big Top and wishes you luck on all your endeavours of the coming night. Before the doors open he bends down to press a quick kiss to your lips. It lingers only enough for you to return it and then a single beat longer. After that he pulls back and he is once again so much taller and older than you and you have to leave. You make sure to give at least a slight bow of respect before walking out into the halls. 

It is a walk, not a run, even as you get further from the throne room. Your strides are steady and quiet. For all the few passerbys know you were simply taking a stroll to clear your head in the late hours. Your mind is clear, actually. For a few seconds. 

With his sweet smiling face gone and only your lingering shame as company your thoughts get real nasty real quick. 

What is wrong with you? What is wrong with you? 

Did you really just do all that? Did he let you- ask you, you remind yourself- to do all that? Are you two something now? Something more than leader and follower? Perish the thought. Burn it. Destroy it. Leave nothing but ashes in place of a stupid wriggler’s dream. 

You hurt him and it was wonderful. You walk. You want to do it again. You walk. He wants you to do it again. 

You walk and walk and walk all the way back to your room and manage to get inside with no one knowing anything except you. No one knows what you’ve done except you. What horrible things you’ve done and will do again. Awful awful beautiful things. 

You are going to pay for this. You just don’t know how yet.

[niobiumao3]

So like. re: the Inquisitor Phee/CX-Tech thing.

Grabbing younglings, we see them do it a lot. And there's one they get. But they get stranded/stuck with her a while. And finally they get back. But now it's been, like. A month. And they're attached. And they have to give her back.

Attachments. etc.

He knew in that way he’d come to accept was normal for them that she was far past thinking about doing it and on to actively making plans. In fairness, he was also actively making plans, though he liked to think he’d been less obvious about it. This was, it turned out, wishful thinking on his part. “How far would we need to go,” she said one night in the darkness of their quarters. She was curled on her bunk, he’d been lying on his rack without sleeping. He considered that. “To the outer rim. Wild space would be preferable, if we can locate a planet or port, but the outer rim is sufficient to begin with. A cycle, at a minimum, in the least connected place we can find.” Numerous scenarios played out in his head. “The larger issue would be them tracking her in the Force.” “I can handle that.” “You can?” “I can.” Interesting, if not entirely unexpected: finding people in the Force was empathic, and Phee was empathically inclined. She probably would be the most capable of hiding herself and another if she needed to. She continued, “But what about your tracker? I can’t do shit about that.” “I determined how to block its signal some time ago.” “Will that be enough?” “It is a temporary solution. We will need to have it removed, which will require either an appropriate facility, or a skilled surgeon willing to stay quiet.” She sighed. “That’s a lot.” “It is. But it can be done.” “Okay. So we need to figure out how to get her out, unnoticed long enough to get clear.” “Yes. We can take a Dagger or a [] to start, but we must abandon whatever we flee in and obtain something less conspicuous at the first opportunity.” She was silent a time. Then, “I can’t believe we’re talking about this like it’s even possible.” “Of course it’s possible. Certain, no. Probable…perhaps not even that. But when it comes to us, working together, I have come to accept we are quite capable when we are determined.” He heard the sound of her moving about, felt her crawl into his rack with him a handful of seconds later. She was small enough to make it workable, if a tight fit in which they had to curl around one another. “I just.” She stopped, swallowed. “I can’t let them keep her. I can’t let them do to her what they did to me.” One of her hands drifted to the scar on his chest. “To us.” He set his chin on top of her head. The mere thought of Djoura enduring what either of them had was unacceptable. “Agreed.” She shuddered, gripped him tightly. She didn’t need to say aloud what they both knew: death would be the kindest thing to happen to either of them if they were caught. Yet the notion that a little girl would be subject to the same thing was more than enough to outweigh the risks to themselves. Tech could never have forgiven himself for not at least trying. But they wouldn’t merely try. They were going to succeed. Because they had to.

[obliqueblade]

DDVAU- Chapter 5: You're too full of yourself, Pretty Boy.

HOT GUY’S POV 

“For the last time, Cub, No,” Scar stated for what felt like the millionth time. He wasn’t sure how many times exactly it had been said over the past months, having lost count around 100 times. 

That was a month in. Now, over a year later- suffice to say Scar had heard this lecture closer to a million times. 

“But if you just..”

“Just nothing Cub. It’s not her fault the HA can’t get their heads screwed on right about her. I won’t turn my back on her just because some big wig doesn’t like it.” Besides, they both knew the only reason the Hero Association was so against her was merely because they knew they couldn’t control her. Her public image, yes, but not her actions. Cute Guy was probably the only person in the entire city that could be considered free. And the only person, not considered a person.

“It’s not just that Scar. The HA could remove you from duty and..”

“And have a riot on their hands? I think not.” Scar wheeled himself through the lab nearing Cub's room where his suit lay ready for him. That and his legs. His very necessary legs. Public opinion was part of the reason they wouldn’t let him retire- even when his health practically demanded they did. It would’ve caused too many bureaucratic nightmares for them to do so. That and Hot Guy was a good look for them. A way to instill propaganda into the population without doing so actively.

“If you keep this up, they might decide the riot is less work than managing you,” Cub muttered trailing behind his wheelchair. This conversation had started in the lobby before Scar was even fully inside the building. 

Then continued into the elevator.

Then continued in the elevator. 

Then continued while leaving the elevator. 

Then continued through the hallway. 

And has continued through the Research and development of the HA headquarters. 

Let's just say, Scar had grown tired of the nagging. As if the overbearing fluorescent lights weren’t bad enough- Scar had to manage an overbearing scientist. Scar was beginning to see a pattern. A familiar throbbing began behind his eyes, overwhelmed by everything. He was used to this headache at least, so he pressed forward.

“Cub,” Scar stopped his wheelchair,” when have you ever been able to convince me to change my mind.” It was a rhetorical question. They both knew that once Scar had decided on something that was it. 

“I can still hope that one day you’ll gain self-preservation skills,” Cub responded nonchalantly, moving past him to swipe his keycard against the sensor next to the door. Smoothly the door slid up and out of the way revealing the cool lab Cub called home. Half styled fitting the aesthetic of the frazzled scientist Cub pretended he wasn’t, and the other outfitted like a hospital room for Scar. After all, having your number-one hero in the hospital was bad publicity. Wheeling himself in, Cub’s words seemed to dawn on him.

“Hey! I have… some self-preservation skills.” 

“Aside from facing Jellie?”

Scar decided it was best to not comment. However, Cub was not the one who would have to feed her after being late. Scar would rather face the Hero Association any time instead. Scar wasn’t sure what he had more scars from- surgeries, Hero Work, or simply trying to feed the little heathen he adopted. She was a Queen though, so Scar could not complain too much. Scar really only had himself to blame for how spoiled she was, but she deserved every moment of it.

“Anyways, how are they holding up?” Scar quickly changed the subject. Cub’s eyes widened as he slammed his lab door back down to ensure their privacy. It was one thing for Cub to have Scar's legs concealed in his office—it was another for him to address them directly. You never know who might be listening.

“Scar you know…” 

“That they don’t want me talking about them? Cub I’m in a wheelchair. If anyone looked at me right now they’d just assume I was one of your research subjects. They would never think I was Hot Guy,” Scar said flippantly cutting off the upcoming admonishment, but he knew Cub would see through the nonchalance. Technically, Scar was one of Cub’s research subjects- something Cub did not appreciate being pointed out. Their friendship had long since changed from what it once was- all for the ‘greater good’.

“Scar, you know you could quit. No one would fault you.” Cub mumbled turning his back to Scar and leaning forward against his workstation. It was a nice sentiment- but they both knew that wasn’t an option. It existed, sure, but no way would the Hero Association allow their #1 to retire. Scar had known for a long time the job would probably cost him his life. 

“Yes, they would.” 

Scar did not need to elaborate. Cub was far smarter than he showed half the time, he’d understand. 

They both knew who would blame him. 

“Besides, it’s not all bad. Insurance isn’t a problem anymore at least.”

Cub turned and flung one of the bolts he had on his table at Scar’s head. Scar laughed while deflecting it. Thankfully, even without his robotic legs on- Scar’s reflexes were always on point. So long as he didn’t have to use his actual legs. Then he would be in trouble.

“Besides, I’ve got someone to keep an eye on now,” Scar said dreamily staring off into space. He wasn’t sure what Cute Guy would do if Hot Guy up and disappeared one day. Probably celebrate. Or track him down and demand an explanation. Probably both, and depending on the day the order of that may vary.

He was not expecting the quick whap to the back of his head.

“OW!” Scar ducked down rubbing the spot,” What was that for?” Scar exclaimed as Cub retreated to the table. Apparently, reflexes didn’t work on anything larger than bolts, because of course, that is how Scars’ brain worked. 

“No simping in my lab,” Cub stated glaring and pointing at Scar before turning his attention back to the table. Scar wanted to argue that he had not been simping but knew that would only result in another whap to the back of his head. The spot was already tender enough, thank you very much. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Scar muttered still rubbing the spot softly. Judging by the strength of that whack, maybe Cub should be the hero- though Scar knew he wouldn’t be able to do Cub’s job in return. 

“Alrighty Mr. Simp, let’s try these on for size,” Cub stated, turning with his arms full of Scar’s robotic legs. The material looked slightly different, more compression around his thighs, and calves. 

Cub noticed his glances at the newer modifications, “I was reviewing some of the recent footage. You were having a hard time moving in the other design, so I added more sensors into the major muscle groups, and a better neural interface here. I will need to see the one on the back of your neck before you head out and make sure the signal is still connected,”

Scar glanced from the legs, up to Cubs' faces, and then back down to the legs. 

“These sensors are going to hurt aren’t they,” Scar asked, but he already knew the answer. To get his fake legs to work with his real ones, they had to connect deep into the muscles and his nervous system to receive messages from his brain, and the special implant there, on when to move. It took them several years, and numerous prototypes to achieve it. Even now, Cub still has to make consistent improvements to the sensors. There were options that wouldn’t have caused so much scarring, but the response time and strength of his legs would have suffered. That was a risk the HA wouldn’t allow. 

Cub was proud of them at least. Every time Scar busted them up, Cub ripped him a new one about destroying “his babies”. Scar had earned a nice whack on the head when he shot back that his “babies” clearly weren’t good enough for the hero. He hadn’t made such comments since though.

Scar appreciated the HA’s push on making the legs as strong as possible, though. During every fight, Scar had to worry if one misplaced kick would cause the whole thing to fall apart. So far, though, they’ve held it together.

His legs and their lie. This overwhelming, heavy lie, he had to ensure they both held together.

Something on this scale would have been impossible a hundred years ago. Even a decade ago it had been near impossible. It was only thanks to Cub that things like this existed for him to begin with.

Cub had tried arguing with the HA when they insisted on the new legs, saying Scar didn’t need them. When his disease had started rearing its ugly head, the HA had to scramble to keep such a promising recruit. He was a sniper, he could just stay as a sniper- was the crux of Cub’s argument. The HA denied this- citing that Hot Guy could be needed in the middle of fights. As with everything in the City, if the Hero Association wanted something- they got it.

As a result, Scar had bruises, scars, and prick marks up and down his legs. Not the mention the various drugs they kept him on, and the testing they had put him through. The scars he knew if anyone saw he wouldn’t be able to explain away. Scars that nearly encased his legs entirely, as well as the ones on his torso and the base of his neck. Funnily enough for as much of his skin, as his hero costume showed- his scars were entirely hidden from the public. 

Of course, they were. 

Scar and Cub knew the real reason they had demanded he get prosthetics in the first place. It wasn’t a good look on them. Back then, Scar had just been excited that he could still be a hero. The HA needed him to look as normal as possible. He hadn’t known the cost until it was too late to back out. Perhaps it had been too late to back out even before then. The HA was never really known for their level of tolerance. Sometimes, Scar had to wonder if Cub ever regretted joining in on his dream to become a Hero. If Scar was restricted, then Cub definitely was. Scar could go out and pretend to have another life- something Cub had been deemed too dangerous to be allowed to do. It wasn’t really a joke that Cub’s lab had become his home. So, here they were trapped- trying to live up to two kids' impossible dreams.

It wasn’t all bad though, and Scar could never bring himself to regret it. No matter how much he hurt some days- every day he remained a hero, he was able to save someone. 

That’s all that mattered to him, though he did feel guilty he had dragged Cub into this mess.

Cub was less than pleased they were treating Scar as nothing more than a machine to test neuroprostheses, but he was not in a place where he could speak out against it. If Scar was trapped, Cub most definitely was. Cub was the only human alive who could keep the machines working, as well as improving them. Plus, he was the only one Scar was willing to work with. Thus they were stuck.

“Have you had time to review the footage from the alleyway yesterday?” Scar questioned, wheeling himself closer to the medical bed readying himself to move up to it. 

“Yes and no,” Cub said moving to grab his tablet from the desk,” I got all of yesterday's footage, but there was nothing of note that occurred,” Cub explained while pulling the footage up and onto the large screen behind the lab table. Scar frowned at that.

“Cub a building collapsed,” he pointed out, wondering if Cub was losing it for apparently having not noticed. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Cub responded dismissively waving his hand as if to brush that part aside,” but other than that I can’t find anything that would have caused the building to just fall like that.”

Scar sighed and rubbed his face harshly. He had asked Cub to review the cameras from the area 24 hours before the accident because no matter how many times he ran it through his head, there should have been no way for the building to have fallen the way it had. 

Scar should know. The University had designs for all the buildings constructed in the past two hundred years in Upper City. A normal creeper explosion would have been planned for in the building process- a fact Scar knew it had been. That could only mean-

“So then there was something wrong with that creeper,” Scar stated, strapping the new legs over his own and starting the synthesis to the neurological communicator. As they synced, Scar grabbed the top for his hero outfit and made the valiant effort of pulling his shorts on while remaining sitting.

“Well, we don’t know that either,” Cub started pausing the footage as Scar entered the alleyway. Yes, as creepers had that nasty habit of blowing themselves up, it wasn’t like they left clues as to how they did it. All the evidence that creeper had, died with it. “It’s possible that I missed something or the building had been tampered with prior to yesterday.” 

“That doesn’t explain why the thing exploded 20 feet away from myself and Cute Guy, Cub.” Scar pointed out placing his tinted glasses over his face. They were enhanced and tied to his bow, giving him a sharpshooter-like skill with it. Cub had been particularly proud of the design all those years ago when they had begun to design just how Scar would fight.

“There’s… also the possibility that,” Cub trailed off looking pointedly away from Scar. Scar had a feeling where this was going.

“That what Cub?” Scar froze, his voice colder than it had been in a while. The silence that followed weighed heavily on them both, only breaking when the prosthetic legs beeped to confirm they were connected and functioning properly.

“Scar you have to understand there is a possibility that Cute Guy led you into a trap,” Cub began but Scar cut him off.

“Nope, not a chance. No way.” Scar stated shaking his head. He got up off the bed, testing his weight on the legs before moving to the door. Cub rushed in front arms thrown wide to stop him from leaving. Scar was distinctly reminded of their conversation from earlier, only now, Scar was looking down at Cub instead of up.

“Scar, you know-” Once more Scar did not listen, choosing instead to take advantage of the height and strength difference. Picking him up, Scar moved him aside. Cub squawked indignantly at the action, interrupting his tirade briefly. But that’s all that Scar needed. 

“Right now the only thing I know, Cub, is that Cute Guy saved my life yesterday. That’s a debt not easily repaid, and I will not stand here and allow you to talk badly about her. Especially when they are not here to defend themselves.” Scar walked out the door and towards one of the secret passageways that would lead him secretly out of the Heros building. 

“Scar you know-”

“It’s Hot Guy, Cub,” Hot Guy corrected over his shoulder as the door shut in Cub’s shocked face. Ignoring the pang of guilt that coursed through him, Hot Guy walked forward into the eerily yellow light tunnel.

Hot Guy didn’t bother to turn back around as he faced forward into the tunnel system. A massive spherical tunnel, with the only light coming from storm lights every six feet. It was by far the creepiest area in Upper City, and the first couple of times Hot Guy had used the tunnels he was amazed there had never been any monsters in them. Eventually, he stopped jumping at every noise penetrating from the city above, expecting it to be a monster, but he usually stayed on alert in them. 

However, today, Hot Guy's mind was otherwise occupied. 

Stomping through the underground tunnels to the opening onto 3rd Street where he could begin his patrol. After about 30 seconds, Scar did feel extremely guilty about snapping at Cub like he had. It wasn’t like him to just, snap like that. Deep down he knew that it wasn’t Cub’s fault, and on any other occasion, Scar would never. 

Cub had been to hell and back with Scar. Always there, believing in his dream and creating the very legs he stood on. 

Yet, Scar yelled at him. 

For Cute Guy. 

Pausing in the ambient tunnel, Scar considered what this meant. Could Cub have been right? Not about the buildings collapsing, Scar knew there was no one else he could blame for that other than himself. Yet, since the very moment they had appeared, they seemed to occupy Scar’s every thought. Moving to the side, Hot Guy released a sigh and leaned against the slopping wall. 

They knew she was powerful… was it possible though? And why? What possible motive could she have had to put them both in danger?

Scar shook his head of the thoughts. All of that was assuming Cute Guy meant some sort of harm, and Scar’s very soul seemed to reject the very notion that Cute Guy was the enemy. 

“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same." 

Scar couldn’t remember where that saying had come from, but from some deep recess of his mind, it came to him now. 

Was that it then?

Hot Guy's eyes widened underneath his visor as his breathing picked up. Leaning against the curved wall of the tunnel, he tried to calm down. He knew he liked the avian, but this, this wasn’t just a crush. Hot Guy had crushes before ever meeting the hybrid, but all of those seemed to pale in comparison to whatever Scar was feeling now. Hot Guy wasn’t even sure if love was enough to encompass this overwhelming feeling.

A hole that Scar hadn’t even realized was there, suddenly filled. 

Scar felt whole. 

“Shit,” 

The word seemed to reverberate in the eerie silence of the tunnel and startled a laugh from Hot Guy. He had never been one to let out explicit language, usually it was when he was trying to say another word entirely, but that one felt deserved all things considered. 

Hot Guy pushed his visor up and pinched his eyes shut. 

“Okay, then,” 

Pushing himself up off the wall, Hot Guy smirked to himself as he reopened his eyes. Clearly, there was something else going on, and Hot Guy was willing to bet Cute Guy knew all about it. Scar believed the moon would crash into the planet before he actually got answers from the hybrid.

That was okay though, Hot Guy took pleasure in never really knowing what was going on. Everything happens as it will. Resigning himself to at least apologize to Cub for the way he had acted, Hot Guy pushed himself off of the wall. 

Continuing down the hallway, Hot Guy whistled to himself, to pass the time. After what felt like a millennium, Hot Guy reached the exit door. Camouflaged into the side of the tunnel, there was a faint indention. It was only after using this exit a million times, Hot Guy was able to remember where the cover for the keypad was. 

Slipping the cover off of the keypad, Hot Guy entered the password 02192011, waiting just a moment to hear the beep of confirmation, Hot Guy slid the cover back on and watched as the door opened up. Revealing a dark basement, Hot Guy poked his head through the entranceway to check for anything. 

Seeing no one, Hot Gut exited the tunnel completely, not bothering to turn to watch the door soundlessly close behind him. Forcing the new revelations into the corner of his mind to be dealt with on the walk home from the tunnel, Hot Guy bounded up the stairs that would lead to the ground floor and another staircase that could lead up to the roof. 

When looking for a being that can fly, best do it from a vantage point. 

Hot Guy shoved the metal door open to the roof. Hot Guy whistled as he walked, some tune he couldn’t remember where he had heard, and casually surveyed the sky. 

The empty skyline. 

Releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, Hot Guy sighed in disappointment. Placing his hands on his hips, Scar stared at the concrete and tile on the building. Quickly checking the sky once more, just to make sure he hadn’t blinked and missed the hybrid, Hot Guy was met with the same empty blue. 

Sighing again, the sky turned his gaze down to face the city streets properly. While it was fairly uncommon for him to spot Cute Guy this early, Hot Guy never stopped trying to spot him the second he hit the streets. Scar couldn’t even be sure that she would show up today- she had taken a massive hit yesterday. Who knows how long she’d be out of commission? That was probably the part Scar hated the most. The not knowing, and having no way to check on them. Besides, until then there was always the view. The city skyline had long been one of Hot Guy’s favorites- even before meeting Cute Guy. The tall skyscrapers of the city proper were exhilarating to traverse, and so far up, some of the noise from down below was dampened. It was one of the few places that didn’t remind him of just how enclosed they were. At least until he saw the edges of the wall. Calling it a wall was a bit of an overstatement. The entire thing worked as a large circle, extending 50 miles from one side to the other. Within it, nearly 1.5 million people lived and worked. 

Normally, humans weren’t able to see the wall from the city center, but Hot Guy’s glasses allowed him to see the base of it from his position at the center's edge. No matter where you were within the city, the walls extended so far up they were impossible to not notice. Always serving as a reminder. 

The population was a record high, and of course, many people were concerned with just how they were going to continue to sustain themselves. Food shortages had begun to grow for the poorer communities, and more and more people were finding themselves without. It had led to many people returning to the Old Religion- as if all of this were a punishment from the Gods. Or perhaps they just hoped they could grant their disciples a larger cage. 

It was no wonder many people viewed Cute Guy as either a harbinger of doom or the last hope for change. Although, for most, it was the former. Speaking of thought, Hot Guy was reminded of his self-discovery within the tunnel.

It was almost insulting just how bad Hot Guy had let his feelings get before he even recognized them, but he had shoved that revelation to when he could complain to Jellie about it, and have her judge him. 

As is the cycle of having a cat. 

Acknowledging the fact that Cute Guy did not want to make a bright and dazzling appearance, Hot Guy resigned himself to a boring patrol. Sometimes, Hot Guy wondered why the Heros needed to patrol so frequently. Between 40 heroes, they split the shits into four with 10 heroes working per shift. No hero was allowed to abandon their post before they had met and briefed the arriving hero. 

Hot Guy could see this as necessary if the city was wracked with crime. But other than the occasional monster, the worst thing Hot Guy seemed to encounter was purse snatchers and handsy civilians. Every once in a while it was a house fire, but even that was rare.

Hot Guy could also see that the number and steps made sense if the heroes were weak and required backup. Yet, Hot Guy knew that was not the case either. The other Heros were strong, some stronger than Hot Guy. 

So, why this patrol schedule? 

Maybe it was just to make the civilians feel better, was the best guess Hot Guy had been able to come up with. Though, it wasn’t like Hot Guy would ever know for sure. It wasn’t like the Hero Association was rushing to explain their decisions. Hot Guy was expected to be a good Hero- a good soldier- and not raise those types of questions.

Taking a running start, Hot Guy leaped over to the next roof, only breaking his line of sight from the horizon to ensure he landed on the roof. He’d only ever missed once, in the early days, but the earful he had received after ensured he always at least checked. Hot Guy wasn’t really in the mood to give Cub another reason to fuss at him, upon his return to headquarters.

Hot Guy continued leaping from roof to roof as the sun descended behind the wall and coated the city in dusk. Still with no sign of Cute Guy. No sign of any monsters either, which Hot Guy wasn’t really surprised about. 

Hot Guy plopped down on the edge of a roof neck bent so he could watch the still-illuminated sky. In moments such as this, it was all he could do to wonder what the world was like without the wall. He knew realistically, it wouldn’t be this peaceful abode the citizens needed, but it would be free. Security vs freedom. Even after all these years of looking up, Hot Guy wasn’t sure which one was better. Though it did him no good to wonder, the walls were there, and it wasn’t like there was anything Hot Guy could do to get rid of them. Pretty pointless to envision a future based on something he had less than no control over. 

Huffing out a breath, Hot Guy closed his eyes and let the city ambiance run over him. 

“I think you’re getting a bit lazy over there Hot Guy,” a voice said, amusement peaking through. Startled, Hot Guy's eyes shot open to meet shrouded purple eyes. 

“AH!” Hot Guy yelled falling back to land on the roof. Cute Guy laughed as he flew forward, extending his arm to help Hot Guy off his back. 

“Ya know that’s not exactly disproving my point,” she continued to laugh as Hot Guy grabbed her hand. Using their wings, Cute Guy pulled the hero up, before softly landing next to him on the rooftop. 

“Hey, I was taking a brief moment to… listen to my surroundings,” 

“Uh-huh, and then how was I able to scare you?”

“See, I was actually just testing you… and what you might do in this … situation…” Hot Guy assured, ignoring the fire that spread across his face,” Anyways, I wouldn’t be one to start throwing around the laziness accusations Ms. Three-Hours-Late,”

“How can I be late if we didn’t have scheduled time to meet?” Cute Guy tilted her head to the side as she asked.

“Please, we both know that you’re usually out on the same days I am. I’m just your favorite like that!” Hot Guy exclaimed holding a hand under his massive grinning face. Cute Guy just stared at him blankly until Hot Guy dropped his hand down to rest on his hip. 

“Were you busy with something though?” He asked hesitantly. He knew better than anyone, that Cute Guy didn’t share personal information. Yet, today, something seemed off. On the surface, Cute Guy looked the same as he always did, but Hot Guy could tell the difference. His wings seemed puffed up more, and the darkness obscuring his eyes seemed to be dripping further down. Even the shade of his eyes seemed to be a deeper purple than usual. Wherever they had been, clearly something had happened.

Instead of a response though, Cute Guy sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Hot Guy couldn’t help but track the movement, only noticing as her hand dropped back down, subtle shaking of her fingers. Turning around she faced the direction of the setting sun. Hot Guy couldn’t help but glance down at his wings. After all, it had only been yesterday since the buildings collapsed, one glance and Hot Guy couldn’t see a single mark on either her wings or back. It was like all evidence of the event was erased. Expect, of course, the still destroyed area in the city. 

“I can feel your eyes, Hot Guy. What is it?” 

“There’s not a single mark from yesterday.” Hot Guy murmured without thought, so focused on Cute Guy's back it would have been impossible for him to miss the tensing of her back. 

“And?” Cute Guy questioned tersely, their wings seeming to puff up even more. Hot Guy may not have studied birds, or animals for that matter, but he knew Cute Guy. Something was wrong.

Scar shook himself out of his mini trance. Nothing good would come from scaring her off, because he was incapable of making conversation like a normal person. 

“I’m just glad that my mistake didn’t leave permanent damage. Don’t know if I’d been able to forgive myself for that one,” Hot Guy said turning his gaze from his back towards the skyline once more, not wanting to overwhelm her any more than he already had. For whatever reason, Hot Guy seemed to be fumbling every social interaction today. 

“You’re too full of yourself, Pretty Boy,” 

Hot Guy froze the words echoing in his ear.

Pretty Boy

Be still my beating heart.

Hot Guy fought in silence against the rising heat in his cheeks. Cute Guy leaned over the railing- staring out over the city. With his back to him still, Hot Guy realized something. He moved to lean beside the vigilante. Resting his back against the railing, he turned his gaze directly skyward.

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“I mean that was one, but I suppose I can afford you another.”

“How do you- ya know hide your… features?” Hot Guy fumbled, wincing as he did so. Eloquently said. He really should have planned this out better, Cute Guy was already in no mood to talk about personal things, and Hot Guy himself hadn’t exactly proved himself to be an expert off conversation today.

Cute Guy didn’t respond. Didn’t even acknowledge the question. Hot Guy allowed the silence for a moment before his mouth moved again. No matter how old he got, Hot Guy always felt the need to keep talking when he got uncomfortable.

“I mean, I know that hybrids are based on animals or monsters I guess,” Cute Guy tensed at that but Hot Guy pushed on, “But I can’t think of a single creature with fluffy pink wings.” 

Cute Guys hands tensed around the railing, before he smirked up at him, “Like I’d tell you, Cop.” Hot Guy smiled back, before realizing something. In all the years he’d been a Hero there was something he hadn’t thought about before.

“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever even seen another hybrid with wings.” It wasn’t a question, and Cute Guy glared at him in response. 

Abort.

Abort.

Abort.

For a moment tense silence passed. 

“And?” Cute Guy said tersely. It wasn’t a question. 

“I just meant…”

“No, please, please continue to tell me how as an expert on all things monstrous and you’ve not seen a monster like me before. Please continue to fish for your beloved Hero’s Association, information about the new threat till they know how to kill it! Did they tell you to ask that? Is that why you’ve been pretending to be nice to me?” Cute Guy shouted, letting go of the railing and jabbing his finger into his chest. Hot Guy backed up from the accusation raising to wave his hands in front of him.

“No, Cute Guy that’s not-”

“Not what? Not exactly what you’re doing right now?”

“I’ve known you for nearly a year now! And I know almost nothing about you in all that time. I just wanted-” Hot Guy persisted, but it was clear Cute Guy was no longer listening. 

“CG, I wouldn’t share what you tell me with them, I just wanted to know more about you and-” 

“And what? To sate your curiosity on the monsters you people hate?” Cute Guy's wings puffed up more, her eyes radiated a deeper purple, and Hot Guy could swear her irises made some sort of shape, as the darkness around his eyes grew larger. It creaked down his cheeks in streamlike rivers. 

Like tears, Hot Guy realized. 

“Cute Guy I -” 

“No, no, clearly this was all a mistake,” Cute Guy said hollowly, her face entirely blank, “Goodbye, Hot Guy.” Cute Guy turned and rose into the air. A weight fell in Hot Guy's stomach as a chill passed through his entire body. 

“Wait!” Hot Guy lept forward grabbing her hand before she would fly off. As he did, a burning sensation went through his body from his hand. Glancing down at his hand grasping hers, he noticed some deep purple-like smoke emitting from their joined hands. 

Burning him he realized.

Cute Guy looked down as if only now realizing the smoke. Roughly, Cute Guy retracted their hand staring down at the escaping smoke still emitting from his now open palm. Hot Guy didn’t spare a glance at his own before trying to grab Cute Guy once more, uncaring of the new wound, so long as she didn’t leave him. 

“Please, I didn’t mean-” but Hot Guy knew Cute Guy wasn’t listening. Instead, she stared at Hot Guy's hand, the one that had previously grabbed her. Glancing down, Hot Guy realized the glove covering his palm had burnt away, leaving deep red marks ingrained in the skin there. Hot Guy barely felt it- training had left most of the nerves practically numb. He was fairly sure he could reach into boiling oil and only feel it on his wrists. But Cute Guy didn’t know that. Glancing back up, Hot Guy watched as Cute Guy backed further away, before hovering over the edge of the roof, just out of reach. All Hot Guy could do was watch as the black marks dragged further down his face, reaching her jaw.

“I’m sorry,” Cute Guy brokenly whispered, almost looking through Hot Guy as if seeing something else in his place. Her eyes vacantly stared just to the left of Hot Guy's face, horror and grief etched deeply in her expression. It was almost more heartbreaking than the previous vacant look.

Hot Guy opened his mouth to try and fix what he did wrong, but before he could, Cute Guy turned and disappeared in the blink of an eye. Hot Guy stared at the space in the air that had just been occupied before falling to sit on the roof. 

So, in total, Hot Guy had been short to his childhood friend for insinuating that his crush was actually evil. Not great. Then he turned around and called said crush a monster when they were clearly already upset. Rubbing a hand over his face, Hot Guy let out a low groan.

“Great job, Hot Guy. Really one of our better days of social interactions,”

[livingdeadmlm]

Hey dude do you do yandere/possesive fics? And if you do can you do one about Skwisgaar x male reader lol💀🙈

Gets NSFW but not all the way, he gets a tad freaky with the branding kloakateers go through, also slight power play.

Very much implied that you the reader like him as well but I wasn’t able to represent that well, also I'm working on being more descriptive.

After going through so much in the last few days when he got a semblance of normalcy with you he refused to let go. You began to work for the band as any old kloakateer nothing made you stand out, especially with the basic uniform you all wore. The only thing that made you stick out was how often Skwisgaar wanted you to help him. So much so that whenever he called out for help no one else would make a move if you were on shift.

One thing about the job was you weren’t to take your cloak off around the members, it was to remain on for some odd reason Nathan came up with years prior. You assumed that it was because they wanted to distance themselves from you guys due to the death rate the job came with. However, this did not stop the blond from remembering you and begging to see your face attempting to lift your mask now and then. He would relentlessly flirt with you and use whatever power he has over you to have you become his kloakateer being in charge of standing outside of his door for most of your shifts. He’d be purposely not wearing much clothes any time he’d need you for something which was very often knowing him. He would play it off but being so pale the redness in his face was clear across the rest of his body.

At one point he was able to convince you to be in his room at night, which you were resistant to due to the guests he has every night but they seemingly came less and less often. It completely stopped when you gave in to sleeping in his bed with him. What better way to protect him? At least that’s what he said to convince you. However each night he held you close tucking himself into your arms head resting under your chin. You began to enjoy the attention, especially the perk of getting paid to sleep for most of your shift. At some point, he discovered your name, and he’d sing it across the large mansion-like building they lived in. On tour, you’d never be far as he demanded you always be close.

He’d refuse the other members from asking you for things, they will do it to annoy him and it truly gets under his skin when you agree to make the others a quick snack or run an errand for them. Fans of the band would attempt to hit on any kloakateer in an attempt to sleep their way to the band which made his blood boil. To see women and men alike press against you even for a brief moment. It made him feel helpless on stage to watch other men press against you like it was some sort of club and they wanted to take you home. They were taking you away from him as he performed on stage. Skwisgaar pulled you into his dressing room, long hair pulled into a ponytail as his makeup dried. He pushed his body flush against yours, hands running up your torso and resting on your chest. Your own hands rested on his hips as he began to speak.

"Lifts yours kloak." Your hands didn't dare move, though you guys have been in this intense relationship for almost a year you still abided by the contract of your job and refused to remove it. Your eyes being slightly visible through the mesh mask stared him down. He groaned lifting his hand to bring the cloak up to reveal your neck, and just like that he launched his attack on you. Bitting and stucking on any exposed skin he could reach. He pulled you in by the back of your neck feeling the scar left over that you had gotten just like every other kloakateer. The scar has long since healed but his cold hands grazing the raised skin on your neck.

It meant you were bound to the band and the contract you signed but he considered it a binding to him. You weren't going to leave but it felt now you couldn't. Your legs shook a bit as the sucking got more desperate. His moaning mixed with yours in the small room. Unconsciously his hips moved against your slow thrusts against each other felt like electricity with the biting on your neck. Your hands begin to take his shirt off in an instant he each for your belt buckle, the metal clinking gently.

A knock at the door stopped your movements but Skwisgaar kept going, tugging at your belt to get the thick pair of jeans off.

"Hey dood its like 5 minutes till show time so uh make sure you're ready."

Pickle's footsteps were muffled by the door as he walked away, Skwisgaar had an angry look on his face which made his smudged makeup look much more intentional. The hand that was once teasing your scar was already shoved in your pants as Pickles was speaking.

"Save this for whens amnst comes back." He took his hair down from the ponytail, as he made his way out of the door. You took a moment to catch your breath the feeling in your crotch practically burned and pulsated.

[sultrydxrling]

I would like a male satyr x reader please (any gender reader it's fine), and I hope that it's okay if I add some lore (it's my first ask) but I was thinking that it would take place in Camp half blood (if you write for percy Jackson if not a normal summer camp is alright as well) and reader is a child of Hermes and the satyr is a son of Dionysus and they are lovers and they plan to have their first time near the lake under the full moon (can be SFW or NSFW), thank you in advance! 😘

(8k+ NSFW; SON OF DIONYSUS/X/ANY READER- DECENT OF HERMES: INTOX/SEXOUTSIDE/ORGY/WORSHIP/

EDGING/BLOOD/ KNIFE)

Text is color-themed-

Purple is background SFW text

The green background is for the horny stuff, so if you want to skip down you can.

EACH CHARACTER GETS THEIR OWN DIALOGUE COLOR, THE COLORR MIGHT BE REUSED IF A CHARACTOR LEAVES.

(I'm not sure if I do camp half-blood because I dont plan on doing more research than I already have to to make the characters. However, the thing will be heavily based on the same rules and dynamics)

___________________________________________________

You and your single father lived in a rural town smack in the middle of Georgia, and your life was very comfortable, considering your father was very good at his job and was paid well for it. He worked at the local newspaper warehouse, printing the news on thin sheets of paper to be read by the few people who still picked them up from the local grocery stores.

But, what he loved most was writing them, which he was able to do on the side. He would submit beautiful stories that would always make the first and second pages, even if it was hidden in a small corner.

He was a very enthusiastic and creative man named Samual, but of course, everyone called him Sam or Sammy, and occasionally, his work buddies would call him Uncle Sam.

For him, it was because he was always fighting for people's rights and what was just.

As American Uncle Sam should've, instead of swallowing young boys and girls and spitting them into the system that churned them out to their muddy, camo demises.

One night, it was raining, and you and your father were sitting quietly, doing your own separate little tasks. You were reading a Greek book about poetry and the many philosophers in the period, while he was working on an article for the following day.

You usually read books in any other language due to your dyslexia. Greek and other languages had always come to you naturally, the letters spinning and weaving themselves into something you could read, even though English was not as simple.

The letters would dance off of the page as you tried to decipher them until the inconvenience reached a point where you decided to have your teachers print things out in Spanish for you.

Your dad walked over closer to you, snapping you out of your imagination's adventures, and moved from the couch to the armchair across from yours, both of you now next to the cold area of the rain-soaked window.

"Hey, kiddo. i need to talk to you about something."

"Yeah sure, whats up?"

You slipped your bookmark into the pages and set it aside to give him your full attention. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as he stared at the ground uncomfortably.

Your brows furrowed.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen to Daniel?"

Your first thought jumped to the fear of his best friend getting hurt at work. He looked sad and so lost. You'd only seen this when your father was grieving something.

"No... It's about your birth father."

He looked up to meet your eyes, and you couldn't help but laugh a little and gesture to him, up and down with your hand palm-side up.

"uhm?"

He smiled softly and rolled his eyes. He unbuttoned his flannel button down and opened the two sides, exposing two small scars, now well healed with time under his pecks.

"The one who helped make you. I gave burth to you after I had already had my top surgery, and soon after you were born, I had a full histerectomy, which removed all of the interior female organs, then bottom surgery. I'm still paying those bastards back for the medical bills."

He laughed softly as he buttoned up his shirt.

You sat there, pondering. You wondered if this really changed anything. You'd always questioned who your mom was, but your father was kind and good enough for you not to hold onto it so much. You had asked, but not gotten much of an explanation except-

'when you're older. I promise.'

You were older now.

"what im going to say, might not make any sense, and that's okay. But I received something in the mail today."

He slipped You a pamphlet. The title read

'Ἱερός Λόχος, Hierós Lókhos'

You could read this as 'Sacred Band of Thebes'. Then beneath that, you assumed it was the same thing but in English, which you couldn't read very well.

Your eyes sifted through the pamphlet, greek and English scattered about the pages, describing a camp for those who are born of gods, blessed blood, and warrior training. There were mentions of 'finding purpose' in this place, you looked up at your father and laughed.

"What is this? some prank? C'mon- Dad. I wasn't accepted to hogwarts. Someone is pulling our legs."

"Your father was Hermes."

He blurted, but he was serious, his voice was steady and unenthusiastic. He obviously thought he was telling the truth.

"Okay so a crack head got you pregnant and claimed to be hermes then what- disappeared to float away to the clouds? do you have any idea how rediculous that sounds?"

He rolled his eyes softly.

"What do you know about Hermes, (Y/N). Just tell me, I'll connect thee dots."

You sighed but decided to entertain him.

"Hermes, god of travel, messanger of the gods."

"You never stop writing, and reading, and you've always yearned to walk and travel to unknown places. the road trips we've been on have always left you hungry for more."

You ignored him and kept going.

"Speed, trickory, and charm."

He cut in once more.

"You've spent your whole life, pranking me and your friends, though light-heartedly. You joined track as soon as you could and are one of the fastest runners. You make friends so easily and have been told multiple times by family and friend, aswell as partners that you're exceptionally charming."

Dots were being connected. But you still didn't, no- didn't want to believe it.

"That doesn't prove much..."

"(Y/N). What would be the purpose of lying to you? There's no reason for me to. Your father came back to visit when I was pregnant with you and explained things to me, before leaving you and me in the dust."

Wow, he'd clearly been holding onto that for a while. This also felt like a knife in your gut. It might make sense, but how would this be proven? You didn't understand what kind of powers you would truly have even if this was true.

"Maybe you could go for a little while and come home to visit. See if you enjoy it, I think you would. Test your limits, have an adventure and some fun."

His voice broke slightly and his eyes began to water and you rushed over to hug him.

"If you want me to, I guess it couldn't hurt.."

You decided it might be fun. And worst case, they'd find out you weren't a god's child by whatever weird blood test technology they might have to figure it out.

Your dad helped you pack your things, and within the week, he took you to Long Island, where you would meet all of the other children who claimed to be of 'godly decent'.

The car ride was fifteen miserable hours, you and your dad taking turns as he thought you the road. You would get your permit soon but have been holding off as long as possible due to a bad accident when you were small.

One morning, on your way to school, a small country intersection was busy with early morning activity.

On the left-hand side, there was a line of cars waiting to turn, and your dad couldn't see very well. The first driver in the left-hand lane waved for him to pull out into the lane. Just as the nose of the car entered the intersection, a drunk driver sped by and collided with your dad's car, causing it to do a full 180-degree spin.

For two minutes, you couldn't hear anything because of the airbags, and to this day, you still hear ringing in your left ear.

You and your father took shifts driving until He drove past a sign that said 'The strawberry fields', at which point your Dad made a slight u-turn and parked on the side of the road.

"Alright, little britches. Let's go."

That was a sweet nickname he'd always called you, very Southern, even though all it meant was 'small pants', a child's nickname.

You stood and grabbed your things, pausing your music, and slipped your phone into your pocket. He led you down a small game trail into the woods, and just when you assumed that the two of you were lost, you approached a wooden archway.

'Sacred Band of Thebes'

Was carved into the larger wooden banister in Greek.

Your dad smiled and hugged you tightly.

"Hey kiddo.. be safe okay? and i dont think your phone works in there so, try to write home every day."

You could hear his throat closing up softly as he tried to choke out his goodbyes, inevitably not expecting this kind of goodbye till college. You had graduated a few years ago but hadn't found a college that felt very- you.

"I will dad."

You laughed a little as your nose burned with tears.

"I love you, (Y/N). You're my everything."

You jumped on him and hugged him closely, and he squeezed the air out of you. You loved his bear hugs and would miss them.

"Walk me in?"

He nodded and walked a ways behind you as you crossed the archway. You felt a soft rush of happiness, of safety and comfort, and then you heard a soft, warped thud. You turned to see your dad with his hand on an invisible wall and could almost see his heart clutch in his chest. You walked over to him and gave him another hug, hot tears pouring out of your eyes. You took in his scent, and he smelled like firewood, weed, and home.

"I'll write to you every day i promise. With dates and everything!"

You sobbed softly and he helped you dry your tears. You heard a soft twig snap behind you and turned to see a boy with cocoa-colored skin, about your age leaning around the wooden pole that held up the banner.

You waved at him and he stood just behind the barrier, smiling. He had a small gap in his teeth that made him look very sweet. You tried to wipe your face some more to make yourself more presentable, then pushed forward into the barrier. You looked back at your father, for the last time for a while, and waved.

He waved back and watched you walk into the camp, which you could now see was humming with activity, many kids doing some sort of military training, though they were dressed like Greek warriors from The Gladiator.

The boy you'd seen earlier hopped in front of you joyfully. His bright blonde coils bounced and glinted in the sun, even overcast, he seemed to glow.

You felt a slight tingle in your cheeks as he smiled at you and you looked down to see his legs, he was a satyr.

"WOAH!"

You blurted out as you looked down to investigate him. He took a confused step back, and you remembered your manners.

"Sorry- ive just never seen- a real life satyr- you look so cool..."

He smiled proudly once he heard this and pranced around a little, putting on a show for you. This made you laugh as he made all sorts of ridiculous 'strong man poses' and those of the old glory days of men in ponytails standing with one foot on a rock, looking to their destiny.

"Yo!, Im Hadrian."

He held his hand out for you to shake, and you took it happily. His hand was very soft as he gripped yours. You couldn't keep your eyes off his bright green ones.

"Hey, I'm (Y/N)."

"Neet, Who's your godly parent?"

He tilted his head slightly to the left as he looked over you. It seemed as though he was trying to guess before you spoke.

"My father says Hermes."

He looked a little confused off to the side.

"Fa-?"

"It's complicated. I'll explain later."

You cut him off and laughed a little. He accepted this and nodded.

"So- how do we know where we're staying?"

"If you know your godly parent is Hermes, probably that cabin over there- there's only one other kid there, but he's pretty cool. So you should get along fine. C'mon, I'll take you over there."

You picked up your things and followed him along the gravel path to the cabin. It had a dark wood-paneled exterior with emerald green window shutters.

As you wandered closer, a loud clattering came from the inside. You leaned up to see if you could look in the windows. Things were being thrown around, and kids were jumping at each other, wrestling, and laughing.

This immediately made you feel at home, all of the chaos made sense to you, and you wondered why they were there.

"I thought you said there was only one other kid? "

The boy shrugged,

"These are the kids who are of godly decent but haven't been claimed at the campfire to get placed properly. Most grow out of the Hermes cabin and into their own to get sorted into their godly parent's cabin. Until then, this is where they stay. Some of them just managed to wobble their way into the camp, maybe ran away from home. But they were able to get in so- clearly weren't human.

They're the only family they have."

This punched you in the gut. You'd always grown up around people with siblings and seemed to make them a part of your family as well, so you were excited to see where this adventure would take you.

Hadrian led you to the door and knocked, louder clangs rang out as many young faces pushed their way to the door, looking through the stained glass window on the front door.

An older boy made his way between the smaller kids, gently pushing them out of the way of the door.

Hadrian spoke up.

"Another blood kid, they're cool so I think you'll get along with them. Also-"

He gently punched you on the arm as he walked away.

"Meet me down by the lake in abiut and hour once you've gotten settled in. There should be a counciler around to come give you a tour."

He walked away, leaving you with the boy on the other side of the door, and he opened it, scooping the children behind it back a couple of inches.

"So. You're my father's other kid huh?"

He grabbed your hand to shake it, his grip firm but his face almost expressionless.

"I'm Jayce. And you are?"

"Oh, I'm (Y/N)"

You offered a polite smile that he shrugged off and he began to walk away. You assumed you needed to follow him, so you did.

"You get top bunk, I don't feel like climbing all the time so, there you go. You can use that dresser for your things, it's empty because I don't have alot of stuff, most of my stuff is in it's own little shed outside of the cabin. Don't ever go into my shed please, that's your only real rule."

You tried to keep up with his instructions and information as he rapid-fire spat it at you. You felt like you were intruding, but then again, you supposed you were new, and he more than likely never expected to have a blood or half-blood sibling.

"The bathroom is just outside the room to the right, and you'll meet all the other kids eventually. They like to wrestle though and will try to jump on you, so be ready for that. Thankfully only one of them bites."

"Wait- which one of them bites??"

You took a double take and spaced out of the listening portion of the conversation. He just looked at you and brandishing a smirk, then as if you'd said nothing, left the room and the cabin.

"Good luck!"

He yelled on his way out. How lovely. He seemed like a basket of roses. Rotten, smelly roses.

You spent the next forty-five minutes unpacking your things into the drawer and sat your writing tools and other little things you'd brought with you under some of your clothes. You weren't sure if any of the kids had sticky hands (like to steal), but know you did when you were younger.

Once everything was packed up, you walked out of the room and decided to find your way down to the lake and see if Hadrian was there.

Besides, it wouldn't hurt to wander around the camp and try to learn where everything was. Thankfully, there were plenty of signs pointing in all directions at each small intersection of the path.

You followed the various signs that gestured to the lake, with silly little waterline squiggly next to the words. Most of the paths were dirt and fallen bark from the looming trees overhead.

Unlike the normal paths that went through the camp, there were grave walkways that led to the different cabins, though each of them seemed to be different kinds of rocks or stones.

Hades Cabin trail was a beautiful pathway of dark browns and black rocks, and you couldn't help but snag one of them.

Aphroditey's trail was filled with rose quarts and white rocks that brought out the soft pinks of the crystals, which you also nabbed one of.

You fidgeted with the rocks in your pocket and could see the lake coming into view between the tall trees, taking a small sigh of relief that you hadn't gotten lost.

Which would've been embarrassing considering what felt like hundreds of signs that practically held your hand and led you to the water's edge.

As you reached the dirt path next to the lake, you saw a cabin that overlapped the water next to a dock.

It was devoid of life, but filled with outstanding blues and the trail leading to it was full of river stones that were built into a small bridge, gently dusted over with sand.

Your curiosity piqued and drew you closer and closer to the massive building and then to the door. It was an open entryway, the many carvings in the wood filled with mermaids and fish alike. Clearly, this was Posiden's cabin.

It came in close second to the beauty of Hades's cabin, bonus points for being by the water.

You knocked only to hear the soft echo of your hand on the hollow wood, and no one answered. You stepped in and your heart lightly jumped in your chest as you heard a voice behind you.

"I see you've found Posidens cabin."

A voice interrupted the silence behind you, and you turned to see a beautiful centarian woman, a horse from the hips down, and a woman from the waist up.

Her horse half was jet black with white tufts at her ankles and was at least ten hands high alone without her top half. Her tail was the same jet black, flickering back and forth as she studied you.

She wore a chest wrap of some kind, a darker, possibly leather material that squeezed her chest to support it.

Her skin shone olive in the sun; and her deep, chestnut brown hair fell to her waist. The curls fell perfectly over her shoulders.

"Are you going to introduce yourself?"

You blinked and realized you'd likely been staring harder than was polite.

"(Y/N), are you a counselor?"

"I own this camp. My name is Lyla."

"Woah, So- is- Did posiden not have any kids? That doesn't seem very likely.."

She raised an eyebrow at you, making you almost regret the question and questioning your intelligence. It was the look of a mother who asked 'if I was seriously asking a question like that.'

"Our camp might be protected by magic, but we can't just sense if a magical child has been born. We have investigators and in each state who determan if there are any odities that travel and pay very close attention. Or, If a parent has knowledge or suspicions of a godly child, they are able to contact us via the gods themselves or a little bit of internet digging."

"Wait, The gods know about this place too?"

"Of course, That's the smartest option to ensure the children's safety. or if they are needed for any sort of war. Occasionally the parent will feel pitty enough to inform the parent of the camp. Other times, we find them, and send information to the address that is found.

As for Posiden having any children, Yes it is very unlikely that he hasn't, but we haven't found any yet, though there is some suspicion of one being close by, so keep your eyes peeled for a newcomer."

She slipped you a playful wink before you saw her look up over you as if someone was behind you. There was, Hadrian lightly tapped on your shoulder and bounced happily around in front of you.

"Miiiiss Lyla- can I be the one to show the newbie around?"

She smiled a little and waved him off.

"Alright, Just make sure you bring them by the office later so we can assign them a schedule."

He skipped around a bit and made his way back over to you. He clearly loved his legs and used them to be as springy as possible, making you smile uncontrollably.

Lyla walked away at a normal pace to finish her duties wherever she was needed, and the boy stopped in his tracks when he saw your smile. His freckles crinkled with his nose as he smiled, too.

"You uh- have a very nice smile, (Y/N)."

This made the butterflies in your stomach flutter.

"And I like the way your nose wrinkles when you smile."

You spent the rest of the day being shown around the entire camp, taking mental notes on the layout of everything. You’ve always had an excellent memory, particularly when it comes to remembering the layout of places. So, after one or two long walks, you felt confident you could recreate a map on paper. You decided it would be wise to do this in case anything unexpected occurred.

You didn't believe it could, considering how protected this place seemed to be, however, you figured you'd be better off safe than sorry.

The last stop on the tour was the office Lyla had asked Hadiran to bring you to. It was one of the largest buildings on the campgrounds, attached to the Dining hall. You only knew because of the giant sign.

This made you laugh softly. Signs everywhere. The blonde turned his head and raised his eyebrows.

"What's funny?"

He smiled again, his teeth showing. The gap in his teeth was the cutest thing you've ever seen.

"Just the signs everywhere, It would be almost impossible to get lost, and I'm not sure it's funny but it it really silly and super cool."

"Oh yeah, I think it's for the kids with any disabilities that might cause them to forget. I've never thought about it enough to ask but if I were to make an assumption, that would be it."

You hadn't thought about it, but you didn't consider that godly children could be disabled. Considering how many gods there were in the Pantheon, and they were half-human, there would be a chance.

"That's super smart and I bet those kids find it helpful."

Both of you made your way through the building, finding the counselor who would handle your schedule. It was organized by last name, corresponding with a set of last name letters to handle.

"Hello! You must be new. Im Mr. Evans. I'm assuming you have a last name that's (Letter- Letter)?"

"Yes, My name is (Y/N)"

He looked over the list on the clipboard in front of him, putting a mark next to your name and pulling a paper out of his desk drawer after sifting through some files. He handed you a slip of paper with a list of times and your schedule.

__

8:00-9:00 Breakfast – Cabin Inspection

9:00-10:30 Ancient Greek

10:30-11:00 Chores*

11:00-12:00 Battle Training

12:00-12:30 Greek Mythology

12:30-01:30 Lunch

1:30-3:30 Activity*

3:30-5:00 Chores*

5:00-6:00 Free Time

6:00-7:00 Dinner

7:00-9:00 Competition*

9:00-10:00 Campfire

10:00-11:00 Free Time

11:00 Curfew

__

Hadrian playfully snatched it out of your hand and left the room you thanked Mr. Evans and walked after the blonde.

"Yes! we have Ancient Greek and Battle training together!"

You rolled your eyes and snatched the paper back, reading over it properly now that you had it back into your grasp.

You could piece together what everything was, wondering where more of the solid curriculum classes were. This was nothing like public school, as you'd already figured out via the children of hots and sword fights just inside of the camp.

The blonde gently held your hand and led you out to the office.

"Here, I'll lead you back to your cabin, and you can get ready for dinner by the camp fire."

When he held your hand, a soft shade of red pinged in your cheeks, heat flooding your face. His hands were so soft and smelled like coconut.

You gripped his hand tightly as he led you back to your cabin. Between the tall trees, you could see the sunset bouncing off the lake, the most beautiful melted mosaic of oranges, pinks, and stunning reds.

Once you'd arrived at your cabin, Hadrian smiled at you and gently rubbed your knuckles with his thumb.

"Hey, so- tomorrow theres this uh- party that my cabin is hosting and I'd really like it if you came."

He spoke quieter and leaned closer to you.

"There's going to be herbal refreshments along with drinks…"

"Yeah, It sounds like fun. I've never been to a party before so It could be fun.."

His eyes lit up and he let go of your hand, bouncing around excitedly.

"Awesome, I'll come back to pick you up and take you to the campfire in twenty minutes."

He pranced off, jumping from hoof to hoof and you laughed to yourself before walking inside and to the back into your shared room. Jayce was nowhere to be found, so you decided to write your dad while you had a little bit of free time. You talked about your day and all of the things you'd seen and discovered. You even told him about your strange schedule.

Once you had sealed the letter and folded it into itself, you daydreamed about your home, and your dad probably tired and driving on his way home. You imagined what would happen if you could just speak to him through telepathic waves.

Why couldn't that be one of your powers? But you settled for the letter and looked down to find it shriveling to ash in your hands.

You panicked and fumbled with the ashes and pondered.

Just then, you heard a ping from your phone, which was supposed to be unusable. You dug around in your drawer to see a text from your father.

"Hey kid, I know you won't see this, but the weirdest thing just happened to me. I found a letter that it looks like you wrote in my passenger seat, it almost set my seat on fire, there's a burn mark now. I thought maybe you'd left it in here, but it's about your day. Seems like a cool power, huh? Can't wait to talk to you normally ish again."

You laughed and danced around in excitement, your phone showed no bars but you were still able to receive a text.

You send him one message at first.

"Test?"

And heard another ping.

"Yo kiddo! I thought phones didn't work?"

"I thought they didn't either. Looks like mine does, though. I'll probably just use it for pictures and maybe a text here and there though, don't want to dampen my experience."

"So, how about that burning letter huh?"

"I'm not sure what that's about. Maybe since Hermes is the messenger god? Would make sense. I gotta go though, dinner is happening soon and there's a campfire. I'll see if I can get a picture with my new friend"

"Alright, kiddo, have fun. Put my messages on mute, I might tell you about my day and you can check it at night."

"Alright talk to you later."

You slipped your phone into your back, jean Pocket, and walked to the cabin's front door.

You tripped over a small child who was lying on the ground and screamed on your way down to the wood floor.

Then you felt a surging pain strike your arm.

"Shit!"

You cried out, only to look down and see a small brunette child with their teeth sunk into your arm.

He let go after a second and laughed. Running off to one of the other rooms, all of them full of bunkbeds like your own.

You rolled your eyes and rubbed your arm, wondering if it would get infected.

You stepped outside, and Hadrian popped out from behind a wall, scaring you. You screamed and punched him in the arm on reflex.

"Ow! Jeez… I was trying to be funny. Anyway, I came to lead you to the campfire. Well- after we grab food from the dining hall."

You thought for a moment before speaking.

"So what's the point of the campfire? Does it get super cold out here or something?"

He laughed and shook his head.

"No, We give offerings to the gods. It's not enough that they're all powerful, they want to feel appreciated."

"for what- The gift of childhood abandonment issues?"

You raised your eyebrow and laughed a little. The ego of the gods wasn't shocking, but it was funny. Hadrian laughed at your statement and acknowledged it with a slight, momentary head tilt.

"Yeah- sounds about right."

Once the two of you arrived at the dining hall and picked out everything you'd wanted, the satyr led you to a huge bonfire. It must've been the size of a master bedroom.

It had to be and seemed to grow even bigger as you stepped closer, towering over you and the rows of split logs that the kids lined. This reminded you of home, bonfires with your dad, smoking stolen joints by yourself in front of the flames as the smoke filled your nostrils.

God damn it, you missed weed.

You sat your phone down in your spot, picked a seat directly in front of the fire, then walked up and looked at Hadrian for guidance on how much of your food went into the fire. He scraped a relatively small portion and gently flicked it into the fire, seemingly scared a flame would snatch him up if he dared to step any closer.

This made you giggle and you scraped your food into the fire and sat back down where your phone was, slipping it back into one of your pockets.

"Why do you have your phone? I thought they didn't work."

"Mine does, and besides, even if they 'didn't work' I'd still like to take pictures. For example-"

You held up your phone and leaned on his shoulder long enough to snap a quick picture. His face turned reddish purple, and he froze up lightly, his expression now caught on camera forever.

You looked over the picture and smiled.

"you're cute when you blush"

You mocked him softly under your breath, and as he heard it, his ears turned down slightly in embarrassment.

"Shut up-"

You chuckled and the both of you enjoyed your dinner. You kept sneaking peaks at Hadrien to see his cheeks still dark as he likely replayed those moments over again in his head.

Once dinner was done, he walked you back to your cabin. As you two were walking, his hand softly bumped into you, then carefully slipped into yours.

First, your pinkies gently touched, sending a shiver up through your arm as he carefully linked his pinky with yours. Throughout the walk, your hands slipped together and gripped tightly.

He stood with you by your door and ran his thumb over your hand. The memory struck you and you snapped out of your romantic daze.

"So- when is the party tomorrow?"

"Oh- It's really early in the morning so- it's almost tonight. you're going to want to rest beforehand definately."

He laughed nervously.

"So- what time?"

"Oh- 2 Am."

This struck you as odd, but you figured it wouldn't hurt too bad. You'd just take a nap and set an alarm on your phone. You gently snuck a kiss on the cheek from the other and disappeared behind the cabin door.

"See you then-"

you ran to your room, now checking to make sure you didn't step on the teeth trap that was on the ground previously climbed up the bunk letter, and threw yourself into your bed, giggling softly.

At first, you thought it was just the initial butterflies of a crush until you felt your hands slipping between your legs to free yourself from your pants, and then to your underwear.

Your mind slipped into a soft fuzzy imaginative world, Hadrian slipping his hand down the front of your underwear and gently rubbing from your genitals to your hole, back and forth to grant you more stimulation.

You rubbed yourself in your beloved satyr's place, gasping quietly as you felt yourself leaking cum already. You'd never touched yourself thinking of anyone before him, but now all you could think about was his soft, coconut-scented hands groping and playing with you.

You thought of his lips and tongue venturing over your sensitive neck, then down to your shoulder and back up to just behind your ear. One of his hands slipped around your neck, squeezing softly. This pushed you further and further into your fantasy.

Hadrian rubbed you faster, teasing your throbbing, desperate hole which was now wet from your cum. His warm breath was against your neck as his blonde curls rested against your cheek.

You imagined him keeping hold of your throat and pulling you back to look at him, into his beautiful bright green eyes staring into yours with desperation, seemingly needing your pleasure to get off himself.

You could almost feel his boner against your back as he touched you, you could sense your orgasm pooling in your stomach, traveling through your groin and spinning in all of the right places.

Hadrian's lips crashed into yours a couple of times until you were breathing against each other's mouths needily. He moved between your legs and lubricated his fingers with your wetness before saving two of them into your hole.

You were now using both of your hands to please yourself, lying on your back and panting like a dog in heat. You fingered yourself with one hand, the other rubbing yourself vigorously, until finally,y the sweet release overtook you, you came harshly, and your cum coated your stomach and thighs as you rode out your orgasm.

After the fireworks, your vision was blurry for a second. You took a moment to catch your breath before cleaning yourself and everything else up.

(Keep going there's more porn <3)

You used your tee shirt from the day to wipe away the mess, then checked the time on your phone. It was already one AM? How long have you been distracted? Nonetheless, you needed to get ready.

You changed into a comfortable pair of shorts and a different teeshirt that lightly hugged your body. You quickly applied deodorant and cologne with a spritz of a citrus perfume that complimented the other smells.

You decided to go ahead and head out, grabbing your phone and once again tucking it into one of your pockets and leaving the room. Everyone else was asleep, and Jayce was still nowhere to be seen. You found this weird but figured he was possibly exploring himself as you were but with more privacy- lucky shed-having bastard.

You tried to remember which godly parent was Hadrian's, then associated the partying with Dyonisis, and began walking in the direction of his cabin, figuring you could meet him there or on the way to yours.

Once you arrived at the cabin, which was relatively large and tent-shaped, you wondered how you would alert the people you were there. You didn't see anywhere to knock and were nervous about just barging in. Thankfully, Hadiran ducked out of the tent carefully with two drinks in hand.

His eyes lit up and he pushed one of the cups into your hand.

"Hey! you're early, I was just on my way to come get you. Come on in."

You took a sip and immediately caught the taste of vodka and- maybe Sprite or some sort of off-brand, clear, citrus soda. This however was very tasty and you made sure to drink slow, but still drank it fast enough to show interest in the alcohol.

Hadrian gently held the tent flap open to let you slip under, and once he entered and it closed behind you, you realized how well-insulated the tent was. This shocked you, only because you'd assumed the tent would be almost blowing over in the wind or chilly or cool from the night air, but it was a relatively cool temperature. As you looked around, there were wooden beams, floors, and supports all around the large structure holding it upright.

There were large, circular couches and conversation pits, all of them covered with fluffy pillows and blankets. The fabric for the couches was a multicolored fabric that would look tacky anywhere else but here. There was a fireplace in front of one of the conversation pits, and many different kinds of furniture spread all over.

You couldn't help but notice the odd shapes of some of the leather furniture, imagining people just like to lay on it and sit in strange ways.

There weren't that many people, but in the opposite area of the fireplace-having a conversation pit was a large semi-circle couch with a beautiful sun-themed rug beneath it.

The people who graced the fabric all seemed to be glowing, all of their skin, no matter what color, having a soft hue of pink littered around their bodies.

"Where do you want to sit?"

The satyr beamed and walked around you, surveying the tent. You gestured to the glowing individuals.

"They look like nice people."

"Well, nice is one way tto put it. they're the children of aphrodite, so- I think we'd better go with 'Crazily flirrty and horny beyond all reason.' "

You laughed and said out loud, which you hadn't meant to sound so eager.

"Sounds like fun- Let's go-"

you dragged Hadrian over to the group and pointed at a spot next to them.

"Hi! Do you mind if we sit with you guys?"

Hadrian stood shyly behind you and the group looked at each other, exchanging smiles as they took in both of your features. A man who, in the light, you could now see was glittery as well as beautiful said,

"Of course, please.. come sit in the middle. We'd all love to get to know you"

You excitedly took your seat and pulled your satyr friend to sit with you.

Within the hour, more and more people showed up to the party and many brought drugs, weed, alcohol, and other fun refreshments. By this time you were halfway through your cup and it seemed to keep refilling.

Soon enough, a bong was being passed along the couch you were sitting on with your new friends, and after a few hits, you began to lean a little against the taller, olive-skinned man who'd invited you to the group.

He smiled down at you with his pink-dusted cheeks and slipped his arm around you.

"Did you notice it's getting alittle warm in here?"

He cooed at you softly.

"Oh- kind-of. I thought it was just because I was high."

Without you noticing, Hadrian had ended up in the lap of a fair-skinned woman, her thick, coily black hair slipping down her shoulders and hips. She was gently massaging his groin until his erection lightly poked out of his slit.

"What's your name- mysterious stranger?"

You giggled softly and he pulled you into his lap to straddle his lap. His bulge rested lightly against your privates in a delightful, comfortable way.

"My name is Eliza, and i have a fun little fact for you, pet. When the children of Aphrodite sweat, our skin releases pharamones basen on our emotions. Right now- Im feeling- very turned on by you…"

The boldness of his words brought a hue of red to your cheeks, and you began lightly grinding against him without much control over your own body. Your hands slipped up over his chest and to his curly, chestnut brown hair.

He groaned and wrapped his arms around you, moving his hips with yours.

Hadrian grew more erect as he watched your interactions with the other, the girl who pleased him whispering teases into his ear, lightly mocking him for enjoying watching you get off from another person.

The other people surrounding you took to each other, kissing and groping desperately for one another.

At some point, your and everyone else clothes had been discarded onto the floor by the couch. Eliza held your hips and adjusted his leaking shaft against your hole, pressing lightly against it. His length slipped in easily as you'd been working your fingers in it earlier that night.

The dark-haired woman had bent over facing you and your current fuck buddy, her ass in the air as Hadrian pushed himself into her. He imagined it was you, pretending her warmth was yours enveloping him as he slipped in.

You looked over at him, watching as he stared at you hungrily.

As the two of you watched each other, you found yourself right on the edge of orgasm, Eliza slamming lightly into what felt like your guts as he moved.

Your moans were uncontrollable and loud enough that a few people moved to your space just to watch the show.

Your hole clenched tightly around the dark-haired man's shaft, and he leaned foward and groaned to your ear as he wrapped his arms around you and ground into you desperately.

You screamed out as you came, the spark seemed stronger than when you were touching yourself alone. Eliza whimpered softly as he worked himself over the edge, pulling out as he came on your chest and thighs.

He panted, and you gently rolled off of him, laying your head on his thigh with your legs along the sofa.

You looked down the couch to Hadrian who examined your body and pulled out of the dark-haired woman. He made his way over to you and between your legs and your lips crashed together.

Immediately, hands were groping and touching every inch of the other's body, as if you were digging for his soul through his skin.

He slipped into you and his breath shuddered as he mumbled about how warm you were, his pointed tip pressed gently against your cervix as you wrapped around him, holding him and his knot against your hole.

Both of you began to move your hips, you moving yours faster to encourage Hadiran to speed up.

You slipped your fingers into his blonde curls and gripped them softly.

"Please be rough with me…do bad things to me.."

He was huffing softly as he moved, his thrusting becoming closer to that of a rabid dog. Hadrian slipped his hand up your chest to your throat, gripping softly as he sounded into you.

His tip kept beating up your cervix, there was a threat to fill it, and you wanted him to.

All you could think about was him knotting and filling you. You wrapped your arms tightly around him and sank your nails into his back, and he groaned into your ear as you pulled, almost tearing skin.

He began to whimper as he throbbed against your walls, clearly coming close to orgasm.

"Come in me- Hadrian-knot me.. breed me.."

You grunted softly into his ear and you clenched around his cock.

He gripped your throat even tighter and cut off your air completely calling out your name softly as he thrusted and finally plunged himself as far into you as possible.

He locked his knot in you as he spewed thick, hot cum in what felt like your stomach.

"Yes!!" Fuck!!"

You came harshly over yourself and him both, the other people surrounding you giggled softly.

"You two are adorable together.. I think they'll make it out of the party.. Hey.. do you think we should show them -'THE' room? Goat boy here looks like he would love it."

The others nodded in unison and gestured for us to get up. You barely remembered that a few of the people who were watching you have fun were now helping you bathe.

The area was very well decorated, and many flowers and gold-trimmed porcelain vases were displayed around the elegant, what looked to be a bathhouse.

There was beautiful, intricate marbled flooring.

"We've got to get you two clean just to get you all dirty again-"

A dark-skinned woman with bright purple eyes loomed over you, her thick hair pulled back into a half-up do.

It only felt like moments later, when you were semi-dry and walking down a set of stone spiral stairs. The image of an old-fashioned dungeon popped into your head. You were immediately excited and couldn't stop smiling.

the stairs ended at an old creaking wooden door, and it swung open to reveal what you'd dreamed of.

"This is so- amazing-"

You slurred softly, apparently still a little intoxicated.

"Thank you, we take great pride in keeping it. We all have too much fun with the people here not to."

Eliza picked Hadrian up and pinned him to a leather chair. He elevated it by stepping on a lever, then forcibly strapped The blond's hands to the armrests.

"We're all going to have so much fun-"

The woman who tended to your bath earlier loomed behind you, and you now noticed that she towered over you by at least a foot. She picked you up and strapped you to a table that held your legs open.

You buzzed excitement as she did, happily behaving and letting her do as she pleased to you. She gagged you with a cloth and tied it behind your head.

"We should blood bond the two of you.. That would be so cute. And the sex would one houndred percent be better.."

"That's Narcissa. She's actually from the Hades Cabin."

"Yes- im like pretty boy but I'm much cooler."

She giggled pulled a knife out of her pocket and removed the towel you had covering you. You gasped once as the cold hit your skin and Hadrian turned to look at you, worried about what was happening.

Narcissa held the blade up and chanted something softly, then she began to push her blade into your tender arm flesh, small beads of blood sliding down your skin. She drew a couple of symbols, one of which looked like an H for Harian's name.

She walked over to him and did the same thing to his arm. I hissed at the pain and she gently stroked over my arm, the wound healing over to leave a scar.

She held her hand over the steel blade and fused until the blood flowed away from the blade and circled in the air over the palm of her hand. She chanted something once again and split the small blood wad into two circles, holding both of them over your mouth and Hadrian's.

"Open your mouths,"

she said bluntly. You felt nervous, not wanting to drink it but interested to see where this was going and she gently removed the gag so you could open your mouth. The tiny amount of blood slipped down your throat easily though you could taste a bit of the copper along the lining of your throat.

Hadrian struggled until he saw you participate, and begrudgingly followed suit. He consumed the small sphere of blood and made a face, probably feeling the same thing as you.

"Unbind him."

the woman stated, and Eliza obliged happily, removing the blond's restraints.

"Hadrian, you will be worshiping (Y/N)"

You'd wondered how she came across your name but assumed you must have told her one of the times you'd blacked out.

Eliza lit something and held it up to you. It was a blunt, and you hit it eagerly. You were searching for the falling, fleeting depth of your high. After a few good-sized hits, he stepped to the side and hit it himself. Narcissa carefully led Hadrian between your thighs.

"Kiss, Lick, Suck- worship them. It shouldn't be hard, you look like you want to already."

The blonde immediately took to pressing his lips against your inner thigh, desperately kissing and licking over every inch of your skin that he could access. He squeezed and groped every curve gently kneading you like dough. He murmured compliments as you gasped at the stimulation.

"you're so beautiful.."

"I cant resist you.."

He pinched your nipples softly and licked over them as he rubbed you a little faster. The praise was heavenly, you were already leaking precum.

"I need you more than anything.."

He kissed his way back down between your legs and greeted your bits with his tongue, and he took his time to explore every part of you.

His tongue moved from your hole back up and over your groin and thighs. He kissed along your legs to the tops of your feet then back up the other leg, trialing his kisses over your stomach.

"You're so sweet-"

"you're so warm, (Y/N)"

you squirmed with every kiss, every lick, and every touch at your sensitive part drove you insane. You ached to touch yourself, you wanted to cum in his mouth.

Narciss had moved the gag back into your mouth when you weren't paying much attention.

You did your best to praise Hadrian in return for how well he was doing, and how good he felt. He began to tease you, licking you from the hole to your sensitive (tip/clit).

This made you almost scream past the fabric every time, your thighs quivering and trying to close. Sadly this was very unsuccessful due to the restraints.

Hadrian noticed and reviled in this, now playing with your patience on purpose, his devious little smile peeking over your mound every once in a while as he teased you.

You shot him glares and whined every time he'd push you right to the edge and stop before you were about to burst. Thick cum slipped out of you, begging to finally be released, pleading for any kind of attention that would push it closer and closer to orgasm. You cried out through the fabric in your mouth.

"Please please! Please let me cum!"

He laughed a little and slipped two fingers into your lubricated hole, curling them up slightly as he fingered you. With his tongue he overstimulated you, also using his free hand to rub over and pinch your nipples.

The aggressive attention sent your body into an orgasmic overdrive. After a few seconds, you were violently thrusting your hips against Hadriand's fingers and face.

"I'm cumming! Fuck!!"

"That's it.. come for me- c'mon- if you cum I will… I dont even need to touch myself, you already have me busting at the seams…"

He whined softly, seemingly desperate for somewhere to insert himself.

"Fuck me!"

You shouted against through the gag and he quickly, and desperately obliged, pulling his fingers out and shoving himself in. With one hand he still kept stimulating you, now his tip once again pounding into your cervix. You screamed out loudly as you felt your hole contract and grip him harshly.

You spewed cum all over him once more, making a mess of you, him, and the leather seat beneath the two of you. He cried out as he held your thighs, humping into you happily. His eyes were dazed as he held his hips to yours and filled you with his cum again.

Once his knot was locked, he fell foward onto you and rested there sleepily, and you blacked out during the orgasm, having come significantly harder than you ever have and found yourself finding asleep with Hadrian on your chest.

Hadrien and Eliza were helping you into your door when you woke next. They helped you through the threshold and you looked down to see yourself in new clothes that were too big to be Hadrian's. Elza must've lent you his clothes.

Once you could stand up by yourself, you smiled and bid them good night before making your way back into your room. Across the room, sitting at a desk against the far wall, was Jayce.

Pt 2 can be a fun little thing where (Y/N) Has a little drunken fun with Jayce and we find out he's only (kinda) related to Hermes but still technically counts.

[valya-kingoftherats]

AU-ish thing caught in my brain this morning. Half awake visions of Valya and dark blue lipstick while laying in bed. Based on the not a regene post from a week or so ago. I have many thoughts. But not an Anathema oddly enough? I dunno. Anyway Valya and lipstick and some other stuff

Ao3

It was objectively a bad idea. Stupid. So fucking stupid. What made them agree to attend the press conference was far beyond them. The fact that it was about their relationship and subsequent engagement to the Marshal was purely coincidence. As far as Valya was concerned, if they were asked, then that meant that they could've refused. And they should have.

They'd been here plenty of times. It's just that they'd been a spectator at best. The far larger than it needed to be room in the Rangers' HQ where the media team tore your self-esteem to shreds. Sit and stay still while too many people touch you and make sure you look proper and presentable for the cameras. But it had always been watching Julia. Chatting. Visiting. Distraction. Whatever they needed to be, while some asshole lectured her on and on about how she should be doing this or that or avoiding something else entirely. They remember getting dragged out for lashing out after the way they'd treated her when she'd cut her hair. Nothing good comes from this room.

And yet here they were. Frozen in place in a chair, afraid to move, least they get chewed out for fidgeting or wrinkling their dress shirt again. It wasn't the same but was still sickeningly familiar to how their parents played dress up with them all those years ago. Sit still and be fixed. Look correctly. Not trusted to look after themself. Clothing picked out by someone else, face shaved, makeup, eyebrows, half their piercings removed, hide scars and marks, hair done and not a strand out of place. The stylists wouldn't let them wear it tied up like normal, insisting that it was more presentable down loose and styled.

They hated this. The poking, the prodding, the 'have you considered doing this?' Insufferable. Made their head hurt and stomach churn. Discomfort and memories all in one and the last thing they needed before having to be out in front of who knows how many people.

They can see the back of Julia across the room from them on their mirror. They doubt she's doing much better than they are. The media's always been hard on her, and it's only gotten worse over the years. Makes them wish she'd quit. Run away with them and go somewhere different. Less reporters and cameras and expectations. She won't, though, something they're all too aware of.

It's only when a heavy hand claps down on their shoulder that they jolt back into the present. Stylists no longer present, but they were so focused on behaving and not lashing out telepathically that they hadn't actually noticed.

"Survived?" Julia asks. There's a tinge of amusement under her otherwise genuine sounding tone. More of an attempt at a pick-me-up than poking fun at their discomfort, Valya reminds themself.

"Oh yeah, fucking great," Valya rolls their eyes at their reflection, "I love nothing more then spending what? Two hours? Being constantly touched and told how inferior I am."

They watch as her hand reaches forward and grabs a hair tie off the counter. "They do love their opinions," Julia sighs, sweeping Valya's hair back into their typical bun. "You're too young, you're too old, you're rushing into this, you've waiting too long, what about kids?" They wince as her voice hardens, and she pulls a little too tight at them. They can't say they blame her. She's gotten the worst of it since they announced their relationship, and having kept it secret, it did seem out of nowhere they supposed. "Joder, solo deseo que se fueran de mi vida y nos dejaran en paz."

"Their Marshal, their hero, is out of the blue marrying some weird-ass nobody mod tech that handles all her maintenance. Fucking gulls aren't gonna let this drop for months."

"Ey, be nice." She hits their shoulder and moves to stand in front of them, "that's my future partner you're talking about."

"Pretty." The word sticks in their throat, caught on dry lips. Dark blue dress that compliments warm brown skin, small handful of gold jewelry pieces to pop out. The not-as-expensive-as-it-should-be ring they'd bought her adorning her left hand. The people had left in the stupid fucking earring they'd given her and they can't help but wonder if she'd made them? That felt nice. She's gorgeous, and they cannot for the life of them figure out how they'd gotten here.

"Mmm," Julia hums as she leans down to kiss them, "yes, you are, very. That's much better."

"I meant you, idiot," Valya huffs. Laughing comes so much easier around her they don't think it'll ever get old. "Pretty sure they don't know what to do with me besides make me look as passibly man as possible without saying it outright." It was fine. They could suck it up for one official engagement announcement. They'd been telling themself what others thought of them didn't matter thus far. They could continue. Fuck 'em.

Besides, they could be wrong. It was the way they leaned, rather heavily, really, so maybe they were overthinking it. The stylists could've been oblivious to all the tabloid whisperings for all they knew.

They did look much better with their hair up. More like them and less like a concept. It made Valya beyond happy that Julia didn't care about the others and cared enough about them to undo all that work just to throw it in a poor excuse of an updo.

"Well," Julia sways and takes a step back, pulling Valya to their feet as she goes. "They won't be back now, so we're more than free to put you back together." A wink and a grin, and she's placed the container with their piercings back into their hands.

Fuck they love her.

Makeup washed off, acne and scars on full display, face full of non-conductive metal. Much better. Not so fake. And impressively made them feel notably more prepared to walk out to whatever crowd awaited.

"There you are, much better." Julia smirks, leaning down to kiss them again. Valya was more than happy to return with no little amount of heat and wandering hands. Enough to make them wonder exactly how much time they had before this thing started.

But by the time they finally broke apart, they had other ideas. Wants. Though somehow more embarrassing feeling than potentially getting caught in the act.

"Julia," Valya mutters, looking away as soon as they feel their face heating up. It wasn't like them. This was a surpirse. It felt weird but in a good way that made them continue to see how it goes. "Can I...." they take a shakey hand and point it across the room to where Julia say earlier. "Can I wear some?"

They fixed their eyes on their shoes, horribly aware of the flush that covered their face and ears. Bright red and hot. Arm still extended out to single out the tube of navy blue lipstick on the other counter. The same one that Julia was currently wearing.

They think it's fear. The way they shake and try not to let their breath stick in their throat and choke them. The thought. The want. Had just materialized in their head, and they couldn't shake it. It didn't match or compliment or anything else anyone had attempted to make them look when putting them together. And it wasn't something they'd ever done or felt any need to do before. But it was here now, and they wanted it. Badly.

But it went against how they normally presented, and that took long enough to not have issues around for themself as is. And it certainly wasn't how the media team was trying to present them. And what if Julia thought it was weird, or it looked stupid, or the sensation or texture of it set them off or–

"You think too much, you know that?" They hadn't noticed Julia leaving them. Or that she'd retrieved the new object of their interest. Her hand cupped their cheek, nails digging into their skin in little pinpricks that brought them back to reality. "Hold still."

They did. Stood there cross-eyed as they watched her take the thing and slide it across their lips. It didn't. It didn't feel that bad. Wasn't as noticeable on their skin as they'd feared. And as Julia pulled back, she was smiling.

"Dunno if it's your colour," she was squinting at them, chin held between her thumb and pointer finger. The pose quickly dropped as Valya's eyes widened. "Relax, relax! I was kidding!" Hands up in mock surrender, face lit up in that big stupid smile of hers. "Mi vida, you look fantastic."

Valya leaned around her to get a better look at the mirror. It really wasn't that bad, actually. Out of place, but they supposed maybe that was to be expected. It didn't look as good as it did on her, but the rich blue on their smile was nice. And they matched. They liked that.

"Wanna give them something to really talk about?" Julia smirked, applying more to her own lips. "Napkins are only one way to get rid of the extra," her smile only widened as she leaned in to kiss at Valya's jaw, just underneath their ear. And in her absence was a dark blue print.

Oh, they liked that game.

Wicked grin of their own. Lovingly malicious. Valya's hands slide up to Julia's shoulder, pushing the strap of her dress just enough to the side to make room for them. They didn't bother biting, wasn't worth the risk of messing up the game, but still, the mark that was only partially covered by the fabric was visible and telling enough by itself.

"I think I could get used to that," Valya mutters. They'd been missing out, it seems. They'll have to make up for that.

Julia smiles, taking their hand in hers. "We'll have plenty of time after this is over, so what do you say we get this mess overwith?"

"Ha, yeah, the sooner this is over the the better. Let's fucking go."

[imtrashraccoon]

This is based off of a real life story

Aka 2 year old me

😌

For UT!, UF! And US! Sans and papyrus

The skeleton is in the kitchen and turn around...only to see their 2 year old walking with their blanket in one hand and the cats tail in the other. They're dragging the cat by the tail.

The cat is fine, but its still weird.

It took me a hot minute to write this one but we're here now! This headcanon assumes the skellie in question is the father but they could probably also be the supportive uncle as well. Also, I hadn't considered that each of them would own a cat beyond the Underfell brothers but if that's something you're interested in, I could make another post.

The Tale brothers don't own a cat so it's likely a stray they've been looking after. Technically, the Fell brothers own a dozen barn cats but only Doomfanger and Tux are pets. (Tux is the pet of Violet, the protagonist in the fic they'll be featured in.) The Swap brothers also don't own a cat but it looks remarkably like the cat that's been hanging around them since the Underground.

Undertale: Classic (Sans) & Vanilla (Papyrus)

Classic

He was just poking around in the kitchen for a snack when he heard the familiar footsteps of the little tike. Didn't you just put them down for a nap? He can't help but chuckle when he sees the way they're dragging the stray cat you've been feeding for months around by the tail.

Even though the cat doesn't seem too bothered by the predicament it's in, Classic doesn't want it to get hurt or hurt their little one. He gently separates the two, although he may have snapped a quick picture before doing so to show you later. He quietly scolds their child but he's not actually upset with them since he knows they really like the cat.

The cat in question does seem a bit miffed to have been dragged around like a toy and fixes the fur on its tail as soon as the toddler lets go. It doesn't immediately leave the house though so you might have a cat now?

Vanilla

It was his turn to watch the kid while you got some much needed rest and since they seemed content, he'd left the house for one moment to bring the trash out. He came back to find their child playing with the stray cat who must've snuck inside while the door was open. He's more than a little worried when their toddler decides the best way to show him the cat is to drag it over by the tail.

Luckily, this cat is used to their toddler since you've been feeding it together for months and doesn't scratch them. Vanilla is quick to remove their tike's little fingers from its tail and scoop them up into a hug. He tells them in no uncertain terms that it's not nice to pull on a cat's tail and makes them promise not to do it again, even if they don't seem to understand him and end up laughing instead.

He is startled when the cat begins purring and rubbing up against his femur. It's doesn't seem upset nor like it wants to leave anytime soon. He'll put it outside until you wake up so you can decide together whether to keep it or not.

Underfell: Crimson (Sans) & Scar (Papyrus)

Crimson

He had just about dozed off when the pitter patter of tiny feet woke him up. He's more than a little amused when the kiddo drags your cat into the living room by his tail. While he's hesitant to move, he can already picture how mad his brother would be if Tux clawed up the carpet and how worried you would be if their child got scratched.

He uses his magic to pick up both the rascals, which serves to distract their child enough to let go of Tux's tail. After teasing them about how they might not be so lucky if they tried that with Doomfanger, Crimson manages to get them to fall asleep in his arms and returns to his own nap.

Unfortunately, Tux is more than a little freaked out by being picked up with magic and immediately darts out of the room. He'll be sulking in your room for the rest of the day but is fine otherwise.

Scar

It was his turn to watch the kiddo and he brought them down to the barn so he could look after his animals at the same time. After ordering his wolf, Whitefang, to keep them from wandering off, he got to work. He had just finished feeding the chickens and stepped out of their pen to be confronted with the sight of their toddler holding Doomfanger by her tail.

He stops the kiddo from trying to drag the cat around and guides them to go sit with Whitefang again. Scar gently explains to them that no one likes having their tails pulled and tries to get them to promise not to do it again. He gives up when they only end up giggling at him as they don't understand why he's lecturing them.

Doomfanger is fine, although by the way her tail is flicking, she seems a bit put off that a strange creature just grabbed her gorgeous tail. That, or she's annoyed that she hasn't been fed yet.

Underswap: Dell (Sans) & Saffron (Papyrus)

Dell

He was changing the oil in his motorcycle when he heard the rascal toddle into the garage. He asks them a few questions in an effort to keep them entertained until he can get out from under his bike. Only then does he realize that their child is holding onto the tail of a familiar white cat.

He gives the cat a suspicious look before carefully removing their toddler from the troublesome feline. When it only gives him an innocent meow, Dell breathes a sigh of relief before turning his attention to their kid. He explains that this particular cat is extra mischievous and has a history of messing with him back in the Underground. He's oddly serious for once and tells the child that this cat isn't to be trusted.

The irritating cat seems content for the moment, although it has a slightly mischievous look in its eyes. Hopefully it doesn't decide to knock over everything on his work bench later.

Saffron

He was relaxing in the living room with a book when the little rascal wandered in. He nearly does a spit take when he sees them holding onto the tail of a white cat that looks incredibly familiar. It's actually a pretty funny sight but he doesn't want to risk either of them getting hurt.

After putting down his book, Saffron starts to record on his phone as he separates their kid from the cat. He knows neither you nor his brother will believe him otherwise and he's already chuckling at the thought. He does scold their child about pulling the cat's tail but he has a big smile on his skull the entire time and isn't upset at all.

The irritating cat doesn't seem hurt and, if anything, seems a little amused by the interaction. Maybe it'll end up sticking around now that it's got a new friend?

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Shun the Light - Ch 15 - The Bunker

Slow Burn | Refuge | Decision | Mend | Hunger | Thin Mints | The Garden | Philip | Moments | Full Moon pt 1 | Full Moon pt 2 | Tend | Absolution | The Talk | Scars |

Author's Notes: Consider....vampirism and lycanthropy as disability? If you take a less fantastical and more naturalistic look, both are changes to the mind and body that make existing in a society difficult. Just something I've been thinking about.

Some more bonding, some #justvampirethings, some full moon dread. Thanks to everyone who has read this far. <3

Content Warnings: werewolf whumpee, vampire whumpee + caretaker, not much else just some angst, dread, mentions of blood

----

Sometimes, when he wakes at dusk, Dante forgets that he isn't alone in the house.

Dante learned early on that being mostly-dead is pretty hard on the body. Many of the systems that keep people alive also keep them comfortable, and so he has built habits to deal with the discomforts.

His throat is always parched, so he keeps a little cup of blood by the bed to get moving. His body is stiff from sleeping very still, so he does stretches.

And then there's thermoregulation, or the lack thereof. On cold days his skin becomes tingling, oversensitive, even numb, and in the summer he frequently suffers from heat exhaustion. Both make hunting difficult, so on mild days he stocks up on blood for his fridge, and he keeps his bedroom at a consistent temperature year round.

After his stretches he exits his bedroom wearing Philip's old silk robe and slippers, grabs a jar of blood from the fridge - calling it a 'cup of Joe' like Mr. Townsend used to - and settles into his chair for an evening gameshow.

That is usually when he remembers he has a guest, in the form of Matteo sprawled on the couch with the remote control already in his hand.

Tonight he is there as expected...but something is off. Matteo is sitting at one corner of the couch with his arms around himself, staring straight ahead. When Dante greets him he barely reacts.

"Matteo?"

"Mm."

"What's wrong?"

"Just a few days left."

As if to prove his point, the waxing moon peeks out from behind a cloud. Dante pulls the curtain shut.

"It never gets easier," Matteo says softly. "I get so anxious that I can barely eat or sleep, which only makes things worse..."

It's been hard to shake the memory of seeing Matteo's violent transformation, he can't imagine living it.

"I can make you do both of those things," Dante offers, realizing too late how creepy it sounds.

Matteo only smiles, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "Thanks."

"Do you want to see the shelter? Maybe that will help."

"Yeah, sure. Why not."

-

It's a bit like opening a time capsule. The bunker hasn't been touched since the 1960s, everything exactly the way Mr. Townsend left it the last time he went down to check expiration dates.

Against one wall is a shelf stacked with supplies, books, canned food and water, a radio and a box of ammunition. Cot-style beds line the other two walls, one a bunk bed and the other a single.

"Only three beds?"

Dante shrugs. "They didn't like me and dad that much. So, what do you think?"

Matteo steps inside and looks around. "We should probably remove anything that isn't attached...the wolf will just wreck it all anyway. You'll find me covered in canned peaches in the morning."

"Those probably need to go anyway. Okay, we can do that. What else?"

"I guess that's all." he still seems uncertain.

"Matteo..." Dante joins him in the small room. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"No, it's not that. This is a good idea. I can't hurt anyone here. It's this or chain me out back like a dog."

The resignation in Matteo's voice is all too familiar. In his early days of vampirism Dante had tried to find ways to still be part of the world, spending time in bars and 24-hour diners, taking long drives at night, he even tried taking a night shift in a stockroom. But eventually fear won - fear of sunlight, fear of discovery, fear of hurting someone or being hurt. It drove him into the shadows, and there he has remained.

"I had a dog once. He slept at the end of my bed."

The new information pulls Matteo from the brink of despair.

"Yeah? What was his name?"

"Porco. It means pig. It started as an insult when we found him as a stray. He would eat anything and everything. But I got attached to him and dad was bad at saying no if something made me happy. He always said joy was in short supply and we should stock up whenever we could."

Matteo smiles in this warm, endearing way that Dante finds impossible to look away from. Sometimes he tries to smile back but it's as if the muscles of his face have forgotten how.

They get to work moving everything out of the bunker until only the beds and shelves, which are fixed to the concrete walls, remain.

When they're finished it looks much more like what it really is - a prison. But Matteo seems less apprehensive. Maybe just knowing what to expect is enough.

"Dante?" he says as they ascend the stairs back toward rooms with windows and light.

"Yes?"

"Thank you. You didn't have to do any of this."

They reach the first floor hallway. Dante pushes the door shut with his foot and turns to look at him.

"You saved my life, remember?"

Matteo huffs. "I think you made up for that a while ago. This is...more than I have any right to ask for. If there's anything I can do..."

"I really don't mind. You're - "

...can he call him a friend? An acquaintance? Is this thing between them just a series of favors, an exchange of small kindnesses the world has not been so quick to give? A rescue for a rescue. A warm bed for some company. A sip of blood for relief from pain.

"...you're nice to have around," he finishes carefully. It seems a safe enough statement. Neither coming on too strong nor dismissing just how big a change Matteo has brought to his dull life, if only for a little while.

There is that smile again - and then Matteo's arms are around his neck in a tight hug.

"I like being around," he says quickly, shyly.

It's over too soon and Dante is left with the lingering warmth, watching Matteo disappear into the living room and wishing he'd had the nerve to hug back.