#Wait shut the fuck up where’s Tusk!?!?
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anarcho-mom-unist · 7 months ago
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Tragic to see nothing from Tusk or pre-Buckingham-Nicks Fleetwood Mac 💔❤️‍🩹
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sentientgolfball · 2 months ago
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Ghostober Day 1
Not even gonna lie I was NOT really planning on doing anything but here we are. Can't promise I'll do every day but I'll do some here and there >:3 also it was like 2am when I decided to write this so bear with me
Pairing: Alpha/Delta/Omega
WC: 712
Tags: cuckolding and irresponsible use of quintessence
also thank to @evereverest2 for giving me three ghouls when I asked
It was a long, long day. Alpha’s tasks never seemed to end. It started with an issue in the forge caused by a fairly new Ministry fire ghoul. Not only did he have to fix the problem but then he had to explain to the ghoul what the fuck happened and why it was not good. Then the kitchens were beyond busy. The change of the season meant celebration which meant a feast. He was in charge of helping prepare the meat, but he also had to help with everything else as the overseer. Then of course he had to stumble upon two ghouls getting into a scrap over who knows what. He was tired and all he wanted to do was curl up in his bed and sit in silence until he finally felt bored enough to bother one of his packmates. 
He sighs bodily when he opens his door. He stops in his tracks though at the sight that greets him. Delta and Omega are on his bed. Naked and hard, the scent of arousal thick. The former is sitting in Omega’s lap. The sound of the door alerts them. Delta leans back, planting both hands behind him as he turns to look at Alpha. 
I see you finally decided to join us. Their raspy voice echoes in his head. 
Alpha blinks at them, trying to process as all his blood rushes to his cock. 
Come here sweet thing. He tosses his hair over his shoulder, putting the deep bruises around his gills on display. 
Alpha could never dream of putting up a fight when it comes to Delta. He is helpless to their siren call, only magnified by the quint now in their veins. He slams the door shut behind him and fumbles with his shirt as he stalks over to his bed. He gets stopped from climbing in by a strong hand to his chest before he can even touch the mattress. 
“Hold on now,” Omega’s deep voice rumbles, “I never said you could join us.” 
“Megs?” Everything happened so quickly he can barely grasp what is going on. 
“You kept us waiting. For a very long time mind you. I think it is only fair that you let us finish what we started.” 
“You can’t be serious.” 
“Delta?” 
I don’t know sweet thing, Omega makes a good point. 
Alpha huffs, “You sneak into my room and then you won’t even let me get off?” 
“We waited for you. Now you wait for us.” Omega pinches one of his nipples, grinning at the noise it elicits. 
Normally Alpha would fight with claws and fangs to be the one in control, but after the day he has had he cannot bring himself to. He knows they will take care of him once they are done riling him up. He just has to be patient. Even if he can feel his cock pressing against the seam of his jeans. 
He growls lowly and brushes Omega’s hand off of him. He stalks across the room, taking a seat in one of the old armchairs he has near his window. 
I’ve never seen him so obedient. Oh Omega be nice to him. 
Omega hums, glancing up to make eye contact with Alpha. He smiles, tusks flashing in the low light of the room as he spreads Delta’s ass open. He slowly pushes into him, making sure Alpha has a perfect view of the way he stretches around him. He can hear Delta’s gasps of pleasure echoing around his skull as he watches his hole drool around Omega’s cock. Once a water ghoul, always a water ghoul. 
Omega does not give him a moment to breathe, squeezing the meat of his ass as he begins to roll his hips to fuck up into him. Alpha’s eyes are locked on where they connect. Without looking away he unzips his pants to pull himself out. He groans quietly when he gets a hand on his dick, something just to relieve the pressure. 
He gets one good stroke in before suddenly his whole arm tingles and falls limp, sitting uselessly in his lap. His eyes flick up to meet Omega’s. The slight glow of purple and the scent of ozone makes his stomach burn that much hotter. 
“What part of wait do you not understand?” 
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deathbirby · 1 year ago
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Hero's Relics Origins - Part 2
This is the last part, I promise.
Blutgang
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Storm Dragon
I don't know what that is.
Fortunately, we have Maurice to examine!
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Look at that plated back. It's similar to the blade of Blutgang. That begs the question, though. Is it armor or is it bone? I'm going to say it's both. Blutgang is made out of this bone, and it uses a few other parts of the spine.
Google Translate says that "the feel of its armor is similar to Blutgang."
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Translation would be appreciated!
Oh, and Maurice also has small back sail. That points to the possibility of the Storm Dragon being able to fly.
Thunderbrand
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Lightning Dragon
What the hell is this?
I guess it could be a weird horn? Or maybe it's the tail? Breastbone with ribs? Part of the spine? A fang? Thigh bone, and the spikes are actually just fangs or something that has been fused to it?
I have no fucking clue. If someone can come up with a theory, I'll put it here.
Suttungr's Mystery
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Lightning Dragon
...I don't know. That green covering could be its skin, or just some regular leather. It looks like there is a ribcage when I zoom into that gap.
Hrotti
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Dark Dragon
Unfortunately, there is not a lot to go off of. Tomes are always the most difficult to figure out.
Dark dragons in Fire Emblem tend to look snake-like. I suppose you could see this as the skull being flattened and split in half to make two sides of a book. The line going through the book could be where the jaw splits, and the hole with the crest stone is supposed to have an eye in it.
I'm grasping for straws here.
Failnaught
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Star Dragon
Look at that muscle attached to it. I think this might be the only relic to have that.
I used Google Translate on that little bit of text in the concept art. It says: "A bow made from the bones and sinews of a dragon's fingers."
I don't speak Japanese, so I do need someone to confirm that little bit of text. Here's a bit clearer(?) version.
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But that makes it pretty obvious... if it's true! It was made using the bones and tendons of the Star Dragon's fingers.
I don't know what the Star Dragon might've looked like, and I don't have anything to use as a basis. Those 'fingers' have spikes on them. I don't know any animal that might have that.
Vajra-Mushti
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Snow Dragon
I wanted to say that this looks like a scorpion's head, but there are two of these (gauntlets), so that's probably not the case. It's most likely made out of the hands. The metal plating is used to keep it closed.
BUT WAIT! What if it IS the head? There is a hole that could work as an eye socket. Maybe the skull was somehow split to make gauntlets? The metal plating would be used to keep the lower and upper jaw shut.
What animal has tusks like that and is associated with snow? Best I can think of is a mammoth.
Rafail Gem
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Aegis Dragon
The Aegis Dragon gets to be unique. Only the part around the Crest Stone is made out of bone. The rest of it might very well be decoration. Or maybe they come from somewhere else... Maybe the blue crystals are kidney stones?
Ichor Scroll
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Aegis Dragon
It doesn't look like there is a lot of bone there? It might be made using the hand. Look at all those lines and the small holes.
Sword of the Creator
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Sothis
Alright, lots of people are saying this is the spine, and I totally agree. They really liked turning spines into weapons for some goddess-forsaken reason.
BUT the argument of it being the tail also holds up! The spine doesn't have a sharp point like that. Ultimately, I cannot say for certain which one it would be. I personally am more inclined to say it's the spine.
The crossguard could be made using the pelvis, shoulder blades, or even the wings. It all depends on whether or not they got the bones from Sothis's dragon form. Oh, and I can see what looks like more muscle on the "wings".
Now what in the world is that hilt made out of? It's definitely not made out of the spine or tail, so what is it? Maybe a strong bone like the femur? The ends are more flared out than the middle.
But how?
Okay, so now that you know what the relics are made out of and what bones were used, it's time for YOU to go make some relics.
"How am I going to do that??" - You
Do not worry, my fellow human. I have gone ahead and made a guide for you! Follow its instructions closely, and you too can wield a weapon of mass destruction in no time.
How to create your own Heroes Relic!
Find a dragon. It can be dead or alive, just make sure its corpse is not completely destroyed.
If it's still alive, kill it. I don't care how you do it. Just kill it. Try to cut off a limb or go directly for the crest stone on its head. That seems to be their weak spot.
It's dead? Good! Time to cut. What? You say that its corpse is too big? Shrink it! What do mean that sounds dumb? Have you SEEN the other Relics? I mentioned this in a previous post, but no fucking dragon has bones that small. All the relics are shrunken in some way, damn it! NOW SHRINK IT!
Okay. Get your cutting equipment ready. You can use a sword, a knife, a chainsaw. I don't care. Just be careful.
Now then, onto the good part. The skin might still be useful for something like leather, so be sure to flay it first.
Start cutting away at the meat and fatty layer. Do not go too deep. You do not want to destroy the muscle layer before you've seen it first. You could still use it for something!
You've reached the muscles. Congratulations! Now, I know that the bones are the real price here, but the tendons can be very useful in some designs. So start collecting a bunch of tendons and some muscle here and there.
Is your bag full? Great! When you're sure you've got all the tendons you need, start cutting until you reach the bone. Don't worry about damaging it. Your puny blade won't do anything against it.
There, the bones are right there. RIPE for the taking! I assume that you've already picked out a design for a Relic before you started this. That means you know what bones you want to use. Take those bones.
I also assume that you know you need a Crest Stone, which means you need to get the dragon's heart. What's the fastest way to get to the heart? Well, you're not breaking the ribcage any time soon, so cut open the abdomen, right under where the diaphragm would be. You don't know where that is? It's around the liver and the stomach. You'll know when you get there. Now, you need to cut open that diaphragm and reach in there with your trusty knife or chainsaw. A human heart has a pericardium, a sac that surrounds your heart and keeps in it place. I don't know if a dragon has one, but I would still try to check if it's there and cut it away. And you don't need the veins.
While you're in there cutting away, drink its blood. You might as well. Slurp all of that shit up. You'll know you've drunk enough blood once you manifest a crest. Not manifesting a crest? Dive back in there and start chugging!
I hope you have everything you need by now. Pack that shit up and move to a place where you can quietly forge it into a weapon. How do you do that? Fuck if I know. All I know is that you need dragon remains. Figure it out yourself! If all else fails, put bone on a stick and tie it together with tendons and superglue. Don't forget to shove a crest stone somewhere in there so it actually functions!
Alright. I hope this was a useful guide for you! Don't forget to leave a 5-star review on my page!
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gulfportofficial · 10 months ago
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Is anyone interested in Pig Lore? Because I am just taking a break from writing about the pig and just sort of organizing my thoughts about the pig and I like to write things like that out.
First of all, while the little dude they keep seeing may be an island pig, it is absolutely not a "native" pig. Just like those tall skinny pines, called Cook Pines (of course they are) are not native pines. It's something a bit more sinister, actually, whether or not it's in any way mystical. And in fact, the fact that Hickey is seeing it in the forest is the major clue. That alone is an indication that the projection Hickey is making that our porcine friend is somehow like, welcoming him to the land like a Tuunbaq that likes him for REAL this time, is entirely erroneous. But let me explain.
So: from my reading, this is all debated, but what isn't is that Polynesian settlers brought pigs to the Hawai'ian islands, in best guess 400CE according to most sources. They were called Pua‘a (pigs still are), current thinking suggests that the relationship those pigs had with people and land was really different. According to this summary, they were domesticated as pets, and the tradition of hunting pigs, esp. in forests, did not really begin until our best friend Captain James Cook, of course, deposited English pigs on the islands and the two species immediately began interbreeding, leading to an increasingly destructive forest-based feral pig population that necessitated culling.
I was driven to write about this because there's a really similar history in Aotearoa (NZ), where I'm from. There, we also have Kunekune pigs, which were introduced by Polynesian settlers and who are also mostly kept as pets, and we also have hybrid feral pigs we call, wait for it, what fucking else: "Captain Cookers". Yeah. Lol. People hunt Captain Cookers recreationally but farmers also hunt them because in addition to ripping shit up in the general environment, they will also ravage crops and eat ANYTHING. Seriously, below is how they're depicted in Kiwi cultural mainstay Footrot Flats (Murray Ball) and below that is how they're described on a website about things in the world it's fun to kill if you're the sort of person who travels about doing that.
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"A big boar Cooker easily weighs 440lbs, can be 6 feet long, and has razor sharp ivory tusks that can be as long as six inches. With excellent hearing and a keen sense of smell, the boar is a formidable foe and challenging quarry." (source) My point is, that little guy they keep seeing? Hmmmmmmm. HMMMMMMM. Whether or not the pig in fact means anything beyond the fact that our boy believes (or needs to believe) that he is blessed by destiny remains to be seen, but even if it does, it doesn't mean what he thinks it means. (ETA, and I can't believe it took me so long to make this horrible joke: I mean, he is blessed by destiny. Manifest Destiny.) Something which is VERY much related in this instance but that I'm barely equipped to discuss is the history of the term "long pig." I've had real trouble so far sourcing if this term was ever actually translated from something people really said, or if occupiers just sort of invented it out of stereotypes - you can see from this link that all the sources listed here are Colonial, and this is always the kind of thing you need to verify in Oceania, because there is just so much bullshit. (Like, very much relatedly, the term Pākehā, which is literally just the Te Reo Māori word for "white person" has been ruthlessly etymologized in ways that make it mean all manner of negative things, up to and including "pig", which in my childhood lead to constant lengthy speculation in our serious for real media about whether or not it ACTUALLY meant "long pig". These arguments were very much made by people looking for excuses not to use Te Reo, and especially by people who won't use Te Reo placenames or call themselves Pākehā ("I'm a New Zealander." Shut up, that's not better lol. You're Pākehā. I'm Pākehā. I promise you it's super fine.) But also you can easily see those interpretations have a really sinister undertone, so you see why I would be driven to verify.) However, I am familiar with examples such as Titokowaru's Taranaki campaign (against the British in Aotearoa), in which the embrace of older traditional practices, including ritualistic cannibalism, was deeply entwined with making exaggerated references to them in hopes of scaring the shit out of the British, so it's easy for me to believe it's something people did say. Either about said practices or with the direct intention of wanting invaders to go away. Suffice it to say, whether or not the term was generated from any actual translation, the way Pākehā and other Pacific whites talk about it often repeats a very specific Colonial fear, and one that follows that specific pattern of projecting the Colonizer's own worst onto the Colonized (Said; Fanon; Bhabha). Lest we forget the intellectual champions who survived the wreck of the Essex and were so afraid of South Seas cannibals that they sailed away from islands that could have saved them and out into the expanse of an ocean that had them eating each other. Franklin Expedition-ass motherfuckers. (Seriously, why is EVERY Colonial cannibalism story like this? There are so many practices of cannibalism throughout the expanse and history of the world, but Colonial whites are the only people who ever just go fucking feral on it. I'm still not over the Donner Party and how I was always told about them as brave pioneers beset by circumstance instead of what they actually were, which was woefully unequipped occupiers who didn't even share the remaining resources they had with each other before they started first price-gouging each other (like wtf?????? PRIORITIES) and then chomping each others' bones.) Well, I've got way off track here, but anyway. Having written that all out, maybe now I can finish this fucking chapter lmao. Important note: Like, this fanfiction is not that deep or anything, I'm no The Terror writer, I'm just here to have a good time while also being super autistic*, but like, just in case you were interested. Also here's another Footrot Flats pig. Shit's wild.
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*Not a euphemism.
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yautja-lover · 2 years ago
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The oomani-di Next Door 🚪 😍
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Chapter 2 Sweet h'dui'se 😋
Characters:Charlotte Baker,Harper Georgia,Scar Predator,(Dhi'rauta) Chopper Predator(Halkrath) and Celtic Predator(Setg'in).
Charlotte is speaking with Harper about the ad for the caretaker position that she found earlier today. While the two ladies continue with their conversation, one of the other residents of the cabins is curiously listening in on their conversation.
Scar (Dhi'rauta) Predator's P. O. V.
Dhi'rauta was heading towards the kehrite to meet up with his thwei-mei'hswei but halted in his tracks when he smelled the sweetest h'dui'se. Dhi'rauta took one big sniff of the vayuh'ta and inhaled deeply. Never had he ever smelt something, so sweet. 'Paya! Where was it coming from?' he wondered while sniffing around for that sweet h'dui'se. As Dhi'rauta comes around the corner to find where it was coming from.. he finds the oomani-di.
Dhi'rauta stopped across from them after the two walked inside a room, shutting the door behind them. He listened in on what they were saying, "Mei'hswei?.. what are you do -" Halkrath questioned while walking over to him, then paused and started sniffing the vayuh'ta as he spoke "What is that sweet.." sniffs again ".. sweet smell?" taking an even bigger sniff. "It smells so sweet, like..." Halkrath starts again while taking another big sniff. ".. what's that sweet fluffy stuff that the oomans call again?" he added with a question. Dhi'rauta sniffs again before he spoke, "Smells sweeter than any fruit I ever tasted.. reminds me of home. "
"Daddy??" Harper questioned the young woman. "Which daddy are we talkin' about... the lean mean green fighting machine, that just screams..." she said then, making chef's kisses for effect before continuing. ".. daddy, as fuck or.. are we talkin' about the eight foot tall built-up like a damn tree trunk with an eleven-pack, lookin' like a tasty snack pack daddy!.. and with a butt, you can eat breakfast off of?" she asked while fanning herself with the paperwork while Charlotte just looks at her weirdly, not knowing how to respond to that. "The first one. I think... " the young woman replied 'I mean that costume the dude was wearing, did scream da-' Charlotte's thoughts were interrupted by the southern bell woman, as she spoke while slamming the paperwork down for her to sign "Girrrllll... praise the Lord, honey! Sweet baby, Jesus, take the wheel sugar."
Chopper (Halkrath) Predator's P. O. V.
"What are they talking about now?" Halkrath questioned, as the two mei'hswei continue to listen in on the two oomani-di earning a shrug from Dhi'rauta before he spoke. ".. something about dad-di and Jesus..." Halkrath gives his younger mei'hswei a confused look while clicking his tusks together before asking, "What's a dad-di?.. and who is this Jesus?" Earning another shrug from his mei'hswei and a click, as he spoke, "How the pauk, should I know?"
Halkrath was about to say something else until he heard the doorknob turn. The two mei'hswei froze when the door opened, revealing Harper Georgia and another wei-ghe'h, which they don't know her name.. at least, not yet.
Charlotte is taking a look over the lease agreement while Harper leads the young woman to her cabin. "Wait... I don't see anything about billing for rent or utilities.." she said with a tone of confusion "All that's covered by the owner of these cabins, so you don't have to worry about a thing dear.." Harper replied casually, causing the young woman to open her mouth but the southern bell woman added before she could speak ".. besides taking care of the cabins while the other residents are away is payment enough. Don't you think?"
Charlotte was completely baffled at the moment not having to worry about paying rent, and utilities are like a dream come true. How is it no one has taken the position yet? "Well, yeah... I mean this place is huge! Who even owns this place anyway?" the young woman asked in curiosity, "The same person you saw earlier, when you walked in. " Harper replied, causing Charlotte to gawk at her in shock." He bought the place out and rebuilt it himself," she added as the young woman's mouth kept gasping like a fish. "You keep openin' and closin' your mouth like that you'll catch flies," Harper said teasingly, causing the young woman to gape like a fish and shiver when she felt something touch her hair slightly. "What was that?.." she questioned no one in particular, as she fixed her hair. "What was, what sugar?" Harper asked, confused, slightly turning her head at the young woman.
Celtic (Setg'in) Predator's P. O. V.
Setg'in had sent Halkrath to find their youngest mei'hswei, Dhi'rauta who never showed up at the kehrite. Which is odd.. sure Dhi'rauta can take care of himself and is more of a loner like Nracha-dte but it's not like him to be late. So he had Halkrath go check on him since Dhi'rauta never responded to any of the messages that he sent him. Setg'in has gotten tired of waiting when neither of them responded to his messages and is now searching the cabins for his two mei'hswei.
Once he did find them... the two were reaching out to touch the oomani-di. Setg'in grumbled to himself, ignoring the sweet h'dui'se that's flooding his senses as he grabbed his mei'hswei and moved them away from the wei-ghe'h. The two mei'hswei spun around facing their oldest mei'hswei. "What the pauk do you think you are doing?!" Setg'in questioned them while clicking his tusks together angrily, mandibles flaring. "I couldn't help myself, her h'dui'se smells so sweet." Dhi'rauta trilled, causing Setg'in to shake his syra'yte and asked, "Are you pauk-de serious, right h'ka-se?"
The two young mei'hswei bristled while their dekna gleamed with delight, as they both spoke at the same time. ".. smelled sweeter than any fruit I ever tasted. " Dhi'rauta replied, ".. like kot'ton kan-di! That's what that fluffy stuff is called." Halkrath stated excitedly. Setg'in huffed at them and pushed the two away from the two wei-ghe'h "leave the poor oomani-di alone, your acting like a couple of young bloods" he said, nudging them towards the kehrite."Your lucky Nracha-dte isn't here to see this, or he'll have both our hides for this. Especially if your actions cause the new oomani-di next door to run off as the others had. "
Yautja Language - English Translation:
kehrite - training room / dojo
thwei - blood
mei'hswei - brother
h'dui'se - smell / scent / odor/ musk
vayuh'ta - air
Paya - Yautja, God of Life
oomani-di - human woman
ooman - human
pauk - fuck
wei-ghe'h - female (not an insult)
pauk-de - fucker or fucking
h'ka-se - now
Dhi'rauta - cunning
Halkrath - shadow
Setg'in - deadly
Nracha-dte - relentless
dad-di - Scar (Dhi'rauta) and Chopper (Halkrath) trying to pronounce the word daddy
kot'ton kan-di - Chopper (Halkrath) trying to pronounce the word cotton candy
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elkenbulwark · 1 year ago
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@ehrendiil cont.
"Why do you want to punch Kelemvor? What has--- Are you DRUNK, Birvor? He's done nothing to you!" Exasperated is one word for it. He pinches his bridge, bookmarking the page he'd been on and shutting the book. Then he notices that smile, and there's an audible groan. Teasing. He's teasing. Right?
" What is this in lieu of, other than turning my hair grey before i reach two hundred? "
Usually Ren was infuriatingly reserved, so for Birvor to find something to get his nails up under and dig around well...it was fun for a change. A change from him always being on the disgruntled end of their exchanges, anyway. "Why not? From what I figures, prick like that could use a good knucklin' of the sinuses."
The angle of his tusks only seemed to coax the edges of his smile higher as he waited for the wizard to snap that book shut and wheel around to apprehend him. But his brother's perception was exceptionally attuned, and he settled for the groan of realization that Birvor was fucking around...for the most part.
"Oh, that's all it's for- ya gots me. Now, let's see th'progress we're makin'!" He lunged, arm looped suddenly around Ren's neck until the crook of the half-orc's elbow gripped careful but firm round the apple in the other's throat. Knuckles from his other hand came up to dig at in the elf's sleek, raven hair until he'd dug down into his scalp. With a chuckle he kept grinding the ball of his palm around on the hunt for gray hairs.
"Where they attttt ~ ? Aha, there-!" There wasn't any. Birvor was going to have him believe otherwise though.
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townofcadence · 7 months ago
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If any plan of his sailed smooth, it'd be a miracle; this run through the woods was as reasonably close as he usually came. The whole time, his heart thundered almost as loud as the earth beneath his feet. Branches lashed at him and left small bleeding cuts, at the speed he threaded through the woods with. He didn't have time to do more than plow forward and hope for the best. They were on his trail.
And the pace behind him was quickening.
He tripped once during his flight, clacking his jaw shut and scraping his cheek and palm against the gnarled root of the same tree that'd caught his boot. It'd hurt like fuck, the area bruised, but he could hardly take the breath to recover before he pushed up and ran. His senses were screaming, unraveling like seams tugged too hard. His breaths were turning ragged and there was ichor, black, thick and a toxic bile that thumped through his veins and set him dizzy with vertigo from the malice, the poison. It was a dirge premonitioning his failure. His legs burned and his arms stung with shallow slashes.
He pressed on, trampling his way through the undergrowth until even the trees blotted out the starlight of the night sky. It was a miracle he could see somehow, as it only grew darker, denser around him. He could feel where some of the worst routes to take would be by the presence of something in wait, and snaked his way through the trees, avoiding any ambush he could. His eyes were a rapid pendulum between the path ahead and the ground, keen to avoid any further tripping hazards, or additional traps.
His throat was nearly closed, his vision fuzzed and his pulse louder than even the footsteps not long behind him, when he finally stopped in a small copse, a grove illuminated in pale blues by the night.
Now came the hardest part.
Artair allowed himself a deep breath. Then he whipped around, doubling back. He broke from the path he'd carved to reach this place, now moving low to the ground, using foliage as cover. His footfalls were silent, meticulous steps, and a few whispered words and a crushing vice to his ribcage was enough to wrap him in a glamour, which would further obscure the brightness of his person if one wasn't looking with intent to see. Any breaths he took were tender through the glass in his lungs, slow and silent. His head split and blood trickled from his mouth and then his nose the longer he waited, but he scarce allowed himself the movement to brush it away.
Hardly a minute past that, he found the nook of his own tree, pressing against the bark and using a bush to further conceal himself from his previous path. He waited, holding his breath, a perfect statuette amongst the greenery.
The oni was -- large, as an understatement. Large enough it was a miracle at all it'd managed to duck it's way through doorways. He could see blue skin, and a mane of white, thick hair. Their weapon was slung over their shoulder, near as thick as one of the trees they bulldozed out of their way, and a variety of pelts hung and swayed with the breeze from their body at the speed they moved. They did not slow, following the trail he'd laid.
The smaller companion with them trailed behind. From his vantage, he could see the white of a burial shroud draped over their pale body, said form twisted and lengthened just enough to be a shape only analogous with a human. Their dark hair was all he could see that wasn't obscured by a deep red mask which covered their face, one with a pair of horns on the brow, gold painted eyes, and a horrifically stretched grin filled with tusks and jagged teeth. He wasn't sure what it was, but there was so much bleeding from the spirit that his eyes nearly crossed between the devastation that ate it's way through his core, and the seething, twisting red-hot rage that scorched the earth he rested against.
The being halted, and his held breath clenched. He didn't dare take his eyes off that wooden mask. It turned slow, scanning the area as the onryō flickered in and out of existence. And then, his miracle, it moved again, shuffling after its counterpart at a janky, uneven pace that seemed to bounce between far too rapid and slow.
The breath he let out trembled from his lips. He took several more with as much control as he could muster while drowning from the lack of oxygen. In. Out. In.... out.
His heart still hammered out a discordant symphony, but he couldn't linger when he didn't know how long until they returned to the house. At least now, cold air was threading his lungs, stitching them back together enough to survive another run. His shaking hands pulled him to his feet, and he slipped further along the path until he couldn't feel their presence.
The moment the oppressive weight lifted, Artair's glamour dropped, and he took flight once more.
It was still a journey, making it back. But still, it was faster this way, since he could follow his own path. He pelted down it like something with hell on its heels.
By the time he reached the start, he was sweaty, dirty, and bleeding still, but very much glad to be alive. He panted hard, stumbling a little as he caught his breath, and using a tree as support with a shoulder.
A few breaths. He'd earned that much. He took his hoodie and wiped at his face, trying to smear away what he could. It helped some, as far as he could tell, but he was sure he was still a mess at best. He scrubbed a little more in his grace period, before moving to look for Naoto's perch.
They really had chosen well; it wasn't until Naoto called from above that he spotted her, jumping momentarily at the sound of her voice. "Right -- ah-- ." He called back up to her, a little rough, before clearing his throat and trying again. "okonomiyaki-- it's me. Do-- do you need any help down?"
She offered another nod in return, then hunkered down as comfortably as she could in the tree. As he grew smaller and smaller, eventually disappearing into the forest, Naoto sighed and thought about how moronic it would be if she were to drop down and attempt to take matters into her own hands. Yamato Takeru hadn’t welled up to the surface, still within the depths of her soul. He seemed keen to trust in the other, and who was she to disobey the advice of her sort of other self?
The tremors were still light, but much more noticeable than minutes ago. They had finally breached the forest. She scooted into the leaves, thankful she had chosen to wear some dark clothes, not that her wardrobe contained many bright colors, much to the dismay of her fashionable friends. A yawn escaped her, and no sooner had she stopped, did the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
Stilled her breathing, gripped the branch as tightly as she could. The leaves obscured her vision, but between the minuscule gaps in foliage, something was headed her way. It wasn’t the oni or the onryō, perhaps not even the other yōkai patrolling the path. Could have been unrelated, but no less deadly. As quickly as it had come, it disappeared, like a fine mist. Oppression no longer lingered in the air.
Naoto tapped a finger against her chin. It wasn’t searching for something or someone, only passing through. Knowing that didn’t make the encounter any less startling. Continue to pass the time. There was only so much she could do besides analyzing leaves in a forest where it was too dark to see. Couldn’t even open her pocketbook without needing a flashlight, and that would most assuredly attract something.
When Kingston came back, Naoto wasn’t sure how long it had been, except less than an hour. “Your favorite food?”
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og-danny-dorito · 3 years ago
Text
[ 𝕊𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕤 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕋𝕠 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕂𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕖𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕 ]
⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒
heyyy i'm back with more content :) also trying out different fonts n formats??
⚠𝕋𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘����⚠️: mentions of sexual content but other than that none this shit wholesome
⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒
𝔹𝕣𝕒𝕙𝕞𝕤: - forehead kisses are pretty regular before you meet him since it's mandatory to give him a goodnight kiss
- it's only when brahms starts demanding them AFTER he revealed himself that they probably get less frequent and thats because the forehead kisses get replaced with cheek and mouth kisses
- or sometimes full-on makeout sessions
- kissing him on his forehead is usually something he gets as a reward for doing something good like picking up after himself or helping you around the kitchen
- it becomes so normal to give him a forehead kiss after he does good that every time he completes a task he leans down/leans forward and taps his forehead so you can give him a kiss
- he just wants your love and approval don't @ him
- 10/10 needy boy
𝕄𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕖𝕝: - how tf did you get up there - no seriously he's almost taller than a door how did you...? - okay well, regardless of how you reached this bitch's head your forehead kiss is most likely going to earn you a rough grip on your arm if you don't warn him - the most likely situation that this would happen is late at night when you haven't fallen asleep yet with mikey curled up to your side with your head in his chest - if it weren't for the fact that he sleeps like someone's going to attack him in his sleep you might've been able to get away with it, but the rough hand on your shoulder preventing you from moving any closer is proof of being caught - he eventually lets go and lets you kiss him because he's too tired, but he isn't too cool with intimacy that he doesn't initiate - if you've been together for a while and you do it it's cool, but your best bet is to do it while patching him up form being hurt or when he's too tired to deny you
- 8/10 you might get your throat crushed but its cool 𝕁𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟:
- i don't know how you got up there but he is WRAPPED around your finger - like he already loved you more than his undead heart could manage but when you tenderly kiss him on the forehead so casually while ya'll are just laying around or doing normal tasks? yeah mans might shut down
- nonsexual intimacy just makes his heart explode PLEASE - if you pull this shit on him you're gonna ether get attacked with kisses in turn, forced into a bearhug, or all of the above - 100/10 do it all the time please he loves it 𝔹𝕦𝕓𝕓𝕒:
- P L E A SE GIVE HIM KISSES
- give him ALL kisses he gets so upset if you don't give him at least a thousand a day
- like it's started to become a game to him. where are you gonna kiss him next? the temple? the hand? the cheek? he gets so excited just thinking about it!!! - kissing him on the forehead while bringing down some food and sweet tea while he works will make him a blubbery and squealey mess - like you love him that much that you'll just kiss and love on him whenever?!?!
- he starts doing it in turn because it makes him so happy when you do it to him. that or he starts hugging you and babbling happily whenever you're within 5 feet of each other - 1000/10 loves all affection 𝔹𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕪 & 𝕊𝕥𝕦:
- billy pretends to hate when you do it because he's "not a fucking kid" but he starts to get upset when you give stu kisses and don't give him any like a jealous child
- stu will literally take any sort of positive contact with open arms but he makes it weird by saying "thanks mom/dad/parental figure" - billy's kinda hesitant with being affectionate since he's kinda traumatized but after a bit of warming up to it he actually kinda likes random acts of affection?
- like he has this mentality that if you're being affectionate you want sex but after he realizes that you can be intimate without getting down and dirty he ends up liking it more than he likes sexual intimacy since it means more to him
- stu will literally kiss both of you any chance he gets with no hesitations
- and he will kiss EVERYWHERE. like don't be surprised if this man just kisses the back of your neck out of nowhere okay he has no self control
- its good there are three of you because just one person wouldn't be able to handle all of the love stu has to offer
- 7/10 for billy since it needs progress but 8/10 for stu since he makes dumb jokes but means well
ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕟:
- he's so awkward forgive him
- no like he literally doesn't know what to do when you first do it so he just kinda stands there for a second before nodding a "thank you" and leaving the room to recuperate
- on the outside he's all but on the inside he's like - he likes it but like? doesn't know?? how to ask for more??? - you can usually tell that he wants more because he starts nudging his head into your shoulder and waiting for you to give him kisses - a better option is to give him kisses on his mask filter! it's kinda like a lip kiss but not quite, and it's wholesome enough to make him have a good mood for the rest of the day
- like he might let a few victims die faster just because you gave him mask kisses before he went out - 6/10 he's awkward as all hell
𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕞𝕒𝕤:
- bro,,, thomas is so sad bro
- like,,, he just doesn't feel like you really care about him a lot of the time and doesn't feel like you deserve him and it gets him down so PLEASE show him affection
- like on the outside he may seem scared of it and might push you away, just be patient with him
- thomas ESPECIALLY doesn't like his face so kissing his face and telling him he looks handsome kinda makes him want to break down in tears right there
- like bubba he loves affection, but he's more timid and nervous about asking for it
- you can usually tell that he wants your attention from his nervous glances at you across the room and his sudden close proximity when you're walking around, so just turn around and hug him every once in a while!! or give him some smooches
- he might not offer them back but he returns the sentiment by nuzzling into your neck and humming if you play with his hair
- 9/10 just because he's super hesitant but needs it regardless
𝔽𝕣𝕖𝕕𝕕𝕪: - y'all bacon bits cannot take one fucking thing seriously
- SKJDFN like if you give him a forehead kiss he'll try to lick your chin or push you away he's such an ass
- it's honestly just because genuine heartfelt affection brings up emotions he's not good at dealing with so he avoids it by counteracting with stupidity but whatever
- do not give him forehead kisses or you'll get your neck bitten i mean it
- 2/10 he's a dumbass
𝕍𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕣:
- this man is BUILT for forehead kisses. look at that forehead. look at that sittable lap. look at those hugging arms.
- vincent will literally accept any sort of positive contact as long as you warn/ask him beforehand
- asking to kiss his forehead will earn you a shy nod, and doing so will result in a very blushy and embarrassed wax man
- FR THO like he will still get flustered and loose track of what he's doing if he thinks about it for a month after
- the fact that you kissed his face really sells it considering (like thomas) he's never liked his face
- kissing his BARE face for the first time though? oh my god he's going to start crying
- NO BUT FR SKJDFNK
- 10/10 he just,,,, loves you so much PLEASE
𝔹𝕠 𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕣: - c'mon now y'all really think he's gonna let you do that
- as soon as you lean in to kiss his forehead he's gonna push you away like "what are you doing" and go back to his business okay this man doesn't do intimacy
- unless he's in the safety of his room though
- if y'all are 100% alone it's okay even though he's kinda hesitant, but he's awkward and doesn't know how to return it in a way that isn't sexual
- like everyone paints him to be smooth n shit but i know for a FACT he doesn't know how to deal with genuine intimacy and it's because he's never had a healthy relationship in his life
- so you presenting that is weird and foreign and will take a lot of time for him to get used to
- 4/10 don't do that unless you're like a few months in
𝕄𝕒𝕝𝕖! 𝕐𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕛𝕒:
- what are you doing
- why are you doing that
- wait no don't stop-
- yeah soft intimacy is something he's still kinda getting used to. he doesn't hate it, but it still catches him off guard since he doesn't?? really know??? what to do????
- kinda just coos affectionately into your chest and holds you there for a second before placing a kiss (or like the closest he can get to one with those tusks and lack of lips) on whatever exposed area of skin is the closest but he gets an A for effort
- 9/10 doesn't know what to do but still enthusiastic!!
ℂ𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕪𝕞𝕒𝕟:
- while he PREFERS hand kisses cause he's classy, he doesn't mind forehead kisses at all
- in fact, if he's taller than you they're really common for him to give!
- if you return them he's pleasantly surprised and can't help but get all soft because of it
- 11/10 not much else to say here just a wholesome man
⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒
[ 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘! ℝ𝕖𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕. :) ]
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sungodlywriting · 3 years ago
Text
curiosity
1.7k words
+18, minors dni
technoblade smut 
size kink
It started as curiosity. You'd tried on Techno's cloak just to see what it was like.
Your lover was still asleep, gentle rumbling snores coming from under the mass of blankets you used to keep out artic chill.
It wasn't a rare occasion to wake up before Techno, but it was strange for him to stay so deathly asleep while you moved around the cabin.
You stared at yourself in the mirror, turning to either side to see what you looked like. The fur lined cloak was thick, heavy material putting weight on your shoulders that you weren't used to. It was long, too. The cloak was on the floor and then so, bringing to light how short you were compared to Techno.
Huh, and you thought you were tall.
An idea sprung into your head while you looked into the mirror, a golden twinkle catching your eye as you examined yourself.
The crown was in your hands and on your head in seconds and you were back at the mirror, feeling equally silly and powerful in your boyfriend's gear.
"What do you think you're doin'?"
You startled, locking eyes with Techno through the mirror. He had a tired smirk on his face, hair still lightly tousled. Immediately you were filled with warmth, lost for a moment in the love you felt.
"Trying out a new style," Was your response, doing a short twirl in your getup. You nearly tripped over the excess cloak, laughing as you caught yourself. "what do you think?"
Techno groaned softly, stretching his arms over his head.
"You look good. A little small, maybe-"
"Oh, shut it. I'm taller than most." You got into this playful argument with him often, mostly as a way to trade quips back and forth when you didn't know what else to say.
Techno had gotten out of bed at this point, pulling a shirt over his head and waking over to you to pull the cloak off your shoulders. He kissed your forehead as he wrapped it around himself, a large hand cupping your cheek as he pulled back.
"Still shorter than me." You rolled your eyes, following him down the ladder so you could start your day.
It took you a few minutes to realize he'd left you with his crown.
That night you were back in bed, curled up against Techno's side while he read a book and absently pet your hair.
You were almost asleep from his gentle ministrations when he flicked your ear, making you give him the evil eye.
"Sorry darlin', you just looked so cute."
"So you decided to fuck with me?"
"Yup." You shook your head fondly, twisting to the side so you could rest your chin on his chest.
"I'm bored."
"Go to sleep then." You squinted at Techno, watching the corner of his mouth perk up slightly. Your boyfriend had an excellent poker face, except when it came to you.
"I can think of other ways to pass the time." Your voice dropped slightly as you lidded your eyes. Techno made eye contact for a few seconds, eyebrow raising as he turned back to his book.
"And what would that be?" You knew you'd convinced him by the tone of his voice, your hand pushing his book to the side while you sat up and slid into his lap. You leaned over, pulling a small vial of oil from inside the bedside table and setting it down on the surface.
"Oh, you know..." Your arms came up to rest on his shoulders, locking your fingers behind his neck. "I'm sure you could figure it out."
You were jostled slightly as Techno spread his legs, hands on your hips as he pulled your bodies together with a soft groan of contemplation.
"Enlighten me anyway." His voice was starting to turn growling, it was almost an effort not to shudder. You leaned in, ghosting your breath over his lips.
"I want you to take care of me, Tech..."
"I can do that." He leaned in the extra centimeter to connect your mouths, locking them in the perfect way you'd only ever felt with him.
His hands roamed down from your hips to your thighs, going back along your body to cup your ass. You slid one of your hands into his hair, the other pulling back to cup his face while you made out. It was a slow, tired kind of dance, tongues tangling by the light of a few candles.
"Mnh, Tech..." You pulled back and reached down, fingers undoing his trousers just enough to pull him free and stroke the thick cock in your palm. Techno groaned, leaning over your grip to start placing kisses on your neck. His tusks rubbed against the sensitive skin, your hair standing on edge as you continued to slowly stroke him.
"Aren't I supposed to be taking care of you?" He asked in between kisses and soft bites.
"I mean-" You were cut off as he flipped you, making short work of removing your shorts. They were technically his, stolen by you long ago for something to sleep in.
Techno grabbed the oil off the bedside table, slicking his fingers while you watched with anticipation.
"I can take two-" You purred, spreading your legs a bit more. "Let's speed this up."
Your lover chuckled as he teased your hole, slipping two thick fingers in. You groaned softly, head dropping back onto Techno's pillow as his skillful fingers worked to take you apart.
He dragged his fingers in and out of you slowly, torturously so. You whined softly, hips grinding down on his hand as you sought out more stimulation.
"Technooo..."
"C'mon sweet thing. Stay still." You whined again, feeling pleasure light up your nerves as Techno crooked his fingers, slowly rolling over the bundle of nerves inside you. You stayed still, his voice rolling around your head.
He continued to tease you until your head felt light, your hands gripping the sheets below you as you struggled not to move. He had four fingers in you now, making sure you were well prepped to take him.
"God- Techno, please." You curled your toes, trying so hard not the start grinding your hips against the fingers driving you absolutely crazy.
"Well, if you're going to ask so nicely." You felt the loss of his fingers, barely having the time to mourn the feeling before his cockhead was pressing at your hole.
"Are you sure you're-"
"Techno I love you so much but if you don't get in me right now I'm going to finish myself off without you."
He growled at that, rolling his hips just enough to breach your entrance. You grabbed his shirt to pull him down for a kiss, resuming your heated makeout from earlier as Techno slowly pushed into you.
Once your lover had bottomed out, you dropped from the kiss. You panted softly, drawing in breaths while you adjusted from the size of him.
"You're always s-so tight." Techno had his face pressed into your shoulder, hips still while he waited for the go ahead.
"And you're not getting any smaller.." You mumbled softly, hips twitching. "Move, Tech- please." He followed your order before you were finished speaking, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in. You let out a choked moan, feeling his cock make it's path through your insides.
"Fuck you're- you're so big." You were starting to lose your thoughts again, the blissful void welcoming you. Techno bit your shoulder, his hips moving faster.
With Techno's size, it was impossible for him not to grind against that bundle of nerves inside you with each thrust. Your vision was filled with stars, wanton moans leaving your lips with each little movement from your lover. He wasn't in much better shape, groaning against your skin in between sharp bites and darkening hickies left on your skin.
His pace quickened to a brutal speed, his hands grabbing your hips to keep you from being bumped up with each thrust. His hands were so large compared to your waist, he could wrap his grip around your hips and pull you down on his cock. You clawed at the sheets, pleasured cries falling from your lips as you felt yourself climb towards the edge.
"Techno- fuck, Techno, god!" He went back to attacking your skin with bites and kisses, the sharp pricks of pain enhancing your sensations.
"I'm close, I'm so close-" He nodded against your skin, forehead resting on your collar as he drove himself home over and over, filling you so incredibly full. His eyes opened and he let out a broken groan, grabbing one of your hands and putting it on your stomach. You were confused until the next thrust, when you felt him through your stomach.
You clenched down on Techno's dick, wailing out his name as you came. He wasn't far behind, fucking you through your orgasm and just over the edge of overstimulation before his hips jerked and stilled, warmth filling your insides.
The two of you soaked in the afterglow together, exchanging lazy kisses while Techno continued to fill you with cum.
"You always cum so much.." You mumbled softly, petting through his hair. He shrugged, voice muffled from where he was pressed against your skin.
"You like it." You nodded and let out a soft purr. Techno began to shift, pulling out of you and getting onto his knees, eyes dark as he watched his cum dribble out of you.
"We're going to have to change the sheets.." You groaned, putting a hand over your eyes.
"Tomorrowww...Lay with me."
Techno said your name softly, shaking his head at your playfully over the top whine that followed before getting up off the bed and grabbing his pants. He disappeared down the ladder, so you took your que to fall asleep. Once again, you were almost out before the feeling of a warm, wet cloth brought you back into the world.
Techno was gently cleaning your skin, starting with the bite wounds he'd left on your collar and neck before moving down, dipping the cloth in a small bowl of warm water before moving between your legs. You were still sensitive, hips squirming a little as he cleaned you. He chuckled softly, patting your hip when he was finished and going to the window to dump the bowl out into the snow below.
The candle he'd been using to read earlier was extinguished and you felt Techno's large form dip your side of the bed. You curled into his chest, enjoying the heat your lover naturally gave off as you finally drifted off into sleep.
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peachy-rambles · 3 years ago
Text
May I offer: Owl Phil
He's a silent but incredibly deadly predator with massive golden-brown feathers designed so he's completely silent when hunting and flying at night. He has an impressive eyesight and is able to spot his prey easily, even in the dark.
Due to his natural abilities and skills, it makes him the perfect assassin and he's very well known, as well as greatly feared. People say once the Angel of Death sets his cold blue eyes on you, it's only a matters of days until you're found dead.
One time, he's hired to kill a warrior that's been getting in the way of some king's quest to conquer more land, and destroying any army that the King sends out.
The job is fairly easy, surprisingly enough - Phil tracks down the warrior to an outpost where the rebel army opposing the king is staying. Phil watches up in a nearby tree, waiting for the right moment.
Soon enough, he spots his target emerging from a tent and walking throughout the outpost. The warrior be hard to miss, considering how much he stands out and towers over everyone else.
Phil has his bow and arrow ready, and when the warrior is in the right position, Phil releases his arrow.
It hits its target, lodging itself in the warrior's chest and piercing his heart. The warrior falls to the ground dead and Phil smiles to himself.
Just another job successfully done.
Around 100 years later, Phil is attending a masquerade ball on another assignment. Dressed to the nines in a corset and long flowing green dress, with an owl mask to hide his face, he blends in perfectly.
He spends a fair amount of time wandering throughout the building and observing the many guests (politely declining any interest and flirtations directed towards him), until eventually finds his target.
Phil approaches his target, who is standing off to the side of the party, dressed appropriately in a large red cloak and with an ornate pig mask covering half of his face.
"Not one for socializing, are you?" Phil asks his target, attempting to start a conversation.
His target is quiet for a moment before he shrugs, "Not really."
He doesn't offer anything else and the awkward silence between them is heavy.
"I'm Watson, by the way!" Phil says, holding his hand out to his target and attempting to break the silence.
His target hesitates before he places his hand on Phil's and quietly says, "Techno."
It's a bit easier after that to converse with Techno, with Phil doing his best to lead the conversation. Techno seems to just be naturally awkward and somewhat distrustful (which Phil wouldn't blame him for), but as the night goes on he opens up to Phil bit by bit. In turn, Phil begins to talk more freely and it isn't long before they're both laughing and giggling about some stupid joke Techno just made.
And damn, Phil really shouldn't enjoy talking to Techno this much, not when he's Phil's target, but Phil can't help but like Techno. He seems like a genuinely nice, if awkward person, but...a job is a job and Phil has never failed before.
He won't start now.
Still, Phil can't help but let his assignment slip from his mind when Techno leads him out to one of the empty balconies (Phil following behind and on reflex, shutting and locking the balcony doors). It isn't long before Phil finds himself being held and pressed up against one of the balcony walls, both of them hidden from view, as Techno kisses him.
Phil tries to focus, he really does, but that's a bit hard to do while being kissed by Techno (it's not like Techno is the best kisser or seems terribly experienced, especially with those tusks, but he makes up for it in enthusiasm and his eagerness to kiss Phil. And Phil just likes him a lot more than he thought he would, which is bad, but there's nothing he can do about it now).
At one point, while Techno's head is bent down and mouthing at Phil's neck (no doubt leaving marks, which Phil has mixed feelings about), Phil manages to accidentally undo the tie to Techno's mask as he runs his fingers through Techno's hair.
The mask falls to the floor, but they both ignore it, too caught up in each other to really notice.
But it's when Techno lifts his head up, his face unmasked for the first time that night, that Phil stiffens and his eyes widen in disbelief.
Phil has lived many years and has killed countless people, has trained himself to feel nothing but apathy towards his targets.
But despite Phil's many many years and the countless amount of lives he's taken, Phil has never forgotten the faces of the people he's killed.
And Techno has the face of a warrior that Phil killed years ago, the one that wouldn't die no matter how many armies the King sent after him. The warrior that Phil had found in a rebel outpost and sniped, that Phil knew should be dead! Because even if Phil somehow hadn't killed him (which he did, Phil knows he did, he has never failed on a job), it's been over 100 years! The warrior wouldn't be alive, even if Phil hadn't killed him!
Right?
"Watson? Is-is everything all right?" Techno asks, having noticed Phil stiffening up in his arms and the, well...terror written all over his face.
Techno carefully sets Phil down and Phil silently walks over to the balcony railing, gripping it tightly in his hands.
This should be impossible. Why does Techno have the face of one of Phil's past victims? Surely it was just a coincidence!
(But Phil had a feeling it wasn't.)
"Watson? Are you okay? Did I-did I do something wrong?" Phil feels Techno come up behind him, placing a careful hand on Phil's waist.
Well, at least the one upside to seeing Techno's face is that Phil isn't distracted anymore and remembers what he's here to do - why he's attending this party and why he even approached Techno in the first place.
"I'm fine, just...could you hold me?" Phil asks and let's go of the railing, leaning back against Techno as he wraps his arms around Phil.
Phil turns around to face Techno and crooks his finger towards him, Techno understanding and leaning down so he's somewhat closer to Phil's height.
Phil whispers, "I'm sorry," and places a delicate kiss against Techno's lips.
Techno is utterly confused, until he feels the sharp pain of a knife entering and leaving his chest, impaling his heart.
He stumbles back and falls to the floor, dead.
Phil's job is done and he escapes, silently flying out into the night. And for the first time in years, he tries to forget the face of one of his victims.
Over 200 years pass and Phil has long forgotten about the Techno incident, as he's come to call out, pushing it to the back of his mind.
He's been hired for another job, this one probably one of the more elite one he's done because this time, he's been hired to kill an Emperor.
The Ice Emperor of the Antarctic Empire is Phil's current target. Starting out with a small army and barely any territory or wealth, the Ice Emperor has since expanded his empire and threatens to take over the whole world. Not that Phil really cares for politics, but he wasn't really surprised when the leaders of other factions all grouped together and hired him to take out their fellow leader.
Phil manages to fly out under the cover of night and into the cold tundra the Ice Emperor calls home, finding the grand palace he lives in. Phil lands on one of the upper windows, easily unlocking it and sneaking inside.
He enters the room - the Ice Emperor's bedroom - and remains silent as he walks up to the Emperor's bed where he lays fast asleep. He's sprawled out onto the massive bed, no doubt custom made to fit his size, the covers askew and his hair a tangled mess around his face.
This was the feared Ice Emperor? Well, ok, Phil got that this guy was fucking massive and probably normally very scary. But like this? Not really.
Phil shook his head and forced himself back to the present.
Right. Quick slice across the throat and Phil should be done.
He pulled out his knife from it's sheath and leaned down, only to let out a startled shriek when a large hand reached out to grab his arm.
Phil struggled as he was pulled down by the Ice Emperor, but he was no match for the Emperor's massive size and strength. Within seconds, Phil found himself pinned down onto the bed, a hand wrapped firmly (but surprisingly gently) around his neck and another hand gripping his wrist which still held the knife.
Phil stared up at the Ice Emperor in shock, a cold sinking feeling washing over him as his eyes met the Emperor's. He wasn't surprised that the Emperor had caught and immobilized him, no that's not what shocked Phil.
What shocked Phil and what terrified him was the blood red eyes meeting his own blue ones, the red eyes that Phil recognized.
The eyes belonging to a warrior in a rebel outpost he'd killed years ago. The same eyes that belonged to a man Phil had met at a masquerade ball and had found himself utterly attracted to, only to have to kill him later that night.
"Hello, Angel," Techno said, smiling down at him, "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
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monterraverde · 2 years ago
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"Why're you apologizing? There's no way you could have been at fault for this..." She hisses, finally managing to sit up and bury her face in both hands, shivering and shaking... scared, cold, her entire body reeling against something foreign, making her feel feverish and just all around sick.
"A garchomp- Wait, Adniel!! Bappy?! Where's my belt?!" She panics, patting her hips and looking around the cage in a fruitless effort to find them... the cage is small, though, no way it was hiding anywhere.
"Oh nononono... Fuck what happened to me, where's my whole team?! Oh if he hurts them I swear to god..." She hisses, slowly coming to the realization that he has access to her Great Tusk...
And she can feel a rage building, but that's stopped dead when she suddenly felt a sharp pain in her mouth, cupping her hand around it and pressing her back against the wall, eyes shut tightly as she tried to ride it out...
"Why is this happening...?!"
"Rika..." Ari replies back, voice notably softer. "I'm so.. So so sorry... I should've just- left- I... Dragged you into this." People like him didn't get happy endings. Didn't deserve them... He opens his mouth to respond but the moment she looks at him, his entire body freezes.
What the fuck did....
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"You smell like a Garchomp." Comes N's voice from another side of the room, knocking Ari out of his stupor. Unlike Rika, he and Ari had their wrists chained to the bottom of the cage, chains rattle when he makes a circular motion with his hand. "...... All I can say is welcome to our personal Hell."
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buildmeafairytale · 4 years ago
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Orc Boyfriend - Bash
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Oh my gosh guys I just hit 160 followers! I honestly didn’t think I would have nearly this many when I made this blog, and I’m so thankful for all those who read and like my stories! Here’s another one featuring a gifted woman and her orc babe. If you like my work, please consider donating to my kofi, it helps me out a lot <3 Also, sorry if you’re seeing this twice, I had to fix the ‘keep reading’ thing so it wouldn’t be so long. NSFW
 I was a little girl when I heard the siren’s call. My parents were busy doing anything but watching me, and slipping away was never hard. I followed the voice through the forest near my home, the song notes pulling at me like strings tied around my bones. I saw a woman laid out near a creek, sick and dying. She was singing a mourning song for herself, so I sat with her and tried to offer her any comfort I could. She was scared of dying alone; that much I could tell from her pained wails. So I sat there and held her hand for as long as it took, and she thanked me with a gift. I felt the power come over me, blue lights whirled up my arm and through my body from where my hand was grasping hers. I didn't understand what had happened for a while, but it became impossible to ignore. I would whistle a tune and birds would start to follow me, or I would sing and my parents would suddenly want to spend time with me. I didn’t understand the strength of the power until I started school, though. A boy tried to grab at me and lift up my skirt, and the shrill sound that left me was anything but human. He was on the ground with blood pooling in his ears by the time my mouth sprung shut. 
I was more careful after that. Being different in my town is often a death sentence, so I learned to control it and keep this power to myself. I always figured my parents had a hunch, but as they didn’t spend time with me much I was unsure. That was until my parents sold me off, though. Then it was confirmed.
 The men came in the middle of the night. They were dirty and unkempt but dressed in good, although mismatched, armor. They probably had a single set of teeth between them all. I heard the commotion and came downstairs. 
 “Ah good, she’s awake. Go ahead and take her, I have no need for her here.” I heard my father say, his nose upturned and his awful fake accent exaggerated. 
 I watched my father be paid by them while my mother stood to the side. Her lips were pinched tight but she did not speak up in my defense. I looked back and forth in confusion, still half asleep and not understanding what was happening to me. They stood there by the large french doors, draped in their finery while I was sold like a broodmare. 
“She is a monster,” I heard my mother say, “do not be afraid to treat her like one.”
The men went to grab me, but I tried to fight. I squirmed and clawed, and they led me away as I struggled in their grasp. I opened my mouth to scream but I was hit over the back of the head before I could get a sound out.
When I woke up, all I could feel was pain blossoming at the base of my skull. As I got used to the pain, I felt a tender hand brushing the sweat soaked hair off of my forehead. I peeled my eyes open, and as they went into focus I found I was inside of a wooden box, the only sunlight coming in from little gaps between panels. We must have been moving, as I was only slightly aware of the jostling of my head when we hit bumps. The hand was attached to a small orcish girl, still a child. She couldn’t be very old, her tusks were still just nubs peeking out of her lips. It was then I saw her lips moving, the actual words taking longer to get to me.
“Shh are you alright lady? It’s gonna be okay, my papa and uncle are gonna come, I promise. I’m Sheely, and -” her words faded slowly, and I felt myself go unconscious again, her voice luling me out again. 
The next time I wake up is to the screams of the girl being held prisoner with me. I awake abruptly, and while I’m still in pain I move quickly. I see a man is trying to drag her out of the box we are in. She is clawing and fighting him with tears rushing down her face. I do not hesitate, and when I hear men comment about ‘breaking her in’ I let out a cry that has them all on their knees. Blood is running out of all the orifices in their head, like tears coming from their eyes, and a few of them have collapsed. Sheely is unharmed by me and my power does not touch her, which I am thankful for. I grab her and start to run. Everything is blurry for me but I know this is my chance to get us out of this. I don’t want to dwell on the intentions of those men, but I know enough to know we would be better off lost in the wilderness.
 The orc - Sheely is just a child, though, no matter that orcish children are almost as large as a human teenager. She is panicked from the men trying to hurt her, sobs still leaving her despite the running and she catches her ankle on a root. She falls to the ground, but I waste no time in trying to pick her up. I have not known hard labor in my life and orcish children are not easy to carry, though. I feel the panic rising in my chest, and I hold her to me tightly.
 I hear them, then. Some of the men have come after us, and I try to find somewhere to hide the girl. My feet scrape the ground as I try to haul her behind a fallen tree. It is no use, and soon the largest of the men is appearing in front of us. Before I can blink a long whip is wrapped around my arm, bringing us both to the ground. I sing and wail once again but while I can tell he is in pain, it does not stop him. I curse myself now, for ignoring the power I have. If only I had honed it, or practiced more, we could be okay. He backhands me, and I hear a crack.
The pain doesn't knock me out this time, although I wish it had. I am grabbed by the jaw, and I forget all about the pain in my head. Noise leaves me but not enough. and my voice is rendered useless. He glares at me with dark eyes, and all I see is hate in them.
“Are you going to try that again or should I crush your vocal cords too, siren bitch?” Spit flies in my face and I shake my head no to the best of my abilities. He increases his grip on my jaw harder, and if it wasn’t broken before I’m sure it is now. My vision swims with darkness, but I hold on. I won’t leave her alone with them. He lets go and pushes my face away and into the ground. 
“Get the fuck up then,” he tells me, and I obey. 
 We are dragged back to their camp, and I hold onto Sheely. I see several of the men still on the ground before we are thrown back into the wagon. My head hits the wall and I feel the wood splinter into my skin. I manage to position Sheely behind me. I am hopeful that the men are in enough pain to be deterred from their plans with her, but I don’t want to risk not being able to help her if they come back. 
I don’t know how long it has been but I have not had food nor water since I was captured. I had never known this kind of pain, this uncomfortable existence, but I refused to let myself succumb to sleep. Instead I spend my time trying to listen to the men and make sure no one was coming to get us
The words I hear from the men outside all melt together and paint an eerie picture of the life waiting for me. I feel as if I am living in a nightmare and just couldn’t make my screams heard or run fast enough to escape. Scenes play out before my eyes of the ways evil people mean to torture me and throw me away once I am used up. I hear screams and anguished cries, but it all fades into the horror playing behind my eyelids. The screaming dies down into a dark silence, and I can hear Sheely yelling from behind me, apparently awake. 
The last of my strength I spend covering her body with mine, pushing her further into the corner of our dank wooden prison. The door is ripped apart, and the sun has risen. The light blinds me for a moment, but then a large figure blocks it out. I turn my back to the figure and pull Sheely further underneath me. I don’t feel as though I am long for this world in my current condition, and she is so young. I want to give her a chance. 
“Uncle!” I hear Sheely yell this in the back of my mind, and the man yells out for Sheely too. I let go, then. I let go of her, and my will to stay conscious as well. I feel her relief and happy noises all around. I try to soak in her joy as I let go. 
I know enough to know I am not dead. I drift in and out, feeling bumps in the roads and rumbling voices around me. Everything hurts enough that I wish I was dead, though. A wish that refuses to come true, as I am suspended in pain for what feels like an eternity. 
The fog eventually clears and the heavy scent of medicinal steam hangs in the air. The smell is of a healers den, and if I am right then I am relieved. My vision is blurry but I see a shape run into the den, and Sheely’s voice. It’s the sweet voice of a happy and safe child, and I think I manage a smile. I see another shape duck into the tent behind her, as well as a deep voice coming from beside me. A gnarled and old hand comes into vision as well, holding a cloth to my face. The throbbing of my jaw and head is not gone, but muted. I feel bandages wrapped around my arm and feet as well. A small hand takes hold of mine, and when I fall asleep again I feel calm for the first time in days. 
The medicine is strong and leaves me in a daze for a long while, but as I heal they give me less and less, until I am able to understand and remember when people are speaking to me. Ungral, the healer, is a constant companion to me. He explains that Sheely is the much loved daughter of their chief, and I am being honored among the clan. 
“Sheely has painted quite the picture of you to us all, calls you a ‘screeching warrior’” Ungral informs me, his lips upturned in amusement.
“Oh goodness, everyone will be so disappointed when they actually see me. I am no warrior, although I did screech quite a bit.” I jest with him.
“Hush child, no one will be disappointed to see the women who took care of our Sheely,” He sets out food in front of me. It is a thick and meaty stew, and I am in heaven from the smell alone. 
 Sheely visits me everyday before her schooling and often before her bedtime, bringing me snacks and things to do. Her mother and father visited me early in my recovery, but I don’t remember very much. Sheely tells me they are planning a celebration for her return, and that they are waiting until I am recovered since I am an ‘honored guest’. I am grateful for their hospitality, but I feel I have not earned it. All I did was cower with Sheely in a corner while her family saved us both, but I would hate to insult them this way.  
The first day Ungral has me leave the tent to walk is more eventful than I like. The moment I leave the hut, orcs are thanking me and introducing themselves left and right. I am friendly and speak to everyone, but it quickly becomes too much for me. Right before I am going to tell Ungral I need a break, Sheely comes running up to me followed by three other orcs. One of which was a woman, in decorative armor and beads woven into her hair. She grabs my hand with tear filled eyes as Sheely hugs my legs. 
“Thank you for keeping my daughter safe when I couldn’t,” she tells me. My eyes start to fill as well, just looking at her. 
“Of course,” I nod to her, my hands grasping hers back. I am starting to feel dizzy but I dare not disrespect her. One of the orcs with her, the smaller of the two men, comes up to me as well. This is without a doubt the chief. I know little of orcs and their customs, but the beads and armor he wears, as well as the tattoos covering him, seems to indicate this. 
“I am Sheelga’s father, and Chief of this clan,” He tells me, his voice loud and clear. “We are all so thankful for you and that you were able to protect her. You will want for nothing here, nor ever again. Be assured that the men who took you are no longer in this world and as soon as you are fully healed, I will have my best warriors escort you home to your family. If there is anything you need, please, just let us know.” He tells me this, and I am reminded that my family is the one who did this to me. I stutter out a thank you and feel my legs shake. Ungral is by my side quickly, the old man more nimble than I assumed.  
“Leave the girl alone, just because she is stretching her legs doesn’t mean you can all bombard her,” he waves off the chief and his wife, who just chuckle at him. 
“Yes, we will leave you be then. Please, rest and know that you are safe here,” The chief and his wife say goodbye and turn to leave, but Sheely runs into the healing den. Ungral and I follow after her, partially to see what is wrong and partially because my stamina is running too low to do much else. Her parents and the other large orc come into the hut too, and I see Sheely in her usual spot next to the bed with tears running down her cheeks.
Everyone goes over her and when I settle on the bed she hurriedly plasters herself against me. I hold and shush her, and I can make out some words between her broken sobs. 
“I don’t want you to leave,” she bawls out, and I immediately start to hold her tighter. 
Her father has crouched next to her, and his large hand is splayed on her back. “She has a family too, my heart, and we cannot keep her from them,” he tells her, but I speak up. 
“I don’t actually. Well, I suppose I do but they’re the ones who sold me to those men,” my voice wavers as all the eyes turn to me, mixed looks of anger and pity look back at me. 
“Then you have to stay here,” Sheely says, her voice firm. I smile at her, but I do not wish to impose on these kind people. 
“Now little one, I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” I try to sound cheery, but it really just comes out sad. 
“I think I speak for everyone here when I say you should stay,” the other orc speaks up, and I no longer argue. He is the largest being I have ever seen, with dark green skin and long black hair in a single shining braid down his back. He has black swirling tattoos covering a great deal of his arms, and his deep brown eyes lock onto mine. His beauty stops the words from leaving my mouth. 
“Yes, brother,” the chief nods at him and turns to me. “You will stay then, it is settled.”
His wife comes to sit by me and I open my mouth but no sounds come out, I just nod and squeeze her hand. 
Not soon after this I start to heal more quickly. I am sure this has something to do with the lack of stress I currently have. I am surrounded by kind people who want to help me, and I get to stay. A large feast is held to not only celebrate that Sheely is back, but also to welcome me to the clan. It is loud and boisterous, and copious amounts of ale are consumed. Balo, the Chief, drinks so much in celebration that his wife Lorka is rolling her eyes at him. He is telling old war stories and spinning his daughter around, taking intermediate breaks to remind Lorka how in love with her he is. When he hears me laugh, though, he sends a large grin my way and starts a toast for me. I am embarrassed, but flattered as they raise their glasses to me. I drink some too, but Ungral warns me not to do much since it could interfere with some of the medicine he has given me. 
Sure enough, I feel the effects of the alcohol much more strongly than I would have thought, so I go outside to get some space from the crowd. I find a pretty tree nearby and stumble my way over to it. I see Sheely’s uncle leave the great feast hall not long after I do. He looks around until he finds me, then struts toward me. 
“Oh, hi! I’m sorry but I don’t think I ever got your name,” I squeak out the words as best I can, hoping I’m not sounding over eager or over drunk. He is large and powerful, and I cannot look away. He makes me feel so small, and it excites something deep within me. My head spins, and I am unsure if it is due to his presence or simply the mead. 
“My given name is Rhugro’bash, but Bash is just fine little songbird,” he nods at me and settles onto a stump next to me. He offers me a smile and hands me a plate stacked high with food. “I saw you leave and wanted to make sure you would still eat.” 
“Thank you, everyone is so friendly but I’m just not used to such big crowds,” I take the food eagerly, moaning at the flavors. I feel spoiled here, with a beautiful orcish man bringing me delicious food. I open my eyes to see Bash staring at me as I eat, and I almost choke at the look on his face. “Sorry, it’s just so good.” 
He throws his head back and lets out a guwaffing laugh. “Well then I am happy to have pleased one as lovely as you.” 
He reaches over and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, and I’m sure he can feel the heat coming off of my face. He stands and leaves quickly after, wishing me a goodnight in his deep rumbling voice. Oh gods, I think to myself, I am going to get myself in trouble with him. 
The next morning I wake up to a large breakfast and a flower set out for me. I ask Ungral about it and he laughs, shaking his head at me.  
“It seems you’ve caught a certain someone’s attention,” the old man gives me a wry smile, apparently amused by my confusion. He sits across from me with his herbal tea, and passes me a note. It says nothing on it but ‘From Bash’, so it does little to clear things up.
“But...why?” 
“The man wants to cook for you,” he shrugs, “wants to see to it you’re fed, and brings a flower? I think you can figure it out,” he chuckles at me then, and leaves me with a meal that was composed of more food than I would be able to eat in days. 
 Bash comes to visit with Sheely later in the day, who hugs me then promptly goes to hang out with Ungral instead. I thank Bash for breakfast and he goes from a warrior to a puppy in an instant. He lights up and breaks out in a breathtaking smile, the gold bands on his tusks shining brightly. The two of us sit down, and he sees the flower sitting next to my bed. I clear my throat, feeling much more nervous in his presence than the night before when I was emboldened by alcohol. 
“I hope it wasn’t too forward of me, songbird. I wasn’t sure how things like this are done where you are from.” He speaks so casually and directly, I am not used to that. 
“What kind of things do you mean?” 
He reaches over and folds my hand in his, his calloused palms brushing against my skin in the sweetest way. “Romantic type things. I want to court you.”  
“Can I ask why?” 
He laughs a bit and schooches his chair closer to me, a playful look on his face. He leans closer to me as he speaks, and his proximity makes my head spin. “You are strong, and brave. I like the way you look when I bring you food, and how beautiful you are. You love Sheely, and were ready to lay down your life for her. I cannot think of better traits for a mate.” 
My mouth is in an “o” shape, and he leans back with a satisfied look on his face. Sheely comes barreling back in and I am grateful for the distraction. 
Bash continues to send food to me, along with little gifts or trinkets. He gives me clothing too, as well as a homemade chest to put everything in. I appreciate it and everything he does makes me feel so special, but I hardly feel as if I deserve it.
 One day he comes to take me for a walk, and I voice this to him.
“I really do enjoy everything you do for me, I just feel like I am undeserving of all of it. You spoil me.” He finds a log to sit on, and pulls me to sit on one of his thighs. My arms wind themselves around his neck with his behind my back. The closeness is so effortless for him, it seems, while I feel my heart is going to pump out of my chest.
“Now don’t go feeling guilty, pretty bird. I like doing things for you.” He frowns at me, and makes everything sound so simple.
“I just feel bad I can’t give you anything in return.”
“You give me plenty,” he scoffs, “you gift me your time.”
You huff and adjust yourself on his knee, turning to face him more. 
“You give me that too though. I want to give you something and yet all I have are things you have gifted me.” I frown at this realization. They have welcomed me in but I’ve really just free-loaded. 
Bash taps a finger to my forehead, startling me out of my thoughts. “I don’t know what’s going on in here, but cut it out. You wanna give me something?” I nod, of course I do. He smiles, almost wicked. “Sing to me, bird. I want to hear it.” 
My eyes grow big. Of all things, I was not expecting this. 
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says, playing with my hair with an exaggerated pout on his lips.
“I’ll do it for you, I’m just not used to singing nice things. It’s always been a bit of a defense mechanism.” I try to think back to when I was young and would sing to the birds and the flowers. I think about the feelings I have for Bash, the look in his eye when he sees me and the happiness he brings me. I concentrate and let my abilities take over. It’s natural for me, like taking a breath of fresh air after being underwater too long. 
My voice sings of a new life, of a gallant rescue. I sing of new feelings and new family, how much more beautiful life is for me now. I sing of new beginnings, of spring. I let my emotions well up then pour out, and I am unsure how long I sing but when I stop he has tears in his eyes. 
I reach up to wipe them away, noticing how out of it he looks. He has pulled me much closer to him while I was singing and I am thoroughly pressed against him.
He whispers “thank you.” Bash presses his lips to my brow and we stay like this for quite some time. Once we hear crickets chirping he takes me back to Ungral’s.
The courting gifts start to increase and get larger after this encounter. He insists on cooking almost every meal for me, and I try to squash my feelings of being unworthy. I sing to him occasionally too, since he says it’s one of his favorite things. We often have the healers den to ourselves, since Ungral lives in a separate building behind it. I haven’t been to his house yet, as he said he is in the middle of building onto it.
The first time he kisses me, it is while he is cooking for me. I move to the kitchen to peek at what he is making, and he just leans down and pecks me on the lips. He pulls back and looks shocked at his own actions, and I get to see my great warrior flustered. I give him no chance to apologize. I lift up onto my tippy toes and pull him down, slanting my mouth over his. He holds his arms out awkwardly to the side at first, but soon drops the wooden spoon and kisses me back. 
He’s vocal and does not bother to hold in his groans. I pull at him until we are on the cot together, kissing and petting at one another. He moves to my neck, placing wet open mouthed kisses under my ear. The feeling of his tusks brushing against my neck sends chills up my spine. All too suddenly he rips himself off of me, running to the kitchen. The sound of soup boiling over registers and I hop up to help clean up the mess. Bash’s cursing turns into laughter when we look at one another, and I peck his lips again but the heated moment has passed.
I am adamant about giving Bash an actual tangible courting gift, and I ask Ungral about it. 
“It’s not frowned upon, if that’s what you mean,” he tells me, showing me how to blend certain medicines. “Not required either, but after one courts you a while giving a gift back is a way to accept the courting or encourage them that you want it to advance.” 
Winter is around the corner and Bash told me he has a lot to prepare for with his home, so I try to think of something good to get for him today. I talk to Ungral about this too, but it feels odd talking to him about my romantic life. He is more of a father than mine ever was, and I sense it’s a bit awkward for him as well. 
“Take this,” Ungral says, trying to shove a bag of coin in my hand. I push it back at him. 
“What, no! What for?” I ask him, “I already live here for free!”
He gives me a flat look in return “You help me with my work and Bash feeds the both of us with his excessive courting meals. I should still pay you for all the work you help me with. Go buy a courting gift and stop fawning, girl.” He turns around and leaves no room for me to argue. 
I do want to give something nice to Bash so I take it, but I vow to help Ungral even more to feel as though I earned it. I walk along the shops in the center of the village, and one tent catches my eye. Inside are glittering beads, hair ties, and bottles of oils and soaps resting on shelves. Bash’s hair is beautiful, and he knows it, so this would be perfect. I look along the beads and one instantly catches my eye. It’s a pretty blue bead and dangling on it is a bird. It’s absolutely perfect. I go to pay for the bead and the shop owner wraps it up in a nice box for me. I can’t wait to give it to him, and I hate that I have to wait. 
The hours could not go by any slower, but eventually Bash comes by to tell me goodnight. He walks in and kisses me, but I can tell he is tired.
“How was your day songbird?” 
I cannot help to smile in excitement, I probably look crazy to him.
“It was good,” I tell him, “I have a surprise for you.”
“Oh really? And what may that be?” 
“Sit here and close your eyes! I’ll be right back.” I sit him on the bed and get a sleepy smile in return. I go to get the bead and a snack for him as well. I’m only gone a moment, but when I return he is snoring. My disappointment is fleeting, he looks so sweet like this. I set the box on the table and get to work. I gently peel his shoes off and his more uncomfortable looking clothing as well before tucking him in. The bed is small so I decide to snuggle in, hoping he doesn’t mind the liberty taken. 
Bash is warm, and I find it was one of the best night's sleep I’ve had in awhile. We are tangled together in the morning and he is awake before me. A hand is petting my hair, and I just sigh and shove my face more into his chest.
“Sorry I fell asleep,” he whispers to me, and I have never thought him more attractive than now, with his groggy voice in my ear. 
“Shh, m’still sleepin,” I mumble into his chest, and get a laugh in return. We bask in the moment before I remember how excited I am, so I just roll over and hand him the box, jolting up to give it to him. 
“Open it,” I encourage, and he purposefully goes slowly. 
When he sees it he gasps, and I feel like I’ve done well. I realize why he enjoys doing things for me so much now. His excitement and happiness when he holds it up is my new favorite look for him. He has me braid the bead into his hair, and the blue is a stark contrast to his dark hair. 
“I have something for you as well, my songbird,” Bash gestures to his satchel, and I hand it to him. He digs around, and then presses a key into my hand. It takes a moment for my brain to catch up. I look at the key then back at Bash for a minute before it sinks in. 
“You want me to...live with you?”
“Yes, I can’t think of anything I would want more,” he admits to me.
“I don’t need an answer right away,” he continues, one of his large hands caressing the side of my face. “Just...come by tonight if you decide to, otherwise I will see you in the morning and we can take things as slowly as you wish.” He kisses my stunned face and goes to walk away, apparently nervous for your reaction. 
I grab him before he makes his way out.
“Bash!” I stop him, and pull him down near me. “I’ll see you tonight,” I whisper in his ear, planting a kiss underneath. I can practically feel the chill that runs through him, but I usher him out anyway. I’ve never been to his house before, and wasn’t even sure where to go. I talk to Ungral a bit before I pack up my things. I leave most everything there for now, as my chest and other things are too heavy for me alone. I then go to visit his sister-in-law’s house for a bit of help. 
Later that night I walk up the cobble pathway in nothing but the silk nightdress Lorka has given me. My hair is down, and I feel every bit the siren I have been accused of being. The home is beautiful under the moonlight and the colors seem vibrant bathed in the blue of the night. Fireflies dance over the pond and the stone house is reflected in its depths. I open the heavy door and all the breath leaves my body.
Bash is waiting for me in the home he has built for us in nothing but his loincloth.  He stands proud and tall in front of me. Deep rumbles of desire come from his chest and mix with the sounds of the crackling fire; it is the most beautiful melody I have ever been lucky enough to hear. The fire gives his skin an otherworldly gleam and he looks every part the formidable warrior he is known to be. My formidable warrior, now. I walk toward him as if I am a newborn deer and I fear he can hear my knees knocking together, but one of his hands reaches out to steady me. 
His hand moves up my arm while his other goes around my waist, pulling me against him. His warm skin quells a shaking chill I didn’t know I had, and I let myself melt into him. He has barely touched me and I feel as though I’ve run miles. 
“Let me take you to our bed, my songbird,” he says, and I nod my head. My eyes are wide gazing up at him and Bash smiles down at me. He bends down and lifts me up a bit to close the gap to place a soft kiss on my lips. His tusks brush against my cheeks and I gasp. He suddenly places his hands on my bottom and pulls me up with my legs around him. I squeal out a laugh and the nervousness is broken. 
He gives kisses and raspberries all over my neck and chest as he walks me to the bedroom. I squirm and laugh, and my hand ends up in Bash’s hair. I give it a tug and am rewarded with a playful growl as he tosses me onto the bed. The bed he has crafted is beautiful, and I am once again lost in his duality. He is a powerful warrior who can wield his warhammer like no other, and yet he created and carved the delicate wooden features adorning our headboard. He seems hard on the outside, so intimidating and yet he kisses me so softly. 
He climbs up with me and pulls my legs on either side of his hips, perched up on his knees. My hand splays across his stomach and I feel the muscle there, covered in a layer of softness that makes me find him all the more appealing. I gawk at him, tracing the tattoos and scared planes of his body. 
“See something you like?” His large hands run over my thighs, the fingertips dipping under my nightdress on each pass.
“I see a lot I like,” I quietly admit,  finally lifting my gaze to meet his. A pleased sound leaves him. He kisses me and pulls me even closer, so much so that the heat between my thighs settles on his manhood. I can’t help but grind myself into him. 
“I want to make you sing for me,” He tells me, and he slinks down the bed. I push myself up onto my elbows and watch his broad shoulders push apart my thighs. I can feel a deep throbbing in my core, and I gasp when his fingers trace the lines of my underclothes. His other hand moves upward and settles on my stomach before he pulls my underwear aside. 
His warm breath washes over me, and he places the gentlest of kisses around the apex of my thighs before licking a broad stripe along my folds. I fall back onto the bed writhing , my hands digging into the sheets. He starts to lick and kiss at my clit, and a strong finger finds its way to my entrance. My back arches and a moan leaves me at the pleasure he is giving. His other hand wanders up the bed to meet one of mine, untangling my fingers that were clutching the sheets. As his finger pumps into me in time with his mouth moving on my clit I cannot hold in my noises. 
“Bash, please,” I moan out to him, unsure what I am asking him for. His answering rumble vibrates through me and his tusks start to dig into my soft flesh. He adds another finger and I feel myself quickly tighten around them. The crooking of his fingers and the pressure on my clit increases and a knot builds in my stomach. The noises leaving me increase as well, but everything quiets the moment that I find my release. Fireworks go off behind my eyes, my legs tighten around his head and my hips jerk. He sounds like a man feasting, grunts and groans leaving his mouth. He does not relent until I am jerking away from the stimulation with a whimper, the ecstasy too much. 
“Bash, c’mere,” I pull at his shoulders, my request coming out a breathless whine. When he looks up at me he is debauched. His eyes are full of desire and my wetness covers his mouth and chin. As he moves up my body, he pulls my underclothes off of me as well. 
“Did you enjoy me, my songbird?” He inquires, laying kisses up my arm as sparks continue to dance on my skin. I give a breathy yes in response to him. I reach my hands out to pull him down over me, and his arousal is evident as it presses into my stomach. I arch into it and my desire is reborn. I reach down and run my fingers along his shaft over the loincloth still covering him. I pull at the edges of the cloth and it falls down, releasing his heavy cock. 
I feel my mouth water at the sight of it. It hangs beneath its own weight, and I bring my hand up to hold it. The hot flesh pulses in my hand, and I feel my entrance pulse in answer. It’s an even darker green than the rest of him, and more tattoos swirl near the base of it. Fluid leaks out of the tip, and I run my fingers over it, coating the head. When I look back at Bash’s face, I am not disappointed. His eyebrows are knitted together and his eyes are dark with want. I hold his gaze and give a tentative stroke, letting his hips jerk into my hand. My other hand comes up to caress his heavy sack, gently massaging him in time with the strokes. 
“Fuck, I’m going to come from your hands alone if you don’t stop that, woman,” he snarls out, but I only slow down my efforts.
“Don’t you want to?” I ask him sweetly, leaning up to kiss his neck. 
“Minx,” he scolds me in good nature, then leans down to snarl darkly in my ear. “I want to feel you come around my cock when I release. I want to fill you up so much you leak my seed for days, and any Orc who comes near you will smell my claim on you.”
His words alone cause a whimper to leave my mouth. “Please,” I breath out, wanting nothing more than for that to come true. He strips me of my nightdress, and I take his hands in mine and pull him back with me on the bed, curling one of my legs over his hip. His cock runs through my folds, my wetness coating him, before he notches the head at my entrance. He sucks and licks at my tits before smoothly thrusting into me, my nails coming up to dig into his back. My cunt is tightly wrapped around him, every vein of his cock pulsing inside me. He is so much bigger than me in every way, and I’m surprised he fits inside of me without pain. The stretch is uncomfortable at first, but soon fades as my pleasure crests. 
“Look how well you take me, songbird. Will you sing to me again?”  He punctuates this with a hard thrust, and I let out a long moan. I feel my power imbed itself into my voice, but I cannot help it. Tendrils of my magic reach out and touch him, caressing his skin and coaxing out more desire with my noises. His movements speed up, and I hear grunts leave him. Bash brings his face to my chest, growling into it. Pleasure builds in me again, and as I wail out my climax Bash follows me. He buries himself deep within me and pumps me full of his seed as he promised, his hands holding tight to my sides. 
Fucked out mewls escape my lips and Bash coos down at me, praises passing through his lips. He gently rolls off of me and lays beside me. 
“You’ve conquered me, my songbird. I don’t think I can feel my legs,” he teases, petting me sweetly as I come down from my high. He manages to clean us up before he throws blankets over us both. As I’m drifting off, I feel a kiss to my forehead and Bash mumbles to me.
“I can’t wait to cook for you in the morning, my love.” 
607 notes · View notes
kitkat1003 · 4 years ago
Text
Where the Ice Crushes the Wave
Warning, this fic contains instances of:
Dubious Consent  Possession  Emotional Manipulation  Abuse  Minor Character Death  Hurt No Comfort  Blood and Gore 
Summary:
I don't know if you've heard of Possessed Tang, but it's everywhere on tumblr, and it's basically an excuse to hurt Pigsy.  I decided to go ham. The warnings I put are real.  Viewer Discretion is advised.
AO3 Link
Pigsy notices something is wrong immediately.
It’s not hard.  He’s been watching Tang for years, knows him like the back of his hand.  He knows that Tang is always there when he opens, at least for a few minutes.  They’ll banter, then Tang will disappear for a few hours before arriving at lunch to steal some noodles.  At some point, Pigsy will yell, chase him out but not really, and Tang will laugh all the while.
On a good day, Pigsy will invite Tang upstairs, and they eat dinner in Pigsy’s apartment.  They’ll sit in front of the TV for hours, making fun of idiots in cooking shows, and Pigsy will deliberate over and over on the idea of moving his hand to hold Tang’s.  He never does, because he’s afraid to push, afraid to ask for too much and lose what he already has.  
Pigsy can feel the power he has, vibrating in his skin, hidden because the person he used to be is not who he wants to be now, ever.  He knows that if he let that loose, if he grew tall and strong and dangerous, everyone around him would suffer; he holds it all in.
He just waits for Tang.  He can be patient.  He has spent a thousand years learning to be, and he thanks his master for teaching him, because if he was to wait for anything it would be this.
He���d spend an eternity and a day waiting for that.
For four days, though, Tang doesn’t come to the shop at all.
Pigsy texts him, calls him, and gets nothing.  He shouts more, is biting and sharp for those four days, wracked with worry and desperate for answers.
He searches even the town once.  Twice.  He waits, because that’s what he’s good at, but at the same time he wants to grow large and take charge, to roar into the night and shake the world until it tells him where his Tang is.
Four days of waiting before Tang appears in the shop in the morning.  He smiles and waves, as if he hadn’t blown Pigsy off for four days, as if he hadn’t worried Pigsy sick.
“Where the hell have you been?!” Pigsy grabs Tang by his scarf and pulls, too angry and worried and hurt to stop himself.
Tang starts but gives him an easygoing smile in return.  That’s what tips Pigsy off first.  The curve of the lips is wrong, more cunning than kind.
“Sorry-family emergency.” Easy deflection. Tang shrugs.  “I kept meaning to text you back, but stuff kept coming up.”
Pigsy could almost accept that, except Tang has never brought up his family before.  To talk about them now, it seems too...convenient.  And regardless of that, Tang has never left Pigsy in the lurch like this.  It’s too out of character.  A quick text to say ‘I’m okay’ would take but a minute.  Tang is kind enough to give Pigsy a minute of his time, he wouldn’t just let Pigsy sit worried.
Right?
He stares at Tang, squinting a little, and almost lets him go.  But then.
“You changed your glasses,” he notes.
The rims are blue.  He can see traces of snowflakes on the lenses.
Tang smiles, eyes shut and head tilted to one side.  Pigsy is suddenly aware of something dangerous, sitting beneath his friend’s skin.  The hairs on his arm stand up straight, and it is so, so obvious now that this isn’t Tang at all.
“Yes,” Not Tang says, and his smile is all teeth.  “Do you like them?”
Pigsy knows a challenge when he sees one, and he takes a breath.
“Prefer your old ones, actually,” he grunts out.  “Blue isn’t your color.”
Not Tang laughs.  It sends a shiver down Pigsy’s spine.  But it isn’t just fear, no, his cheeks color.
“On that, Pigsy, we will have to disagree.” His name out of Not Tang’s mouth sounds foreign, but it’s Tang’s voice, and Not Tang curls something soft and sweet around Pigsy’s name like it knows.
Pigsy goes to work, and firmly refuses to look over his shoulder.
He can feel Not Tang’s eyes on him anyway.
MK doesn’t notice anything wrong with Tang.  Mei doesn’t either.  Not Tang tells MK a story, talks animatedly with Mei about her next race and promises to be there.  Pigsy makes a bowl of noodles on autopilot and hands it to Not Tang.  Not Tang holds the chopsticks differently.  Not Tang doesn’t slurp up the noodles and fails to give Pigsy a smirk when he finishes the bowl, like Tang would have.
Pigsy is tense the whole day, and he waits until MK heads upstairs and the shop is closed to do anything.
“Can I walk you home?  Figure we should talk.  Haven’t seen ya in four days,” he jerks a thumb towards the door.  Not Tang tilts his head to the side, and his glasses flash in a way that is so familiar, and yet makes Pigsy shiver again.
“Sure.  I missed you.” And Pigsy is taken aback, because it sounds like Not Tang means it.  Maybe he—no, he knows this isn’t Tang.
But how much is it not Tang?
They walk out of the store, and down a block or two.  Pigsy doesn’t know where Tang lives, though he suspects somewhere near the library, but Not Tang is following his lead.  Looks like Not Tang doesn’t know, either.
He grabs Not Tang by the scarf, and drags him into an alley.  He slams Not Tang against the wall, hard but not too hard because Not Tang is still Tang’s body. Tang is still mortal.
“I don’t know who the hell you are,” he starts, and he lets his tusks out, baring his sharp teeth like a challenge, a growl in his throat.  His eyes glow ocean blue, his nostrils flare.  “But you better get the fuck out of my friend or—”
The words die in his throat as Not Tang laughs, cold and dark, and as he looks up and sees his own gaze met with something sharp and blue and icy.
“Or what, Bajie?” 
His voice has an undercurrent of something familiar, another voice Pigsy recognizes.  He wracks his brain.
“What, don’t recognize me?  Not surprising, when only one of your troupe ever could.”
That has Pigsy stumbling back, because he knows, now, he knows what that means.  It’s a stain on his pride, one of his many regrets, it’s—
“Baigujing,” he breathes, and she laughs.
“In the flesh, so to speak.  Does he suit me?” she asks, tugging on Tang’s skin and hair like one might with clothes.
She frowns, tilts his head to the side at an unnatural angle. “I’m not a fan of red,” she tells him. Then Tang changes, hair black to white from the roots.  It travels down, red to blue, silver to gold.  His skin gains a blue tint, as well.  The air around them drops in temperature, and Pigsy can see his breath.
She brushes herself off, takes a little bow, and all Pigsy can see is Tang who isn’t—this isn’t—how did she—
She takes a confident step forward, and Pigsy, in all his rage, still only sees blue.
“You get out of him right now, or—”
In a flash, she pulls out a knife and presses it against Tang’s throat.  Pigsy sees a few spots of red from where she’s pressing the blade, and cool terror sinks down his spine.  She wouldn’t, would she?  He can’t be sure, with how she’s wielding the weapon like a promise.  He takes a step forward out of panic, and stops when she raises a brow. 
“You do anything but what I say, and I stain this new outfit.” She smiles, and it’s Tang’s smile, the one that Pigsy melts under the sight of every time.  
But here, now, he’s ice.  Fear roots him to the spot and Pigsy swallows the lump in his throat.
“And if I tell the others about ya when you aren’t looking at me?” he grinds out between gritted teeth.
She tilts her head to the side. “Why would they believe you?  After all, you wouldn’t believe your own brother,” Pigsy flinches, remembering how easy it was to get Triptaka to banish Wukong, because Bajie never would pass up an opportunity to call his brother a liar, to hurt him.  “Turnabout’s fair play, and you’re on the losing side.”
Pigsy clenches his fists.  He can feel the desire to get big, to roar, to tear her out of him, rise in his chest.  But this can’t be solved with violence, as easy as he wants it to be.  Pigsy has never been good at diplomacy.
“What do you want,” he spits out.
She brushes Tang’s hair out of her eyes.  They glow in the evening light, bright and malicious.
“I have a few errands, and while this mortal is useful, he is a bit...weak.” She flexes Tang’s fingers experimentally.  “You’re quite the muscle.  I think you’d be quite useful, hmm?”
Pigsy does know a challenge when he sees one, but this time, he’s backed into a corner, with no way out, so he slumps his shoulders.
“Alright.  Just….just don’t hurt him.” It comes out a tired plea.  “And stop-don’t ruin him like that.” He gestures to her getup.  He’s sure she’s only showing him this to hurt him, because he wants Tang.  Not whatever this abomination is.  Just practically, it would give her away if she didn’t change back. Though he’s not sure how much of a choice he gets, regardless. 
She sighs, but after a moment the pleasant red and gold return, and Tang’s hair is black again.
“Fine.  Picky, though,” she places Tang’s hand on his cheek, cupping the side of his face, and Pigsy’s cheeks warm.  When he looks up, everything about Tang looks normal, except the blue rims on the glasses.  He looks away.
“Tomorrow,” he tells her.  “We’ll start tomorrow.  And once-once I’m done, you’re out of him, got it?” 
He glares, and she smiles, Tang’s mouth curving into something more unhinged.  Brown eyes glow light blue.
“It’s a date.”
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Tang doesn’t remember the few days that he disappears.  He doesn’t even remember disappearing, to be honest.  He just walks to the noodle shop as if nothing is wrong, because to him, nothing is.  
He can tell that something off, though.  Not wrong, but off, because when he walks the feeling of his feet against the ground is muted.  Everything is a little muted, like all of his senses are muffled by something.  He shakes his head a few times, to try and break through the fog.  It doesn’t work.
He waves at Pigsy when he walks in, and then nearly jumps when he’s grabbed.  He tries to open his mouth to say something, but suddenly everything goes cold, and he’s pushed back into his own head.  Someone else takes the reins, Something Else moves his lips.
Family emergency, he hears himself say.  He sees the reflection of himself in Pigsy’s eyes.  His glasses are different.  Pigsy notices.
He watches the Something Else make Pigsy very aware that the Something Else exists, and then he is thrown into the passenger’s seat.  When MK comes over to ask for a story, Tang is allowed to tell him one.  When Mei talks about her next race, Tang can avidly respond.
He keeps trying to explain that something’s wrong, to them, but when he opens his mouth to try and say the words nothing comes out, or the Something Else will say something.  A joke, or a fact, or nothing at all, and doesn’t silence sometimes speak the loudest.  
It knows too much about him and the longer he knows it’s in his head, the more he can feel it, cool tendrils poking into memories he’d rather have private.  It searches, it pries, and it leaves no stone left unturned, leaving Tang feeling vulnerable, invaded.
The day ends.  Pigsy asks to walk him home and Tang finds himself agreeing before he can stop himself, before it can.  He wonders if it even tried.
They walk, and it’s only a matter of time before Pigsy snaps.  Tang is honestly surprised it hasn’t happened sooner, when he’s unceremoniously thrown against the wall.  It hurts, but much like his other senses, the pain is muted.  He knows Pigsy isn’t using his full strength though.  Pigsy can throw people five times his size out the door with ease.
He follows the conversation with bated breath, and then he sees something like recognition flicker in Pigsy’s eyes, and he hears Baigujing, and it says Bajie, and—
Oh.
There’s a knife to his throat.  
He sees his reflection in Pigsy’s wide eyes.  His hair is white.  His eyes are a startling, glowing blue, and he can feel blood welling up where the knife pierces his skin.
Pigsy buckles.  Tang watches him leave.
“What do you want?” he asks, to the Something Else.
He gets farther and farther away from control with each step she takes in his skin, every moment he isn’t allowed to speak.  He can feel cool shackles on his wrists, thick as steel.
“You like him very much, don’t you?” A voice, chilling and cruel, rings in his ears.  Tang doesn’t need her to specify who she’s referencing.  They pass by a window, a storefront.  She stops, and turns to it, so Tang can see her smile with his mouth in the reflection.
Tang’s blood turns to ice, and he wonders if it’s because she’s the one in his body or if it’s just his fear, in the end.  She grins wider, and Tang’s helplessness and terror grow.
“I am going to break him, and you are going to watch.”
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The next day Pigsy is quiet.  He doesn’t say much besides telling MK to take out the orders placed on the counter.  His eyes occasionally flick to her, to Tang, to the thing sitting on the counter that looks familiar in looks alone.
Pigsy knows he has to remember.  He can’t forget that this isn’t Tang.  Even when he sees her sitting on the same barstool with that same smile, when she learns how Tang holds his chopsticks and learns how Tang eats, even when she is already perfecting something that everyone else sees is perfect.
This isn’t Tang.  Pigsy can’t forget that.
That night, she gestures for Pigsy to follow her.  He does, walking step by step with her, waiting for her to tell him what to do.  She takes him toward the marketplace, where Pigsy goes to get his ingredients a few times a month.
“You remember that Spider Queen, don’t you?  Quite the adventure we had,” she says, and Pigsy bristles at the implication.
“You weren’t there,” he growls out. 
She places a hand on Tang’s chest, expression one of mock offense.  “How could I not have been?  I mean, you were there with me. Is this not the skin?” she tugs on the fleshy part of Tang’s wrist, hard enough that the skin goes red.  
Pigsy says nothing, and shrugs.  
“Regardless, the Spider Queen will get in my way if she isn’t handled, so you’ll take care of her.  Better to squash a bug before it grows.” She points to the Spider Queen’s stall.
“I don’t kill anymore,” Pigsy grunts.
He hasn’t for years.  He took that part of himself and locked it away, made himself small because he wanted people to feel safe around him without being scared of what he could do.  He doesn’t kill.  He makes people food, he doesn’t harm them more than any other mortal could.
The knife is back out, and Pigsy knows where she’ll imply it going.
“I do,” she purrs.  “And you’re mine, so you do too.”
Pigsy clenches his fists, and shifts.
He’d imagined showing Tang his demon form.  Imagined preparing for months, carefully explaining.  Imagined going someplace remote, someplace theirs, and revealing himself.  Imagined scenarios where Tang ran, imagined scenarios where Tang stayed.
He grows tall, and burly, and looming and powerful.  He’s about eight feet tall, here, with the muscles to match the height.  His rake appears in his hand, prongs sharp.  It’s as tall as he is, and the prongs are longer than his forearm.  She looks up at him with an impressed expression that looks wrong on Tang’s face, yet makes Pigsy’s cheeks burn anyway.
“Magnificent,” she breathes, and he shivers at the sound.
He holds his rake tight, setting it on his shoulder and glancing over to the stall.  He tries to stop his hands from shaking, as she leads him to the entrance.
“Give me a lift, won’t you dear?” she asks and Pigsy grits his teeth.
He lifts Tang up, gentle with his body because even if Tang isn’t the one asking Pigsy will be damned if he hurts him like this, and they descend.
The Spider Queen’s lair is as eerie as he remembers it, though it seems to have been upgraded.  There are pods of glowing green liquid everywhere, and a computer as well.  He catches what looks like a human bent over it, tapping at keys and sighing to himself.
“Is it done yet?  The world needs its Queen to return.” He hears her voice from the right, and shifts a little to hide as she comes in.  The man at the computer stiffens, and turns around at perfect attention, bowing.
“U-Unfortunately, such a complex undertaking is going to take more time, my Queen,” the man trembles out.
“What are you waiting for?” Tang’s voice slithers into his ear, and Pigsy fights back the urge to growl, letting out a huff of a breath and narrowing his eyes in annoyance.
“An opening,” he replies.
“This has to be done by New Years!  I want to start the Year of the Spider on time,” she growls the last part out.
“Y-Yes, my Queen,” The scientist replies.
She turns away, and that’s when Pigsy jumps down.  She just barely dodges his rake and Tang jumps off of his shoulder to settle in the shadows.  Fine.  Now Pigsy doesn’t have to worry about him getting caught in the crossfire.
The Spider Queen recovers quickly, getting into a battle stance.  She gives him a once over, and then smirks.
“So the pig is back to fight, hmm?  I would have liked to see you in this form last time,” She purrs out the words, chuckling to herself.
Pigsy charges without response.  He swings his rake, she ducks, throwing out a sharp leg.  He blocks with his arm and grunts when the blade edge of her leg digs in.  He lifts a leg and kicks her, no holds barred where her humanesque body and her spider body meet.  A weak point.
She lets out a shout of rage as she’s knocked back.  He slices to the right, knocking off her helmet.  Long, messy black hair tumbles down in front of her face.  She pushes it back, darts forward, throwing out some webs.
He dodges the first few, but one catches him by the foot, trapping him to the floor.  He twists and dodges as best he can when he can’t move, but she’s closing in.
He throws out the rake, in a last ditch attempt as she goes in for the killing blow, and catches her neck between two of the prongs, following through with the swing, bringing her crashing down onto her side.
“Fool!” she grits out, twisting her legs to try and stand.  “I am the Queen of this world!  I will feed you to my subjects, you—”
Pigsy twists the rake in one sharp motion.
Crack.
She goes very silent, and very still.  Pigsy breathes, as her body slumps down on itself.
Okay.  
Pigsy slowly, carefully, pulls away the rake.  
He waits for movement.  He finds none.
Okay.
“Do try and make sure she stays dead.”
He jumps at the sound, turning around to see Tang.
Tang is watching.  Tang.  Tang watched—
Not Tang.  He has to remember that.
Her eyes glitter in the low light.
“A broken neck can be fixed.  Make sure she can’t come back.  Wouldn’t want to have to deal with a vengeful Queen, right?” She gestures to the corpse.
Pigsy grips his rake tightly.
The prongs go through flesh far too easily.
He thinks they’re about done, but then she points to the computer.  More specifically, to the man cowering beneath the control panel of the computer.
“No witnesses,” she says. “Get rid of him.”
Pigsy is frozen in his spot.
“Please,” the man begs. “I didn’t want to help, I had no choice!  She was going to kill me-I-I’ll destroy everything I did!  I’ll delete the code.  Everything!”
“You misunderstand.” Tang-she-walks carefully towards the cowering mortal.  “We didn’t do this to save the world.  We did this to get her out of my way.”
Dawning horror flashes on the man’s face.
Pigsy hesitates.  A demon is one thing, this is just a mortal.  A human.  Pigsy glances at the man, and imagines her pointing him at MK.  Or Mei.  He couldn’t.  He can’t.
“Would you rather I do this?” She pulls out the knife, pointing it at the man.  “I know you prefer him in red, though I hear blood is difficult to get off clothes.”
At the thought of Tang, who could be still in there, having to watch himself kill, Pigsy moves.
The man hedges his bets and runs.  He ducks under the knife and Pigsy’s outstretched arm, sprints toward the exit, but Pigsy’s arm swings around after him.  He can’t take more than a step forward because his foot is still stuck by the webs, but his legs are long and his arms much the same.  He reaches over in a panic, and grabs the man by the head, aiming to muffle his shouting, stop him from doing anything while Pigsy tries to negotiate, when—
There’s a sickening crunch, and squelch, and the man goes limp.
Pigsy is very, very aware of the liquid dripping from between the spaces of his fingers.  He’s afraid to open his hand.
She claps, then is at his side, cutting him free of the webs.
“Good work.” She pats him on the side.
Pigsy trembles.  Slowly, he opens his hand.
All of his body falls but the head. The head.
Pieces drop, clattering or squishing or dripping.  Pigsy’s hand is covered in it. Hair clings to his fingers.  Skin folds in on itself on the ground, with nothing solid to hold it taut.
Pigsy feels like he’s going to be sick.  He didn’t mean….he hasn’t taken this form in years, decades, he isn’t used to the power it holds.  He didn’t mean to, he was panicked, he just, he needed the man to stop.  That was it, it wasn’t on purpose, he didn’t mean—
“Feels good,” she whispers in his ear, somehow.  “Doesn’t it?”
Pigsy stumbles away, trying to shake the pieces, the blood, the person off of his hand.  He trips over the Spider Queen’s body and crashes into the computer, destroying it.  His knees pull toward his chest as he tries to breathe.  
It takes a good minute for him to realize that she’s rubbing a hand up and down his back in a comforting manner.  He looks down at her, because even sitting he’s taller, and her smile is—that’s not hers.  
“Tang?” his voice is hoarse.  His tusks always get in the way of speaking.
Tang smiles.  It’s soft, pitying, almost sympathetic.
Pigsy feels himself melt, a little.  It’s almost familiar.
“It’s okay,” Tang says, but is it him?  Pigsy doesn’t know if he wants it to be.  A part of him craves the comfort of something familiar, another doesn’t want Tang to see him at his worst, covered in blood, with a body count.
“That’s enough for tonight,” Tang says, she says, Pigsy can’t tell.  His head is already trying to process what he’s done.  “Let’s go.  C’mon.”
Pigsy lets himself be helped up.  He lifts Tang onto his shoulder and climbs out of the cave, shivering when the chilly night air whips past him.  He still has a few hours before he has to get up for work.  He sets Tang down on the ground, shifts back to his smaller form.
Tang looms over him like this.  Pigsy regrets becoming small.
“Shall we?” Tang gestures towards Pigsy’s apartment.
Pigsy nods, and they walk home.  Once they arrive, Tang heads to the couch, and Pigsy to the bathroom.  He scrubs and scrubs at his hands, until the water stops turning pink and then some.  His palms burn, skin scraping against skin, but he can see the pieces that can’t fit in the drain.
He vomits, finally, in the toilet.  He coughs, wiping his mouth, and hunches over the sink, glancing at himself in the mirror.  Deep breaths.  He just needs to remember that this will be over, eventually.
“I’m going to bed,” he calls, as he leaves the bathroom.  
His hands are still shaking.  His throat burns, and he lets it, maybe as a punishment.  He doesn’t know.
“Goodnight!” Comes a voice that sounds too much like the real thing.  Pigsy takes in a shuddering breath and vanishes into his bedroom.
He curls underneath the blankets and tries to get the cold feeling to escape his bones.  It seems to settle in, regardless.
It takes him a long time to fall asleep.
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Whatever Tang had imagined she’d make Pigsy do, it wasn’t this.  He watches as they head to the market, and then as Pigsy changes, per her request.
He wonders if Pigsy would have ever shown him this form otherwise.  As is, Tang is terrified, but not of Pigsy.  He’s worried for Pigsy.  Because he knows the power Zhu Bajie can wield. here He knows that she knows, too.
Watching Pigsy fight and kill is as impressive as it is heartbreaking.  He can see the shock, the horror, as Pigsy grapples with his actions.  Tang can’t fight the revulsion when he sees Pigsy kill the poor bystander but at the same time he can’t hate him for it.  
He could never hate Pigsy foremost, but in this instance, he can’t hold this carnage against him. Not when Pigsy curls in on himself, his bigger form trying to be as small as possible.  Not when he won’t look at his own blood-stained hands.
He moves to take a step, stumbles as she throws him the controls.  The longer he isn’t allowed to do anything, to speak, to move, the harder it is to get used to doing it when he has control.  He wonders if he’ll forget how to walk eventually.  He wonders if he’ll forget how to breathe.
He tries to comfort.  He’s not allowed to tell Pigsy that it’s him, because she won’t let him, but he can comfort, because she needs Pigsy functioning for this to work.  Maybe Tang should be offended that she’s using him, but truthfully,  he just wants to do something to help Pigsy.  He can’t just stand aside to watch.  It’s almost worth being used if he’s used to help.
Pigsy looks at him, then.  Tang wants to apologize.  To beg for Pigsy to stop. He doesn’t know if Pigsy can recognize that it’s him, either.  The words don’t make it to his throat and she throws him into the backseat again.
When they get home, Pigsy stays in the bathroom for too long.  Tang hears the sound of retching and winces.  He wishes he could do something, say something.
As he falls asleep, he still wishes he could apologize.  For something.  Anything.  Everything.
He can’t feel his legs.
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The next morning, Pigsy gets up and heads to work.  Tang is sitting upright on the couch.  Pigsy pointedly doesn’t look at him, quick while making breakfast, eating, and grabbing his chef’s coat before heading to the shop.  He typically starts two hours before opening, setting up the dough, stringing out noodles.
He’s slow, today.  His hands shake as he tries to work, he’s halfway to where he’s supposed to be when MK comes down, on time for once.  He forces himself to speed up because he knows calls will be coming in soon.
He sets the broth to boil, stirring once, glancing down at it to check its progress, and—
It’s red.
It’s red and it’s spilling from his fingers, sticky and thick as it falls into the broth, the stench of it has him trembling violently enough that the spoon slips from his fingers.  Pieces of hair and bone bubble up from the bottom, and Pigsy sees an empty eye socket, staring at him in terror, pleading horror, begging for mercy.
He grabs the pot and pours it into the sink, he can’t let anyone see it, can’t let anyone know what he’s done, the stains settling deep into his skin with no way out, no way to make it disappear.  A man is dead.  A man is dead and Pigsy killed him and it’s everywhere and everyone is going to know and he has to get rid of it.
When he pours it into the drain, there’s not a spot of red in it.  He watches his half an hour’s worth of work disappear with an unsteady breath, setting the pot back on the stove and washing his hands.  The water boils his fingers.
“Uh...Pigsy?” MK calls.  
Pigsy turns and does not look in the direction where he knows Tang will be.  He catches MK’s expression, brow is pinched in concern.
“What?” He doesn’t mean to growl the words out as he does.
“Um, why’d you do that?  It looked almost ready,” MK points to the now empty pot.
Pigsy hides his shaking hands by clenching them into fists. “Bad batch,” He replies, succinct.
When he glances MK’s way, he imagines how easy it would be for him to repeat last night.  Would it sound the same, the skull crunching in his grip quick, or would MK’s Monkey King powers offer enough resistance so that it’d be slow?  
Pigsy remembers his old name, his old title, his old desires.  He would fight with Sun Wukong and enjoy it.  He is powerful, then and now.
He promised himself he wouldn’t be that person again, that he’d be better.  But looking back at that journey, is it any wonder that he’s so quickly fallen back into the same bad habits?  Zhu Bajie was rude, cruel, a liar.
Why’d Pigsy expect that he could change?
“A shame.” 
He nearly jumps, at the sound of her voice, his voice. He glances at the blue rimmed glasses, brown eyes.  Warm and cold.
“It looked delicious, at least,” Tang says, head resting on his palm.  He smiles, soft.
Pigsy looks away.
He gets back to work.
Some of her jobs are simple.  Break something, find an artifact.  Pigsy learns not to ask questions, because none of the answers give him much comfort.  Occasionally, Pigsy will get his hands messy, stained with the blood of demons.  Those nights he barely sleeps, too busy trying to scrape the dried liquid from beneath his fingernails.
He justifies it, even though there is no true justification for the carnage.  Thankfully, there haven’t been any more mortal deaths.  The demons he fights are bad, he thinks, as he watches them bleed out on the floor.  The demons he fights would be going after MK if he didn’t get rid of them first.  
MK mentions offhandedly that there haven’t been as many demon fights recently.  Pigsy horrifies himself with the sick satisfaction he feels, the pride that swells in his chest.
He’s able to justify his actions, but it doesn’t fix the gaping hole in his chest with every swing of his rake.  The worst part, he thinks, is that it’s becoming easier to do.  There’s a certain familiar numbness that comes with a higher and higher body count.  He went through it thousands of years ago, when he first began fighting, and he goes through it now.
It settles in faster this time.  Must be his experience.
He stays in the kitchen more often during the day.  Ignores the banter between MK and Mei when they barrel in, only half hears the stories shared.  He tries to lose himself in the motions of cooking, something that’s his, safe.  He can still do this.  So he’s fine.
She’s always there, either at the counter during the day or by his side at night.  Pigsy makes a few valiant attempts to text someone, to tell them what’s happening, but she steals his phone and Pigsy isn’t allowed to touch it.  She nearly cut off Tang’s finger when he attempted to take it back.  He stops trying.
She follows him when he goes out, whether it be to the market or just on walks.  No one raises an eyebrow at this—Pigsy has always stuck close to Tang, and vice versa.  To the outside world, this is normal.  She can tease and cloy and claw her way close to him and it’s just the silly antics everyone else expects.  Any reaction Pigsy has is normal too, when he shouts and rages and pushes Tang away, because that’s just how he reacts.  He’s loud and he’s mad.
He’s being played and he’s playing right into her clutches, but he doesn’t know what he can do.
Pigsy is so tired.  Some days, he manages to convince himself that things will be fine, soon.  He has to think it will be. If the demons were stronger than him, he thinks, maybe they’d deserve to live.
If they were stronger than him, maybe he’d get to stop.
Another development, one he can’t wrestle his feelings together on, is how Tang, how she, acts during their expeditions.  There are lingering touches across his back, fingers trailing on his neck, a palm cupping his cheek.  Sweet smiles thrown his way, gentle words whispered into his ear, arms curling around his form as he’s pressed against Tang’s body.
Every time he freezes, caught between revulsion and want, because he loves.  Desperately.
That’s why he’s doing this after all.  That’s why he even bothers.  Sleepless nights, reopened wounds, returns to bad habits—it’s all for a man Pigsy cares just a little too much for.
She gets bolder with each passing night.  Interlaces their fingers when he sets his hand on the counter during the day.  Sends him compliments that make him weak in the knees.  He knows that it’s not Tang, but sometimes he wonders.  Maybe hopes. 
Because she’ll smile at him, but it'll be Tang’s smile, soft and almost a smirk but never quite there.  He doesn’t know if that means Tang is still in there or if she’s just getting better at pretending to be him.
He doesn’t know which is worse.
It’s a little over a month later, one night after a job that leaves Pigsy’s hands bloody and his eyes weary, that he gives way, collapses in on himself.  He grabs Tang’s scarf in shaky hands and trembles, because he’s so tired.  He misses his best friend. He misses the person he’d do anything for, the person he’s doing the unspeakable for.
“Please,” he whispers, voice hoarse.  “Take me-just-I’m stronger than him-I won’t fight back, you can do all the damage you want just—” he chokes on the words.  “Give him back to me.  You can have me, just give him back.” 
He takes a shuddering breath, blinking away tears.  They fall down his face anyway.
“Please.”
He trembles against Tang, something familiar made foreign because she’s stolen it from him, against something as silence fills the space.
Soft hands lift his chin and he hears a chuckle so familiar.  He hates that doesn’t know who is laughing.
“Oh, Pigsy,” And it’s her, and it’s Tang, and Pigsy searches for understanding as a thumb brushes away his tears.  She, Tang, leans down until their eyes are level.
Pigsy searches for something familiar in them.  
His favorite color is the color of Tang’s eyes, brown with a hint of red, soft and warm.  
“Why would I need you, when you’re already giving yourself to me?”
And then Tang-she-his lips collide with Pigsy’s and-and-and—
Pigsy’s eyes are wide.  This is-he’s wanted this for years, it’s everything, nothing, all at once.
He shouldn’t like this.  This isn’t-it isn’t Tang.  But Pigsy is pressed against the wall as Tang’s body leans forward, like everything Pigsy has ever wanted, and Pigsy closes his eyes.  He closes his eyes and forgets, just for a moment, where he is and what’s happening, decides to be selfish.
When his eyes are closed, he can’t see anything.  He can only feel Tang’s hands on the sides of his face, holding him so tenderly, Pigsy’s hands still bunched up in that scarf.  He can’t see the glowing blue eyes, or the smirk, he can only feel the smile against his lips.
Tang pulls away first.  Pigsy drops his hands and nearly trips over himself, eyes wide open again to blue eyes and a wide smile and a laugh that is cruel and knowing.  
“My, my, that sure was something!  You really are desperate, aren’t you?” she says.
Pigsy wipes his mouth, trembling.  He feels sick, not because he didn’t like it, but because he did.  Does.  
“You-I—” he tries to explain himself, but she tuts and walks forward with a small smile on her face, patting him on the head like one would a dog.
“It’s alright, I understand.  For a mortal, he is attractive.” She fiddles with Tang’s hair.
Pigsy wants to throw up.  He wants to scream.  He wants to throttle her, but he can’t hurt Tang.  
He might have already.
How much does Tang see, does Tang feel?  Did he see this, feel this?  Did he watch Pigsy use him, like the monster he is, because Pigsy is selfish?  The thoughts spiral deeper and deeper into something self destructive and Pigsy bites on his thumb hard enough to make it bleed.
“If it’s any consolation, he loves you too,” she says, and Pigsy freezes.  “Do you think he never noticed how your hand would twitch toward his?  You’re terribly obvious, but he’s a coward as well.”
Pigsy feels his breathing pick up.
Tang, he, he love-loved?  Past tense, did Pigsy ruin it?  Did he break something he never even had?  Might not ever have, now?
A hand trails across his back and Pigsy shudders.
“No need to worry.” She leans in close, until Pigsy can feel her cool breath against his ear.  “If you’re good, I think I can make this happen again.”
And then she walks away, leaving him in the wreckage.  Pigsy breathes, clenches and unclenches his fists, fighting back the urge to cry because he doesn’t have the energy for more tears.  He moves to leave, when—
“It seems you do have a bit of control left,” he hears, right before she’s out of earshot.
Everything goes cold.
What does that mean?  Was the kiss...was that Tang?  Or was it-what does that mean?
The more he thinks about it, the more his head goes through loops.  Tang is in there.  Tang has control-some, a bit, no specifics.  Pigsy isn’t a thinker, he doesn’t know how possession works.  Maybe-maybe Pigsy isn’t as terrible as he thinks he is.  Maybe that means, maybe, it wasn’t all a lie?
His walk home takes ten minutes longer than it should.  He keeps bringing up his fingers to his mouth, tracing the spaces where Tang’s lips slotted into, like a perfect puzzle.  Every part of him she touched tingles like static, and Pigsy can’t think, can’t find a single thought.  If it wasn’t Tang, if it was just her...
He doesn’t know how to cope with the fact that he doesn’t want this.  Not like this.
He doesn’t know how to cope with the fact that deep down, he does.  Regardless.
What kind of monster does that make him?  
Is it worse than the one he already is?
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Tang is quiet when she kisses Pigsy.  He doesn’t feel anything, touch long lost to his senses, floating in empty space.  Some days, he doesn’t know where he ends and she begins but he knows that he has no weight to himself, not anymore.
He’s quiet, an ache in his chest growing ever painful as Pigsy gives in, and he wonders if it would have been like this if it were him.  Something in the heat of the moment, passionate, real.
He wonders and grieves a life he isn’t having.  She uses his mouth and whispers sickly sweet nothings and turns Pigsy around so that Tang isn’t sure that Pigsy knows what’s up and what’s down.  She walks away and leaves Pigsy to try and collect himself, and all Tang wants to do is say sorry.
For what, he isn’t sure.  This isn’t his doing.  But that was him all the same.  
Tang bows his head and sniffles.  He watches her wipe his eyes.
“It seems you do have a bit of control left,” she says, staring down at the tears in his palm.  She flicks the water away.  “Get over yourself.  If you wanted this, you should have made it happen.  You had plenty of time.”
And the worst part, Tang thinks, is that with the years he’s known Pigsy, he knows she’s right.
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Pigsy tries to keep some semblance of normalcy after that, though it’s hard.  He can feel Tang’s eyes on him, gaze lingering as Pigsy moves, day after day.  He tries to keep his cheeks from flushing, tries from reacting at all, when Tang looks his way.  He forces himself to remember that the kiss wasn’t right, wasn’t Tang.
But at the same time he can’t forget what he heard.  What it could mean.  Pigsy has mired himself in despair so deeply that the scrap of hope he feels is enough to keep him teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something selfish.  
There’s a change in the air between them, he knows. MK and Mei notice too, as much as he tries to keep this from them, keep them safe.  He doesn’t want them trapped, like he is.  He couldn’t handle it if they were.
“You guys have been acting weird.” Mei hops up to the counter as she speaks, glancing between Tang and Pigsy with squinted eyes.
“Oh?” Tang asks, leaning his head on his hand.
Not Tang.
“Yeah, you guys have been real clingy,” MK slings an arm around Mei’s shoulders, rubbing his chin with his hand.  
Mei brightens.
“You guys have finally gotten together, haven’t you!” She points an accusatory finger at the both of them.
Pigsy freezes.  Flushes from his feet all the way up to the tips of his ears, and Tang laughs, a soft, sweet, bell of a laugh.
“Were we that obvious?” Tang chuckles into his sleeve.
Mei bounces in her seat, and MK looks away, a little flustered himself at the idea.
“Uh, totally!  We, uh, we both saw this coming.  Yeah.” Pigsy would laugh at MK’s poor attempt at a lie if he wasn’t frozen in place, stuck between horror and something else he can’t acknowledge.
Some part of him wants to pretend this is real.  Some part of him, growing with every passing second, wants to play along until he forgets it’s a game.  Because he’s been fed emptiness and sadness and helplessness and, suddenly, there’s this hope—maybe false, maybe real, dangling in front of him.  
There’s something good, and something kind, and something Pigsy needs.  Something so cold it becomes warm and Pigsy would like to be warm.
“How’d it happen!  I want details!” Mei leans forward, face a few inches away from Tang’s, and Pigsy fights the urge to pull her away from him.  He doesn’t know if it’s because he wants to keep her safe or him.
Tang goes into a story, dipping into the tone he would with Monkey King tales, and Pigsy feels the edges of static crawling up his neck, a high pitched tone drowning out the noise of conversation as he tries to make sense of the situation he’s in.
How did he even get to this point?  He traces back memory after memory, but nothing makes sense.  The pieces don’t fall into place, even as he finds each and every one to try and put it all together.  It’s like someone has sanded the edges down, or covered them in ice, so they slip and scrape against each other.  Pigsy stands still, and slowly swivels his head to glance at his family, Mei and MK and Tang, all situated at his counter, like they’ve always belonged.
He keeps reminding himself that it isn’t Tang, not really.  But is it so terrible to pretend?  When he’s already worse than he’s ever been?
“It was really special.  Right, Pigsy?” Tang turns to him with an expectant grin, and Pigsy flushes again, a color Tang once told him was a dusty rose.  
He doesn’t snap.  He bends, because when you bend, the cracks are slow to break.  And Pigsy has always taken things slow, hasn’t he?
“Right.” He steps forward, his hand beneath Tang’s chin.  Tang has always been the most handsome person Pigsy has ever seen, and how could that change, even with blue rims?
Tang’s lips brush against the side of his face, for the effect of MK and Mei’s groans, and Pigsy smiles.
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Tang trusts Pigsy with his life
That goes without saying.  As he forgets what it feels like to move his fingers, as he forgets what taste is, he knows above all else that he can trust Pigsy with his life.  
After all, Pigsy is why he’s alive at all.  Anyone else would have buckled under the pressure by now, being the slave of the Baigujing.  Anyone else would have made a mistake that would have left Tang a bleeding corpse on the ground.
Pigsy shoulders on, regardless of everything, because he values Tang’s life above all else.  Tang knows this.  That’s why he trusts Pigsy.
But things are changing, just a little.  Pigsy’s desperation for something real, for Tang as he’s meant to be, is dying.  Somehow, she’s bewitched the love of his life into something that is becoming unrecognizable.  And Tang, though he is losing the memory of touch, of taste, of movement, finds this somehow more terrifying, more horrifying.  
To see Pigsy vanish, just as Tang did, with no one making him disappear but himself.
Pigsy leans into her false touches.  He melts into the kisses she forces upon him.  His resistance falls slow and Tang can do nothing but watch and wonder quietly, as numbness threatens to swallow him whole.
He trusts Pigsy with his life.
But he doesn’t know which life Pigsy is trying to save.
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It keeps happening.
At night, when he gets moments of clarity, when he remembers how awful everything is, Tang will be there with honeyed words and precious touches to sweep Pigsy off of his feet and forget.  Pigsy will be horrified by the sight of death in one moment and locked in an embrace in the next, kissed with a passion he can’t help but return.
“You’re so strong,” Tang will say, with reverence to his tone.  “It’s incredible.”
Not Tang.
Pigsy will fight against the pride that comes from the compliment, then fail every time to stifle it.  Because he is strong, incredibly so, and he is powerful, and he can swipe through any demon with ease.
Nevermind the brothers, crying out for each other when he’d separated them, the way one had gone pale and quiet when the other went still, because they were a pair made one.  You can’t kill a pair at the same time, unfortunately.
Pigsy knows he should feel guilty, should fight more.  Knows that this isn’t right, it isn’t real.  It’s so easy to forget, though, so easy to cling to something good when everything else hurts.
It’s so easy to set aside the memories of how wrong it all is.  So easy to hide it all away, focus on the elation, the kind smiles, the gentle touches.  Tang washes blood off of Pigsy’s hands when they get home—it’s their home, how could he forget—and curls up with Pigsy in the night, holding him close, and Pigsy clings, because he needs this.  Needs something that makes him feel like things are okay.
The thoughts reminding him that this isn’t Tang start to slip through Pigsy’s fingers.  He finds himself relaxing around the shop, smiling when he sees Tang at his seat, squeezing back when Tang interlocks their fingers.
Why fight it?  Sometimes it hurts, and god does it, but there’s something so lovely about it now, everything he ever wanted with a price he’s fine paying.
When you take a pig out of its domestic environment, it easily turns wild.  Hair, tusks, a penchant for violence.  And Pigsy hasn’t been out of his domestic environment in years, but he’s a pig, in the end, lost in the wilderness of an icy forest and blue eyes.
“Hey, Pigsy?” MK’s voice comes from behind him.
Pigsy turns from his work to see his boy at the counter, wiping it down as he waits for orders to come in.
“What?” He glances between the pot and MK, deciding the pot will be fine for a few seconds.
“Are you doing okay?  You, uh, you’ve been kind of quiet,” MK rubs the back of his neck, awkwardly.
Pigsy opens his mouth and closes it.  He glances to the empty seat.  Tang’s empty seat.
He doesn’t actually know where Tang has gone, but it’s so rare for it to happen.  Pigsy tries to remember the last time Tang wasn’t in his spot during the day, but tracing memories that far back is like poking at the wreckage of a shattered pot; you’re bound to draw blood.
The tiny vestiges of resistance crawl from ash and leave burning fingerprints on the forefront of his mind.
Tell him, he hears himself think.  Tell him!  This is your chance!
But the truth is so, so painful, and Pigsy doesn’t have it in himself to shatter this equilibrium.  Isn’t it so much kinder to let it settle beneath the surface, to hide the pain and make it so no one knows at all?  He doesn’t want MK to look at him with horror and disgust.  He doesn’t want to have to try to fix something that might be broken beyond repair.
This is nice.  This is okay.  He’s happy like this.  Why ruin it?
He reaches over and ruffles MK’s hair.  MK playfully smacks his hands away, and Pigsy chuckles.
“It’s my job to worry about you, kid,” he tells him.  “I’m fine.  Orders will be out in a minute.”
He waves MK off, and goes back to cooking.
Tang appears a minute later, in his seat.
“Hey,” Pigsy hears, and he turns, leaning on the little divider between the kitchen and the dining area.
“Hey, yourself,” he replies, and Tang smiles and kisses him soundly.  Pigsy’s brain short circuits.
“What was that for?” He asks, something like incredulous elation in his voice as he laughs.
Tang’s face screams victory.  Pigsy wonders what he’s won.
“Oh, I just felt like it.”
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He supposes he has his answer.
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He’s finishing up another job at the end of the month when Tang claps his hands together.
“Well, I think that’s it,” he says and Pigsy freezes, realizing what may come.  “I don’t really have any other errands to run, and you’ve done your end of the bargain.  I’ll be out by morning.”
No, Tang can’t go, he can’t.  If Tang leaves, then what will Pigsy be?  He needs this.  Tang, Tang’s good for him.
He whirls around, and a hand reaches over to rest on Tang’s shoulder.  Tang.  Tang is good.
“I-wait-but,” Pigsy finds it so hard to articulate his thoughts nowadays.
He’s always been the muscle, Tang is the smart one.  Pigsy is good at doing, not talking.  He shouldn’t speak when everything comes out scrambled anyway.
“Use your words, now, dear,” Tang says, and Pigsy melts, like he always does.  How can he not, when Tang is looking at him like that?  Like Pigsy is his?
“I want to-you can stay-can you?  I need you to stay.  Please?”
Because Tang makes Pigsy feel whole, makes Pigsy feel loved.  He can do whatever Tang wants him to do, whatever Tang needs, Pigsy will make it happen.
Tang’s fingers trail down Pigsy’s face.  Pigsy leans into the touch, even though Tang’s fingers are cold.  Tang feels cold, but that’s okay.  Pigsy doesn’t mind.
“Oh, Pigsy,” and it’s Tang.  Pigsy searches for understanding, as a thumb brushes away his fears, soft.  Tang leans down until their eyes are level.  Pigsy finds familiarity in them, like he’s known them for an eternity.
His favorite color is the color of Tang’s eyes, blue with a hint of white, hard and cold.  
“All you had to do is ask,” Tang leans forward, and his lips brush against Pigsy’s, and Pigsy leans in.
It’s everything he’s ever wanted.
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When ice touches the ocean, there is no crash.  The ocean fights back against the shift in form at first, but eventually is quieted by the power ice wields.  The ice smothers, the ice settles on top as a slate, and the sea goes still, everything hidden beneath, never to reach the surface.
Tang watches, from the prison in his mind, and the cuffs  on his wrists are so much tighter.  He can't feel where the cuffs end and his arms begin. He can’t feel his hands. He can’t feel anything.  All he has left is his vision, which is more a cruelty than a blessing.
When ice meets the earth it fills in the crevices left by time and expands, cracking stones apart and leaving it crumbling in its wake.
Tang curls in on himself as she shows him a kiss he never got to give, as Pigsy leans in with no hesitation, lost in something Tang can’t save him from.  He curls away from the sight and tries to pretend that things can get better, that they can be saved, but he doesn’t know.  Not when it hurts this much.  Not when he’s lost this much.
Something like betrayal rests bitterly in his stomach.  Pigsy left him.  For an imitation, Pigsy left him, and Tang knows there’s more there, knows there has to be, has seen it unravel, but it doesn’t change the fact.  
Pigsy made his choice, and Tang is the one suffering the consequences.
Tang crumbles quietly.  He doesn’t even know, here, if he has eyes to cry from.  It feels like he’s crying.
It feels like he’s screaming. No one hears. Even him.
If the water is still, it does not crash against the earth.  There is no tide, and the earth remains unchanging.  Except, even without the waves, time erodes it all.
Tang has nothing but himself and time.
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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago
Text
Humans are Space Orcs, “Man’s Best Friend.”
Try not to bee too mad at me guys :) Sorry about the angst. 
It is a more than well known anomaly that humans will social bond with any species. This is not barring their danger levels, or factors of perceived cuteness; no matter the cost, humans will pack bond with any animal. They have even been known to bond with inanimate objects and houseplants. However, one of the greatest bonds man has ever created, is their bond with dogs. Thousands of years ago a man shared his food and his fire with a wolf: another social pack species. After years and years of careful breeding selection manipulated by humans, they ‘created’ an animal that protects loyally, forgives quickly, and loves unconditionally.
In my study of humans, I have found that the emotional bond with a dog can run deeper than an emotional bond with humans.  I am not entirely sure why a human would find it more displeasing to watch a movie where a dog dies than to watch a movie where a human dies, but I have some suspicion that it has to do with the innocence and unconditional friendship that dog has given man, a quality that man has never given himself.
***
Waffles: a 75lb 34kilo german shepherd shoved her head into an alien bush nose working furiously as she pawed through the strange purple plant. She came back up a moment later and sneezed violently sending up a cloud of delicate yellow polin.
Admiral Vir laughed and whistled, and turning on her heel she bounded back to him over open ground her ears straight up, her tail wagging furiously. She ran up to him and touched her nose to his hand as if tagging base before bounding off again to sniff the path before them.
Krill and Sunny walked with him, Krill staring at the brightly colored alien landscape with buzzing antenna.
Waffles leaped through another patch of wild blue grass sending up more white spores into the air, stopping only to sneeze again before continuing.
Sunny went up to walk beside the Admiral, “She looks happy.”
Adam nodded, “Yeah, I like bringing her down on occasion to get some fresh air. I know she does pretty well on the ship, but I feel bad keeping her cooped up so much.”
With another bound Waffles plowed through a shallow stream sending up droplets of water.
This planet was one the GA had been studying for some time, and, as it seemed, it was a relatively nice, habitable planet that they were readying for colonization for the Finnari, or perhaps, humans, or even both permitting everything went well.
Krill watched the dog as she plowed through the grass, rolling in the  weeds like she was having the time of her life.
Predators used to scare him, but the dog had proven herself to be docile at the Admiral’s command, and he could at least tolerate her if not like her…. Just a little.
Adam Grinned at his dog’s antics and charged into the grass after her.
The dog dropped her front paws, but and tail sticking up in the air, a nonverbal invitation for her master to play with her. He didn’t reject her offer and raced forward to play chasing her around the field, their legs swishing over the grass. She barked happily as they did.
Adam had now ran far ahead of the others towards another nearby forest path. Waffles was behind him just a little ways as he pulled to a halt panting.
It was then that he heard it, a sudden rustling of foliage turning into a swirling thunder of air.
He turned on the spot eyes wide in shock and surprise.
Surprise at the ravening beast charging directly towards him, its purple fur and white tusks glittering in the sun. he leapt out of the way, but the beast was quick, about waist height and angry. He was so startled he couldn't even scream his only reaction to try to kick at the creature and keep it back.
It squared off against him, and he tried backing away, but it charged again.
There was a sudden snarling noise, and waffles charged into the fight snarling and snapping.
She bit the creature hard on it’s back leg.
“WAFFLES!” Adam shouted 
The creature turned violently and whipped it’s tusks at waffles, who didn’t heed them as she charged in again, snapping at its face and throat forcing herself between Adam and his attacker.
It thrashed and she yelped in pain, but charged forward again, grabbing it by the leg and holding on for dear life as  it trampled into the bush dragging her along with it.
Another yelp came from the forest, high pitched and painful.
“WAFFLES!” It didn’t take a moment before Adam was chagrin into the bush after them pulling his sidearm as he did. He followed the sound just in time to see the creature whip it’s head around and catch waffles hard in the side picking her up and tossing her to the ground. Blood drenched her fur, while green icor drenched her muzzle.
He screamed in anger instead of fear this time as he leveled his sidearm and emptied his magazine at the creature. He wasn’t sure how many hit, but the creature was tough enough that it staggered off itne bush yowling. He ignored it for the time and ran, throwing himself to his knees at the side of waffles, who was lying on the ground breathing shallowly.
Sunny roared into the clearing just behind them, her spear raised, but the creature was already gone.
Adam reached out his hands which were trembling so badly he could barely function, “Waffles, waffles no no no no.”
He rested a hand on her side and she whimpered in pain, her muzzle resting on the ground her eyes half hooded.
A choked sob broke from his throat, “No. no…. You’re g-gonna be o-ok.” 
His hands fluttered uselessly over her body, covered in blood.
“KRILL! PLEASE Someone… h-help.”
Sunny stood back in shock and fear as Adam clawed at his hair, tears rolling down his face in uncontrolled streams.
Krill scuttled in not far after.
Adam turned to look at him his face twisted into a snarl, “Help her!” His voice cracked on demand and he turned back hands still shaking not knowing what to do. Being a doctor krill was well aware that the human’s anger was displaced and did not take it personally as he moved forward and took a look at the injured animal.
He lifted her front paw, and she whimpered piteously.
Off to the side Adam was still inconsolable, his hands in his hair threatening to rip out fistfulls with his clutching fingers. His agitations was actually getting in the way of Krill working.
“Adam, Adam just hold her head ok, help her stay calm.”
He nodded following orders stiffly, crawling over the ground to sit her head in his lap and tell her she was such a good girl and that she was going to be ok. Streams of continual tears rolled down his cheeks and onto her fur. Waffles licked his hand lethargically.
Sunny knelt next to him, hand on his shaking shoulder powerless as for what to do.
She had never seen him like this, ever.
Not that Adam was one to conceal his emotions completely, but he generally subscribed to silent tears if there were any at all. This, this was different, no holds barred uncontrollably sobbing, the kind where the human loses all functioning, eyes, nose, mouth and racking sobs that shook the body in aggressive, violent spasms.
Krill rolled waffles a little further onto her side spotting a deep gash from her chest and abdomen. He couldn't tell how deep it was, and didn’t want to look in this sort of environment.
“Sunny, call the shuttle!”
The urgency in his voice only served to secure Adam’s worst fears, “No… no, ou’re going to be o.”
“Adam, give me your jacket.”
He did without hesitation, ripping it off his body and offering it to krill as if it was the thing that was going to save her life.
Krill got Adam to help lift her onto the jacket and wrap her up, while he used some thing from his medical kit to staunch the bleeding. Waffles was still conscious, through her eyes were half lidded.
“Please be ok.” Adam begged, and despite all her injuries, her tail thudded against the ground at the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand. This only started his tears flowing even harder.
Overhead the sound of engines whirred, and touched down on the grass not far away.
“Ok, lift her gently.”
He did as ordered hugging her to his chest and practically racing towards the shuttle as it descended.
When the doors opened he practically bowled past the waiting marine who looked on in shock.
He gently lay Waffles on one of the seats all but yellin at one of the marines to make sure she stayed there before racing to the ront of the craft.
“Admiral are you sure…” The copilot began.
“Get out o my fucking way!” he snarled, and the ire in his voice was so that the man quickly leaped from his seat as Adam slid into the pilot’s seat. Krill was worried that the human was going to kill them all trying to pilot in that state, but what he witnessed next was a feat of pure talent and skill as he maneuvered them up through the clouds faster and steadier than krill would have thought possible.
Waffles whimpered softly in the background, held tight in Sunny’s arms now.
Their copilot sent out a medial call as soon as was feasible and very prudent.
By the time they made it inside, a crew was waiting with a stretcher.
Didn’t matter that it was waffles, but they treated her as they might any human with krill tagging long beside.
Adam ran after them until the doors to the med bay shut in his face and he was told to stay outside.
***
Sunny made her way quietly down the hall footsteps no more than a whisper over the metal floor. It was dark on the ship, the lights having been dimmed for the night. Up ahead she could see light filtering out into the hallway, and the rim lighting of a figure sitting in the dark.
She moved forward, and the mass of shadow coalesced from the darkness. Adam sat on the floor, knees pulled to his chest, head in his hands. Three pairs of bright yellow eyes looked up at her from the darkness. And Sunny tilted her head in surprise to see three Finnari curled up around Adam. One leaned against his left side, one leaned against his right side, and one rested against his legs.
The others raised their heads, though Adam remained curled up with his head in his hands.
Sunny nodded to them, “I can take it from here.” She said quietly
The Finnari looked between each other and then waddled to their feet. One of them patted Adam’s hair before joining the group and waddling off down the hall. Sunny knelt and then slowly sat next to Adam resting a hand on his back.They sat in the dark in silence for a long while before he looked up at her.
His cheeks were still wet, and she had no idea how he was still producing any, sure he would have dehydrated hours ago.
In response, she pulled the human closer using all four of her arms until he was curled up against her head resting against her chest.
“I….I can’t l-lose her s-sunny…. I I don’t know what I-I’d do.”
She rubbed his back gently with one of her lower hands, feeling as his body continued to spasm rhythmically with the beat of his grief. He covered his eyes with his right hand turning into her chest as if trying to hide his face. His teeth were gritted against quiet sobs.
But despite his attempts to stay quiet, he couldn’t.
It killed Sunny to watch.
He was completely debilitated. She had seen a human like this maybe once before under different circumstances. Neither war, nor kidnapping, or injury in the time she had known him had ever brought this man to his knees, and if it had it had been silently and alone where he dealt with it himself.
This was different.
He had snapped, broken right in half.
It surprised her almost how fragile humans were, after everything he could have gone through, and after everything he did, this is what hurt him.
His grief came in waves, one moment she thought he had finally calmed down, and then the next moment he was escalating again just as bad as before. It was exhausting to watch, and she had no idea what to do other than keep him company in the dimness of the hallway.
They were there for hours.
And then the door hissed open.
Adam shot to his feet as krill stepped out into the hall.
His hair was disheveled -- even more so than usual-- his face was red and puffy, his eyes were ringed in bright red. The collar of his shirt was damp. 
Sunny rose to her feat as well.
“Is she-” he couldn't finish, choking up again.
“She’s alright, we were just waiting for her to wake up to make sure. But she’s going to be ok.”
This time the sound he made was a sob of relief rather than grief, “Can I see her?”
Krill paused but then nodded, motioning him back. He hurried after into the med bay.
At the end of the room, waffles lay curled up on one of the beds.
She was wrapped in bandages and an IV was held into her right front leg with pink gauze. Someone had managed to fashion a makeshift cone out of plastic shielding.
Adam rushed over.
Waffles blinked slowly at him, too tired to lift her head, but her tail began to whap happily against the covers of the bed. He smiled rubbing his hands through the soft fur of her face and ears, “Good girl…. You’re such a good girl.” tears were leaking down his face again, but he was smiling.
With great effort, waffles lifted her head, licking at his face with her long pink tongue, whipping the tears from his face the only way she knew how.
Krill walked over and paused by them, “She should be up and about by tomorrow, but she definitely needs to rest and recover.”
Adam looked up at Krill, “Can I stay here…. With her?”
Krill looked at him unsure, but the look on the human’s face was one the little alien certainly couldn't say no to , and he sighed, “Alright, you can stay.”
When Sunny left the room Adam was curled up on the bed with the dog resting with her back to his chest, the two of them fast asleep.
Thank the spirits Waffles was ok.
***
Ask a human, the vast majority of them find the sadness of grief or pain of a dog to be more poignant than that of a human -- unless the human is one they know--. This is why movies often employ dogs for emotional factors. Perhaps you cannot get an audience to cry for the pain of a human, but if you get a dog to wait at its owner's owners grave than you can have an entire audience in tears. As I said earlier. It's hard to watch the pain of someone who doesn't deserve that pain and never will.
Dogs are a reflection of the best parts of man 
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sp00kworm · 4 years ago
Text
A Fayre (Part 1)
Pairing: Rakuh (Male Orc) x Gender Neutral Reader
Warnings: None
A/N: The requested piece for you all. A few people have been excited so I had to split this into two parts! Enjoy! 
Part 2 
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The rolling hills leading to the main road were pretty, but not exactly the ideal place to break down when it was pouring with rain. The sheep had huddled underneath their shelter as rain poured down from the heavens and you frantically searched for the number for your breakdown company. Someone would be out within the hour, or so they had said. An hour and a half later, still looking on enviously at the sheep in their cluster, a tow truck and mechanic showed up. An Orc. You tried to hide your teary eyes from the elder looking Orc as he hopped out of his truck and smiled, tusks curling from his bottom jaw, poking out from his lips. He was a broad, greying Orc with his clothing covered in grease stains from working on other cars.
“Sorry!” He offered as he tucked his silver streaked ginger hair over his shoulder and tugged at his coveralls, “We’ve been busy at the garage with an exploded oil tank! Would ya believe it? Just after you called.” He offered his hand, “Gurlog’s the name.”
You tried to smile at the elder, “Thank you for coming.” You muttered, bottom lip trembling as you were ushered back along to the car, “I don’t know what’s wrong with it… It made a terrible snapping sound and then stopped working. I had to pull in here on momentum alone.”
Gurlog patted your shoulder as he opened the hood and propped it open, peering at the engine with a critical eye, his hands quickly getting to work to find the issues.
Gurlog whistled as he worked, moving his hands over the engine before he laughed and plucked the broken fan belt free of the runner. It was frayed and snapped, clearly no longer working.
“That’s your issue right there. No power if your alternator ain’t connected anymore.” Gurlog huffed a laugh, patting at his coveralls, smearing more oil over the heavy blue fabric, “Its an easy enough fix, sweetheart. I’ll tow ya back to the garage then we’ll get that belt replaced and you’ll be on your way.” He soothed as he snapped the hood back down and peered up at the sky, “You get yourself into the van. I’ll get your car up on the back.” Rough hands pushed you towards the passenger seat of the tow truck as Gurlog set to work finding the tow bar and humming, lowering the truck platforms before he snapped the hook and tow into place and got your car into place. The Orc cursed from outside the truck as the heavens opened once more, rain bouncing against the roof as more and more grey clouds rolled in. Gurlog opened the driver’s door and grumbled, tucking his ponytail back behind his shoulder before he laughed and turned on the heaters.
“Typical weather!” He huffed as he shifted the truck into gear and flicked on his headlights for navigating the torrential downpour on the hilly roads.
The garage was back in a small town, not too far from your own hometown. It was a quaint place. One main road ran through it with a main high street for shopping. The town was large but not large enough to have a large, departmental grocery shop. You looked at the old housing which melted into spotted cottages around at the edge of town, where Gurlog’s garage was. There was a large house alongside the garage, old but well lived in by numerous Orcs it seemed. Gurlog pulled into the garage and waved his hand outside of the window. The rain was still going, but a lot lighter, it was only drizzle, but it was enough to make everything, and everyone, damp and moody.
“Boys! Help me get this car into the garage!” Gurlog shouted through his window, chewing at a piece of gum as he waited for his sons to appear. One did but the other did not. The dark-haired Orc scoffed at his father, his hands placed in the window as he nodded to you and dragged a hand over his clean shaven chin, oil smudges covering his cheeks where his fingers grazed the skin. Brown eyes sized you up before he slicked back the hair of his mohawk and eyed your car curiously.
“Just a broken fan belt or two I think, Xurek.” Gurlog opened the car door and pushed it against his son with a laugh. Xurek scoffed again before grunting as the door winded him, “This is Xurek, my younger son.” Gurlog introduced you by name.
You’d managed to calm down enough to not have massively puffy eyes anymore. You took in the towering size of Gurlog’s youngest son and found yourself smiling at him. He was the bad boy looking sort, rings in his ears and snake bites in his lips, yet it was thrown off by the covering of freckles over his sage coloured skin. He was lighter in tone than his father but didn’t have the thick, ginger mane.
“Its nice to meet you, Xurek.” You offered your hand.
Xurek shook your hand with a smile, his small tusks exposed in the toothy grin, “Likewise.” He turned to Gurlog, “Rakuh said he’s busy and I’ve got to get back to servicing, but I’ll help you get it off the truck Pa.”
Gurlog huffed as he spun your car keys and tossed them to Xurek, “I’ll get him myself once we get this out of the rain.” He watched his son go up the ramp to help him spin the car back into the garage, “He’ll have his nose in something that doesn’t need doing on Mrs Owen’s car, again.” Gurlog sighed as Xurek back your car into the bay and rolled his eyes at his father.
Xurek hopped back out of the car, “How about you help me finish the service and you send Rakuh to do this? Stops him from chargin’ Mrs Owen double the price that way!” The younger son laughed as he shut the door and popped your keys up on the rack in the side of the garage.
Gurlog stroked his long beard, “You might just have a point.” He hummed before ushering you into the next bay along, “Come on. I’ll introduce you. He’s a bit frosty but I promise he doesn’t bite.”
Gurlog approached his son without any grace, thumping over to him loudly before standing behind him and waiting. Rakuh wasn’t paying attention. You heard Xurek snort with laughter behind you as Gurlog coughed into his fist. The elder son didn’t jump but turned his head towards his father with a glare.
“What?” He asked coldly as he reached for a rag to wipe away the oil from his hands. You looked up at the even larger orc with an open mouth. He was a stark contrast to his brother, his arms crossed over a bare barrel chest, covered in freckles, his skin a shade of sage, which was the only thing similar to his brother. Rakuh pulled his great ginger braid over his shoulder and made sure the ropes of braiding leading into the large one were intact before he looked down at you with judgemental brown eyes. His muddy gaze was quick to assess you, his upwards curling tusks making his huff whistle before he sniffed and fiddled with the gold septum ring in his nose. He also had earrings in his ears, gold flashing behind his braids as he looked between you and his father. You wondered if he didn’t poke his skin with the tusks that reached towards his nose.
“I need you to put a new fan belt in the car in the next room for this fine young ‘un.” Gurlog smiled and introduced you before cracking his open palm across his prickly son’s across the back, “I’ll sort Mrs Owen’s car out for you.” Rakuh flexed his arms to protest, tattoos around the top of his arm stretching. He turned and you noticed he had a band around his chest, beneath his pectorals as well, “She needs it properly fixing for once, then she might not be back ‘ere every fucking two months.”
“Rakuh! Language!” Gurlog shouted as the eldest son grumbled and scrubbed at his well-trimmed beard, “We have a guest so watch your fuckin’ language!” He quickly realised his mistake when Xurek burst into laughter against the wall. You shrunk back as Rakuh slipped past you into the other bay. He was quiet as he opened the engine up and got to work, not bothering to put on a shirt as he fiddled with the old belt, smearing grease and oil over his hands as he tried to find the right size among their new ones hung up on the back wall. It was then a woman burst into the garage.
“Gurlog! What have I told you about swearing at the lads?!” She howled from the door, her tusks larger than her partner’s and bared in a display of anger. Her fury amplified as she caught sight of you shrunk in the corner, “And with a guest!?” She screeched before thumping her way through her family, “Oh you sweet thing, I am so sorry! My name is Shul. These boys are just the worst with guests.” The female quickly ushered you into the warm waiting room of the office.
“Get your backside in this room, Rakuh!” Shul crossed her arms and made sure to glare at her son as he entered the waiting room.
“Ma is this really necessary?” He asked. Rakuh was quick to shut his mouth when his mother raised her thick brows and crossed her arms, “Pa literally just told me to sort the car!” He defended himself. It became obvious where he got his temper from as Shul growled, low and rumbling. Her son returned the noise.
“You’ve all scared ‘em deathly!” She howled at her son before pointing at the door, “Go and get a shirt on and make the poor thing a drink! You haven’t been dragged up, young man!” Shul smiled down at you, “Now don’t worry your head. Rakuh is a grumpy thing but he’s the best mechanic his Daddy’s got.” Their mother sighed before finding Rakuh’s shirt behind the desk in the cream painted room. She hollered after her son and made sure to push the t-shirt on his head as he returned with a scowl on his brow.
“Thank you.” You smiled at the greying, black haired woman.
She visibly brightened, her tusks exposed in a bright smile like Xurek’s as she tucked her hands back into her cleaning apron, “You’re welcome darling. I’ll be in the house but I’m sure Rakuh will behave now. Don’t be scared of him. He’s a darling inside all that ice.” She joked as she closed the door, letting the heater warm you back up from your escapade in the cold hills.
A fist thundered on the door of the converted, shipping crate waiting room. The handle dipped and you put on your best smile for the larger brother as he ducked back into the doorway. He held a tray in his hands, balancing a teacup and two teapots on top of it as he ducked inside and placed it on the small table.
“I made you some tea.” He offered both pots to you, dark eyes still guarded yet apologetic, “I made you peppermint and nettle. I didn’t know which you would prefer.”
“Peppermint is fine, thank you.” You watched him pour you a cup before he replaced the teapot on the table.
Rakuh sighed through his tusks, “I’m sorry for bein’ rude. Pa interrupted me working and he knows I hate it, but that doesn’t mean I should have taken that out on you.” He smiled and you watched the standoffish layers melt away a little as you nodded.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s been a hard day and I’m just frazzled. I thought I was going to be stuck up in the hills all night.” You chuckled as you took a sip of tea.
Rakuh offered you a sugar cube from the large bowl of sugar, “Not to worry. I’ll have that new belt in quick so you can get off home. I’ll get Ma to come and take your insurance details for the tow.” He waved once before he was off back out of the room, awkwardly ducking through the too small doorway. His braids swayed over his back as he shouted for Shul and flagged off his younger brother for making kissing faces.
“Fuck off, Xurek!” Rakuh hissed across the floor as Xurek made another suggestive look at him.
“RAKUH! LANGUAGE!” Shul hissed at her son as she fetched the paperwork for you to fill in for your insurance details.
It was closing time for the garage when Rakuh reappeared in the doorway of the waiting room. It had taken him a couple of hours to get the belts properly into the engine.
“I’ve finished up.” He announced before he grunted at his mother who was still sat with you. He groaned, out loud, with a sour look when he caught sight of his father, “Are you both in here slacking off by talking to the customer?” Rakuh threw his towel over his shoulder and stood in the doorway, looking at the three of your, sat in the old couches, laughing over a fresh pot of tea, “Ma, really? You brought the biscuits out?” The bulking mass of the orc male shadowed you as he thumped into the room. Little pieces of hair had frizzed from his braids, hanging over his forehead as he watched Shul take a healthy sip of tea and flash a biscuit at him.
Shul smacked at her husband’s hands, “That’s enough for you I think.” She smiled at her son with her short tusks, “I’m being kind, Rakuh! You could do with learning a thing or two.”
Rakuh rolled his eyes as he fished a biscuit from the packet in Shul’s hands, pushing it into his mouth before he turned back to the door.
“How about you come along to the BBQ we’re having next week? There’s some sunny weather on the horizon!” Gurlog smiled at you with a laugh, “I’m sure our boy could do with the company.”
Rakuh’s pointed, tapered ears went red as he growled, “I don’t need you to set me up on dates!” His nostrils flared as he purposely slammed the door behind him, rattling the old container with his anger.
“Let me take your number, sweetheart.” Shul chuckled, “I’ll talk him around.” She promised before wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “That boy doesn’t make tea for any old customer. The amount of times I’ve had to give girls and boys tissues!” She shook her head before shooing her husband out.
Shul was loud as she greeted you at the party, “Hello, sweetheart!” She cooed as her huge hands grabbed at your face, “Oh you do clean up well!” She joked before waving over Gurlog, “Come here, dear! Look! Its our little breakdown friend!”
Gurlog waved at a pair of Faun before he came over to his wife, laughing before he gave you a hug, “It’s good to see you!” He greeted before ushering you through the gate and taking the cake you had brought from your hands, “Oh look at this. You’re more than welcome here with such a delicious thing!” Gurlog cooed over the gooey chocolate cake with gusto before Shul snatched it from him and pointed to the next lot of guests. A woodland elf and young wizard laughed at the gate behind you as Shul ushered you to the table and tucked the cake away in the desserts.
“Rakuh and Xurek are around…” She hummed as she peered over the crowd with ease, huffing as she searched for her sons.
“Hey, don’t worry.” You soothed with a hand on her arm, “I’ll go and find someone to talk to. You better get back to the meeting and greeting.”
Shul placed a hand on your arm, “Be gentle with my cold-hearted idiot, hm? He’s not a very good talker.” She let you go with a smile and headed back to her husband, dark hair flopping as she went.
You took a deep breath as you looked around at the groups of various races, chatting and gossiping between one another. You felt a little out of place. Small among a family of orcs and various magical creatures from the surrounding hills.
“Woah!” A great, antlered Cervitaur smacked into your back, his tail flipping back and forth as he pranced lightly on his feet, “Sorry! A’ didn’t see you down there.” He dipped his antlers in a bow, his legs spread to let him peer closer at your face. His long silver hair draped around his horns, tinged with a green akin to moss around the bases, as his green eyes reflected the woodlands, and not your own face, “My name is Cernunnos. And yes, I know, my family were not tha’ kindest o’ people when it came t’ names.” Cernunnos’ hooves clicked on the patio as he put himself back upright.
You told the Cervitaur your name, “Its lovely to meet you.” You nodded before waving a finger around, “Would you happen to know where Rakuh is? Shul told me to give something to him.” You asked politely.
Cernunnos’ chest puffed slightly, the fur over his stomach bristling high as he stood tall and tucked his hair behind his ears again, “He was at the grill last time a’ saw him.” He flicked his dark coloured tail before pointing over to the far end of the garden, “Towards the shed.” Before you could go, he winked at you and gave a demure laugh as you rushed away.
Rakuh was stood by the large shed grilling, hidden from the crowds, a cold bottle of Orcish bitter in his hand as he flipped burgers and rotated a large pig which was slow roasting. The ginger seemed at home in his little bubble, cooking and drinking, ignoring the fluttering Pixies as they shifted shapes and tried to coo at him from the pool. Xeruk laughed from his place by the roasting spit, his mohawk flopping as the Pixies threw water at him, drenching his already wet-through t-shirt. Rakuh stood firmly out of their line of fire, dressed in a pale blue shirt and heavy shorts, as he turned burgers and ignored his brother’s flirting. You tried not to laugh as Rakuh flicked at a particularly small and handsy pixie, sending her soaring in a shower of wing dust.
“Hey there.” You smiled as the two brother’s span around. Xeruk’s face turned into an evil looking grin as Rakuh turned back to his grill gruffly.
“Nice to see you again!” Xeruk offered you a friendly, one-armed hug as before he let the pig sit over the fire. Rakuh ignored the two of you as he took a bunch of burgers off the barbeque and placed them into a buffet heater.
“Nice to see you both as well. How has it been up here in the hills?” You asked as Xeruk waved at a Water Nymph.
The younger brother shrugged his shoulders before winking at the ladies in the pool, “Its much more fun with some other people here for once.”
“Why don’t you go and flex somewhere else?” Rakuh grunted as he turned the chicken legs and pulled out a few lamb chops, “Like by the pool?” He grumbled.
Xeruk grinned, “You don’t have to tell me twice, brother.” He pulled off his t-shirt with another wave, “I know when you want someone to yourself!” The dark-haired male shouted before he sat himself near the Nymphs and Pixies in the pool.
Rakuh didn’t dignify the jab with a response but made sure to slam his beer heavily on the table before setting his dark eyes on you, “I’m sorry about him.” He offered quietly, his hair obscuring the blush on his cheeks and ears from your sight.
“Don’t be sorry. Everyone has that annoying relative.” You joked as Rakuh turned the hog over the fire again and returned to pulling meat from the large brick barbeque. He avoided your eyes as he worked.
“Still. He’s a rude fucker.” Rakuh grunted. His eyes widened as you began to laugh, “You alright?” He asked with concern painted on his features.
You quelled your laughter enough to shake your head, “I’m fine. You’re just not as cold as everyone makes you out to be.” You teased as you looked at his beer, “You think you could get me one of those?”
Rakuh looked at the beer on his table, “This?” He took hold of the bottle of ale and tapped the sticker on the front, “Orcish for a reason, love.” Rakuh placed the bottle back down on the table. You frowned at him before reaching for the bottle yourself and taking a sip.
“Holy shit!” You coughed after swallowing the mouthful, “Talk about alcohol content…” You stuck your tongue out at the bottle as Rakuh took it back from you.
Rakuh let out a great, deep laugh, his face curled into a smile, his jewellery jingling softly before he reached for a beer from the cooler, offering you a normal, human drink, “That will treat you better I think, but I commend you for tryin’.”
“You have a nice laugh.” You smiled as you Rakuh snapped open your beer with a flick of his wrist.
Rakuh paused, his face going red again as he went quiet, “Thank you…”
“You’re really a nice guy, aren’t you? You just like your work too much.” You smiled at the Orc brightly.
Rakuh smiled, a small smile which just turned up the corner of his lips, “Something like that.” He flipped over the hog again before turning, “How about we have a chat once I’m done cooking? Ma never did give me your number.”
“So not only are you a soft-hearted Orc but you’re a smooth talker too?” You laughed, “Consider me impressed, Rakuh.”
Rakuh rolled his eyes, “How about you go and eat first, maybe then I’ll tell ya just how soft I actually am?”
“Deal.” You took a plate from the table and made your way over to the food.
Rakuh was much more relaxed after cooking, and, with a few beers in his belly. The ginger male laughed as you explained your very jittery ride home the previous week in your car, his dark eyes creased at the edges with his smile.
“Don’t laugh at me!” You smacked at his arm, “It was terrifying driving back through the hills in all that rain. I thought I was going to get stranded again with all those sheep!”
“The sheep are the least of your worries up there.” He snorted before fiddling with the ring in his nose, “I heard there’s a pack of werewolves and…” He jabbed a thumb in the direction of Cernunnos, who was prancing before a group of women, “The woods near the tops are his domain.”
You curled your nose, “Yeah I think I’d rather not get stuck up in his woods…If you know what I mean?”
Rakuh grinned, chuckling in his chest before he shook his head at the Cervitaur, “He just doesn’t know when to stop. One too many times people have walked into those woods and come out with some weird prophecy about carrying a God’s child.” He grunted, “He’s a fae folk through and through. Takes what he wants and thinks humans are his play thing.”
“It seems like you don’t really like him?” You asked curiously.
“I don’t like anyone that plays with people for fun.” Rakuh snorted, “Plus, look at ‘im.” He snapped his fingers together in a click, “Wouldn’t stand a chance in an Orcish arena. I could snap him like a twig.”
You looked away from Cernunnos’ and smiled slyly, “What kind of Orcish arenas still exist? I thought they did away with the practice?”
Rakuh opened his mouth, the golden rings on the base of his tusks exposed before he grunted, “Nothing that involves killing anymore.” He grumbled, “Just re-enactments.”
“Wait…You do re-enactment fayres?” You grinned as you shuffled closer to him on the bench.
He gave a withering sigh, “Yes.” Rakuh ground out before taking several gulps of bitter, “Don’t go blabbing it around, alright?”
With another laugh you inched closer, “What sorts? I know your family are from a clan right? Is it those ancient sorts of ones?”
“Yeah. Early clan days stuff, from back when Orcs used to be mercenaries.” Rakuh grumbled out, embarrassment painting his cheeks and ears once more as you plied him with questions.
“Do you guys fight? What about armour? Is there an animal show?” Rakuh placed a finger over your lips to quieten your questions.
“Can you keep it down?” He hissed next to your ear, “I don’t want everyone knowing about it…”
Xurek whistled from behind you both at the buffet table, “Damn! I did not expect ya to move so fast Rakuh! Ma look at ‘im! He’s already kissin’ ‘em!”
“What do you mean my boy is kissin’?!” Shul’s dark hair peeked over the crowd and you laughed brightly as she gave a delighted noise and a thumbs up.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” Rakuh cursed as he buried his face into his hands, “I’m so sorry about them.”
When your laughter stopped, you wiped a tear from your eye and leaned over, hands on his massive biceps before you placed a soft kiss on his cheek, “There. Now no one can make fun.” You joked as you rubbed at the ginger beard and reached for your empty beer bottles. You stood up and shook the bottles at him, “Would you like another beer?”
“Sure. Please.” He stuttered out as Shul wandered over with another turkey leg in hand for her son.
As you wandered off, Shul patted her son on the shoulder, “So, do we actually like this one?” She joked as Rakuh took the meat from her.
Rakuh watched you collect the beers with a small smile, “Something like that.”
“Are you going to get…” Shul grinned at Rakuh’s scowl, “Well, I’ll leave you to it!” She managed to disappear into the crowd again just as you returned.
“Was that your mum?” You asked as you handed Rakuh another large bitter, “What did she want?”
Rakuh held up the large turkey leg, “Just to give me another leg. Like I haven’t eaten enough already.” He scoffed before touching a hand to his cheek and taking the beer from you, “You didn’t have to kiss me you know.” He whispered quietly.
Confused, you frowned, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you don’t have to do all this stuff out of pity and…” Rakuh huffed, his anger quickly getting the better of him, “Don’t pretend to be interested in me if you ain’t.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that.” You touched his arm and smiled brightly, “I want to talk to you, and well, I came to say thank you for fixing my car. I did notice the oil change, and the windscreen wipers…and you fixed a dent over the wheel.”
“Well…Maybe I did fix those up for you.” He grumbled.
“At no extra cost as well.” You teased before patting him again, “Thank you. You did an amazing job.”
“No problem.” Rakuh grumbled before he looked at his beer and downed the rest of it, “Would you, uh, like to…”
“Give me your phone.” You snatched his large phone and typed in your number, “There. Now you don’t have to ask me for it.”
“Ah…Thank you.” Rakuh looked at your name in his phone and huffed a great laugh before he offered you the turkey leg off his plate, “’Ere. I don’t want it anyway.”
“Thank you but I’m alright too.” You held up your plate before pointing to the cake you made, “That’s the one I made. You should get some before your dad gets at it.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” You laughed as he rushed to beat Gurlog to the desserts.
“Rakuh! Give your ol’ man a piece of that chocolate cake!” Gurlog rumbled.
Shul appeared from the crowd again and grabbed her husband’s hand as Rakuh cut into the cake, “Diet, my darling.” She cooed annoyingly at Gurlog.
“Pa. You’ll eat the whole thing if ya start.” Rakuh sliced two pieces as his father continued to whittle on to his mother about how he could eat ‘just a little slice’.
“Had to near on fight ma Pa for a slice.” Rakuh joked as he returned, a small smile creasing his lips upwards as he passed you a slice of the cake. You took it from him and placed the cake next to you on the bench before you deposited your other food plate in the bin.
“I’m not surprised. He seemed very excited when I gave it to Shul.” You hummed as you picked up the chocolate cake and fetched two plastic forks. Rakuh took one from you and took a large piece of the cake into his mouth.
“This is delicious.” He said around the cake before taking another bite and humming.
You laughed around eating bites of your own cake as Rakuh finished one and got up for another, “Slow down! You’ll end up with cavities in your tusks!” You joked as he returned with another piece, “That or your dad will try and fistfight you for it.”
“Let him try.” Rakuh grunted, “This is great.” He pointed his fork to the cake before continuing to eat. You smiled up at the Orc before leaning against his shoulder and finishing your own slice of cake.
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max-is-tired · 4 years ago
Text
They can tell you that it’s righteous
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Fandom: Dream SMP
Prompt: Kidnapping ( @badthingshappenbingo )
A/N: Aaand I’m back on my writing bullshit, let’s go. I started plotting this fic back in January, so it only follows canon up until Doomsday/Techno and Phil finding the portal room, but at least it’s finally done!
Obligatory tags of people who asked: @deadonmercury @littlecatninja​
Warnings: hostage situation, blood, violence, mention of skin melting off, antagonist Quackity, drowning, temporary character death (gotta love respawning), near death experience, beheading.
Read on AO3!!
It had started like such a good day for Ranboo. The sun was shining bright in the sky, the SMP seemed to be at relative peace for once, and there were plenty of grass blocks lying around and waiting to be picked up. So yeah, great day!
Ranboo knew this peace probably wouldn't last long, not with these lands' track record of starting conflicts and trying to kill people on a weekly basis. But when the afternoon rolled around and random explosions had yet to start filling the sky with smoke, the hybrid felt pretty confident that, at least for that day, things were looking up.
The problem was that, by thinking on those lines, Ranboo ended up forgetting the most important rule of the server, the one rule he'd promised himself he would not break, no matter what.
Never, ever lower your guard, especially in times of peace.
He didn't even notice the person sneaking up on him until the very last second. One moment, he was crouching down, happily patting the grass block he'd just placed on the ground and the next, there was a shadow looming over him, the familiar shape of small, feathered wings being the only thing he managed to discern before a sudden, excruciating pain in the back of his head made his vision go white.
Ranboo groaned, stumbling on the ground while his vision wobbled and filled with dark spots. Dark, dirty sneakers stopped just in front of his head, but try as he might, the hybrid couldn't bring himself to move his head enough to look up, the mere thought of it making him wince.
"Sorry Ranboo, nothing personal," a familiar voice muttered, drawing a confused whine out of the kid. After that, everything went black.
+++
Technoblade had been feeling on edge all day -which, by itself, wasn't such a strange occurrence. Being on edge was a given for him, what with the voices in his head constantly chanting for blood and half of the server seemingly having a personal vendetta against him.
Listen, okay, he did blow up their precious country -but only after they decided that a corrupt government was the way to go and, you know, tracked him down while he was in retirement to try and execute him. He felt like the retaliation was kind of deserved.
Still, Techno didn't give much weight to the feeling. He'd learned to never let his guard down after the butcher army, and if someone decided to be stupid enough to attack him in his own home, they'd have to deal with him, Philza, and the small army of hounds living in the pen outside, plus the polar bears. The entirety of the SMP could attack them and he'd be able to at least hold them off enough to get away.
So, Techno spent most of the day chilling, for once, sitting on his couch with a book and Steve curled up nearby while Phil worked on some blueprints for a project of his.
"You keep that up, you're going to end up building a whole city down in that abandoned fortress," he commented, huffing in amusement as the older looked up from the table to glare at him.
"Oh, you shut up," Phil retorted, pointing at him with the quill in his hand. "Do you want the syndicate room to look decent or not? Because if you prefer I can just wing it-" chat cackled at the unintentional pun, much to Techno's dismay- "and have it turn out whatever."
Techno squinted at his friend. "You wouldn't."
"You sure about that, mate?" Phil grinned back, the picture of innocence. Which, when it came to him, meant he absolutely would, the fucker.
"Alright, alright," Techno huffed, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, "leave the old man to his planning, got it."
Phil snorted, pushing his chair back as he stood up. "Now you listen here, you little shit-"
The sound of tapping on glass distracted them from the discussion, attracting their attention to the kitchen window. There, perched on the windowsill, stood one of Phil's crows, holding something in its beak.
After exchanging a curious glance with Techno, the older went to retrieve the bird, opening the window enough to let it hop in. Giving the crow a few pats on the head, he reached for the object, raising an eyebrow when he realized it was, in fact, a folded piece of paper. 
Intrigued, Techno watched as Phil opened the message, his eyes quickly scanning the paper before widening slightly in alarm. Well, that wasn't good.
"Mate, I think you might want to take a look at this," Phil called, urgency obvious in his voice and that really, really wasn't good.
Techno sighed, slipping the bookmark back in his book before standing up. Guess he could say goodbye to his plans for a chill afternoon.
Hello, Technoblade,
heard you guys took in a little stray -should have known, traitors tend to stick together, don't they? Well, jokes on you, I've got him now. Get to the coordinates listed at the bottom of this note, alone and unarmed, before sundown, or Ranboo gets it. An eye for an eye, that's how the saying goes, right?
See you soon,
Q
+++
Techno had been already halfway out of the house the second he finished reading the note, Phil hot on his heels.
"I'm not letting you go alone," the older stated, already reaching for his coat.
"Well, you'll have to," Techno countered.
"You can't go in without backup, especially unarmed and not knowing what to expect!"
"Oh trust me, I'll be anything but unarmed," Techno huffed, letting the axe Ranboo had gifted him slide in his inventory. "I can use the element of surprise, I'll be fine. But the second Quackity sees you, Ranboo is going to be in hot shit, and we don't even know where he's keeping him."
Phil glared, his lips pursed in a displeased frown before sighing in defeat. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."
Techno sent him an apologetic glance, quickly fastening his coat on before stepping down the porch.
"I'll keep my communicator on the whole time," he promised, walking towards the stasis chamber and reaching for one of his ender pearls, "I'll get there, grab Ranboo, kill Quackity if I can and the second I text you you're gonna teleport us back."
"Sounds like a plan," Philza sighed. "Be careful, okay mate?"
"When am I ever not?" Techno smirked. "we'll be back before you know it, old man."
"Fuck off and go save our neighbor, you ass!"
Techno cackled, shaking his head as he set off towards the Nether portal.
Save Ranboo!
Protectiveblade
Blood for the blood god
Techno shook his head, pushing the voices back as he forced himself to keep a clear head. He was pissed, sure, but he knew men like Quackity -he'd met a lot of them in his life, and all of them had fallen under his sword. He would be no different.
The Nether travel didn't take that long, and after that, all he had to do was follow his compass towards the coordinates he'd been given. Techno found himself feeling glad the place wasn't all too far away, seeing how the sun had just started dipping below the horizon when he finally stepped out of the forest.
"Man, look who is here, our guest of honor!" Quackity exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear as he turned to look at him. "Technoblade, how nice of you to join us, I was starting to think you wouldn't come, after all."
Distantly, Techno could hear the ocean waves crashing against the rocks under them, the occasional droplets of water reaching the top of the cliff they were currently on. Quackity was standing just near the edge, gusts of wind ruffling the feathers of his duck wings and trying to slip the beanie off his head -all it would take was a misstep, a small push, and he would plummet towards the unforgiving water below.
But what actually got the piglin's attention was the small structure he could see just behind the man, a small, locked cage rigged with redstone dangling well over the edge and above the crashing waves. And just inside of it, slumped against the metal bars, laid an unconscious Ranboo, left with no armor on but his clothes.
"What did you do to him," he demanded, not even bothering to tear his gaze away from the cage that reminded him too much of the day the butcher army had come for him.
"Ah, watch your tone, Blade," Quackity tutted, a smirk evident in his voice, "all I need is pull this lever, and the kid falls down into the ocean. I heard he doesn't do well in water without his armor… we wouldn't want that, would we?"
Techno snapped his head towards Quackity, baring his tusks in a silent threat.
"I'm here, I followed your stupid directions," he growled, barely able to keep himself from cutting Quackity's head clean off like the voices wanted him to, "now let Ranboo go."
The duck hybrid tilted his head to the side, feigning confusion. "And why would I do that, Technoblade? He's a traitor, he needs to be punished as one."
"A traitor to what?!" Techno asked, bewildered. "L'Manburg is gone, Quackity!"
"And whose fault is that?!" Quackity shouted. "Uh? Remind me, oh great Technoblade, who here razed an entire country to the ground not once, but fucking twice? Please, enlighten me!"
"Government corrupts," Techno answered, his voice low and dangerous, "L'Manburg was rotten to its core, look at what it did to you, to Tubbo, to Tommy! It needed to go."
Quackity laughed, throwing his head back as the wind kept howling around them.
"Oh, yeah?" he grinned, throwing his arms open. "Well, that's my old home you're talking about. And if it was rotten, well, then so am I."
Before Techno could even react, Quackity reached to his side, wrapping his hand around the lever connected to the redstone of the cage. And then, still grinning from ear to ear, he pulled.
"Ranboo!" Techno shouted, watching helplessly as the kid plummeted down towards the ocean water. Quackity's laughter mixed with the howling wind, crazed and high-pitched and making Techno's blood boil.
Ruby red eyes settled on the laughing man, filling with bloodlust as the familiar weight of an axe appeared in his hand.
The voices were growing louder by the second, feeding on his fury and chanting for blood. And this time, Technoblade didn't bother holding them back.
+++
Ranboo woke up to muffled voices, yelling from somewhere in front of him. He didn't know what was happening, or where he was -the voices were somewhat familiar, yes, but he couldn't place them for the life of him and as it was, he could barely even catch a word every four, with how loud the wind was.
Normally, something like this wouldn't have failed to send him spiraling into a panic -he hated not knowing, not being aware of his own surroundings or how he got there in the first place. But his brain felt fuzzy, off-kilter, the only thing he could focus on being the dull throbbing coming from the back of his head. Ender, it hurt.
Fighting down a small whine, Ranboo pried his eyes open, pushing against the sluggishness to try and at least make some sense out of the situation he'd found himself in. His vision was fuzzy, but he could somewhat make out two figures standing somewhere in front of him.
One was standing with his back on him, decked in the familiar iridescent purple of an enchanted netherite armor. The other was a little farther away, enough so that to Ranboo, they looked like nothing more than a blurred blob of amassed colors. Pink was very prominent, followed by something red flowing on their back -they felt familiar, safe, causing Ranboo to relax almost on instinct.
"Technoblade...?" he slurred, confused. What was Techno doing there? They weren't in the Antarctic, there was no snow around them.
Before he could properly think of a reason, however, Ranboo felt the floor suddenly disappear from under him, fear shooting up his spine as he started plummeting down into the abyss. He didn't even have the time to make a sound before something dark and cold enveloped him, shocking him awake as he got twirled and smacked around.
A few seconds of shocked bliss passed, and then everything started burning.
It felt like he'd fallen in a pit of fire, the flames licking at every ounce of his skin as if trying to melt it directly off his body. Ranboo opened his mouth, trying to scream as the pain overwhelmed him in the worst way possible, only for something to fill his mouth and throat, choking him and only strengthening his growing panic.
He was going to die. He was going to die, alone in this darkness, he needed to get out, out, out-
Ranboo crashed on the hard, unforgiving ground, coughing harshly as water rushed out of his airways. Cold, frigid air hit his skin, soothing the burns and making the pain a little more bearable. He could breathe. He could breathe.
Ranboo slumped to the floor, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to get his racing heartbeat under control. He had to fight even just to keep his eyes open, exhaustion weighing him down until he could barely move his head, let alone think about standing up.
A white, furry snout filled his vision, curiously sniffing at his face. Ranboo blinked, a startled sound escaping his lips. The dog blinked back, tilting its head to the side.
"What…?" he whispered, wincing at how hoarse his voice came out. Ender, his throat hurt.
Another snout appeared above his head. And then another, and another, the sound of barking finally reaching his ears. Where- where was he, exactly?
Before he could try and come up with an answer, Ranboo heard the sound of a door opening, followed by a sharp gasp and hurried footsteps.
"Ranboo?"
The hybrid squinted in confusion, immediately recognizing the voice.
"Phil?"
+++
No matter what tricks he might have had up his sleeve, Quackity couldn't stand a chance against an angry, vengeful Technoblade. It took him barely minutes to sink his axe through the other's neck, slicing his head clean off and sending it rolling on the ground under their feet. Techno barely watched as the lifeless body slumped down, ignoring his communicator vibrating with the death message as he raced to the cliff. He knew, he knew there was no way Ranboo had survived a fall like that, but he had to check, had to make sure. 
Crashing waves and wet, glistening rocks were the only things staring back, destroying whatever hope he might have had. Someone more impulsive would have jumped off, in a desperate hope to find the kid still struggling against the current, but Techno knew better.
The ocean was unforgiving, and for someone like Ranboo, even more so.
He sighed, stepping back from the edge and turning around. Quackity's body wasn't there anymore, having disappeared as the respawn mechanics worked their magic -if the man was smart, he wouldn't dare bother Techno again, not unless he wanted to lose his last life and find out how permadeath felt like.
In theory, Techno knew that Ranboo's death wasn't permanent. The kid still had all of his lives, at least before this, and the SMP would bring him back soon enough. Respawning sucked, though -it left you aching and in pain for days on end as your body stitched itself back together after whatever trauma had taken away one of your lives. It was a painful process, gruesome at times, and one Techno wished Ranboo didn't have to go through.
Especially not when it was his fault.
Ignoring the guilt pooling heavily in his gut, Technoblade reached for his communicator, intending to text Phil to bring him back. As it turned out, however, his friend had beat him to it, blowing up his notifications with hurried messages. Guilt now replaced with worry, Techno tapped the screen, reading through the chat.
[Philza] Techno
[Philza] Techno what the fuck
[Philza] Ranboo is here, he's in the dog pen
[Philza] Jesus christ he's covered in burns what the fuck happened
[Philza] Technoblade you better answer your fucking communicator right now or so help me god I will fly there, find you, and drag your ass home myself
[Philza] I saw the kill message where the fuck are you
Techno blinked, staring at the messages with wide eyes. What?
[Philza] Techno, I know you're reading these, answer me right now
[Technoblade] im omw
+++
When Techno slammed the door of his cabin open, he didn't know what he was expecting. A dead body in the middle of respawning, maybe, with Phil watching over it like a silent guardian angel.
He certainly wasn't expecting to walk in on Phil wrapping gauze around what looked like the entirety of Ranboo's body, the bandages visible for the world to see with the simple shirt and pants the kid was now wearing.
Techno barely spared a glance to the pile of soaked clothes lying on his floor, raking his eyes over the enderman hybrid as he tried to work the surprise out of his system. Fine is the farthest adjective the piglin would use to describe Ranboo right at that moment, seeing how his entire body was covered in gauze and he was holding a pack of ice to the back of his head, but he was alive and breathing and for once in his life, Techno had no fucking clue about how that was possible.
"Fucking hell, kid," he groaned, letting his cloak fall to the floor as he trudged inside the house. "You'll give me a heart attack, one of these days."
Ranboo winced as Technoblade slumped on the couch, still a little dazed from the hit to his head.
"Sorry," he muttered, breaking into a coughing fit immediately after.
"Don't force your throat, mate, you gotta let it rest," Phil scolded gently, sending Techno a small glare. "We're just glad you're okay -or, well, as okay as you can be right now."
Ranboo hesitantly looked up, looking at Philza and then at Techno. The piglin nodded in silent agreement and watched as the kid seemed to slump on himself in relief, the tension leaving his body at once. Was it really that surprising, that they'd grown to care for him enough to be worried about his well-being?
The two men exchanged a worried glance, silent words passing between them. Then, Phil nodded to himself, tying up the last of the gauze around Ranboo's forearm before heading to the kitchen.
"How do you guys feel about some tea?" he asked, pulling down a kettle and three mugs. "I'd say we could all do with something warm right now."
Techno made a noise of affirmation, watching with amusement as Ranboo snorted and nodded in agreement.
Maybe things weren't okay just yet, but this? This was a start.
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