#and I just don’t have the oil glands that are supposed to keep your eyes moist

[winklebeebee]

It is the year 2024 and science still has not provided me with high-tech bionic eyeballs to replace these absolute slackers I had the misfortune of being born with when I was catapulted into this world

[watcheraurora]

Wing Lessons

This was supposed to be 1.2k words of simple silliness. I don’t know what happened. Just a little thing between "brothers." Takes place after Double Life 4.0k words

Potential CW: one very brief flashback with Mild Body Horror that can easily be skipped over. It's one paragraph that’s inspired by ezzriin’s Blackest Hand animatic

—

Knock-knock!

Creak!

"Grian?"

Grian looked up from his drafting table where he'd been planning out his next build. "What is it, Tim?" He pulled his glasses off and set his pencil down. He stood and approached the doorway, stretching out his wings as he did. He'd been sitting for a while and his bones were sore.

Jimmy shifted a little so the door was still blocking most of his body. "Could I ask a favor?" he asked.

"Depends on what it is," Grian replied.

"You know how I've been the first one out of the Games every single time?"

"Of course." Grian suppressed a giggle.

"Well... it's changed me. I'm... I'm not used to this."

"What do you mean?"

Jimmy finally pushed the door away from him.

Revealing small, juvenile wings poking out from his back. They were mostly brown with streaks of yellow. Not quite downy, not quite proper adult plumage either.

Jimmy, unable to meet Grian's eyes and turning red from embarrassment, cleared his throat. "Will you teach me how to preen them?"

Grian stared. "Canary wings," he said. Not a question. "They'll get more and more yellow the more they mature." He made a shooing motion. Jimmy backed up and Grian pursued him out of the office. "C'mon. Let me show you." He led Jimmy down the hall into the bathroom.

"When did you get yours?" Jimmy asked as Grian opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a few wingcare tools. "You didn't have them in Evo."

Grian felt his wings twitch and try to puff up at that. He forced them to remain still. "Not long after I left," he replied. "What do you remember about how I left?"

"The Watchers took you. Said they were going to keep you."

Darkness, purplish lightning, the empty hoods and long sweeping robes. Screaming as wings tore themselves from his back and eyes began to open in the skin of his face—

"Something like that, yeah," Grian replied. "After I got away from them, I got wings." A simple lie. One Jimmy wouldn't see through.

Tucking his wings in close, Grian grabbed the back of his red jumper and pulled it off, leaving him in the collared white button-down he wore beneath it. Jimmy followed his lead, though he had on a blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up his arms and a white T-shirt underneath.

"Alright. So. First thing's first. It's best to rinse our wings in the shower first. Do not use soap on them. Just the water is enough. They sort themselves out much better without soap. After that, you'll want to ruffle them and puff them up to, sort of, reorder the feathers where they're supposed to be. You might need to do this with your hands too, if your feathers are too messy. Once they're in order, it's time for the oil. This brush right here—" He lifted the instrument in question. "—is to get the feathers closest to your spine that your hands can't reach, but it also spreads the oil from our uropygial glands over our feathers. Actual birds only have one gland and it's usually at the base of the tail. We don't have tails and we have a lot of normal skin in-between each wing. As such, we have one gland per wing. We also have much larger wings than any bird in existence. More glands, bigger glands, more oil. More surface area. You get the point."

The unfocused look in Jimmy's eyes betrayed that he did not, in fact, get the point.

Grian sighed. "Let me show you." He grabbed a tea towel and soaked it in the sink. "Stick your wing over the bath."

Jimmy did as he was told. Grian transferred the tea towel over and stood on the ledge of the bath to be tall enough to reach the top of Jimmy's wing. Jimmy was taller than Grian, and his wings were going to be much larger and longer. At the moment, his were a little smaller than Grian's, and not big enough to support Jimmy's weight for full flight. Grian already knew he'd be the one teaching Jimmy to fly. He wouldn't trust anyone else to do so. As Jimmy's older "brother," sure he would mess with him a lot, but Grian would never allow Jimmy to fall out of the sky.

He wrung out the tea towel over Jimmy's wing, then used the tub faucet to soak the towel again and again until the wing was thoroughly soaked. Goosebumps prickled across Jimmy's arms and he shuddered.

"Oi!" Grian protested. "No shaking off the water yet! I'm not done!"

"It's cold!"

"Yes, because the water has rinsed off the oil that keeps your wings insulated. We're going to be reapplying it. But you have to be patient and not shake off the water."

Jimmy shivered again, but not as dramatically. "Okay. I'll try to hold still."

A few minutes of squawking, slinging orders, and shouting at each other later, both of Jimmy's wings were sopping wet. In seconds, Grian had doused his own wings in water as well, somehow managing not to even get his shirt wet, despite Jimmy's T-shirt being soaked.

Grian took a tool off the bathroom counter and showed Jimmy how to ruffle and puff his feathers to put them back into place. The tool was used to carefully fix feathers that didn't easily fall back into place. Then passed the tool—like long, strong tweezers—over. Jimmy fluffed and shook and reordered his feathers.

"Like that?" he asked hopefully.

Grian assessed him. "Actually, yeah. Didn't expect you to get it right on the first try. Proud of you."

Jimmy looked flabbergasted at the compliment, but didn't have time to bask in it.

Grian scooped up the brush he'd showed off first. "This is where it gets complicated." He twisted and extended one wing straight backward, primary feathers brushing the wall. "Right there. In the middle of the base of my wing, see that dark spot?"

Jimmy leaned closer, eyebrows scrunched. "Oh! Yeah!"

"That's where the gland secretes the oil that we use to finish the process. I'll go fast on the first wing and then slow so you can see what I'm doing, but we have to spread that oil everywhere. It's how we waterproof, insulate, and protect the feathers from parasites and bad bacteria. Also, feathers are essentially dead like hair. So without the oil, they'll get dry and brittle and fall apart. Which is why preening is so important." He used the brush to drag the oil across the underside of his wing first, and then used the specialized, scoop-like brush bristles to carry it over to the backside of his wings.

Jimmy watched with a dropped jaw. "How do you do it so fast?"

Grian smiled. "Years of practice, Tim," he replied. "Don't expect yourself to do it this fast and still be thorough for your first year or two. Now let me do this one slow so you can actually see what I did."

Jimmy watched closely, bent close to Grian's wings, his own juvenile ones moving around with excited twitches. Wings were like a second facial expression to anyone who knew how to read them. And Jimmy's showed off how intrigued and excited he was to learn.

Grian hoped Jimmy was actually paying attention, rather than just looking without seeing. He doubted this would be the only time he taught Jimmy how to do this. And that was fine. Preening was a process. He'd had to teach himself after leaving the Watchers and it hadn't gone well. If he could make it easier for Jimmy than it had been for himself... well. Maybe that made up, somewhat, for all the teasing.

Once his second wing was freshly oiled, he cleaned his preening oil off the brush before handing it over.

"Why'd you clean it?" Jimmy asked.

"To avoid passing any bacteria or viruses from me to you," Grian answered. "Now. Hold your wing out behind you, like I did." Jimmy did as he was told. Grian guided Jimmy to look at himself in the mirror from the side. "See the oily spot?" He pointed to a dark patch of feathers that weren't fluffy like the rest of the air-dried plumage.

"Yeah!" Jimmy exclaimed.

Grian pointed to the brush. "That's where you're going to brush from. Careful not to go against the direction of the feathers if you can avoid it. You don't want to rip any of them out."

Carefully, he guided Jimmy's hands through the oiling process, boosting himself to sit on the bathroom counter when he was confident Jimmy could do it on his own with only verbal guidance, rather than physical assistance.

"By the way," he said when Jimmy was halfway through his second wing. "We'll get you your own preening tools. It's best for every Avian to have their own. To avoid passing along bacteria. Like how you wouldn't want to share a toothbrush with someone. It's fine for this one time because it's not actually exactly like sharing a toothbrush, but in the future, you'd be better served to have your own. You'll need a longer brush, I imagine."

"Why?" Jimmy asked.

Grian gave him a skeptical look. "Our wings are proportional to our heights. Yours are going to be significantly bigger and longer than mine. Just to reach around them to the back, you'll probably need a longer handle when they're fully mature."

"O-oh. Okay."

"I'll get a set ordered for you. Call it a birthday present."

"Awww! Thanks, Grian!"

Grian pulled his red jumper back on, easily slipping his wings through their slits in the back of it. His glamour on them—the one that made his plumage look like that of a parrot, rather than the purple-tinted-black of a Watcher—flickered for a moment. Jimmy was too absorbed in his own wings to notice.

"So how often do I have to do this?" Jimmy asked, tangled up in his own arms and feathers while he tried to finish his second wing.

Grian leaned back a bit on the counter, keeping his freshly-oiled wings away from the mirror to avoid smudging it, and crossed his legs. "Well... that's a good question. Ideally, every day. At maximum, every three days. Your feathers will get really itchy and uncomfortable if you wait even that long, but sometimes things happen and you won't have time."

"Every day?!" Jimmy squawked. "This takes forever!"

"That's because this is your first time," Grian said flatly. "If you preen every day, right after you shower, you'll be as quick as I am in no time and it'll be as much of a routine as brushing your teeth within a few weeks. Also, you missed a bit."

Jimmy spun in circles, looking for a patch of feathers that hadn't been oiled, using the mirror to see the backside.

Grian snorted. "Nah, I'm just kiddin'," he said.

"You absolute buffoon!" Jimmy exclaimed in frustration.

Grian hopped nimbly off the counter and dodged out of the bathroom. Jimmy pursued him, preening brush still in hand. They ran through the base. Jimmy was shouting and Grian was cackling.

The moment he pushed through a door and out into the fresh air, Grian's wings snapped out and he took off. A powerful downdraft blasted Jimmy's hair and feathers backward as Grian launched into the sky.

"You get back here, mister!" Jimmy called. "You get back here and—and—"

Grian cackled as he soared higher, spinning and rolling. Banking in a circle while Jimmy kept shouting for him. This high up, with the wind roaring in his ears, Grian couldn't hear him.

"What's that, Tim?" he teased. "I can't hear you!" He laughed harder. Jimmy was gesticulating wildly, trying to mime for Grian to land.

Grian didn't. Just twisted into an aileron roll and shot off. Laughing the whole time.

—

It only took a week for Jimmy's wings to fully mature. Given how quickly after the Games they manifested, Grian wasn't surprised that they matured fast.

Which was how he found himself standing opposite his "brother" next to a cliffside near the base via the Nether, letting the sun warm his feathers. Jimmy's wings had indeed grown much bigger than Grian's and were so blindingly bright yellow they almost hurt to look at.

"Alright, Timmy. Put these on." He handed over a pair of flight goggles. "You'll get used to the windburn in your eyes eventually. For now it's best to wear those."

Jimmy pulled them on—and Grian snorted so hard he hurt his throat.

"What?!" Jimmy demanded.

"You look ridiculous," Grian managed to say between giggles. "No matter, no matter." He fought to get himself back under control while Jimmy pouted. Grian took several deep breaths, reining himself in. "Okay. Lesson one: flying."

"Shouldn't lesson one be, like, taking off?"

Grian laughed. "No. Lesson one is learning how to fall. Lesson two is learning how to land. Lesson three is learning how to fly. And lesson four is learning how to take off."

"How... how am I supposed to learn in reverse order?" Jimmy asked.

"Easy. Like this."

Grian shoved Jimmy off the edge of the cliff. Jimmy was bigger and taller than Grian and should have been able to stand his ground easily. But nothing a little Watcher power couldn't overcome.

Jimmy screamed as he plummeted.

Grian cackled as he hurled himself over the cliff, wings tucked close to his spine, and dove after Jimmy.

He caught up, since Jimmy was fighting to fall slowly and Grian was diving.

"Spread your wings, Timmy! Face the ground and unfurl them!"

"I can'tIcan'tIcan't!" Jimmy cried.

Grian eased his wings a little bit out to help guide him. He got close to Jimmy and grabbed his hands. "Come on! I'm holding onto you. I won't let you crash! Let them out!" He twisted so his back was facing the ground and Jimmy was above him.

Screaming, Jimmy unfurled his wings.

His falling momentum arrested abruptly.

Grian let him go, flipped over, and snapped his own out. Wind filled his feathers like sails. He navigated so he was gliding beside Jimmy. Their wings were so long that they were nearly thirty feet apart.

"Grian! Grian, I'm doing it! I'm flying!" Jimmy screeched, voice high-pitched.

Grian laughed. "Not yet! You're gliding. You fell, and now you're coasting." He lowered his wing closest to Jimmy and swept below him so they could be a bit closer to talk. "Step two is learning how to land! And it's best to run into your landing so you don't just drop and destroy your knees." He pointed toward a beach not far from the cliff. "Dip your left wing and we'll glide over there. You can watch me before trying for yourself!"

Jimmy struggled, but managed to angle himself into a bank heading for the beach.

Grian dipped and plunged through the air toward the ground. Jimmy followed at a much shallower angle. Grian pulled up at the last possible moment to slow down significantly. He banked in a circle like a vulture to get even slower as he lowered himself toward the ground. He got his legs under him and braced them to run the second they hit the ground. Jimmy kept circling overhead.

Grian ran into his landing. He could land without a run at this point, but he was a Watcher—too durable and immortal to royally screw up his joints. And he needed to teach Jimmy the easy way first.

Once he stopped and looked up, he snapped his wings back out and threw himself back into the sky. "Your turn! I won't let you crash!"

Jimmy screamed the whole way down as he spiraled ever closer to the beach. Grian stayed in tight formation just above, carefully monitoring. He had an instinct for flying now—

And he knew Jimmy was coming in too hot. At the wrong angle.

Jimmy seemed to realize it too. He was still screaming, but it got louder and more frantic.

Grian pulled up short and flapped in place, hovering as best he could. He lashed one hand out, the other wound back behind him. Both of them with strained fingers.

Purple light surrounded Jimmy and adjusted his angle. He slowed down until he was at nearly a standstill and stumbled to a landing.

Grian released the power holding Jimmy and twisted into a sharp dive, landing only a wings-length from Jimmy. "Bad angle, Timmy," he said.

Jimmy whirled. "How did you do that?!"

"Do what?"

"You stopped me from falling. I don't know how—but you did it!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Grian said flatly, just the right amount of obliviousness in his eyes for Jimmy to believe it.

"Then how did I land?"

"Favorable wind, is my guess." It was so difficult not to smile or giggle.

"Do I get to learn how to take off now?"

"Nope," Grian said. "We're going to hike back to the clifftop and we're going to jump again so you can learn to fly first. There's no use knowing how to take off if you don't know what to do afterwards."

"We have to hike?!" Jimmy complained.

Grian gave him a look. "Coming from the athletic one between the two of us," he said sarcastically, already heading for the path that would lead them back to the top.

Jimmy sighed dramatically and ran to catch up. "Grian—Grian—talk me through it while we walk, yeah? Once we get up there, how do I fly?"

"I believe in learning as it happens," Grian said blithely. "Besides, you don't listen."

"I do too!" Jimmy protested, blustering a bit. "Just—just talk me through it! Like, the flapping or whatever."

Grian snickered. "Fine."

He gave very thorough, clear instructions the whole way up. Jimmy looked overwhelmed about two minutes in. But, at the very least he looked like he was trying to understand. He asked questions and sought clarification.

Soon enough, they were back atop the cliff.

"Okay. Just hop off and give it a try, then," Grian said. "Running jump to give you as much outward momentum as possible."

Swallowing hard, Jimmy backed up several long steps, looking at the ocean beyond the cliff. "Okay. Okay, okay, okay. I got this. I'm Big Man Jim. I can do this. I can fly." He nodded to himself. "I'm gonna fly. I will."

He ran toward the precipice.

And stopped within a foot of the edge. "I can't do this! I can't just yeet myself off the side of a cliff! Into midair! I can't." He shook his head, staring over the drop.

Grian rolled his eyes. "Oh, for goodness' s—" One quick pull and push of his arm smacked Jimmy in the back with a gust of wind that sent him off the edge screaming again. Grian ran to the edge and launched himself off. "Get your wings out, Tim!" he shouted.

Thankfully, Jimmy figured that bit out. He righted himself and got back into gliding position. Grian dove beneath him, coming back into the same formation as before.

"Okay! Now remember what we talked about! Flapping for height and distance. Banking for direction. We'll get to rolls and tricks in a long time."

Jimmy nodded, gathering his courage back up.

He started—slowly—navigating the sky.

"Yes! That's how you do it! Tim, you're doing amazing!" Grian shouted. He churned the air with his wings and surged up to follow after Jimmy.

"Grian! Grian, I'm flying!" Jimmy shrieked. An ear-to-ear grin covered his face.

Grian laughed, brushing the outside tips of his primary flight feathers against the tips of Jimmy's in a moment of reassurance. Before he flipped into an aileron roll and came to a glide on Jimmy's other side.

"How'd you do that?"

"Practice." Grian took a deep breath. "Feel that warm breeze? Use it to ride higher. It's an updraft!"

Jimmy caught a couple more meters of altitude, but when Grian hit the same updraft, he soared much higher, laughing with joy and glee.

They flew around for a little bit, practicing, before Grian came to a gentle glide above Jimmy. "Ready to practice landing again? Are your wings getting tired?"

"A bit."

"Let's land. Then we'll do a quick takeoff lesson, land again, and then call it a day."

Jimmy nodded.

Instead of returning to the beach, they landed at the top of the cliff. Jimmy managed to catch the angle much easier since he hadn't gotten too much higher than it this time. He ran into his landed much smoother. Grian just dropped onto the ground and tucked his wings back easily.

"Not bad. Now, for takeoff, it's easier to take a running start. Fill up your wings with air, and such. Standing takeoff is a lot harder. Let's start with the running."

"Okay. Yeah. Okay."

"I'll show you first." Grian opened his wings and took off at a dead sprint before beating his wings at the air and taking to the sky.

Jimmy followed. Taller, longer legged, and more athletic, he hit the air with his take off quicker and stronger, surging upward.

Grian cheered. Jimmy laughed hysterically, like he didn't believe he'd done it.

"Grian! It worked!"

Still in the air, Grian managed a pretend bow. "You've learned from the best, my young apprentice," he teased in a goofy voice.

They both banked into an easy landing. Jimmy snatched Grian into a bone-crushing hug, still careful to avoid his wings. "Ooooh! Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Grian chuckled. "You're welcome, Tim." He squirmed out of the hug and took a few steps back. "Nether portal home?"

Jimmy nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah." His face was flushed with windburn and exhilaration as he pulled the flight goggles down around his neck. "That was the most amazing thing I've ever done. It's so much cooler than an Elytra!"

"Harder, but better," Grian said. "The Elytra and rockets do most of the work for you when it comes to landing and taking off, but flying under your own power is much more rewarding."

Jimmy nodded enthusiastically.

They hiked a short way to the Nether portal they'd made on the way here and ducked into it.

The journey through the Nether wasn't long. The whole way back, Grian was lost in thought as Jimmy rambled.

It had been a long time since he truly appreciated the gift the Watchers had given him by giving him wings. He took them for granted. But watching Jimmy discover the joys of real flight, not just Elytra gliding, reminded him of when he first learned to fly properly and thought it was the most amazing thing.

He glanced over at his younger "brother"—who had no memory of how Grian had been torn away from Evo and turned into a Watcher, whose wings were the result of a Canary Curse—and the smile still covering Jimmy's face was enough to make him smile himself.

Yeah. Being a Watcher wasn't always so bad, if it meant he got to share fun experiences like this with his friends.

One quick beat of his wings got him up high enough to sling his arm around Jimmy's neck and give him an affectionate, soft noogie. "I'm glad it got to be me, to teach you how to fly, Tim."

Jimmy, his big hazel-brown eyes suddenly getting a little misty, smiled. "Me too, Grian. Even if you did push me off the cliff." He gave Grian a playful shove. Grian shoved him back. They started pushing each other all the way back to the Nether portal that would take them back to their overworld base, laughing and calling out playful jibes at one another, tumbling through the portal home.

[bethdutten]

A Mistake

chapter 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7

It was never supposed to be like this, but that seems to be the running theme of Eskel’s life. Maybe he’ll just need to make the best of out it.

Eskel couldn’t imagine it was him that was making you like this. No one looks at a witcher, especially at one as scarred and intimidating as him, and feels arousal without the scent of fear.

But your cunt was slightly slick and so red, and you whined as he settled above you. He kept his clothes on, not sure if you wanted the illusion of this being just a way to fix your illness, or an attempt a repeat of the night you met.

Eskel wouldn’t turn you down if it was.

He hovered over you, tentatively dragging two fingers through your folds. “It’s… it’s still dry, so it might hurt.”

You whined, bringing his neck down to your mouth and mouthing at a scar, murmuring, “Make it feel better, alpha.”

Eskel shivered slightly, then pulled his hand away and let out a soothing purr before he reached into his bag and took out the vial of oil. “It’s okay, just going to use this to make it easier until those glands start working again, okay?”

You whimpered but nodded, spreading your legs wider. You wanted him closer, or at least to hold your hand. It just seemed so… clinical, like he was only forcing himself to touch you. Maybe he was.

Eskel could smell your distress, and grimaced. When he glanced up at you, you were avoiding his eyes. Fuck, you didn’t want it to be him that was doing this. He is the reason for this. And even without an infection, gods know know hard it would be to get slick at the sight of his face.

“Would you… do you want to turn around? Would that be better?”

But you shook your head, letting out a shaky breath. “Please just touch me, Eskel.”

He almost wanted to smile, but he bit it back, instead coating his fingers and tracing the outer lips of your cunt before pushing inside you slowly. His thumb rubbed at your clit in small circles, as his fingers searched out that spot that—

“Fuck, alpha, stop!” You cried out, tensing up. Eskel winced, stopping for a moment before he gently probed at the gland.

“I’m sorry, it will only hurt for a moment, I promise,” he said, letting out a reassuring rumble to calm your distress. He couldn’t bare to see his omega in pain, but you took it so well, an iron grip on his shoulder through the few minutes before it started to get better.

The moment the infection must have been released, a sudden rush of slick did, too. Eskel groaned as he felt you clench down on his fingers, no longer in pain anymore and smelling of only arousal.

“Does it feel better?” he murmured, keeping his thumb on your clit and fingers deep inside you just in case.

He didn’t need to ask; you locked eyes and let out a keening moan before you came on his fingers, practically grinding into his hand.

Eskel had been half hard through the entire thing— but that noise he just pulled from you brought him to full hardness, throbbing in his pants now.

But that was secondary to making sure his omega felt good, and he let out a groan as you continued to thrust your hips against his hand, tightening your grasp on his shoulder as you breathed out wetly in his ear, “Alpha, Eskel, don’t stop… I’m coming, I’m coming—“

You shuttered through another orgasm, letting out a satisfied sigh and relaxing against your bed. You smelled like sated omega, and it made Eskel preen. He carefully removed his fingers from your soaked cunt, wiping his hand on the sheets and settling beside you.

He waited for you to realize you didn’t need him anymore, to tell him to leave now that his purpose was finished. But you only turned to him and sort of nuzzled into his chest, pressing a kiss to the exposed skin at his neck. You glanced up, resting a hand on Eskel’s face.

“Thank you, alpha. You made me feel so good.”

Eskel let himself believe you wanted him to stay. That you saw him as your alpha and not just an alpha that helped him. He was yours. Even if you didn’t want him.

He smiled softly, then remembered the way his scars pulled at his lips and made it look terrifying, and brought his face back to neutral. He hesitantly brought his hand to your hip, sliding it down to your thigh. “Do you mind if I…? To make sure it’s all gone.”

Your eyes went dark, and it sent another jolt of arousal to Eskel’s cock. You nodded, laying back and spreading your legs to give him a nice spot to settle.

Eskel swallowed, seeing the slick covering your thighs and a small gush of it coming out even now. He looked up at you before hooking his arms under your legs, placing them over his shoulders as he nosed up to your cunt. He breathed in, and didn’t smell any more sickness. But he swallowed and met your eyes, croaking out, “I should taste, just to make sure.”

You gave him a feral smile, and nodded, licking your lips. “Please. Just to make sure.”

He hid his own grin in your folds, eating you out like his life depended on it. He never got to do this the night you met, too focused on knot and breed and mate for anything that didn’t involve his cock. But you tasted so sweet, he wasn’t sure how he was going to live without this now.

He made you come twice on his tongue, putting away with a face covered in your slick as he licked his lips and met your eyes, his fingers replacing his tongue. You were practically shaking, oversensitive but chasing that last orgasm as you moaned Eskel’s name, clenching around his fingers with your eyes locked on his.

Eskel used a corner of the sheet to clean his face, then to wipe most of the slick from your thighs. He leaned down to give your clit one last kiss, the touch making your hiss before you let out a laugh, pulling Eskel up to you.

“Are you trying to kill me?” you murmured, pulling his face to yours for a kiss. He tasted like you, and you let out a soft moan at that, wanting your alpha to taste like you forever.

Eskel scented you, pulling the blanket over your body. “Just making sure the infection is all gone, omega. Had to be thorough.”

You grinned, snaking a hand down and into his smalls. “Your tu—“ you cut off with a noise, finding Eskel soft and his thick cock wet. “Did you…?”

He nodded, burying his face in your neck in embarrassment. “Twice. Sorry, I—“

But you let out a groan, tangling your hands in his hair. “Gods, that is so hot. You’re so hot.”

He smirked against your skin, wishing it to be true. But if his omega thought so, at least for now, then maybe that’s all that mattered.

“Take off your clothes,” you mumbled, only letting go of your hold of him so he could pull off his shirt and unbutton his pants. You watched him strip carefully, and Eskel was back under the sheets before you could get a good look at his scars. He didn’t want you to see that.

“So… twice?”

Eskel groaned, shutting his eyes. “It’s a witcher thing. We tend to… stay hard for quite a while. Can usually go a couple rounds. If we really wanted to, more than that.”

You stared back at him blinking, before a smile started to grow on your face. “I’m the luckiest omega in the world,” you whispered, before pulling him in to another kiss.

“So you can fuck me tonight?” you murmured against his lips, earning you a deep growl and making you grin.

—-

Eskel didn’t know how he managed to spend another night with you (this time without the excuse of a heat, even) where he lost count of the orgasms and woke to you in his arms.

Maybe this didn’t have to be the last time, either.

“I’d like to take you to Kaer Morhen. It’s the… the closest thing I have to home, I guess.”

You smiled, turning in his arms to meet his gaze. “Eskel. I’d love that.”

“You can meet my brothers—“

“You have brothers?”

“Yes, other witchers I grew up with. Geralt is practically mute and has the emotional maturity of a potato, and Lambert is cruel for absolutely no reason and should not be approached alone.”

You laughed, and the sound made Eskel’s heart clench. He’d do anything to hear that sound again. Fuck, he had it bad.

“Such astounding reviews of your family, I wonder how you’d describe me to others,” you mused, leaning up to give him a soft kiss.

Eskel leaned in and deepened the kiss, lazily licking into your mouth and swallowing the moan you made. He pulled away, murmuring, “She’s the most incredible woman to ever walk the earth, and she’s mine so back off.”

You whined in the back of your throat, kissing at the spot where Eskel’s bond mark would go, worrying the skin with your teeth. “Alpha.”

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Unfurl and Fly

Prompt: Hello! I've been meaning to request this for so long but, you'd never posted any Sanders Sides fanfics till recently so I finally get to ask! = D

This is simply a request, but could you possibly to a Hurt/Comfort and Angsty o ed! Virgil fanfiction? Where he hides his wings for whichever reason you want- And it's *painful*, and eventually his wings get to damaged from constantly being hidden and self-groomed and other stuff of the sort and the others find out either accidentally cuz Virgil is in Too Much Pain, or Virgil reaches out- Just, take creative liberties with it! (Platonic LAMP all around- Or you can decide if it's romantic! Idc, whichever you prefer-) = D You can decide whether the others have wings or not, or if it's only the 'dark sides', or no one except Virgil, etc etc. I just have craved this for So Long in your writing specifically!

Whether you decide you would like to do this idea of not, that's fine! ^^ Just thought I'd suggest it! Thank you very much! = D - moonscar

Thanks for the request, babe!

Read on Ao3 The sequel: Soar

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, found family babes let’s go

Warnings: self-hatred, some implied self-harm, self-destructive behavior, poor Virgil is not having a good time, y’all. Sympathetic Janus, sympathetic Remus

Word Count: 7,932

Out of all of the Sides to have wings, why the fuck did it have to be Virgil?

 Come on, it’s not like it even fits with Anxiety, being able to fly? Having these big fucking things sticking out of his back? No thank you, that’s more literally anyone else’s thing! Roman would love it, he’s sure, soaring to great heights and all that. Patton’s the closest one of them to actually being an angel. Logan could use them to fly away from the bullshit.

 But nope. Virgil’s the one stuck with them. Isn’t that just fantastic.

Virgil grunts and pulls his hoodie on tighter, zipping it up over the sports bra. He growls and reaches back to tug the wings into place under the layers of fabric, hunching his back so the others don’t notice that there’s conspicuously more mass on his back than there’s supposed to be. Thank god he’s already known for baggy clothes.

 He has to walk carefully. Too much jostling and the wings’ll pop loose. He leans on the stairs as much as he can before making his way to the back of the couch. He looks around. No one else is here.

 Which would make sense, seeing as it’s three am.

 Virgil winces when something twinges in his shoulder blade. His ears strain to pick up the sounds of anyone moving; no floorboards creak, no doors open or close, no sinks or anything else. Shit. Fuck, it’s happening when he’s breathing now too.

  Shit.

 Wincing, Virgil unzips his hoodie and slowly, slowly starts to lift his shirt up, sliding his hands under the material to try and—

 A door opens upstairs and in a flash, Virgil’s hoodie is fully zipped up and his hands are back in his pockets.

 Patton walks downstairs, rubbing his eyes. He blinks lazily and turns to go to the kitchen.

 “Patton?”

 Virgil winces when Patton startles horribly, whirling around until his eyes land on Virgil, perched on the back of the couch.

 “You scared me, kiddo,” he pants, leaning against the counter before forcing a smile onto his face, “what’re you doing up?”

 Virgil shrugs, trying to hide his flinch when one of his wings snag against something. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

 “Aw, I’m sorry to hear that.” Patton tilts his head. “Anything I can do to help?”

 Patton…Patton might be nice.

 Patton would help, right? He—he’d care enough to help. Wouldn’t he? Patton had tried, so hard, when Virgil was first…around, just to make him comfortable, help him fit in, make him feel at…at home.

 But—but Patton is the kind of person who would do anything to help someone and Virgil…Virgil doesn’t want that either.

 Patton would see his wings—his ugly, dirty, huge wings—and look at Virgil with so much pity that he would be forced to help out. And the thought of hands in his wings was bad enough. The thought of unwilling hands in his wings was even worse.

 Not Patton.

 Virgil smiles, tightlipped in the dark. “No thanks, padre. ’S just the job.”

 It’s a little sad how quickly Patton nods. “I trust you, kiddo, if you say you can do it I believe you.”

 A sigh of relief lessens the ache in his shoulder blades for just a moment, then Virgil narrows his eyes. “What’re you doing up right now?”

 “Needed a drink!” And sure enough, Patton goes into the kitchen and grabs a glass. “You want one?”

 “…no, no I’m good.”

 “Suit yourself.” Once the glass is full, Patton yawns, his jaw cracking, before he walks over to ruffle Virgil’s hair. “You gonna try and sleep a little?”

 “Maybe.”

 “G’night, kiddo.”

 “Night.”

 Once Patton vanishes back up the stairs, Virgil holds completely still until he hears the door click. As soon as it does, he slumps, burying his head in his hands, ignoring the bolt of white-hot pain that shoots through him. That was too fucking close.

What was he thinking? He can’t be here, not now, not while they hurt so much.

 He sinks back to his room, biting his lip to stifle the noise when his wings slip under the bra. Now he won’t be able to get it off without hurting them—fuck why is this is fucking life?

 He has to go slow, agonizing second by agonizing second, until the bra lies crumpled at the foot of his bed and he’s panting, sweat beading on his forehead and two new gashes in his lip. He takes one shuddering breath, then two, then—

 “Come on, you assholes,” he mutters, “just…fucking cooperate for me.”

 His wings creak and groan as he unfurls them, stretching them out until his throat protests with the effort of holding back a scream. He bound them wrong this time. One of the tendons is twisted, slipped over the bone on his right wing and every flex threatens to rip it entirely. His eyes, screwed tight from the effort, blink away tears, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

 He forgot to cover it again.

 Virgil winces when he sees the state of his wings. The primaries aren’t lying flat, the secondaries are all bent out of shape, he can see the loose feathers stuck in the rest of the mess, and his oil gland must be clogged again. He can hear everything rasping together, the creaking, and everything. He—he has to try again.

 Slowly, he sits down in front of the mirror, crossing his legs and sitting up as much as he can. He holds his wings out and winces at the sharp yank. Flexing his fingers, he reaches out with his hand and starts combing through his feathers. He can’t get the right angle no matter how much he twists his wrists and trying to hold the wing in place doesn’t work either. But he’s able to pull a few of the loose feathers out. It doesn’t matter that he plucks out several of the remaining healthy ones as well.

 Alright. Step one done.

 Virgil braces himself and twists, reaching out quickly for his wing before his back pulls away from him. He grabs it with two outstretched hands and can’t stop the cry of pain when another sizzling bolt races down his spine. He can barely hold onto it for three seconds before he has to let go. A roll of nausea makes him retch, hunched over himself, tears springing anew to his eyes.

  Pathetic.

  Can’t even clean yourself properly.

  Worthless.

  Useless.

  Dirty.

 The room rings with shuddering breaths as his chest heaves, the pain still zinging through his wings. He can’t. He can’t do it. He can’t clean them properly, not now, maybe not ever. He fucking bound them wrong, like an idiot and now he has to sleep on his stomach and if someone walks in they’ll see them and he won’t be able to bind them properly if they don’t heal and—

 The fucking worst thing about his wings is they always try and make things better. They twitch whenever he’s near someone he likes or bristle when he feels upset. And when he’s alone, all by himself, about to have a panic attack, they always try and hug him.

 So Virgil cries there, on the floor, surrounded by his ugly, dirty, painful wings.

 He sleeps on the floor that night too, a few pillows here and there to keep him from pressing his face directly into the ground, wings as outstretched as he can until he can ignore the pain long enough to fall into a fitful, uneasy rest. When he wakes, the joints are still tender and he curses, knowing if he tries to bind them again it’ll just get worse. That means a day of staying in his room, which by itself wouldn’t be awful except that the others would know.

 When Virgil was alone, he could have his wing day all by himself and no one would care. He could stay shut up in his room without fear that someone would come and knock on the door, wondering where he was, if he was okay, did he need anything? He’d tried, he’d tried so hard to convince himself that alone was better, alone was safe, alone protected him.

 But the others were magnets, always pulling him closer, closer, closer until he was bound within them. How was he supposed to pull away from that warmth, that care, when every time he was close to it his wings reached out? He had to start binding them when he first appeared to Thomas, yes, but it wasn’t until recently that he had to start binding them. Because they would reach for the others. All the time.

 He couldn’t have that.

 So he tied them up.

 And it was worth it. It was worth being able to stand next to Roman, to see that smile up close. It was worth being able to stand next to Logan, to hear him talk and explain everything he could ever want to know. It was worth being able to stand next to Patton, to feel warm and safe.

 The pain was worth it, even if it didn’t always feel like it.

 The others couldn’t know about his wings. If they did, they might—they would—

 Only dark sides had animal traits. If they knew Virgil had wings—

 Virgil shakes his head and groans into the pillow. He can’t go back. Not after what he’s done. He can’t—he won’t—there isn’t—

 He barely remembers being small. He remembers being scared, being afraid, fumbling in the dark, but he almost never remembers being small. Small enough where he didn’t know yet to be afraid to ask someone for help, when hands in his wings weren’t tied up with problems or intimacy or care or obligation. Small enough where he could cuddle into the lap of someone who loved him and not have to worry.

 He remembers getting older and being scared, huddling in the dark with the others.

 He remembers rubbing his hand over shedding scales. He remembers helping rub away the twitches in newly formed tentacles. He remembers hands, hands in his wings.

 Those memories are locked away, behind bars Virgil won’t let himself bring down.

 A knock on the door startles him out of his thoughts.

 “Yeah?”

  Fuck, does his throat sound like that?

 “Virgil?” Logan. “Are you alright?”

 “What the fuck is an alright,” Virgil mutters, pushing himself up off the ground and wincing, before raising his voice, “I’m fine, Logan.”

 “You didn’t come down for breakfast—“ shit— “and we were concerned.”

 “Didn’t feel like coming down,” Virgil tries, aiming for nonchalance and failing miserably, “but I’m all good here.”

 “Are you certain?”

 Logan…Logan would help.

 Logan would understand things from a logical perspective. He would be the most business-like about it, just doing what needed to be done and leaving. He might find it…interesting? He would get it over with.

 He would…get it over with.

 A human figure having wings is illogical. Virgil doesn’t want to be stared at like some sort of…object. And…and…Virgil wants to be cared for, not treated like a chore. The desire burns a shameful hole in his gut, the craving for soft words and gentle touches accompanied by flaming cheeks and a roll of disgust. He doesn’t think he’d be able to hold back the tears at being treated so…coldly, even if it would be better for him.

 Not Logan.

 “I’m sure,” Virgil grits out, “thanks, though.”

 “Of course. Will we see you for dinner?”

 Swallows before his tongue chokes him. “Dunno.”

 “Very well.”

 He hears Logan walk away and cringes. That was awful. But he’s made a commitment now, so he has to get ready for dinner. Four hours should be enough.

 Sitting up is a slow process and every few moments he has to stop when his vision grows spotty. He flexes his wings, watches the shape twist back for a few seconds before he has to relax it again. The ache has dulled slightly and maybe he can try again.

 Raising his arms straight above his head, muscles straining, shaking, Virgil bites his lip and holds for one, two, three seconds until he cries out and lets them drop. Nope. No way. If he can’t even do that, he’s not gonna be able to pull the sports bra over his head, much less get his wings tucked into position. He winces and looks around for the belt.

 He hates using the belt but it is easier on his shoulders. Instead of tucking the whole folded-up mess into the sports bra, he folds his wings up as small as they’ll go and wraps a belt around them, straining behind him and valiantly ignoring how much it hurts until he’s sure he’s got it around the joints. He lets go with a gasp, rolling his shoulders experimentally. It still aches, yes, but much less, and as he turns to the side, if he just wears a big enough shirt, with his hoodie on, no one will notice.

 That means he can use the rest of the time to get used to it.

 By the time he walks down to dinner, the others are waiting, Roman’s face lighting up in a huge smile as he sees Virgil round the top of the stairs.

 “There’s our little Stormcloud!” He waves Virgil over to the chair next to him. “Haven’t seen your gloomy face all day, I’ve missed it!”

 Virgil snorts. “You’ve just missed seeing another version of you, Princey.”

 “Can you blame me, Hot Topic?” Roman winks. “We’re gorgeous.”

 “The fact that we all share a face should not be surprising to you,” Logan remarks as he closes his book.

 “Aw, you think I’m hot.”

 “Pasta!” Patton places the pot on the table and Virgil winces when the sound makes his wings twitch. He doesn’t catch Roman’s concerned look. “Who wants what?”

 “Just olive oil for me.”

 “You got it, Logan.”

 “I’ve got mine,” Roman announces, sweeping half of the condiments on the table toward him and combining them in…a way.

 “…jeez,” Virgil mutters.

 Patton rolls his eyes fondly as Logan and Roman start idly bickering about the appropriate condiments for pasta. A steaming bowl slides to a stop in front of him and without pausing, Roman passes Virgil the jar of sauce.

 Virgil watches the jar slide to a stop in front of him, blinking up at Roman who just gives him a quick wink and goes right back to bickering with Logan. Patton giggles as Logan pinches the bridge of his nose, obviously trying to hide his smile as Princey grins. It’s a game now, to see which one of them will break character first. Princey’s the actor, but Logan’s got an incredible deadpan face. And when he’s in a playful mood the two of them can go at it for hours. Virgil and Patton just sit back to watch the show.

 As it turns out, both of them break character at the same time tonight, Logan stumbling over a word, and Princey accidentally slurring Logan’s name as he tries to come up with a comeback. Logan immediately tries to hide his smile behind his hand only to snort when Princey screws his face up in protest.

 “How did I manage to do that,” he cries, “I said—what the hell did I say?”

 Patton’s laughing too hard to answer and Virgil just shakes his head helplessly.

 Logan snorts. Tries to stifle it again. Then his giggles start to slip out. “D-damn it.”

 Roman gives up trying to stop his own cackles and throws his head back, letting it ring out. “We were doing so well, too!”

 “We were indeed,” Logan says through a smile, “perhaps we should try again.”

 “No, no, no, I won’t be able to get any words out before I’m reminded of whatever the heck my tongue did.”

 “What word were you trying to say?”

 “I don’t even remember.”

 Dinner gets finished and Logan stands to help Patton clean up. Roman leans back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. Virgil watches him, his eye first caught by the movement, lingering when he sees the rush of relief on Roman’s face.

 Is…is that what stretching is supposed to feel like?

 “Stormcloud?”

 Virgil blinks. Oh. Oh, fuck, he’s staring. Roman stares down at him, his head tilted.

 “You’ve been quiet today, Stormcloud,” Roman says, too low for Logan or Patton to hear, “everything Gucci?”

 Nope. Princey’s not allowed to do that. Definitely not. He’s not allowed to sound that caring because Virgil will talk to him.

 “Everything’s fine.”

 Roman raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

 “Shut up,” Virgil grumbles, shoving Roman halfheartedly as he chuckles.

 He goes to pull his hand back but Roman catches it, making him wince when his wings jar. This time he doesn’t miss Roman’s look of concern.

 “Virgil,” Roman calls, “are you hurt?”

 Yes. “Nah. Just slept weird.” On the ground, in pain.

 “You don’t want me to sic Patton on you, do you?”

 Virgil shudders, ignoring the twinge in his wings again. “No. Nope. I’m good.”

 Roman chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to the back of Virgil’s hand. “Alright. You just come and tell me when you need something, hmm?”

 Roman…maybe Roman?

 Roman, who is desire and passion and so, so warm to the touch. Roman, who has tried so, so hard to make Virgil his friend, to care for him. Roman, who looks at Virgil with soft expressions and sly winks and is just so there.

 …Roman, who treated him like a villain. Roman, who Virgil knows struggles to keep his own head above water most of the time. Roman, who can put on a mask to rival any actor’s, who can hide everything so well they might never know what’s really going on.

 Not Roman.

 “…yeah, sure, Princey.”

 “Marvelous!”

 And despite everything, despite the pain in his wings and the belt digging into the soft points of his feathers, Virgil smiles, just a little.

 If this is what he has to deal with to be a part of this, then he’ll do it.

 Then Deceit shows up and Virgil panics.

 Not because of what this means, not because of how it’s going to affect Thomas, but because Deceit knows.

 Deceit knows that Virgil has wings. Deceit knows that Virgil is a dark side. Deceit knows that Virgil hasn’t told the others.

 He’s safe—at least he thinks he’s safe—because if Deceit tells them about his wings, he’d have to tell the others he sheds too. And Deceit won’t ever volunteer information about himself like that. Virgil has one moment of panic on the witness stand, thinking Deceit’s about to split his defenses wide open, but no, no, he’s wings stay tucked up, ugly and rumpled, Virgil’s very own dirty little secret.

 Luckily—or unluckily—there are too many other things to focus on for Deceit to let slip that particular little secret. Virgil is too worried about Thomas and Patton and Roman and Logan and everything to worry any more about his wings. He runs on adrenaline and worries for days, weeks, months until it’s all he can think about, over and over, coffee being drained as quickly as Logan can brew it.

 He plucks out his own feathers in the dark and washes the blood off the carpet. He strains to move his arms, his shoulders, anything, just to get a little more range of motion. He wipes the crusted salt from the corner of his eyes and grits his teeth.

 Then Remus shows up and does what Remus does best: wreak absolute chaos.

 Roman is knocked out, Logan gets a shuriken in the forehead, and Virgil tells Thomas he used to be a dark side.

 The second he sinks into his room after that he tears at himself, his hoodie thrown to the corner of the room as his wings groan and buckle and writhe as Virgil paces.

  Why did he do that why did he do that now he knows now they know now it’s going to be so much worse they’re going to hate me again I’m going to be alone alone is safe alone protects me but alone is cold and lonely and alone hurts it hurts I hurt make it stop please—

 He’s panicking, he knows he’s panicking, he knows he should go, go find someone, have Logan help him, talk to Roman, get a hug from Patton, but his wings are out, he can’t put them away and they hurt, they hurt so much, everything hurts so much, he just wants it to stop.

 Virgil collapses onto the floor, ignoring the sickening crunch as one of his wings buckles under his weight. It just…it just hurts.

 Thomas doesn’t say anything.

 Patton doesn’t say anything.

 Logan doesn’t say anything.

 Roman doesn’t say anything.

 Remus doesn’t say anything.

 Janus doesn’t say anything.

 And somehow…somehow that’s worse.

 It doesn’t get easier, it just gets repetitive.

 He doesn’t try to get the spots he can’t reach anymore. He knows he can’t get the oil glands cleaned. He washes them as best he can but he knows he can’t dry them properly. He wears the sports bra. He wears the belt.

 He endures.

 Then he fucks up.

 Janus has been watching him. In fairness, Janus watches everybody, but he’s been keeping a particularly close eye on Virgil. If Virgil didn’t know any better, he’d think Janus was suspicious of him, that he’d do something to ruin Janus’s seat at the table, or hurt the others, or try and turn them against each other. It would make sense, given their…history.

 But Virgil knows Janus better than that.

 He knows that look and that’s why he shies away from it.

 He lashes out and he hates himself for it. He scorns Janus’s attention and has to hold back a gag. He slams his door shut and claps a hand over his mouth to stop himself from crying.

 He can’t let himself stop now. If he stops he’ll fall apart. He’s been numb for so long he wants to stay numb, can’t start feeling it again or—or—

 He can’t. He just can’t. The dark sides may be accepted now but that says nothing about Virgil.

 Which is why it is so, so stupid that Janus chooses to stand next to Logan when the next session comes. Because he’s right there, so close, where Virgil can practically feel his presence prickling along his left side and he’s so glad he bit the bullet and wore the sports bra today because his wings are straining to reach for him.

 But then Remus pops up next to Roman and Virgil visibly flinches.

 He’s able to pass it off as surprise but the knowing look Janus gives him tells him Janus can see right through him.

 He shouldn’t be feeling this way. He shouldn’t. He left the dark side ages ago, he shouldn’t—this shouldn’t—

 He shouldn’t be aching for them. For all of them. His wings shouldn’t be bristling and yearning and his back shouldn’t feel like it’s splitting in two right now.

 His mind shouldn’t be filled with thoughts of the soft touches they would give him as the helped groom his wings, the gentle jabs and playful barbs tossed back and forth as they supported each other.

 He shouldn’t feel so cold.

 The debate is already going, Logan and Patton tossing things back and forth, Roman and Remus doing the same. Janus adds a comment here and there, Thomas frantically trying to keep track of all of them. It’s far too easy for Virgil to withdraw, sink into his head, focus on keeping his wings in, make them stop, ignore the ache.

 Someone shouts right next to his ear and without thinking, Virgil reaches out and grabs Janus’s cloak.

 He freezes.

  Fuck fuck fuck he fucked up he fucked up—

 Why the fuck had he done that? Was it just because he was scared? He’s Anxiety, he’s always scared, why had this made him do something he hadn’t done since he was tiny?

 He’s not some frightened child anymore, tugging on his parent’s clothes to beg for scraps of comfort. Is this what he fucking wants, to be coddled, told pretty lies about how everything was fine?

 Too late, he realizes he’s still holding on and tries to let go quickly enough that no one will notice.

 It only partially works.

 The others are too busy scolding Remus—who just looks very pleased with himself—to notice. Except for Janus.

 Of fucking course Janus notices.

 Virgil shoves his traitorous hands into his pockets. He hunches his back, not caring that it makes his wings strain against the fabric of his hoodie. The only one who could see them right now is Janus and Virgil’s already dug his grave there, hasn’t he?

 He just wants this to be over so he can go and Janus will stop looking at him.

 The video ends and he can’t be the first one to sink out of the common area, that will draw attention, he can’t draw any more attention, but the longer he stays then someone will ask him something and he doesn’t want to—

 Oh.

 He blinks. Is…is the room empty? Oh. He can sink out now.

 …or he could stay here.

The others tend to go cool off in their rooms after heated videos, just until they can all come out and make nice again. Virgil…Virgil has the common room to himself.

 “Virgil?”

  Fuck.

 “…hey, Janus.”

 “Hello,” Janus says softly, and no, no, no, don’t do that.

 Janus is being kind and it’s so hard for Virgil to just stand here and not let his wings rip out of the hoodie. He didn’t sink out, he stayed, of course he fucking stayed, Virgil tugged on his cape like a little kid—

 Virgil curses under his breath, collapsing to sit on the steps. He ignores Janus’s soft noise of concern and balls his hands up, beating out an erratic rhythm on his legs. His back hurts. His shoulders hurt. His wings hurt. Now his legs hurt. Now his hands hurt.

 Something grabs his hands and pulls them over his head. The searing pain tears a cry out of his throat.

 “Shh, shh—“ Janus, it’s Janus— “none of that now, sweetie.”

 “Let me go.” It’s meant to come out as a snarl but instead, here Virgil is, whimpering at Janus’s feet.

 “Will you keep hurting yourself if I let you go?”

 No, Virgil wants to lie, yes, he wants to say just to spite him, what comes out of his mouth is neither of these.

 “You’re hurting me,” he pants, “you’re—it hurts.”

 Janus is silent above him, still holding his arms firmly above his head. Virgil chokes back a sob in the agonizingly painful position, barely suppressing his cries enough to still his shoulders which of course did nothing to alleviate the pain. Then another hand—right, he has six—touches gently beneath his chin, guiding his head up.

 Virgil meets such an open expression of concern that tears spring to the corners of his eyes. He looks away immediately, only for Janus to crouch in front of him. He keeps a hold of Virgil’s hands but the release in his shoulders is enough to make him gasp.

 “Sweetie,” Janus calls, “sweetie, look at me.”

 “No.”

 “Virgil, I need you to look at me.”

 Gritting his teeth, Virgil looks up at Janus. Janus squeezes his hands once.

 “When was the last time you had your wings groomed?”

 Virgil’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach.

 “Y-yesterday.”

 “Did you do it yourself?”

 “…yeah.”

 “When was the last time someone else helped you groom them properly?”

 Virgil swallows heavily and doesn’t say anything.

 “…oh, sweetie, have you not had anyone help you groom them since…?”

 Janus doesn’t even have to finish his sentence before Virgil’s nodding, the shameful secret finally spilling out. It’s Janus, he rationalizes, he knows how to keep a secret, right?

 “Why haven’t you told them,” Janus murmurs, his voice broken, “why, sweetie?”

 “Because telling people things is always so easy,” Virgil snarls.

 Janus accepts it with a slow nod, reaching out to cup Virgil’s cheek. On instinct, Virgil jerks back, unable to get away from the touch because of the grip on his hands. Janus’s eyes widen.

 “…oh, sweetie…”

 “Don’t tell them,” Virgil blurts out, “please don’t tell them.”

 “You’ve been hurting yourself, Virgil,” Janus whispers, “so badly, I can’t let that continue.”

 “I’ll—I’ll fix it, I can fix it—“

 “You know you can’t do this by yourself, honey.”

 “I have to,” Virgil cries out finally, “I have to, I can’t—I messed up, I messed everything up, I have to do it alone now, I have to—“

 “What did you mess up, sweetie?”

 “You a-and Remus and I can’t—I can’t ask you ‘cause I messed it up so bad—“

 “Shh, shh,” Janus soothes instantly, reaching out with another pair of hands to cup Virgil’s face properly, “you haven’t lost me, sweetie, you haven’t messed anything up so badly. You know you can come to me for help, you can always come here.”

 “But you’re—“

 “What, sweetie,” Janus prompts when Virgil cuts himself off, “what am I?”

 Nope. Because Virgil can’t even use the dark side excuse anymore because now the dark sides are accepted. He has no fucking excuse. He has no justification for why he’s doing this. He’s—he’s—

 He’s hurting himself.

 “It hurts,” he whispers instead, “m-make it stop.”

 “Do you have enough energy to sink out, sweetie?” Virgil shakes his head. “Okay. I need you to stand up for me, honey.”

 Getting to his feet is a slow process, Janus murmuring encouragement as they go. He sets Virgil’s hands gently against the stair railing and whispers that he’ll be right back, he just has to grab some things, wait here, please? Virgil lets him go and clutches the railing for dear life, trying to keep the waves of nausea inside thank you very much.

 “What do you mean, you haven’t seen him?”

 “I knocked on his door, he didn’t answer.”

 “So?”

 “So I…tried the knob.”

 “Roman!”

 “I know, I know, I’m not supposed to, but I was worried and he isn’t in there, so—“

 “Wait, he’s not in his room?”

 “No! That’s the problem!”

 “Well then where is he?”

 “I don’t know, that’s why I came to find you two!”

 “Wait…Virgil?”

  No, no, no—

 “Stormcloud,” Roman breathes from the top of the stairs, racing down, “there you are, we’ve been looking for you!”

 “What’re you doing down here, kiddo,” Patton asks worriedly, “are you…you don’t look so good.”

 Logan hustles around the end of the stairs to face him and no, no, Virgil doesn’t want this, not now—

 “Virgil,” Logan calls softly and he sounds so much like he cares— “Virgil, are you having trouble standing?”

 Virgil nods jerkily.

 “Let’s have you sit down, then,” he continues gently, trying to cover up the shake in his voice.

 When he doesn’t move, Roman can’t help himself. He walks forward, his arms opening to hover around Virgil’s waist.

 “Can I carry you, Stormcloud,” he asks, “just to the couch?”

 What does he do? He can’t say no, not when they look so worried. They just keep asking questions, they’ll just—but Janus asked him to wait for him, but standing is so hard and they all look so worried—

 He nods again.

 Logan carefully places his hands around Roman’s neck as Roman scoops him into a princess carry, heading for the couch. He sits down in the middle, holding Virgil as securely as he can, looking up when Logan crouches in front of them, nervously adjusting his tie. Patton sits on his side, pulling Virgil’s legs into his lap.

 “What do we do?” Roman whispers. “I don’t—what do you need, Stormcloud?”

 Logan nods encouragingly, still looking at Virgil with his brows drawn until realization dawns on his face.

 “Virgil,” he says as he gets up to sit beside Roman, resting his hands on Virgil’s shoulders to encourage him to lean against him, “are you…is your ‘everything machine’ breaking?”

 Oh.

 Yeah, that’s what’s happening.

 It’s Roman’s turn to have the ‘aha’ moment when he nods, taking one of Virgil’s hands and tenderly pressing a kiss to it. Logan keeps a steady, grounding pressure on his sides as Roman carefully lies him on the couch, going to the kitchen.

 “Can you sit up? It’s perfectly alright if you can’t,” Logan assures quickly, “but it might be easier to drink something if you are upright.”

 Virgil nods.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “we’ll go slowly, alright? If you feel dizzy or light-headed at any point, squeeze my hand and you can lie back down.”

 As promised, by the time they’re fully sitting up, Logan’s hand still on his shoulder, Roman’s breezed back in with a tissue box, a glass of water, a glass of orange juice, and a mini french loaf on a tray, set it all down on the coffee table, pulled the table close enough where he can perch on the edge, and reached out to take his hand again. Patton rubs encouraging circles into his knee, murmuring soft words of encouragement.

 Virgil can’t move. He doesn’t know what to do. He—they feel so warm, they keep touching him so gently, it—his wings are straining.

 He whimpers when Logan’s hand lands on his back and Logan moves away immediately. The loss of contact has him itching to reach out but he can’t can’t can’t—

 “Well.”

  Janus.

 Virgil blinks, and sure enough, there he is, standing with his hands clasped out of sight. Distantly, Virgil thanks that he’s still trying to keep Virgil’s secret, hiding whatever he has behind his back. He makes eye contact with Virgil and asks a silent question.

 Virgil can’t respond.

 “Janus,” Patton says, “do you—do you know what’s going on?”

 “Can we help,” Roman blurts, “with whatever it is?”

 Logan stays silent, gaze going back and forth between Virgil and Janus. Janus doesn’t take his eyes off Virgil.

 He’s waiting, Virgil realizes, to see if I’m going to let them help.

 …he doesn’t really have a reason not to anymore, does he?

 Logan leans closer, his lips barely brushing Virgil’s temple.

 “Please,” he whispers, “please, dearheart, let us help care for you.”

 Oh.

 Oh, fuck.

 “…help.”

 It’s loud enough for Janus to hear and he nods sharply, sitting down on the floor and holding out his arms. “You’re going to need to pass him to me. Be careful of his back.”

 It takes the other three to get him tucked up against Janus’s chest before they shuffle back, wary. Janus wraps his lowest pair of arms around Virgil’s hips, holding him close.

 “You just focus on me, sweetie,” he whispers, much too quiet for the others to hear, “and if you want them gone, you say so, okay?”

 “R-Remus?”

 “Remus is coming, sweetie, he found me looking for your things.”

 “You kept them?”

 “Of course we kept them.” Janus rests their foreheads together. “Of course we did.”

 Janus holds him close, whispers a few more soft words, until Virgil nods and lets him unzip his hoodie.

 “How, sweetie?”

 “…sports bra.”

 He can hear Janus swallow a noise of protest before he nods. “I’m going to have to cut them off, it’s going to hurt too much if we try and pry it off you.”

 “But—“

 “Sweetie,” Janus hushes, “you’re losing circulation, it’s not good for you.”

 Virgil shudders. “…does that mean you have to cut off m-my shirt too?”

 “Do you think you can hold your arms up long enough to get it off?”

 “…no.”

 Janus holds him tightly. “I’m so proud of you, sweetie, I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

 Against his better judgment, Virgil turns and tucks his head into the crook of Janus’s shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent. “…always are.”

 “I’m going to need the others to help me, help you, okay?” When Virgil nods, he can feel Janus look at the others, can feel the way his face changes.

 “Roman.”

 “Yes, I’m here.”

 “I need you to get Virgil’s hoodie off.”

 “O-okay,” Roman says, and Virgil can hear him shuffle up behind them, “is it already unzipped?”

 “It is.”

 “Here we go, Stormcloud,” Roman says softly, sliding the battered old thing from Virgil’s shoulders like it’s some fine silk garment, “you’re doing great…there. Where should I—“

 “On the couch.”

 There are a few more rustlings and then Janus’s mouth appears by Virgil’s ear again.

 “I’m going to cut them off now. You just hold still for me, alright?” Virgil nods and Janus squeezes him around the waist. “Good.”

 He turns his attention to the others. “Virgil has decided to trust you with this. I have decided to trust you with this. Betray that trust and you will not like the consequences. Am I clear?”

 Murmured assurances. Then the soft rip, rip, riiiiiip of fabric, and the pressure on his wings releases.

 Virgil’s sure Janus is talking from the vibration of his throat and he’s also sure the others are saying something back, but he can’t hear anything right now over the rush of blood in his ears from his wings unfurling, creaking, in all their ugly, dirty glory.

 He winces, tries to stretch them, only to hear a cry of dismay from over his shoulder and an ‘oh, sweetie,’ from Janus. The tendon snaps back out of place and his wings slump.

 “Virgil,” Janus says next to his ear, “Virgil, Remus is here now. Do you think you can explain what we need to do or would you like us to?”

 Virgil should explain. It’s his problem. It’s his responsibility.

 But…but it would be nice to not have to…for once. To…to let them take care of him.

 “…c-can you?”

 “We can.”

 He feels another warm hand on his bare side and Remus’s voice in his ear.

 “Hey,” Remus says, “you really are a mess right now, huh?”

 Coming at any other time, it would be an insult. But right now, laced with concern, Remus’s statement sends a rush of warmth down Virgil’s spine.

 “We need to get the tendon reset first,” Remus says. Someone shuffles over to join him. “You know what you’re doing?”

 “I think so.” Oh. It’s Logan. Logan knows what he’s doing. Good, good. “Hold still for us, dearheart.”

 “Ah!”

 “Sorry, sorry,” Logan stammers, “but we’ve got it now.”

 “You’re gonna be sore for a bit, little monster,” Remus says, “but Logan’s right. You’re all reset now. You wanna stretch it out? Carefully?”

 Virgil does, tentatively extending his wing and it—it feels better. Well, it feels bruised and sore and achy—but it feels better.

 “It…it’s back,” Virgil says in a strangled whisper, “it’s back.”

 “Yes, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “now let’s get you cleaned up.”

 Virgil drifts. In and out. He hears Remus explain how to straighten his feathers, feels two strong steady hands carding through them, Looks up to see Roman, expression more focused than he’s ever seen, sees that expression melt when he catches Virgil’s eyes. Plucks a loose feather out and lays it in a growing pile.

 Feels two more on his other side and looks around to see Patton doing the same, running his fingers through the primaries, secondaries, up to the covets, and through the scapulars. Feels his fingers linger just where the tips of the feathers brush Virgil’s bare back, stroking reassuring rhythms where he lands.

 Janus still has two of his arms holding Virgil in his lap. With Virgil’s nod, he slowly raises Virgil’s arms above his head again, letting the others have access to the rest of his wings. With his last two hands, he starts smoothing the bottom of his wings, lingering in the spots where Virgil winces, gently tugging and adjusting until everything’s just right.

 A flash of movement and he sees Remus over Janus’s shoulder, grabbing a spray bottle and two hairbrushes. He ruffles Virgil’s hair as he goes back around, warning him before he starts gently spraying Virgil’s wings, passing the hairbrushes to Roman and Patton with the instructions to try and get as much of the gunk out as possible.

 “You,” Roman murmurs as he works, “are magnificent, Virgil, just look at you.”

 “Don’t,” Virgil manages, “please don’t tease.”

 “I’m not teasing,” Roman promises, brushing a part of his wing that sends a shudder down his spine, “you’re…you’re—these are spectacular, Virgil, truly.”

 Virgil shifts in Janus’s lap. “…ugly.”

 “What?”

 “…they’re ugly.”

 “Of course they’re not, what do you…” Roman turns to him. “Stormcloud, who told you that?”

 “…me.”

 “Falsehood,” comes Logan’s voice from directly behind him, “your wings are indeed quite splendid.”

 “Because they’re interesting?”

 “Because they are a part of you,” Logan corrects softly, “and yes, because they are interesting.”

 “We love you, kiddo.” Patton reaches up to squeeze his hand. “That means all of you, even your wings.”

 Virgil opens his mouth to respond when hands slip through his feathers and every breath is stolen from his body.

 “Here,” Logan says softly, “are they here?”

 “Yep. Feel around in there a little, you should find the—“

 “Here.”

 Two thumbs swipe over the glands and Virgil shudders, right down to the tips of his wings. Logan pauses, leaning forward and doing it again. Virgil shudders harder, warmth shooting through his body, so warm, so warm. Then Logan’s hands start spreading the oil through his feathers and Virgil can’t.

 “Shh,” Janus soothes, holding him tightly, “shh, I know, sweetie, just hold on…you’re doing so well.”

 “Be gentle, Logan,” Roman orders, his gaze fixed on Virgil’s face.

 “I am.” Logan does it again and Virgil gasps. “This area is simply…sensitive.”

 Virgil swallows. “…haven’t…haven’t been able to…to…”

 “You have not been able to reach these areas yourself,” Logan finishes when Virgil can’t make words happen anymore, “and so the sensation is heightened by the newness of it.”

 “Y-yeah.”

 Then Roman’s hand brushes over his alula and he whimpers.

 “S-sorry.”

 “Would I be mistaken in saying this is quite…an intimate action?” Virgil shakes his head at Logan’s question. “Then you do not need to apologize. Trusting others with this level of intimacy is difficult, and you are doing very well.”

 “You are, kiddo,” Patton adds when Virgil makes a noise of protest, “and you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. It’s okay that you’re sensitive, it’s okay.”

 “Is this alright, Stormcloud,” Roman asks softly as he keeps brushing the feathers, “can we keep going?”

 “Mhm,” Virgil mumbles, head lolling forward, “mhm.”

 “Good.”

 As they finish removing the clearly damaged feathers, the real grooming starts. Roman and Patton start gently tugging here and there to pull out loose and broken feathers, pushing the ones that are just slightly crooked back into place. The hairbrushes, with nice wooden spokes, split the feathers easily without a snag as Logan carefully works the oil throughout. Remus slips down, carefully spreading the oil over Virgil’s back, kneading out the tension from his sore muscles. Janus holds him steady, murmuring softly.

 Virgil floats, punch-drunk on the fuzzy feeling from Logan’s hands, Patton’s hands, Roman’s hands, Remus’s hands, Janus’s hands. It’s so warm, so warm, as he feels the lingering strings of hurt and tension slowly and persistently untangled from his wings.

 “I think that’s everything,” comes Logan’s soft voice an uncertain amount of time later, and yet none of the hands move away.

 “You’re so pretty, kiddo,” Patton murmurs, running his hands through the feathers, “so, so pretty.”

 “Guess you really did dig the purple, huh?” Remus gives Virgil’s hair a ruffle. “I think these are the best these have looked in a while.”

 Virgil shifts in Janus’s lap. “…yeah, well…”

 Janus shushes him. “It doesn’t matter, now, sweetie. It’s okay.”

 “You were hesitant because being vulnerable is hard,” Logan adds, still stroking up and down the joint of his wings, “that isn’t anything to be ashamed of.”

 Virgil opens his mouth to reply when Logan’s fingers skitter over the spot right under the joint and he cries out.

 “…Virgil?”

 Logan raises an eyebrow when Virgil simply shudders, his back arching. Slowly, he does it again, smiling when Virgil all but purrs.

 “I think he likes that,” Patton says quietly, “don’t you, kiddo?”

 Virgil whines.

 “Where else are you sensitive,” Roman murmurs, scritching his fingers lightly along the top of Virgil’s wing, “where else, Stormcloud?”

 “I don’t think he’s got command of words right now,” Remus chuckles.

 “If Virgil’s wings are anatomically similar to bird wings,” Logan murmurs, “then…”

 Roman’s hand is tangled in his alula. Patton’s hands are rubbing at the crook of his wings. Logan’s thumbs stroke over the oil glands again.

 Virgil’s mouth is suddenly very, very dry.

 Remus’s thumbs suddenly dig into the space between his shoulder blades, startling a short moan out of him. He hears a chuckle from over his shoulder.

 “Does that feel good, dearheart,” Logan murmurs, his nails scraping lightly over the soft skin where Virgil’s wings met his back, “right there?”

 Virgil’s only response is a long, low, drawn-out sound that would have been mortifying had he any control over his brain right now.

 “Oh, wow,” Patton mumbles from the side.

 Roman reaches up and wiggles his fingers next to Logan’s and Virgil keens.

 Janus chuckles, lowering Virgil’s arms around his neck and reaching out to scritch lightly at the marginal covets. “You’re about to get spoiled, sweetie,” he murmurs, “you just hang on, hmm?”

 Virgil wraps his arms around Janus and holds on for dear life just as fingers wiggle into his axillaries and he freezes.

 Then he melts, right into Janus, right into the hands in his wings, the sound physically being ripped out of his chest.

 Lips brush the side of his neck like the owner couldn’t stop themselves. The hand on his right twitches violently. From his left comes a long, shuddering breath.

 “Oh, Stormcloud—“ Roman, that’s Roman— “you best believe we’re going to spoil you all the time.”

 Just like that, everything multiplies. Pats, strokes, kneads, scritches, ruffles, so many so many so many gentle, adoring touches and soft voices in his ears and Virgil flies.

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[just-a-quirkless-loser]

Dusting Of The Dust 🧤🧤

Idea came from @moodyvoid

Alpha Shigaraki x F! Omega Reader

Words: 2.1K

Summary: Shigaraki is your alpha-a very protective, possessive alpha

Tenko is something different. He takes being your alpha as his top mission. To be with you and guard you is his life’s reason. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he let anything hurt you. That being said, he can be overbearing.

“Omega, stay still. You know you have to be still for me to do this.”

“I can’t help it,” you give him your puppy eyes. “It tickles.” He just sighs and smiles. He can’t help but love you no matter what.

Shigaraki was helping you pull on your overalls (he has no idea why you’ve fallen in love with the horrid fashion; his words not yours) so he could take you to the mall for a day of pampering.

Lately, he’s been even busier than usual with the league. It’s been months since he has been able to spend some quality time with you so, he wants to make this day as perfect as possible.

“What am I going to do with you?” He looks down at you with his crimson eyes softened.

“Love me and give me cuddles?” You lift your hands to frame your face like an angel.

“Oh I don’t know,” he teases as he picks you up. Your breath hitches when his teeth catch your scent glands, his chapped lips lightly scrapping you. “You’re so quiet. Why?”

“You’d be quiet too if someone was turning you on like this,” he chuckled. Sometimes, you can be so brash.

“Get ready to go,” he lets you down and walks out of your room to wait in your living room. He’s taken an interest in staying in your home since he doesn’t like bringing you to the hideout (despite how much a bond Hans formed among the villains, he can’t bring himself to allow them to see you).

“I’m ready,” you run from your room with sneakers on your feet. You catch a glimpse of Shigaraki petting a picture of you and you blush slightly. Even though he’s a mean bastard to the world, you know you have his heart; that’s all that matters to you. “You’re wearing that?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Tenko looks down at himself anxiously. He supposes he could’ve attempted to dress better but, he was just focused on your comfort that he couldn’t find it in himself to care about his.

“Nothing,” you walk up to him and grab his hand. He’s wearing a black hoodie and jeans (he’s forgone the signature hand that he normally wears to keep from drawing attention) with a glove that only covers one of his fingers. You place a kiss on his palm, making direct eye contact. He’s driven into small insanity, part of him wanting to take you back to your bedroom and show you how much he loves you.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Kiss your hand?” He nods. “Because I love you. I know you’re always afraid you’ll accidentally hurt me but, I know you’ll never do anything that could put me in harm's way.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, just takes you by the hand and leads you out the door and to the nearest massage parlor. He knows he can never tell you how much you’ve made him happy but, he hopes his actions can show you.

“Are you sure you’re okay with sitting here the whole time?” You asked before you had to enter the clothing room to take off your clothes.

“Yes. For the hundredth time, yes. Can you just get undressed?”

“I remember you asking me that question wayyyy nicer yesterday,” you wag your eyebrows causing him to push you into the room to hide his inflamed cheeks.

You giggle as you walk to your designated locker and remove your clothes, wrapping the robe around your body after you take a quick look at your assets. What can you say? You love adoring yourself.

Meanwhile, Shigaraki was waiting in the massage room with the lady that was setting up the oils. He watched her like a hawk, hands scratching at his neck. Shigaraki knows you wouldn’t want him to lose his cool but, he can’t stand the thought of someone else’s hands on you. He’d rather be at your house playing video games with you in his lap yet, he’s here.

“Do you have to...touch her?”

The woman startles and drops a bottle of oil on the floor. She recovers but, she’s shaking as she picks up the bottle. “Well yes, sir that’s my job.”

“But, do you have to do it without gloves?”

“Sir, it’s a massage.”

“Yes, I know what the fuck it is. I’m paying for it,” the scratching gets more brazen.

“Sir, would you like another masseuse?”

“No-yes- fuck just, if you touch my girl anywhere I don’t like, you won’t be touching anything anymore,” he continues to scratch till you walk in. He slumps in his seat to hide his neck because he knows it’d make you upset to see what he’s done to himself.

“You okay, Shiggy?” You notice he’s slouching as you lay down on the massage table, your s/c skin showing to the crack of your ass.

“Yes, baby. Just talking to the lady,” you quirk your brow.

“The lady has a name, Hand Man,” he rolls his eyes. The conversation is dead and the tension falls but, Shigaraki can’t help but tense when the woman’s hands touch your body. He wants to get up and rip her from your body but he knows he cant. He promised you a normal, perfect day and he’s pretty sure disintegrating a person isn’t either of those things.

He wants to yell as you moan underneath the woman’s hands, pick you up and run you away from her and into the comfort of your own world, fuck you until the only thing you can moan is his name.

“Shiggy, are we still going to the mall after this?” He’s broken from his thoughts of his hands wrapped around your delicate throat.

“Why wouldn’t we?”

“Just checking. I know your busy with your job and we’ve already spent a good deal of time here.”

“My job isn’t anywhere near important when it compares to you. I told you I was going to pamper you and that’s exactly what I intend to do,” the lady awws.

“That’s so sweet,” Shigaraki gives her a death glare. “Okay, your time is up. You can always book another appointment at the front desk. Have a great day,” that lady scurried out of that room as quickly as she could.

“Did you say something to her before I came in?” You sit up, breasts showing. Shigaraki.exe has stopped working. “You shouldn’t be mean to people that are doing their job. It’s not polite. Shiggy? HandMan? TENKO. ALPHAAAA PAY ATTENTION AND STOP STARING AT MY TITS.”

“It’s not my fault they’re out. They’re so perfect. Makes me want to,” he’s in front of you as he leans down to swipe his tongue across your left nipple. You whimper as his other hand kneads your other nipple. The leather of his gloves feels wonderful on your smooth skin. “Looks like you want me to do it.”

“Aht aht aht, we still have a full day of shopping till you get to touch me,” you scurry away before he can catch you. Wetness slides down your thigh, making your panties run against your clit with almost every step on the way out. You redressed, knowing your alpha would be able to smell your arousal.

“Aww, someone’s wet.”

“Fuck you, dusty,” it’s silent till you get to the mall. The mall has loud roars every few minutes as the noise is in full swing during the daily rush. Your alpha keeps pulling you even closer to him, lowly growling at anyone who he deems gets too close.

“Alpha, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he’s being curt and you want to pull him away from the mall but, you know that would only bother him further.

You end up in a small boutique in one of the corners of the mall by the name of ‘Kimochi.’ It’s almost as if the entire shop was splattered by a purple bomb with the purple stains floors and lavender painted walls. The racks are silver and there’s white trimming in some areas.

“How’d you know I wanted to come here?” Tenko just smiles as he pushes you further into the shop. You run off to look through the clothes and Shigaraki just stands back to observe you. You look ethereal as you buzz around energetically, your skin looking clear as ever and your eyes lit with a certain happiness that he only sees when the two of you are alone.

He patiently waits to the side of the store as you examine each clothing item, occasionally bringing them up to your body to see if they would fit. You’d given up asking Shigaraki for his approval a long time ago since he always tells you you’d look good in anything (although, there have been a few times that he’d disintegrate whatever he didn’t like).

“Ahhh another Omega. How was your shopping?” A beta attendant was at the counter waiting for you to check out. Your nose shriveled at the mention of your second gender but, you pushed the feeling away and chalked it up to happenstance.

“It was perfect. I love this boutique so much. Here’s my card,” you try to push the card over the counter discretely so Shigaraki wouldn’t see. You’re pretty sure it costs plenty of money to run an entire organization so, this is the least you can do to help your alpha.

“Are you sure? I’m sure your alpha would rather pay for your things,” The attendant looked over at Shigaraki. “On second thought, maybe it’d be best if you paid.”

“What is it you’re trying to insinuate right now? That my alpha can’t provide for me?” You lean over the counter, ready to punch the lady in the face.

“Well, look at his clothes. They’re not the best,” you growl and pounce only to be stopped by your alpha’s arms around your waist. He’s lowly snarling, teeth bared.

“What’s the problem, Omega?” He rubs his hands over your body to ensure you’re fine. “Do I need to handle this?”

“No. This lady was just pushing me a bit too far,” you snatch your stuff off the counter and get ready to walk out with your clothes without paying. Why would you pay after this?

“So, you can’t pay either?” Shigaraki snaps his neck when he turns to face her.

“Omega, what is she referring to?”

“Wellllll,” you blush and look away. You know once he deals with the woman, you’ll be in trouble for trying to pay. “I just wanted to pay for the clothes myself and the woman implied that I was paying because you don’t have the money to do so. Then, I got mad and you came over.”

“Didn’t I tell you I would pay?” He glares down at you. “Why would you try to pay and I told you I would? Are you trying to be disobedient to your alpha? Disobedient to me?”

“I just wanted to help you,” you said in a small voice. “I know the league is expensive.”

“Nothing is too expensive for you. Now, go wait outside while I deal with her,” he pats you on the head, turns you around, and gently pats your butt towards the exit.

Needless to say, while you were outside the store patiently waiting on a chair while swinging your feet beneath you, Tenko was inside gripping the life out of the woman’s face, gloves thrown to the side somewhere in a haphazard attempt to strangle her.

“You should’ve just kept your mouth shut,” Shigaraki grinned as he leaned down to the woman’s ear. “Now, I’ll have to show you what happens when you disrespect my omega.”

“No, no, pleaseeee NO PLEASE. I HAVE KIDS PLEASEEE,” it was too late. The woman’s face was already beginning to decay away, dust coating his hand as he smiled at the woman’s body.

He walked out, the body behind him as he was tugging his gloves on. You noticed a bit of dust on his hoodie so you gently dust him off once he gets close enough for you to touch.

“Did you kill her?”

“Yes. No one. And I mean, NO ONE, disrespects my omega,” you blush. “Now, C’mon, Omega. We’re going home. You still need to be punished,” you gulped and grabbed Tenko’s hand, letting him lead you to your future.

—————————————————————————

TagList💕💕

@sinclairsamess @sakurashortstack

[sweatersexual]

In Gravity Falls, You Abduct the Aliens

Read on AO3

Read the previous work in this series

“This,” proclaimed Stan, “is not a house.” He waded through the piles of books, papers, and weird gadgets. “Seriously, who keeps a chalkboard in their living room? This is more like some kind of nerd lair.”

“I prefer to think of it as my own research lab that I have all-hours access to, but the term lair does lend a certain ambience,” said Ford.

Stan picked up a deformed skull that looked like it belonged to some kind of rodent. “This feels like the intro to a horror movie. With a plucky pair of teen heroes to terrorize and giant switches to a zappy doomsday device, you’d be all set.” He started playing with the skull’s jaw hinge.

Ford reclaimed the skull from him. “Well, it’s no doomsday device, but once I get the portal in the basement working, it’ll be plenty ‘zappy,’ as you say.”

Right, the portal. Ford had talked about it a lot on their drive up from Vegas, where the two of them had happened to run into each other and ended up reconciling. Ford seemed preoccupied by how he’d build the thing without his old flame, Fiddleford McGucket. Ford had invited him to join them in Gravity Falls as well, but when the two nerds realized they still had the hots for each other, Fiddleford had decided to do right by his wife and kid and stay in Palo Alto.

Stan, on the other hand, might be no mechanical engineer, but he was smart enough to realize there was more to this portal business than Ford was telling him.

“Man, you really have a one track mind when it comes to that portal, huh? You were even talking about it in your sleep while we were driving up here. ‘So sorry, shouldn’t’ve let my personal feelings get in the way. . . . ‘S only a temporary setback . . . won’t let all our hard work go to waste . . .’ Has somebody else been helping with the portal?”

Ford nervously spun the skull around in his hand. “Really, Stanley, it’s silly to read too much into sleep talk. I could’ve been talking about anything.”

“Come on, Sixer. If you’re gonna lie to me, you gotta try harder than that.”

“Don’t you trust me, Stanley?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“I do, but . . . I don’t want you to think I’m crazy.”

Stan put a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Listen, bro. I’ve been all over the world. Whatever it is, I’ll understand.”

Ford sighed. “All right, I’ll try to explain. But first, let me go get something. A visual aid, if you will.”

A few minutes later, he returned, having replaced the deformed skull with a ceramic jar in his now gloved hands. “I was lucky to get my hands on this,” Ford told him. “The Northwests hoard just about all the artifacts they can find. Please avoid touching it, I don’t have any disposable five-fingered gloves to protect it from the oils on your hands.”

He presented the design on the jar to Stan, who was doing his best to show Ford he didn’t think he was crazy. The picture was of a man with an animal pelt on his head talking to a triangle with one eye. “Don’t tell me you got recruited by the Illuminati or something,” said Stan.

“No, I haven’t joined any secret societies,” Ford assured him. “This depicts a man named Modoc from three thousand years ago, seeking wisdom from an ancient being. From time to time, this being presents himself to truly singular minds, giving them divine insight and knowledge. And now this Muse has chosen me.”

“Okay,” said Stan. “So you’ve gotten into some kind of niche religion. It’s not that weird. Just don’t drink the Kool-Aid, all right?”

Ford set the jar down on what little empty space his dining room table had left. “I haven’t joined a cult, Stan. I mean, it is a kind of spiritual experience, talking to my Muse, but there’s no organized religion involved. Ever since I summoned him, he manifests himself in my dreams. I never could’ve gotten this far in my investigations of Gravity Falls without him. And he’s helped me come up with the plans for this portal. I know it sounds strange, but there really is something otherworldly about him. And even if he is somehow all in my imagination, the inspiration has never steered me wrong.”

Stan’s bullshit-o-meter was going off, but not because he thought Ford was lying to him. Stan knew his twin’s tells, and Ford was definitely sincere about this muse thing. He couldn’t take Ford’s words at face value, but he could tell that Ford was really going out on a limb here, being honest about something that could get him called a quack at best or institutionalized at worst. So what if the guy was in his thirties and had an imaginary friend? Let him have his weird triangle dreams if it made him happy.

So Stan simply said, “Hey, whatever floats your boat, poindexter. But now that I’m here, you’re not just some weird hermit living in the woods. We’re a family. And families live in homes, not nerd lairs.”

Ford blinked, seeming surprised that Stan had changed the subject. But he went along with it anyway. “Right. Well, I have been meaning to organize everything for awhile now. My research keeps getting ahead of me. But I’ll probably be able to think better without so much clutter around.”

It didn’t take long for the twins to settle into a routine. Mornings were for cleaning and organization. After lunch, Stan would run errands while Ford struggled building his machine in the basement. Stan never imagined he’d get so excited about yard sale curtains and other furnishings, but after so many years never having a permanent place of his own, he relished the chance to decorate his own living space. Afternoons and evenings were dedicated to finding and studying anomalies, then Stan tried to persuade Ford to go to bed rather than get back to work on the portal again. He was rarely successful.

“I owe it to myself to at least stumble along with the limited mechanical knowledge I have,” said Ford. “And maybe I’ll find someone or something else that can help.”

Stan did try to help, but it took so long for Ford to even explain what he was trying to do, and it was so boring listening to him speak nothing but jargon, and Ford just didn’t think the way Stanley did. Stan would probably have better luck just taking Ford’s plans and trying to decode them himself, either way it would take ages. Instead he simply figured out how to use a welding torch and applied it where Ford told him to.

But Stan’s favorite hours were spent running through the woods with his brother. He had never expected to see a gnome for himself, or play with magic size-altering crystals. About one week into his stay, Ford was over the moon to find a sleeping gremloblin. “I don’t know when I’ll get another chance to study one up close like this!”

Stan helped take samples and measurements (it really was remarkable how heavy a sleeper this gremloblin was), then helped himself to his favorite toffee peanuts while Ford finished scribbling in his journal. Rustling in the bushes behind him turned his head, and before he knew it a red and black creature was running away from him, and the toffee peanuts that had fallen on the ground were gone.

Ford snapped to attention, too. “Did you see what that was?” he asked Stan.

“Something with a duck bill.” Stan held up his snack. “It was trying to get these.”

Ford grimaced. “I suppose there’s no accounting for taste.”

Stan rolled his eyes. Ford was so dramatic about his distaste for Stan’s favorite snack.

“Can I try to lure it back out?” asked Ford, reaching for the toffee peanuts.

“Fine.”

Once they had gotten the creature to reemerge, Ford was back to scribbling in his journal. “So the plaidypus legends are real! Fascinating, fascinating. Is it just me, or do you think it smells like maple syrup and bacon?”

They were able to track the plaidypus back to its burrow on the marshy banks by the creek, where they found a clutch of flannel-patterned eggs. To improve upon their fantastic luck, they had arrived in time to watch the eggs hatch.

“Look at that! They only have the horizontal stripes now, the vertical stripes must come in as they grow - did you get the measurements on that last one, Stanley?”

“Yeah, but what do you think the deal is with that one?” Stan pointed to a blue egg that hadn’t yet hatched.

“I have no idea. I’m not even sure that’s a plaidypus egg.”

Ford turned out to be extremely correct when the blue egg did hatch and a slimy white monster popped out.

“What the hell is that thing?” asked Stan.

Ford replied, “I’ve never seen anything like it,” then gasped when the monster mutated into another baby plaidypus. “It’s a mimic!”

“Wait - which one is it?” asked Stan.

Ford cursed. “I should’ve been paying closer attention.”

The shapeshifter soon revealed itself when instead of latching on to the mother plaidypus’s lactating glands, it sank its teeth into another baby plaidypus. “No!” cried Stan as he picked up the imposter and pried its jaw open. “Bad shapeshifter thing!”

Ford tended the baby plaidypus’s wounds while Stan wrestled the shapeshifter into a containment jar, where it resumed its original pale, slimy form.

The study of this creature quickly set Ford into what Stan liked to call Full Nerd Mode. They hardly seemed to get through a conversation without Ford bringing up how “Shifty”, as he’d nicknamed the thing, changed his DNA when he changed forms, and how the implications from that would revolutionize the field of genetics, or asking for suggestions for safe forms to add to Shifty’s repertoire. Stan had to admit it was nice to see his brother obsess over something other than that portal for once, though if he had his way he could think of several ways for Shifty to aid with some under-the-table schemes.

“Stanley!” Ford had chided him when Stan had joked about the idea. “You have a job with me now. You don’t need to get into more trouble with the law.”

Yeah, that had been weird, getting an actual, legitimate paycheck for once, and with his brother’s signature no less. And it really was quite a lot considering that Stan didn’t need to pay rent or anything. But Stan couldn’t help that niggling doubt in the back of his mind questioning whether he had enough, whether Stan’s luck might still run dry and he’d better get as much as he could while the getting was good -

Stan had simply shrugged at his brother. “A side hustle never hurt anything,” he said. “And with Shifty’s help, we wouldn’t get caught.”

“I’m afraid it’s out of the question,” Ford had insisted. “We wear masks around Shifty for a reason, you know. It’s too dangerous to have him impersonate humans.”

And Stan could see the wisdom in that, but even so, he thought he did a good enough impression of his brother to recognize the second-rate performance Shifty would put on. The little monster couldn’t even talk!

That last assumption was proven wrong one afternoon while they were working on the portal and a high-pitched voice called out, “Beans!”

Ford’s head perked up from his schematics. “Did you say something?” he asked Stan, who shook his head.

Stan pointed to the dog kennel where they kept Shifty. “I think it was -”

“Beans!” the voice repeated, and it was definitely coming from the kennel.

“Remarkable,” said Ford, replacing his mask as he walked over to kneel in front of the kennel, where Shifty could see him. “Are you hungry, Shifty?”

“Beans,” he repeated, “for me.”

“I’ll go get him some,” said Stan. As he climbed the stairs up to the house, he heard Ford ask, “What else can you say, Shifty?”

When Stan returned with the beans Shifty liked so much, the little monster was repeating the brothers’ names. “Stan,” said the little voice. “Ford. Sixer poindexter knucklehead.”

Ford laughed. “Very good, Shifty. Those are some other names we call each other.”

“Who am I?” asked the shapeshifter. Stan felt his mouth drop open. That wasn’t the sort of question a parrot asked . . .

“Why, you’re Shifty,” said Ford without a trace of the trepidation Stan was feeling just then. “Stan has brought you those beans you wanted, Shifty.”

“Beans!”

When he was done eating, Shifty went back to asking questions. “Who am I? Who is Shifty?”

“Speaking in full sentences already,” said Ford. “This is really quite incredible.”

“He’s asking if he’s a person, Ford.”

“Stan, don’t anthropomorphize him. Even parrots can repeat phrases -”

“Parrots don’t ask existential questions like that! And besides, when have we ever said anything like that around him?”

Ford frowned. “I’ll need to collect more data -”

“This isn’t about data, Ford!” Stan gestured to the kennel. “That’s a kid! A weird monster kid, but still a kid. And we’re keeping him in a cage. Take it from someone who’s been to prison.” At that, Ford glanced up at him in surprise, and Stan looked away. “It does things to you.”

Ford stammered, “Stan, I - I didn’t know - you never said -”

“I don’t like to talk about it,” said Stan. “And anyway, this isn’t about me. This is about him.”

Ford nodded. It was a moment before he answered, “Well, I will need to do more tests, and we do need to keep his abilities under control, but -” Stan opened his mouth to argue, but Ford placed his hand on Stan’s shoulder in a calming motion - “but . . . your concerns have merit. Even a parrot would need a more stimulating environment than this. Will you help me whip something up for Shifty?”

Stan grinned. “Of course.”

With Stan’s help, Ford was able to construct a walled-off enclosure in the basement, which Shifty took to happily. When Ford was able to determine that the burrow Shifty made in the corner was a bed and not an escape route, he found he could breathe much easier.

Ford spent an increasing amount of time in the enclosure, testing Shifty’s language and cognitive skills. Soon he had an impressive amount of data confirming the shapeshifter’s intelligence. Shifty was always eager to participate in the “games,” as he referred to them, and responded very well to Ford’s praise. Ford had to admit he also enjoyed designing activities to keep Shifty occupied while Ford was working on other projects. These activities usually took the form of a puzzle or scavenger hunt, with chicken nuggets as prizes.

Shifty was also making great strides in learning to read. Ford had picked up a number of secondhand children’s books, but only ones that contained no illustrations of humans or dangerous animals for Shifty to take the forms of. This still left him with a wide variety of benign anthropomorphic animal characters like Frog and Toad, Frances, and Little Critter, many of whom became common forms for Shifty to take.

Eventually Ford felt comfortable enough for Shifty to have supervised playtime in the house and walks around the yard, but he and Stan always stayed masked and kept Shifty from seeing any people or dangerous animals.

On one such occasion, Stan was keeping an eye on Shifty upstairs while Ford was getting in some work on the portal. A loud thump from the floor above broke Ford’s focus, and a second had him scrambling up the steps, adjusting his mask as he went. The last thing he expected to find in the living room was two elephant seals.

“You didn’t tell me humans can shapeshift too!” said one of the elephant seals.

“What? Shifty? Are you saying Stan turned into this elephant seal right here?”

The other elephant seal groaned, a grumbling, braying sound.

“Elephant seal,” Shifty repeated. His high voice sounded comical coming from such a blubbery monster. “I like being an elephant seal. I’ve never been this big before.”

This was a disaster. Ford had never intended to have Shifty turn into such a volatile creature. “I’m afraid elephant seals are too big to be in the house, Shifty. Would you please turn into something smaller?”

“But how come Stan gets to be an elephant seal?” Shifty complained as he morphed into Arthur Read, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“I don’t want him to be an elephant seal either,” said Ford. “Stan? Can you try to turn back? What were you messing with, you know a lot of the artifacts I keep are cursed.”

Stan made a series of grunting seal noises, none of which were in the least helpful.

Ford sighed aggravatedly. “What happened before he turned into an elephant seal, Shifty?”

“Well, we were gonna build a blanket fort, so we got some blankets out of a trunk, then I put one of the blankets on my head and pretended I was a ghost, and Stan did too, only he used the -”

“The sealskin?” asked Ford. “The heavy one with the decorative beading?”

“I think so. He turned into an elephant seal after he put it on.”

“But that one’s cursed!” said Ford. “This is not good. We need to turn him back soon, or he’ll stay an elephant seal forever.”

Stan let out a series of angry honks and grumbles which, if translated to English, would probably be the kind of language Ford would not want Shifty repeating.

As it was, Shifty shrank into a field mouse, his ears meekly tucked behind his head. “What can we do?” he asked. “How do we change him back?”

“I’ll need to consult my journal,” said Ford. “I think I found a curse breaking spell somewhere . . .”

Ford tried to flip through journal 2 quickly, but had to pause every time Shifty climbed up to his shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of the pages.

“Cut it out, Shifty,” he said, setting Shifty back on the ground for the third time. “You’re slowing me down, and time is of the essence.”

“Why don’t you trust me?” asked Shifty.

“Come now, you know my journals are off limits,” said Ford. “Why don’t you make sure Stan doesn’t wreck the coffee table, hmm?”

A few minutes later, Ford found the page he was looking for. “Vis maleficiis expello. Fundere atque fugare in pacem. Purgare. Purgare. Purgare,” he chanted over Stan’s blubbery form.

Nothing happened.

Ford rechecked the journal entry. “Did I miss something? Let me try that again.”

The second attempt was no better than the first.

“This curse is clearly more malignant than I thought,” said Ford. “A simple spell is simply not up to the task. We’ll need to try something with a little more oomph to it.”

“Can I help?” asked Shifty.

“You can,” said Ford, “by waiting very patiently in your room while I take Stan to meet an acquaintance of mine.”

“But I can do more!” Shifty protested. “I’m sure I can.”

“I’m sorry, Shifty, but I’m afraid the risk is too great.”

“But what if he gets stuck as an elephant seal forever and it’s all my fault?”

“Shifty . . .” Ford was surprised Shifty had developed such an attachment to Stan, and a sense of responsibility. Though as far as Ford was concerned, it was entirely unwarranted. “I don’t blame you for any of this. If Stan had been more careful -” Stan snorted at that - “or if I had clearly labeled which items were cursed,” Ford conceded, “that is to say, this was just an accident. You don’t need to feel guilty.”

Shifty seemed to accept that, “But I still want to help. If you let me go with you, I promise I’ll be good. I’ll do what you tell me, I promise.”

Ford shook his head. “Shifty, it really will be more of a help if I’m not having to watch out for you while we’re undoing the curse. Don’t worry, I’ve dealt with phenomena far more malignant than this. Why don’t I refill your octahedron puzzle, hmm?” It was one of Shifty’s favorites. “By the time you’re done with it, we’ll be back, and Stan will be in his right shape again.”

Once Ford had started a reluctant Shifty on his puzzle, and gathered a few materials he thought might be helpful for curse breaking, Ford and Stan started hiking over to the lake. Well, Ford was hiking. Stan was doing more of a hobble. Ideally they would drive over, but the El Diablo wasn’t built to cart around elephant seals, and Stan wasn’t too keen to try.

“We’re going to summon a siren I’ve had some dealings with,” Ford explained to Stan. At his questioning look, Ford added, “She’s safe, don’t worry. We may have had . . . some miscommunications, at first, but we’re on good terms. Doripea’s been an excellent source of information. I just hope she’s not too busy.”

To their good fortune, she wasn’t. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite gentleman caller,” Doripea greeted Ford. Her angular face and pointed ears add to the mischievousness of her grin, aided in its brightness by the afternoon sun reflecting off her turquoise scales. “Here for another interview date?”

“Ah, sort of?” said Ford.

Stan’s snorts sounded an awful lot like laughter.

“Oh, I figured out Ford was gay pretty quickly,” she told Stan, apparently in response to a comment Ford hadn’t been able to understand. “What I couldn’t figure out was why he kept trying to summon me with a suitor’s call.”

Ford groaned. “The summoning instructions in Eatherena Aquatica didn’t specify -” He was cut off by Stan’s repeated laughter. “Anyway, I was hoping I could get your input, Doripea. You see, we’re in a bit of a pickle.”

“Aside from the shapeshifter stalking you?”

“What?” Ford whirled around, zeroing in on a deer which had frozen in place with a wide-eyed, panicked expression. “Shifty, I told you to stay in your room!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” cried the deer. “I just wanted to make sure Stan was okay! Please don’t hate me.”

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Ford realized he wasn’t wearing a mask, meaning Shifty could now take his form if he wanted. Who knew how many people or dangerous animals Shifty had come across while tailing them to the lake? How could Ford possibly do damage control on this?

“You don’t have to panic,” said Shifty. “I said I’d be good if you let me come. I’ll do what you tell me, just please, I couldn’t just wait around doing nothing.”

“Amazing,” said Doripea. “You tamed it. I didn’t even know their kind could talk.”

Ford turned to her, curiosity suddenly overcoming his concern. “You’ve seen other shapeshifters before?”

She shrugged. “Not in a long time. It’s been, what, a century and a half? I saw it come out of its burrow to feed every now and then, but for the most part it kept to itself, I think.”

“Strange,” said Ford. “Shifty has tested well when it comes to social behaviors. It’s hard to determine such things with only one extant specimen, but I would’ve guessed his kind to be pack hunters.”

“As far as I know, only one of them has existed at a time. Can’t pack hunt without a pack,” said Doripea.

“Hmm.” Ford would have to examine the implications of this later, but for now, “Shifty, you can stay, as long as you keep close to me and stay in deer form unless I tell you otherwise, got it?”

“Okay.”

“Now, Dora, the reason I came to call on you. My brother here mishandled the selkie’s revenge and I was hoping you could help me change him back to human form.”

“How long has he been in seal form?”

“No more than two hours.”

“Oh good, you caught it early. Stan, you don’t feel any strong urges to swim in this lake, do you?”

To Stan’s grunts she replied, “Well, if you get any, resist them. This curse is designed to turn you into an elephant seal in mind as well as body. Swimming in the water will kick start that process. You’ll be drawn to the other elephant seals, and before you know it you’ll be on the wrong side of a territorial beachmaster. You’re lucky we’re so far inland, and that it isn’t mating season.”

“I tried a simple curse breaking spell, and when that didn’t work I thought we would need something more specialized.”

“You got that right, Stanford. Did you bring any material we could use as a taglock?”

Ford nodded and produced some hair he’d removed from Stan’s hairbrush. Doripea listed a few other ingredients, some of which Stanford had on him, and another she could harvest from the bottom of the lake. She sent them off to gather cedar leaves while she retrieved it.

“See, Shifty, you had nothing to worry about,” Ford reassured him as the three of them set off on their short trek through the forest. “With Doripea’s help, Stan will be back to normal in no time. You didn’t need to break out of your room.”

“I guess,” said Shifty. “It’s just that you and Stan never let me go anywhere. And maybe I didn’t have to come, but now that I’m here, it’s not so bad. Why do you think I’m so dangerous?”

Ford hesitated. How wise was it, to let Shifty know how powerful his shapeshifting abilities were? How easily they could be misused? How much of Shifty’s good behavior was due to his innocence?

Before he could start parsing out his answer, something caught his eye. “Look, there! A cedar grove. Shifty, why don’t you change into bird form and help me gather the leaves?”

Shifty was sufficiently distracted by leaf collecting for the time being. But as they made their way back to the lake with their spoils, something seemed off about Stan. He would stop moving periodically, his head cocked to the east. Then he would shake his head and catch up with Ford and Shifty.

The third time Stan stopped, Ford asked, “What is it, Stanley?” but Stan didn’t seem to hear him. Instead he took off in the eastern direction.

“What are you doing?” asked Ford, running alongside him. “That’s not the way back to the lake!”

“He can’t help it!” said Shifty as he glided through the air above them, still in bird form. “Something is drawing him that way!”

“The river,” Ford realized. “It must be closer to this spot than the lake is! We can’t let him get in the water!”

“Can I turn into an elephant seal now?” asked Shifty, and he whooped gleefully when Ford gave his assent. With an extra burst of speed, Shifty flew several feet ahead of them, then dropped to the ground in elephant seal form. The two bull seals collided, and Stan looked even more frenzied as he tried to evade this new obstacle.

“Stan, don’t hurt him!” cried Ford. “You know Shifty, he doesn’t want to hurt you! Stan, look at me, you know you can’t get in the water! Snap out of it!”

Stan paid no attention to this. Clearly the call of the water was too strong. Was Stan hearing the water? Were there lower vibrations from the gallons of rushing water that elephant seals could pick up, but humans couldn’t? Ford could only think of one way to find out.

Grateful he’d thought to bring an infrasonic transducer, Ford quickly set it to the needed specifications. “Shifty, cover your ears!” cried Ford, demonstrating with his hands.

Shifty found a hole in the ground to duck his head into, just in time for Ford to press the button. Ford couldn’t tell by the sound if it worked or not, because it was far too low for human ears to detect. But Stan let out a cry and dropped to the ground, rubbing his head in the dirt.

“I’m sorry, Stan,” Ford said to the writhing elephant seal. “It was the only thing I could think of.”

“He’s mad at you,” said Shifty, pulling his head out of the ground. “But at least he’s not crazy anymore.”

“And what about you? Are you hurt?” Ford asked Shifty.

“I’m okay. It was kind of fun, wrestling like elephant seals.”

Ford sighed, relieved that Stan had snapped out of his frenzy, and that Shifty was unharmed. “You did very well, Shifty, thank you. I suppose it was good you came after all.”

Shifty turned into a dog, the way he always did when he was happy, and moved as if to lick Ford’s hand, but he paused. “Sorry, I didn’t ask if I could change -”

“It’s all right, Shifty,” Ford assured him. “You got excited. It happens.”

For the rest of their hike, Ford kept his infrasonic transducer handy, just in case the sound of the water got to Stan again. Luckily he didn’t need it. Doripea helped him grind all their gathered ingredients into a thick paste, which they applied to Stan’s body. Then, and only then, was Stan allowed to get in the lake. Ford couldn’t think of a time he’d been happier to see Stan’s face as he watched his brother resurface from the lake. He helped Stan wring his wet clothes out and put them on, then hugged him, unconcerned about getting soaked himself.

That evening, the three of them all ate dinner together, something they’d never done before, since Stan and Ford had always worn masks around Shifty. Eating at the dinner table was new for Shifty, but he took to table manners well enough. Ford could tell it would take some doing to cure him of talking with his mouth full, though.

“Why didn’t you want me to see your mouths and your noses?” Shifty asked around a mouthful of beef.

“We were trying to protect our identities,” said Ford.

“What’s an identity?”

“Your identity is, well it’s who you are? How do I explain this . . .”

“Let me show you something,” said Stan. He ducked into his room briefly and came out with a shoebox. He pulled a few driver’s licenses out of it. “These are fake IDs. Basically they tell everyone that I’m someone I’m not. They’re lies. And they’re illegal.”

“What’s ‘illegal?’” asked Shifty.

“Only the fun stuff, kid.” With a look from Ford, Stan added, “Kidding, I’m kidding! Lots of illegal things can hurt people. Like killing, that’s bad. So the government will punish you for doing those things. If I stole someone else’s ID, I could steal their money, or do bad things under their name, so they would get in trouble and not me. It’s called identity fraud, and humans take it very seriously.”

“So that’s why we didn’t want you to see any human faces,” said Ford. “Because stealing someone’s identity like that is wrong. Do you understand?”

Shifty nodded. “You don’t want me to lie and pretend like I’m a human.”

“Exactly,” said Ford. “You’ve seen our faces now, so it can’t be helped. But if you want to meet other humans, we need you to promise you won’t take their forms, all right?”

“Okay, I promise,” said Shifty. “I won’t turn into you, or Stan, or any other humans. I won’t lie.”

Ford realized he had every confidence Shifty would keep his word.

The following week went much more smoothly, now that Stan and Ford didn’t have to wear masks so much and could take Shifty with them on field expeditions and into town. It started to feel like Shifty was a third, junior member of their team.

Shifty made it clear he thought of it differently, when one night he asked Ford, “Are you my dad?”

Surprised, Ford put down the Little Critter book he’d been reading to Shifty. He shifted uncomfortably at the beseeching look from the red eyes of Shifty’s true form, which he always reverted to when tired or sleeping. “Ah, not biologically, no. I assume you’re referring to my social role as your caregiver?”

“Yeah. You tuck me in at night, like Little Critter’s dad. And we play during the day, and you take care of me. We love each other.”

Ford was surprised at Shifty’s word choice. He’d always found Shifty interesting, at least, and Ford couldn’t deny he’d become quite invested in Shifty’s welfare, but love? How did you quantify such a thing? How did Shifty even know what that meant?

“Isn’t that how human families work?” asked Shifty.

“I - yes, I suppose. I’m afraid it’s not my area of expertise. I never expected to make a human family of my own. I’m still just trying to be a better brother to Stanley.” Ford adjusted the cushion he sat on, next to the opening of the den Shifty preferred to sleep in, rather than a more traditional bed. “But you, Shifty, you’re not human. Why would you want a human family?”

“I dunno. I thought it would make me happy. We don’t have to be family if you don’t want to.”

Shifty curled around himself, rolling deeper into his den, and Ford felt his heart sink. “I do want you to be happy,” he told Shifty. And that was when he knew Shifty had become more than an experiment to him. He had more than a scientific interest in helping this creature learn and grow. He had felt that way for a long time. “You can call me Dad if you want.”

“Really?” Shifty scrambled out of his den, morphing into a dog as he went. His paws rested on Ford’s shoulders, and he nuzzled his soft, furry head into Ford’s neck. Ford reflexively hugged him back, stroking his pelt. “Thanks, Dad.”

The enormity of it hit him then. He was a father now. Another being depended on him, loved him. He was Shifty’s whole world. And Shifty was his.

Ford hugged him tighter. “I love you, Son,” he said.

“I love you, too. Dad.” said Shifty.

When Shifty called him Dad the next morning at breakfast, Stan raised his eyebrows. “Shifty’s your kid, now?” he asked Ford.

“Last night, I asked if I could call him Dad, and he said yes,” Shifty informed him.

“Really?”

Ford tugged at his collar. “Well, he is a sapient child whom I have grown to care and take responsibility for, so. It is appropriate.”

“Huh. Well, Shifty, if Ford’s your dad, that makes me your fun uncle!” He clapped Shifty on the back. “It’s Uncle Stan from now on, all right, kid?”

Shifty smiled back with Little Critter’s buck-toothed grin. “Okay, Uncle Stan.”

“Mazeltov, Sixer!” said Bill. He summoned some lavender balloons that read, ‘It’s a shapeshifter!’

“Thank you, Bill.”

“Hey, I’m just grateful you’re able to make time for me now you’re a working parent and all.”

“I’m sorry, Bill. I know between Shifty and not having the mechanical help I need -”

Bill waved off his excuses. “I told you, a solution for that is in the works. I just don’t want you getting lost in the weeds with individual specimens while your Grand Unified Theory goes unpublished!”

“Yes, of course. I’ll try harder.”

“And anyway, once you get the portal up and running, you’ll be able to find the dimension Shifty comes from. Think of how much you could learn about his species then! Things you should probably know if you’re trying to raise one of them.”

Ford hung his head. “You’re right. When it comes to figuring out Shifty, and what he needs . . . I’m stumbling around in the dark. He’d probably be happier if we made contact with some of his own kind . . .”

“Yeah, well, for now he’s stuck with you, isn’t he? With any luck, he won’t end up resenting you the way you do your dad, right?”

“Of course not! I would never treat him the way our dad treated us.” Despite his indignation, Ford was forcefully reminded of the inhumane way he’d treated Shifty all of a few weeks before, and was ashamed.

Bill clapped a reassuring hand on his back. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll do your best, Sixer.”

The deep midnight blue of the mindscape abruptly faded away, and another voice called out to Ford.

“Get out of his head!”

“Shhh, Shifty, let him sleep, he never takes a minute to rest like this . . .”

Ford opened his eyes and found Shifty in the form of a badger, scrambling to get out of Stan’s grasp. “Dad!” he said. “Did you tell the monster to go away?”

“He thinks something was attacking your brain while you were asleep,” Stan explained.

Ford shook himself awake, annoyed at himself for messing up his schedule like this. He’d only meant to sit on the couch for a minute or two . . . “Come here, Shifty,” he said, and extended his arms to Stan, who handed Shifty over.

Ford stroked his pelt and assured him, “I’m fine. Nobody was trying to hurt me. I was simply speaking with my Muse.” Really, it was quite extraordinary that Shifty seemed able to sense Bill’s presence. “Sometimes he enters my dreams and helps with my research. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Shifty looked unconvinced. “He made you feel bad. Bad shame wrong. He’s yucky.”

Ford gave an explanation that was close enough to the truth. “We were just talking about some of the obstacles setting back my project. It’s not his fault. How could you tell what I was feeling when I was asleep, anyway?”

Shifty looked confused. “You . . . smelled? No, not a smell. I just felt the, you know, the little waves, they tell you what the feelings are. I can’t feel them when I’m asleep, but I was awake. You were asleep.”

“You have a psychic sense for other people’s emotions?” asked Ford. Of course he did. Looking back, it was so obvious. Shifty had always been so confident when talking about how people felt. Ford really should have noticed sooner. “And that’s how you could sense my Muse’s presence?”

“Yes? Is that not something humans can do?”

Ford shook his head. “We can read facial expressions and body language, but otherwise, the only way we can tell how someone is feeling is if they tell us.”

“Is that why you didn’t trust me at first? Because you couldn’t tell I didn’t want to hurt you?”

“Well, yes,” Ford admitted. “I didn’t realize you were a sapient being and I didn’t know what your abilities were, or how you wanted to use them. So I kept you locked up. I’m sorry.”

“Oh. I thought I had done something wrong. I tried to be good.”

“Oh, Shifty . . .” Ford hugged him closer. “You are good. You’re a wonderful kid. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it.”

Shifty must have sensed how guilty Ford felt, because he said, “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. I know you love me now.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t deserve to be mistreated,” Stan cut in. “You don’t have to take care of Ford’s feelings. He’s a grown up. We should take care of yours.”

“You’re right, Stan,” Ford agreed. “I know we’re at a disadvantage, Shifty, when it comes to supporting you emotionally. I’m bad at dealing with feelings, even by human standards. But I’ll do my best for you. Will you tell me your feelings so I can help you?”

“Okay,” said Shifty. “I wish you had always been my dad. I wish you had never been mean.”

“Me too,” said Ford.

“I’m glad you said sorry, though. I still love you, anyway.”

“I love you, too,” Ford assured him.

“And I still don’t like your muse. He’s mean, and he’s sneaky.”

“I’m not sure I like him either,” Stan concurred. “When you first told me about him, I didn’t really take it seriously. I’m sorry, it was just really weird. But if Shifty can sense him, and he’s actually real, well, all that stuff you said, about how he only picks one brilliant mind a century and all that? If I were trying to con you, that’s exactly the angle I’d go for.”

“But he’s not a con,” Ford said reflexively. “I don’t think I did a good job of explaining him. If you met him in person, you’d see, Bill is amazing.”

“No no no no no,” said Shifty. “I don’t want him in my head! Promise me you won’t let him in my head.”

“Okay, I promise,” said Ford, alarmed by how much this agitated Shifty. “He won’t hurt you, he won’t hurt any of us. Ever.”

Shifty was still wary, but he accepted Ford’s comfort. Ford could tell Stan had more to say on the subject, though, and he did, after Ford had put Shifty to bed.

“Ford, I’m just saying, your mind is a powerful thing. Letting some supernatural creature inside it is no small potatoes. Whatever you’re getting out of this arrangement you got, make sure he’s not short changing you.”

“Of course he’s not! Look, Stan, if you want to see the truth for yourself, there’s a simple spell you can use to follow him into my mind, next time he’s there. You’ll see, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“All right,” Stan said tentatively. “I might do that. But just ask yourself this, Ford, what is this Bill guy getting out of this? Why does he want you to build the portal so badly?”

“Well that’s simple, he . . .” Ford realized he’d never asked Bill that question before, and he’d never volunteered the information himself. But clearly that just meant his motives were pure, right? “He’s a being of the mind, Stan. Scientific discovery is its own reward.”

“Are you serious?” asked Stan. “You’ve never questioned anything he’s said, have you? I thought you were smarter than that.”

Anger flared in Ford, quick and intense. “You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about! This is just like you, to barge into things you don’t understand -”

“Hey, don’t try to turn this around on me. I’m just looking out for you, like I’ve been doing since day one.”

“I can think of at least one glaring exception.”

“Seriously, Stanford? Are you going to hold that one mistake over me for the rest of my life?”

“It just shows you have a history of ruining my work right when it’s about to pay off. You never cared about the things that are important to me, you’re only interested in chasing your cheap thrills.”

“I never cared about what was important to you? I thought I was important to you! You think I went to prison in three different countries just for the fun of it? I did what I had to, just to survive. Which I’ve had to do for over ten years, while you never bothered to stick your nose out of a book long enough to check on your brother.”

Ford’s seething response melted away at the thought of Stanley shivering, Stanley hungry, Stanley alone. “Stanley, I - I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t care about you. These past weeks with you have meant the world to me. You’re right. I should’ve tried to reconnect with you sooner, and - and I shouldn’t still be blaming you for something you did in high school.”

Stan’s gaze shifted down to his feet. “It wasn’t that I didn’t care about your perpetual motion machine. I really didn’t mean to break it, and I should’ve owned up to what I did and told you instead of trying to fix it myself. I may not understand everything about this portal, but I really do want to help you. It’s just that this Bill guy seems fishy to me.”

“And I told you, you have a chance to talk to him yourself. Will you at least try to keep an open mind about him until then?”

“I will, if you try to keep your mind open to the idea that he may not be what he seems.”

“I . . . suppose that’s fair.”

“Now will you please get some sleep? Between the kid and the portal you’ve been running yourself ragged.”

“It’s not so bad as all that.” Ford tried to shrug it off. “I think if I change the alignment on the oscillator I might get a better charge on the clux fapacitor -”

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

“It won’t take that long to test out. Anyway, I got a nap in earlier, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, a ‘nap.’ Looked more like you passed out from sheer exhaustion. You definitely need more sleep.”

“I can sleep when I’ve published my Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness.” And with that, Ford escaped to the basement before Stan could respond.

Ford didn’t want to admit it, but this whole business unsettled him. Stan was the one person he trusted best in all the world, but Bill was his Muse, the one who not only saw what Ford could be, but gave him the tools to achieve it. Now the two seemed to be setting themselves against each other. Ford didn’t want to think of what the outcome would be, should he be forced to choose between them. He could only hope it wouldn’t come to that.

Read the next work in this series

[addercharmer]

Izumi woke up to something on top of her wiggling and a little finger poking her in the cheek. 

She cracked an eye and made eye contact with brilliant gold, Izumi knew that Keigo had been with the commission for a year and a half but she was mildly surprised to see that he hadn't yet lost all life in his eyes. 

"Good morning my rosefinch." She rasps with her lack of clear early morning voice. 

"Morning Izumi-san." Keigo says back perfectly polite. 

Izumi wrinkles her nose, she will not accept that name. 

"Ahhh my rosefinch is too polite!" She cries dramatically, digging her fingers into soft sides and wiggling them. 

Keigo look panicked for all of half a second before he's bursting out in giggles and trying to get away from her fingers. 

Izumi stops when it sounds like Keigo is just about to become breathless. 

"You can call me Izu-nee or nee-chan if you want, hopefully after you talk to the adult about how we make you feel you get to stay with us forever and ever." Izumi tells the little boy seriously. 

A little grumble from Keigo's stomach cuts off any of Izumi's other thoughts. 

"Breakfast it is." She agrees to nothing, some more acrobatics gets Izumi out from under Keigo's weight, once her feet are on the floor she offers her hand to help him get his feet under him as well. 

Izumi leads the winged boy down into the kitchen before settling him at the table. She turns the radio on just loud enough that it's barely background noise as she makes a breakfast of pancakes and fruit. 

The entire time she's cooking she feels Keigo's eyes following her around the kitchen, Izumi just keeps her movements slow and easy, not sure if anything too sudden would spook him. 

"Ta-da!" Izumi exclaims in a normal volume as she places a plate in front of the baby bird. 

Keigo's eyes are wide and he looks slightly panicked as he speaks. "But I'm only supposed to have oats for breakfast." 

The words make Izumi come to a stand still, she takes a quiet breath to calm the rage bubbling in the pit of her stomach. 

"Well that may be so at the commission, but here with me and dad you can eat anything you want." She says, and pokes Keigo in the tip of his nose, then she hastily adds. "Within reason, and it won't kill you." 

"Okay nee-chan." Keigo agrees with a small smile before he's digging in, she makes the cutest little chirps as he eats that Izumi has to take a moment to convince herself not to snatch the boy up and cuddle him for the rest of their lives. 

"Morning pups." Nezu greets when he walks into the kitchen, by the time he's made it to the table Izumi has a plate of breakfast and a cup of tea settled for him as well. 

"Morning dad." Izumi replies, she's not even thinking as she leans over and kisses between the stoat's ears. 

Both of them freeze for a moment before springing back into eating. 

It takes a little for the awkwardness of showing new kinds of affection to die down but when it does Izumi is quick to ask. 

"Dad, I forgot to get curtains and a desk chair for Keigo's room. I also wanted to take him for some new clothes, if that's okay?" There is no hesitation in her voice like there still had been a year ago. 

"Yes, make sure you also invite someone who has a fashion sense." Nezu teases her. 

Rolling her eyes and giving a little huff and makes eye contact with Keigo again. 

"Wanna meet my friend rosefinch?" She asks the boy. Izumi refuses to make him uncomfortable. 

"Sure nee-chan." He nods, then he blushes a little. "Bathroom?" He asks and blushes deeper. 

Izumi jumps to her feet and quickly scoops Keigo into her arms before she takes off at a quick walk to the bathroom on the second level. 

"This is our bathroom rosefinch, not that it's the only one you can use, but most other people won't use this one, we can pick out ideas to decorate it later, I used yellow in the last house but I want us to do it together here." Izumi natters as she takes Keigo into the bathroom and puts him back on his own two feet. 

Just before she closes the door she says. "I'm gonna be in my room, it's right across the hall. You can come get me when your ready." 

Izumi had finished changing and was in the process of throwing her hair up into a messy bun when her door opened, Keigo shuffled into the room, his wings tucked tight to his back. 

"Rosefinch, you okay?" Izumi dropped her hair and went to kneel in front of Keigo.

"I...I need help preening…" Keigo said quietly like he was afraid to ask for help. 

"Ah, I don't know how to do that, but you know who will?" Izumi feels a little stupid for not having researched, she hadn't thought of one of the most necessary things for someone with wings. 

At her question Keigo shakes his head but he's making eye contact now, Izumi counts that as a partial win. 

"Dad will know!" Izumi tries to make it sound exciting. "Dad can teach me how to do it too, and when we are out today we can get anything special we need." 

Izumi stood and offered open arms so Keigo could choose to hold her hand or be carried, the force that Keigo hit her had Izumi rocking backwards and the air quickly escaping  her lungs. 

Securing Keigo in her hold Izumi thanks her past self and Nezu for making sure she did weight training, even with that she didn't think she would be able to carry her rosefinch for long. 

Going down the stairs was a much more difficult experience than going up, it made Izumi all the more thankful for her dance and gymnastics training. 

"Dad." Izumi called as she placed Keigo on the couch. "Our baby bird needs help preening." 

Nezu didn't reply verbally but he did appear by her elbow, the smile on his muzzle was the same gentle one she had gotten used to seeing in her first few months in the past. 

"I was hoping he would." The stoat chirped as he climbed on the couch. "Will you open your wings for me pup?" 

As Keigo opened his left wing Izumi let out a little gasp, part of her had forgotten how brilliant Keigo's wings were on the news, but seeing them in person was incredible. 

"Oh rosefinch, you have the most brilliant wings I've ever seen." She told him as she lightly ran her fingers over the feathers. 

Nezu squeaked out a laugh and he brought his paws up to the wing, first he started running his claws around the joints that connected to Keigo's shoulder blades. 

"No oil glands." He said lightly. "You will need to buy some, we will preen again when you get back to get the feathers moisturized, then again before bed." He told the two. 

Izumi realized that it was now ten o'clock and she should really ask the others about shopping before they finished preening. 

Mouse?Bear?Human?: Are you guys still up for some shopping? 

IBreakGlass: yep! (✿◠‿◠)

LoudAssCloud: sorry parents need me at home

FemFatale: can't sorry（￣^￣）

sleepdeprivedcat: coffee nd ill be there

Mouse?Bear?Human?: Meet at the house?

                                        : It will probably be easier on the baby bird to meet you where he knows he's safe. 

IBreakGlass: be there in half an hour. (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞

sleepdeprivedcat: same 

Izumi shut her phone off and turned her attention back to Nezu and Keigo, they were half finished the wing. 

Izumi paid close attention as Nezu raked his claws through the crimson feathers. Every few seconds he would stop to pull a feather back in line with the others, Izumi grinned at how simple it was. 

"Can I try your other wing rosefinch?" Izumi asks, as she steps around in front of Keigo. 

Once she was behind the boys right wing extended immediately, Izumi hummed happily as she started to take her own fingers through the soft feathers. 

Izumi lost herself to the soothing actions of tidying feathers that when the doorbell rang both herself and Keigo jumped. 

"Yo Nezu-sensei." Hizashi' voice boomed through the house followed by three sets of steps, one soft and quick, the second just as soft as the first but longer between foot falls, the third was loud like they hadn't yet learned not to lead with their heel. 

Izumi kept her hands moving, she didn't want to take them away yet, she also wanted to be within easy reach of her rosefinch in case he needed comfort with the new people. 

Hizashi's gasp and coo had Keigo skittering back towards Izumi, he pressed his back into her front and curled his wings forward. Izumi just wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him tighter to her chest. 

"Keigo, these are my friends." She explained quietly. "The blond is Hizashi, he makes a lot of noise but he's super fun." Keigo wings fall from their protective stance a little. "The one who looks like he could sleep anywhere is Shōta, he's really quiet but really strong." 

Izumi is glad that Keigo's wings have folded as well as they can with her still plastered between the joints. 

"Zashi, Shō, this is Keigo. Isn't the rosefinch the cutest thing you've ever seen." Izumi speaks louder now that Keigo has relaxed. 

"Good reflexes." Shōta grunts, his tone is softer than she had ever heard it before and Izumi can't help but to smile at him. 

"Oh, he is the cutest! I just want to cuddle him!" Hizashi burbles as the two boys step further into the room, his movements are telegraphed and Izumi knows he's trying his best to be non threatening at his ridiculous height. 

Keigo steps away from her, fluffs his wings and refolds them. Then he's looking over his shoulder at Izumi checking for her reaction, she just smiles so Keigo opens his arms much like she had. 

"Ca-can I have a hug?" He asks the two male teens once he's looking at them again. 

Shōta crosses the distance smoothly before wrapping one arm around the boy's shoulder and lightly tugging him forward, Keigo goes with the tug and smooches his face into Shōta's ribs as he wraps his arms around the black haired teens waist. 

Izumi isn't sure what is happening but Shōta's face is turning pink, and she finds the whole thing really sweet. 

Keigo pulls away just after a few moments. Once he's safely distangles from Shōta, Hizashi shoves the sorter teen out of his way and wraps his arms around Keigo's waist and lifts him to settle on his hip. 

Shōta grunts at the push, a glare being directed at Hizashi promising revenge, Izumi can't help the giggle that bursts from her throat. Keigo is looking at Hizashi like the other blond is mildly insane and it just makes Izumi giggles harder. 

"Okay pups, I can take you to the mall, and you can taxi home." Nezu says from where he had stayed partially in the hallway. 

Hizashi refuses to put Keigo back down as they all slip their shoes on and parade themselves to the car. 

The drive sees Keigo struggle away from Hizashi, hitting him a few times with his wings to make his way over to Izumi's lap. 

"Rosefinch, I won't be able to carry you the whole time." She tells him sadly before explaining why. "You're almost as big as me already, one day you'll be able to carry me." 

Keigo looks sad until she points out that with her small size he could carry her when he's older. 

There is a snort from Shōta at the interaction but thankfully he stays quiet. 

[iselsis]

Unholy Matrimony 3

Trigger Warning: attempted sexual assault.

Tim briefly hoped that Oliver Queen had less moral character than Bruce Wayne and would agree to marry a reluctantly submitting thirteen-year-old, but the thought soured in his gut. They say that meeting your heroes is disappointing, how much worse would it be to marry one? He knew that adults mating with kids was bad, but Luthor was bad, and bad people doing bad things was nothing new. Heroes, though…

Tim didn’t want to live in a world where a hero would want a child as a wife. That was just wrong, and heroes weren’t allowed to be wrong like that.

He decided just to start compiling evidence of Mr. Luthor’s more egregious crimes – the dead business rivals, inconvenient employees, and private detectives, along with the swindling and stilted business deals. Those were the things that might actually convince them not to deal with Luthor. Not the fact that he was an extremely horrible person and a credibly accused serial rapist.

He stayed at his laptop for hours, assembling his evidence, and once he felt that he had enough, he finally closed his laptop and looked up.

The first light of dawn was starting to peek in through the gap in his curtains and he groaned. He was definitely going to regret pulling an all nighter later, especially while he was still in heat. At least he’d already been planning on avoiding his parents all day.

As an awareness dawned on him that time and his physical body were both things that, surprisingly, still existed even if he ignored both things indefinitely, he realized that he was hungry.

Tim tapped a nervous pattern with his fingers on the plastic casing of his laptop, weighing his options. He was pretty sure that he had at least half a granola bar stuffed in one of his backpacks, but he was hungrier than that. He wanted real food, which meant going down to the kitchen and running the risk of bumping into his parents. He’d had enough verbal beatdowns over the past days to last him the rest of his life, but they were probably still sleeping at…

Tim glanced at his alarm clock. 6:23. They were probably still asleep.

His stomach growled angrily at him, making the decision. It was a chance he’d have to take. Worse came to worse, he’d get to be told how worthless omegas are and how disappointed they were in him again, as if it were fresh news the hundred thirty-seventh time.

Tim quietly tiptoed across his room and turned the knob. The door swung open without a sound, courtesy of the well-oiled hinges he’d found were a staple of any kid who liked to sneak in and out of his house without getting caught. He could technically climb up the rugged brick exterior of their home, and he could even be doing that now, but it wasn’t a climb he liked to make in the dark, or when he was physically compromised, as he was in heat.

There was no light coming from under his parents’ bedroom, so Tim sneaked silently down the hall to the stairs. He stayed quiet, though less cautiously, as he got farther away.

Two flights of stairs and a hall later, Tim had reached the kitchen. He flipped on the light and made a move for the pantry, only to freeze when he noticed his father glaring at him.

“What are you doing up?” Jack asked brusquely.

Tim blinked twice, recalibrating quickly. “I just like getting up early. Wh-what are you doing up?”

Jack grunted. “Tashkent is nine hours ahead of Gotham. It takes some time to adjust. Of course, having to deal with the fallout of our only heir being an omega hasn’t helped our sleep schedule much.”

Tim wasn’t really sure how he was supposed to respond to that, so he just nodded and tried to look docile and submissive. Jack turned back to the bagel he’d been eating at the window, watching the sunrise, and Tim took that as his chance to sneak into the pantry.

He’d been hoping to be able to sneak a bunch of food back up to his bedroom so that he wouldn’t have to leave for the rest of the day, but with his dad right there, that plan was dashed. Tim stuffed some packaged food into the pockets of his pajama pants, then grabbed a box of cereal and took it to the counter.

He tried not to look directly at his dad while he made himself a giant bowl of cereal. It was more than he’d normally eat, but if he ate it all, and what was in his pockets, he might be able to hole up in his room, at least until his parents went to bed. If they were getting up early, they’d be sleeping early too.

He did have to present his “please don’t make me marry this terrible person, not because you care in anyway for my well being or anything, but because it’ll probably turn out badly for you too” plan, though, and he’d have to do it before anything with Luthor was finalized. He couldn’t hide all day, unless he got it over with now.

Tim sat down at the island and took a few bites, trying to come up with a natural sounding conversation starter that wouldn’t get him berated, but he gave up quickly.

“Dad?” Tim tried.

Jack’s nose wrinkled in disgust, and Tim remembered all the “you’re not our son” stuff.

Tim lowered his head and tried again, trying to keep the hurt out of his tone and scent. “Sir.”

“What?”

Tim poked at his cereal with a waning appetite. “H-Have you decided who I’m going to marry?”

Tim chanced a quick glance to Jack, who seemed annoyed, but not violent as he had been before. Not yet, at least.

“You’ll marry who I tell you to marry, bitch,” Jack snarled.

Tim nodded obediently, then started tapping nervously on the counter.

“Cut that out,” Jack warned, and Tim stopped immediately.

“It’s just-” Tim took a deep breath and raised his head to meet his father’s eyes. “You know that Luthor is suspected of several murders, and of defrauding his business partners, right?”

Jack’s expression briefly flickered to surprise before the glower was back. “If you think that making up things is going to get you out of this-”

“It’s not that!” Tim rushed, and nearly panicked when he realized that he had just interrupted his dad, which would have landed him in a heap of trouble even before he had presented. He had less than five seconds before his dad exploded, though, and then he’d never get a word in edgewise, so Tim just went for it. “I have a lot of evidence on my computer. I’ll show it to you. I’m fine with anyone else, but I don’t think that Luthor is a-”

Jack stood with enough force to send his chair crashing to the floor, and he stormed toward Tim. Tim scrambled off his barstool and backed toward the door, watching his father with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he choked. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, sir, I just-”

Jack grabbed Tim by the throat and slammed him against the doorframe, hard. Tim cried out in pain, a second cry choked off when his dad tightened his grip. Tim could barely breathe, and tears of pain and fear sprang unbidden to his eyes. He can’t hurt me permanently, he wants that money, he can’t hurt me, he can’t hurt me.

That didn’t make it hurt any less as the hard wooden corners jabbed into his back and his father’s fingers dug deep into the flesh of his neck.

“You’ll marry who I tell you to marry, whether you like it or not,” Jack snarled, leaning in close to Tim’s face. Jack stopped, then closed his eyes and put his nose against Tim’s collarbone, right on the scent gland, and took a deep breath. “This, right here, is all you have anymore. This scent and this…” Jack’s free hand came up and rested on Tim’s chest, then began to trail, slowly and uncomfortably, down the front of Tim’s body.

“Dad?” Tim whimpered. Jack’s hand hit the waistband of Tim’s pajama pants and started to toy with it. “Dad?!”

Jack pulled back to look at Tim’s face, a lecherous gleam to his eye to match his vicious grin. His scent was shifting too, becoming muskier and stronger.

His dad was going into rut.

Jack’s hand started to tug Tim’s waistband lower and lower on his hips. “If you’re so scared of what Luthor���s going to do to you, maybe I should give you a preview.”

Tim grabbed his pants and tried to pull them up, but his dad growled at him and tugged more insistently.

“Dad, please don’t do this! Please!” Tim choked out.

Jack pressed his body against Tim’s, pinning him to the doorframe more effectively. His hand slid away from Tim’s throat, and he started sloppily mouthing Tim’s neck. “We wouldn’t want you to be scared when your new husband stakes his claim, would we?”

“Dad, please!” Tim’s protest and struggles were ineffectual. Both of his father’s hands lustily gripped the dips of his waist, the fingers tight enough to bruise, then slowly felt their way down Tim’s sides. He wasn’t going to stop. There was no way to stop him, no way to-

“MOM!” Tim screamed. Jack growled in annoyance and tried to cover Tim’s mouth, but Tim turned in time to scream once more before his dad clapped his hand across Tim’s face.

“Do you think she’s going to help you, Timmy? She might decide to join me in breaking you in,” Jack snapped.

But she wouldn’t, because his mom was a beta and not in rut, and she was smart enough to know that he was worth a lot more as a virgin. It was a big house, but if she had heard him, he might stand a prayer of not getting knotted by his dad. Jack knew that too, or he wouldn’t have covered Tim’s mouth.

Before Jack could resume his groping, Janet Drake rushed into the kitchen from another door. She took one look at Jack, then at Tim, and huffed in frustration.

“Jack, what in the world are you doing?” she snapped, storming over and pulling Jack off of Tim.

Tim’s knees gave out and he collapsed to the floor. He raised his trembling hands to cover his face and the silent tears of fear and relief that he couldn’t stop.

Janet dragged Jack a few paces away, keeping her body between the rutting alpha and the heat-stricken omega. “We offered Luthor a virgin omega. You know as well as I do what happens when people cheat Lex Luthor. If you could keep your instincts in check so that we don’t get ourselves killed, that would be quite satisfactory, dear.”

Jack growled, but it seemed a token protest. He clearly knew that his wife was right.

“I’m sure a little…practice, for the boy, wouldn’t hurt, don’t you think? Just touching,” Jack promised.

The trembling in Tim’s hands spread to the rest of his body and he nearly threw up.

“I’m your son!” Tim cried, unable to stop himself. Didn’t that count for anything?

Jack growled at him, but Janet silenced them both with a disapproving glower.

“Honestly, Timothy, you should have known better than to be around an alpha alone in your state. Why do you think I’ve stayed close to you during your heat? It certainly wasn’t the quality of the company,” Janet scoffed. “Omegas are a temptation to alphas in the best of conditions. In heat, they are nearly irresistible. Add to that the stress your father has been under, and of course he would be in an unfit state of mind. If you didn’t want to be assaulted, then you should have stayed in your room.”

Tim stared at her in horror. “B-but-”

“Go upstairs, Timothy,” Janet sighed.

Janet took Jack by the arm and led him away, leaving Tim a shaking, terrified mess. He had to make three attempts at standing before his ankles and knees agreed to hold him up, and even then, it was only long enough for him to stumble to the sink and vomit up everything he’d eaten.

They knew.

He leaned back, supporting himself with a white knuckled grip on the rim of the sink.

They knew that Luthor was dangerous for them, they had to know that he was also a danger to Tim, and they’d chosen to force him to marry Luthor anyway. There was no way out.

His sides tingled as phantom versions of his father’s hands grabbed his sides slid down to his hips. His stomach churned violently, and he barely leaned forward in time for the bile to land in the sink. He swiped the cuff of his sleeve across his mouth, but caught the scents of fear and rut that lingered where his sleeve had hit his father’s wrist scent gland, and he threw up again.

Finally, when there was truly nothing left in his stomach, Tim stood up. He didn’t rinse out the sink. It was a small, meaningless victory, but one of them would have to do it.

Walking up the stairs felt like climbing a mountain, even though it was only two flights. He couldn’t escape the sensation of his father’s hands sneaking up on him and grabbing him. He couldn’t stop the tears blurring his vision, either.

When he reached the third floor, he took a deep, shuddering breath, rubbing his hands up and down his sides to cover the feeling of hands. It helped, but the phantom fingers went deeper than his hands could hope to.

He practically ran into his bedroom, locked the door, and shoved his desk up against it. With that secure, he rushed into his bedroom and started pulling off his clothes, which he hated because now he was uncovered and even more vulnerable than before, but those clothes smelled unescapably like his father. He shoved them into the trash can, then stuffed a towel over them to stop it up.

Tim turned the water on as hot as it could go, then jumped into the spray and viciously scrubbed everywhere his father had touched, not even stopping when his skin was red and raw. He just wanted it to go away, but he could still feel him.

The tears that had been so quiet and manageable caught in Tim’s throat and he choked on a sob. If he couldn’t even trust his own father not to do this to him, and if he couldn’t trust his mother to save him for anything other than her own benefit, then who could he trust?

The sobs kept coming, wracking his whole body. He wanted to stop, so he could get out and get dressed and hide and not be so vulnerable, but he couldn’t do anything more than huddle miserably on the floor of the shower and cry, even as the burning hot water ran out and turned frigid.

He left his room once the rest of the day. He briefly napped, hidden under his bed, but it was a restless sleep and plagued by nightmares. He didn’t eat, either, but he dumped all the packaged food he’d stolen from the kitchen into his backpack, along with several pairs of dark clothes that would cover almost his whole body, a toothbrush, a sleeping bag, and all of his money.

He waited until he hear his parents in the kitchen for an early dinner, then sneaked into their room, found their wallets. About half of it was in foreign currency that he couldn’t use, but he got nearly three hundred American dollars between the two wallets. He considered taking the cards, too, but decided against it. If he got caught, that was a crime they could prove. They wouldn’t actually be able to prove that the cash he’d taken was theirs and not his allowance. He also found a box of scent blocking patches that his parents wore in business meetings, and took those too.

He quickly went back to his room, locked and barricaded the door, then waited. It was another hour or two before they made their way up to their bedroom. He gave it another hour, until it was nearly dark and he was sure that they were asleep.

Opening the window and swinging out onto the brick footholds for the last time should have felt awful. He should have had second thoughts, and then third and fourth thoughts, until he realized that his parents were not as bad as he thought, and climbed back inside and then never speak of his aborted runaway attempt again.

But it didn’t.

Gotham was a dangerous city, especially for packless children and omegas, but it was far more home than his house was. Gotham, for all its faults, would hide him from his parents, and his marriage. He could do odd jobs, maybe forge some papers and pretend to be older than he was to get hired some place, or even just steal. It didn’t even matter anymore, but he was never letting an alpha touch him again.

[eviesmyspiritanimal]

The Most Dangerous Game

Summary: Evie, Mal, Uma, Audrey, Jane, and Lonnie play a game of Truth or Dare. However, when Uma goes a little too far trying to be cool, she hurts Audrey’s feelings terribly and has to make things right. Full of friendship feels, humor, and a little bit of angst. 

  “Hey, do we have all of our stuff?” Evie inquired, and Mal looked back at her best friend, smiling and offering her a thumbs-up.

  “Yeah. Me and Uma moved the coffee table and Audrey and Jane went and got all the pillows. Right now all we’re missing is Lonnie, and when she’s here, we’re set,” Mal answered, and Evie nodded approvingly, joining Mal, Jane, Audrey, and Uma in the living room.

  The girls were all working to set things up so that they could have a girls’ night sleepover. At this point, they were only waiting for Lonnie to arrive. They had a whole night of fun planned, and they were going to start the evening with a fine match of truth or dare before binge-watching one of Evie’s old Western-like series that Evie and Jane so enjoyed.

  Of course, Uma liked them, too, despite the fact that she didn’t want to admit it. Mal mostly watched them just because Evie liked them; Audrey didn’t like them at all, but for the sake of spending time with the group, she put aside her feelings; and in their experience, Lonnie was mostly good with anything that they watched.

  “Hey, she just texted saying she was close and wouldn’t be long,” Audrey supplied helpfully, and Uma shrugged as she plopped down on the rug alongside the daughter of the Fairy Godmother.

  “If she takes too much longer, we’re going to need to start without her. I’m ready to jump right into the fun,” Uma proclaimed, grinning widely as she rubbed her hands together conspiratorially and settled her gaze on Jane. Jane suddenly looked quite worried indeed, and Audrey rolled her eyes.

  “That’s just because you’re looking forward to trying to embarrass us all,” Audrey told her, and Uma shrugged.

  “Perhaps. But you guys were the ones that invited me over here,” Uma explained with a wave of her finger, and Audrey scoffed as Mal and Evie sat down on the floor with Jane and Uma.

  “You invited yourself, in case you didn’t remember,” Audrey shot back, and Uma smirked, her dark brown gaze alight with mischief.

  “No, I didn’t. I distinctly remember you, Evie, and Mal talking about having a girls’ night sleepover,” Uma informed her smugly, and Audrey shook her head.

  “That’s what we were doing, talking about a girls’ night sleepover. But you were never part of our talking.”

  “I could’ve sworn you did. Meh. Maybe it was just the undertones of the conversation screaming, ‘Uma! We need you to make this boring thing exciting!’” Uma called in a little voice, mimicking the supposed sound. Evie chuckled at the pirate, and Mal laughed as well. Audrey rolled her eyes, a hint of fondness in her gaze, and she looked at Uma.

  “We were doing fine, thank you very much,” Audrey replied, and just as Uma started to keep talking, someone came in the door.

  They all turned around, and to their happiness, they saw Lonnie. She grinned widely, waving at the group.

  “What’s up, peeps?” Lonnie greeted the lot of them, holding up two fingers in a peace sign as she wiped her feet at the door. She then headed over to the group, standing there and looking down at them.

  “Good to see you waited on me,” Lonnie expressed with a smile, and Evie nodded swiftly.

  “Of course we did! We couldn’t do it without you,” Evie sweetly informed her. Uma rolled her eyes with a huff.

  “Uma wanted to start without you, but we wouldn’t let it happen,” Audrey told Lonnie, and Uma laughed, shaking her head at the pink princess.

  “You are such a tattle-tale. It’s just unbelievable,” Uma spoke her thoughts aloud. Truthfully, she wasn’t particularly bothered by the fact that Audrey had told on her. Uma really didn’t care what Lonnie thought about her. However, she did care about aggravating Audrey when she could.

  “I am not a tattle-tale! I’m a truth-teller!” Audrey proclaimed, and Lonnie suddenly looked very interested in this exchange as she looked between the girls.

  “Tattle-tale,” Uma replied, and Audrey narrowed her eyes.

  “Truth-teller!”

  “Tattle-tale.”

  “Truth-teller!”

  “Tattle-tale.”

  “I’m telling you, I’m a truth-teller!!!!”

  “Hey, hey, shut up,” Mal told them, trying to get the girls to behave in front of Lonnie and so that they could actually play the game sometime soon.

  “Just calm down some. Let’s be chill,” Evie explained to them carefully, placing her hand on Audrey’s arm, and Lonnie chuckled at the entire ordeal. It was very entertaining for her to see Audrey get so upset about something and for someone to keep pushing her buttons even through that.

  Audrey huffed, and Uma just smiled widely as she looked at the other girl. She mouthed the words to Audrey again, and Audrey just sneered in response. Uma just smiled widely.

  Lonnie could tell that Audrey obviously wasn’t very upset because she would not have let go of the situation so easily. And despite the fact that Uma didn’t look like it, Lonnie could tell the pirate didn’t mean her words. There was always an ever-present hint of teasing in her tone.

  So, because of these things, Uma and Audrey’s relationship was very intriguing to Lonnie. And she found that she felt like testing it a little with this upcoming game of Truth or Dare.

  “Wow, you two are like oil and water. How do you tolerate each other?” Lonnie questioned as she sat down with the other girls. Uma shrugged as she looked at Lonnie.

  “We don’t,” Uma told her simply, and Audrey couldn’t help but grin a little.

  “And that’s the secret to our friendship,” Audrey explained, a hint of pride in her voice. However, Uma raised an eyebrow at the princess, and she laughed a little.

  “Well, if we had one, of course,” Uma responded, and Audrey’s gaze snapped to Uma’s swiftly. Uma smirked, ignoring the princess. Audrey swallowed, pushing away the initial hurt at that statement in favor of taking it more gracefully. She straightened and attempted to distract herself from the entire thing.

  “Okay, guys, let’s start our Truth or Dare match,” Mal suggested.

  “Remember, we each get two passes, but after that, we have to agree to whatever dare or tell whatever truth,” Evie informed them all, and they all expressed varying forms of agreement.

  “Lonnie, you wanna go first?” Mal offered.

  “Why, thank you for the honors,” Lonnie replied with a wide grin before looking at the group of girls and working to make her decision on who she would start the match with. Her gaze finally settled on Uma, and the pirate raised an eyebrow.

  “Alright! I’m going to say, Uma, truth or dare?” Lonnie made her choice.

  “Dare. I ain’t scared,” Uma shot back confidently.

  “Okay. I dare you to sit on Audrey’s lap for the rest of the game,” Lonnie told her, a wild grin on her face as she gave Uma the challenge.

  Uma shared a somewhat surprised and reluctant gland with Audrey, but, not willing to risk her reputation, willingly headed over and plopped down on Audrey’s legs. Audrey scrunched her nose in disgust, leaning back as far as she could and using her hands to support her.

  “Whatchu looking disgusted for?” Uma questioned somewhat accusingly, and Audrey furrowed her brow.

  “I don’t know. Could it possibly have something to do with the fact that you’re way closer than I ever wanted you to be?” Audrey sarcastically asked, and Uma rolled her eyes, starting to argue with the girl.

  Mal raised an eyebrow at Lonnie, and the daughter of Mulan just shrugged carefreely in response.

  “I honestly think you just did that to start a fight,” Mal claimed, knowing that Uma and Audrey weren’t really even paying attention. Also, she had noticed that Lonnie had been getting a lot of enjoyment out of Audrey and Uma’s bickering dynamic.

  “Maybe. But they really are absolutely hilarious,” Lonnie expressed her thoughts, chuckling as she watched the other two girls’ bickering.

  “Tell that to someone who hasn’t been on three trips with them,” Mal replied, and Evie nodded wholeheartedly, raising her eyebrows as Audrey smacked Uma’s arm.

  “Dang, no need to get physical with me! Jeez!” Uma held her hands up in defense of herself, and Audrey hmphed in response. Uma rolled her eyes but returned her gaze to the rest of the girls.

  “Alright, my turn now….”

  “Joy, joy… Who gets to be the lucky duck, I wonder?” Audrey questioned aloud, and Uma shot her a glare.

  “Well, since you’re being that way about it, it won’t be you,” Uma informed her, and Audrey frowned in reply. Uma ran her gaze over the other girls in their group. She quietly weighed and considered her options, and she finally settled on the quietest person in the entire group.

  “Jane, truth or dare?”

  “Truth.”

  “Where do you buy your thongs?” Uma questioned, and Jane’s eyes went wide as she took in the other girl’s question.

  “Pass!” Jane squeaked, and Uma grinned.

  “Aw, man… I actually was curious about that,” Lonnie genuinely expressed, and Uma looked at her somewhat strangely.

  “Okay, number one, I was pretty sure it was a mostly well-guarded secret, so how does she know about Jane’s thongs? And number two, out of what dumpster did you get her?” Uma questioned as she looked at Mal, Evie, and Jane, jabbing a thumb at Lonnie, and Lonnie just grinned good-naturedly.

  “Welp, number one, I accidentally saw them on the floor when I visited her and Audrey’s dorm. And number two, I’m straight from out behind Victoria’s Secret, Captain, My Captain,” Lonnie replied, offering a playful salute, and Uma raised an eyebrow at her but smirked slightly, enjoying the comeback.

  “Huh. It’s good to see that at least a few of you Auradon girls have some bite,” Uma complimented in that strange yet sincere way of hers. Audrey furrowed her brow, looking between the both of them somewhat offendedly.

  “What do you mean? I’m bitey!”

  “Oh, please. You’re the biggest chicken I’ve ever seen. A total wuss,” Uma said, waving a hand at the girl dismissively, and Audrey just looked at her but didn’t say anything. Evie looked at the pink princess and couldn’t help but note that Audrey looked the slightest bit hurt.

  Evie looked over at Mal, trying to silently communicate her suspicions about the other girl, and Mal immediately caught on.

  “Okay, Jane, you ask somebody,” Mal spoke up, catching Evie’s glance and at least somewhat understanding the situation. Of course, Mal could easily see that Audrey was not in a particularly happy sort of way.

  “Umm…. Truth or dare…. Audrey?” Jane questioned, and Audrey sighed in irritation.

  “Dare,” she answered, heavily unimpressed.

  “Okay… Uh… I dare you to… point at the person you least like in this room,” Jane spoke up, and Audrey immediately pointed at Uma from her position underneath the pirate. Uma glanced back at Audrey and her jaw fell a bit slack as she took in where the princess’s finger was directed.

  “Aw, now that’s just rude,” Uma spoke, shaking her head in a reprimanding gesture.

  “You deserve it,” Audrey huffily told her, and Uma just raised her eyebrows, looking at Lonnie and Mal with a shrug.

  “Princesses,” Uma declared, and Lonnie nodded, a playful look in her eyes. Mal almost nodded, but she suddenly felt Evie’s weight pushing against her side. Mal shifted her gaze to Evie and quickly noticed that the other girl was staring at her, an eyebrow raised. Mal just grinned guiltily at her, squeezing the bluenette’s arm affectionately.

  “Mal, truth or dare?” Audrey asked quickly, not really relishing the entire game, and Mal leaned her head against Evie’s.

  “Truth.”

  “Is it true that Uma’s always been this irritating?” Audrey asked, and Uma glared at the princess.

  “Why are you attacking me?” Uma shot back at Audrey, trying to understand the princess’s sudden meanness. Audrey just ignored Uma in favor of staring at Mal.

  “Answer it, Mal,” Audrey commanded, and Mal awkwardly looked between the two of them.

  “Well, she’s always been sarcastic… I’m not sure irritating’s the right word for it, though,” Mal very cautiously replied to Audrey, and Uma just crossed her arms over her chest as Audrey shifted underneath her.

  “Okay, anyways… Truth or dare, E?” Mal questioned, and Evie shrugged.

  “Dare,” Evie picked, figuring that Mal wouldn’t likely come up with anything too bad for her. Mal smiled wickedly, and Evie immediately knew that she had made the wrong choice.

  “I dare you to lick Uma’s foot.”

  “Pass,” Evie replied, and Mal chuckled.

  “Okay, then,” Mal permitted, and Evie smiled widely, coming up with a good idea.

  “M, truth or dare?”

  “Dare.”

  “I dare you to lick Uma’s foot.”

  “This is the one thing that I’m actually going to have to pass on,” Mal replied, and Evie smiled slyly at her best friend.

  “Alright… Truth or dare… Lonnie?” Mal asked, and Lonnie looked over at the other girl, that carefree expression on her face as she gazed at the faerie.

  “Truth. Nothing to hide here,” Lonnie effortlessly made her choice.

  “What’s your deepest, darkest secret?” Mal asked immediately, taking her opportunity to potentially draw something out of the other girl.

  “Not thongs, I hope,” Uma piped up, and Lonnie grinned widely, enjoying the pirate’s sass. Audrey, on the other hand, looked much less pleased.

  In fact, Audrey was very hurt. She couldn’t believe that Uma would do this to her, and quite honestly, she was also sort of jealous of Lonnie. The girl had just marched in and immediately made Uma like her while Audrey had to work at Uma and chip away her defenses over time to finally worm her way into Uma’s affections.

  She felt that it just wasn’t fair to her, and that feeling was primarily what had been guiding her actions.

  “Nope. Not thongs. I guess my deepest, darkest secret is that I have a pair of lucky socks that I’ve had since I was eight, and I’ve never washed them,” Lonnie answered simply, and Mal looked at her somewhat skeptically. For some reason, Mal had a feeling that Lonnie was dodging what her true deepest secret was. Something about the way her eyes shifted somewhat nervously away from Jane’s hinted this to the faerie. However, she decided ultimately to let it go.

  “I bet it’s not a secret to anyone who comes very close to your dresser,” Uma quipped, and Lonnie laughed heartily. Evie snorted, enjoying the joke, and Mal couldn’t help but laugh at the sound. Evie’s laugh always did end up making Mal laugh in turn.

  “It probably wouldn’t be if I actually put my socks in the dresser,” Lonnie responded, and Uma tilted her head curiously.

  “Where do you put them?”

  “Welp, that’s going to have to wait for another time that I pick truth,” Lonnie shrugged, and Uma smirked, raising an eyebrow at Lonnie with a chuckle.

  “Nice,” Uma complimented, and Audrey growled under her breath as she shifted her gaze between the two of them.

  “Okay… Evie, truth or dare?”

  “Dare. I’m not too scared,” Evie assured her, and Mal smiled, unable to help finding pleasure in her prior dare for Evie.

  “I dare you and Mal to sit apart from each other for the rest of the match. And not to talk to each other,” Lonnie dared them, and Uma’s eyes widened as she looked at the two girls.

  “Wow… I couldn’t have thought of a more despicable dare for those two if I tried,” Uma expressed, impressed with Lonnie, and Audrey was exceedingly irritated now.

  “Yeah. I know they won’t be able to last,” Lonnie replied, and Uma smirked, nodding as she wholeheartedly agreed with the statement.

  Evie looked at Mal in horror, taking the faerie’s hands in her own immediately. Evie was completely unable to imagine not being close to Mal or talking to her best friend for a whole match of Truth or Dare. However, Mal’s eyes were narrowed as she looked at the girls.

  “Don’t pass, E. We’ve got to prove them wrong,” Mal gently commanded the bluenette, and Evie gaped at Mal as if she had completely lost her mind.

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously,” Mal replied, looking at Evie somewhat painedly. They shared a long glance, and Mal hugged Evie tightly.

  “I’m going to miss you,” Evie tenderly spoke in a whine, and Mal nodded, swallowing as she squeezed Evie.

  “Me, too,” Mal told the bluenette, and Uma rolled her eyes as she clapped her hands.

  “Move it, y’all. No time for all that Mevie sappy crap,” Uma hurried them, and Mal separated from Evie as she scooted to the opposite side of their circle. Evie gazed at her in sadness and disappointment.

  “Wow. You truly have earned my respect. You successfully separated the inseparable. And I should know because that’s like parting the Red Sea without Moses,” Uma informed her, and Lonnie chuckled, starting to respond to the pirate captain. However, she was swiftly interrupted by Audrey.

  “What do you know about the Bible, you demon?” Audrey shot at the pirate in aggravation, taking the opportunity to attack Uma once again.

  “What is your problem?” Uma questioned in shock, surprised at Audrey’s sudden malicious behavior. Audrey just furrowed her brow, looking away in irritation, and Uma looked at her somewhat strangely before turning back to speak to the rest of them.

  “Uma, truth or dare?” Evie questioned after a long moment, and Uma shrugged.

  “Dare.”

  “I dare you to tell Mal that I really miss her a whole lot, more than anything, and I know we’ve only been apart for a few moments, but I don’t think I can last a whole match without her,” Evie expressed, lying down on the rug as she dramatically gazed over at Uma and Mal.

  Uma furrowed her brow and looked at Mal.

  “You get all that?” Uma questioned, and Mal nodded, her eyes only on Evie.

  “Uma, tell Evie that I miss her, too, and I hope we can get back together soon,” Mal spoke aloud, not even glancing at Uma, and Uma rolled her eyes, opening her mouth to speak, but quickly finding herself interrupted.

  “Uma, tell Mal that I love her more than anything and that I wish she was beside me so I could hug her,” Evie expressed, lying on her back and looking at Mal upside down as she effectively put on her full dramatic show of protest.

  “Uma, tell Evie that I---”

  “Okay, look, I’m pretty sure this isn’t how the dare works,” Uma informed them, and the two best friends sighed deeply.

  However, Evie’s eyes widened as she got an idea, and she leaned over to Uma, whispering in her ear.

  “Tell Mal I think I figured out a way around the dare!” Evie told the pirate, and Uma groaned deeply before turning to the faerie.

  “She thinks she figured out a way around the dare,” Uma informed Mal shortly, unimpressed with the sudden change of plans that Evie had enacted. Mal brightened and she leaned over, whispering to Uma.

  “Tell Evie that’s great and that I’m happy we can talk to each other some way or another,” Mal expressed, and Uma rolled her eyes, looking at Evie as she got a particularly genius idea.

  “She thinks you need to shut up because you’re driving me crazy,” Uma told Evie, and the bluenette raised her eyebrows as she looked at Mal. Mal looked at Uma in some offense. Lonnie immediately laughed like a nutcase at the comment, and Uma grinned victoriously at the other girl before looking at Mal and Evie with a bit more seriousness.

  “What?!” Evie yelped dumbfoundedly, and Mal shook her head swiftly.

  “I definitely didn’t say that! Uma!” Mal added the pirate’s name as an afterthought, trying to avoid breaking the rules of her and Evie’s dare.

  “Let’s just move on, why don’t we?” Uma suggested with a false smile. Evie furrowed her brow, about to say something else, but Lonnie interrupted.

  “Sure thing, boss. Your turn,” Lonnie easily pointed to the captain, and Audrey scoffed, rolling her eyes in annoyance as she mentally called Lonnie a multitude of names.

  “Good. Somebody that shows some respect. Now, Jane, truth or dare?” Uma asked, and Mal couldn’t help but wonder if Uma was purposefully targeting Jane for some particular reason.

  “Truth.”

  “How far have you and Carlos gone?” Uma questioned, and Jane immediately turned red as a beet. Evie gasped at the implications, and Mal couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Jane’s face. Audrey only looked slightly interested whereas Lonnie looked as if this was the most fascinating thing that she had heard asked in her entire life.

  “Pass!”

  “Yep. That’s a sign that she for sure went too far,” Uma pointed out, grinning widely.

  “You should know,” Audrey murmured under her breath, and Uma couldn’t help but feel a bit of anger flare in her. Audrey knew better than thinking that Uma went too far. Uma had expressed otherwise, and it was well-known that Uma was honest about those sorts of things.

  “No! That’s not it at all!” Jane squeaked in horror, and Uma laughed, deciding to let go of her irritation with Audrey in order to just enjoy Jane’s embarrassment even though she was mostly sure that Jane had not done anything extreme with Carlos just yet.

  “Sure thing,” Uma replied, unable to resist picking on the fairy just a bit.

  “Really!” Jane assured her, and Uma smiled wickedly before waving at Jane to take her turn. Jane looked at her for a really long time before glancing over at Mal.

  “Mal, truth or dare?”

  “Truth. I don’t want a dare like Evie got.”

  “Do you still like Harry Hook?” Jane questioned, truthfully at a loss as to what to ask Mal. Mal shook her head.

  “No. I mean, he’s hot and all, but no, I don’t,” Mal answered easily, and Jane nodded simply, the answer sufficient for her. Mal, knowing it was her turn, shifted her gaze to look at the other girls. She immediately saw that Audrey was still very much upset-looking, and she knew well who had caused the princess’s ailing. So, Mal then looked to Uma with a bit of a smile building upon her face.

  “Truth or dare, Uma?” Mal asked, finally having an idea as to how to perhaps fix the entire issue with Audrey and the pirate. Uma looked at Mal, raising an eyebrow.

  “Truth. I ain’t scared of squat.”

  “How do you really feel about Audrey?” Mal questioned, and Audrey’s gaze immediately snapped to Uma’s back. Mal really hoped Uma would answer this one honestly.

  However, to her dread, Uma just smirked.

  “Pass,” Uma proclaimed with a laugh. After only a moment of silence, Audrey suddenly sprang into action. She shoved Uma’s back forward and because Uma was so surprised, she didn’t even have a moment to prepare for the sudden movement.

  As soon as Uma had fallen off of the other girl’s lap, Audrey got to her feet and glared down at Uma, tears forming in her eyes.

  “What is wrong with you?!” Audrey screeched, and Uma just stared at her in shock, blinking at the princess.

  “It’s one thing to be tough, but it’s a whole other to be downright insensitive, you horrible sea witch!” Audrey insulted, and Uma raised her eyebrows in surprise.

  “I can’t believe we even hang out! And I especially can’t believe I ever wanted to be friends with someone as evil as you!” Audrey cried out, insulting Uma, and the pirate captain gaped at Audrey in shock. Audrey then proceeded to turn on her heel and storm out of the room into the hall, slamming a door behind her.

  Uma blinked in pure bewilderment, still lying there on the floor where Audrey had left her, and she slowly looked at the other girls.

  “What… Was… That?” Uma questioned slowly, and Evie sighed, looking in Audrey’s direction sorrowfully before looking back at Uma.

  “She’s been really upset with you since we started this game. Didn’t your sensitive side pick up on that?” Evie questioned, gazing at Uma.

  “Or do you not have one of those?” Mal questioned only somewhat bitingly as she tried and failed to bring a bit of levity to the situation. Uma narrowed her eyes at Mal.

  “Oh, I do. We just haven’t spoken for quite some time,” Uma replied, sarcasm dripping from her every word.

  Lonnie chuckled a bit, shrugging as she tried to alleviate some of the tension.

  “Well, it’ll probably be alright. I’ve known her for a while, and when she gets upset like this, she’ll usually blow over after about an hour or less. It’s called the Princess Temper Tantrum. It’s been around since she was the ripe old age of four,” Lonnie explained, and Uma furrowed her brow, looking in the direction that Audrey had left in. After a moment, she shook her head.

  “I haven’t obviously known her as long as you have, but I do know when she’s really and truly upset about something,” Uma claimed, and Lonnie hummed in response, not quite sure what to say to that. Uma sighed before standing up and looking at the other girls.

  “I’m going to go and see what’s going on. Y’all give us a sec. We shouldn’t be too long,” Uma told the group, and they all nodded. However, Evie started scooting on the rug from her reclined position as she tried to worm her way closer to Mal.

  “Oh, and you two bozos stick to your dare,” Uma informed Mal and Evie, and Evie just shot her a halfhearted scowl in reply before gazing at Mal sweetly.

  Uma smirked for a moment, but it quickly faded as she headed down the hall, listening carefully for Audrey. She truthfully didn’t really know what had upset the other girl so badly, and, no offense to Lonnie, she honestly didn’t know how anybody could think that this would blow over in an hour or less.

  Uma knew Audrey, and she had dealt with her enough in the comparatively short period of time that she had known her to be able to tell the difference between one of the so-called “Princess Temper Tantrums” and true hurt.

  Before long, she heard a muffled sob in Evie’s bedroom, and she paused before the door. Uma took a deep breath and she very carefully took hold of the doorknob, turning it carefully. To her relief, it was unlocked, so she could enter easily.

  Uma opened the door quietly, and she quickly found Audrey’s pink-clad form on Evie’s bed. Uma couldn’t help but think of all the dramatic princesses she had heard about in her lifetime as she looked at Audrey, but she held her tongue in the way of smart comments to instead make sincere inquiry.

  “So, uh… You wanna tell me what just happened?” Uma questioned tentatively as she shut the door behind her. Audrey barely looked up from her position thrown upon the bed.

  “Darn it, I should’ve locked the door,” Audrey scolded herself, her voice thick with emotion, and Uma chuckled humorlessly.

  “Granted, you probably should’ve. That is the best way to keep people out, after all,” Uma acknowledged, and Audrey just stayed silent, ignoring the pirate.

  “So, what’s the problem with you?”

  “Me?! I think you should be asking that about you!” Audrey proclaimed, the hurt evident in her voice and Uma sighed slightly, not sure where this was going, but willing to follow so that she could figure out what was wrong.

  “What’s the problem with me, then?” Uma asked patiently, and Audrey breathed out hard in irritation.

  “Well, besides the fact that you’re intolerable when egged on, you just totally started acting like you were better than me. Like back when we first met,” Audrey told her, and Uma furrowed her brow, stepping closer as she looked at the pink princess lying there in a heap on the bed.

  “Is that why you were attacking me so hard back there?” Uma questioned, and Audrey sniffled. Uma felt a pang of regret and guilt hit her hard, and she swallowed hard, trying to keep that feeling at bay.

  “It hurt, Uma. We do a lot of things together, and sometimes we’re downright crappy to each other, but I guess I thought I meant more to you than that,” Audrey spoke, her voice muffled yet understandable enough to Uma. Uma tilted her head slightly, moving nearer to the bed.

  “Than what?” Uma asked.

  “Than liking Lonnie better than me immediately and just leaving me in the dirt,” Audrey replied, and Uma huffed, grinning fondly at the other girl as she spoke up.

  “Aw, c’mon, Princess, you know there’s nobody I love to aggravate more than you---”

  “You’ve made that much clear,” Audrey shortly replied, her voice snippy yet raw as she laid there on Evie’s bed.

  Uma stopped immediately in her words, realizing that she really had hurt Audrey deeper than just the surface. She must have really hit a tender spot in the other girl. Uma sighed deeply, knowing that she was going to have to give more than the usual laughing, joking apology.

  The pirate captain moved forward and sat on the bed. After a moment of thinking it over, she flopped down, her body draped across Audrey’s legs.

  Audrey huffed in surprise but didn’t retaliate with anything violent as Uma had been afraid that she might.

  “Audrey… I respect toughness. I like tough people because I can relate to them. It’s easier for me to understand because I’ve always been in touch with my tough side,” Uma explained, and Audrey didn’t reply, allowing the pirate to speak.

  “And I like Lonnie. She’s capable of handling herself, and she seems like a good sparring partner in the way of verbal battle,” Uma added, moving her hand in a gesture to accentuate her words. She was quiet for a moment, trying to compose her next words.

  “If this is your way of making me feel better, you suck,” Audrey informed her, and Uma couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “Yeah. I suck,” Uma agreed, closing her eyes as she tried to convert her feelings to words. Unfortunately, this was something that she was extremely bad at, but she wanted to tell Audrey the truth.

  “Can I revoke a pass in Truth or Dare?” Uma asked after a long moment, and Audrey made a noncommittal noise. Uma let out a puff of air, deciding that she would take that answer as a yes.

  “The truth is that you’re the only person that I’d ever want to aggravate. But not because you react so hilariously. Because,” Uma trailed off, breathing deeply as she tried to find how to word this.

  “Because you’re the only person I want that kind of relationship with. You’re the only person I can really let loose on without fear it’s going to spark some kind of real rage or dig up some old hatchets,” Uma described, and she paused for a moment, trying to take this down a more meaningful road.

  “Audrey, you’re the only person that I can really be myself to the fullest with except Harry and Gil. And… I love you for it. And I know this whole thing sucked, but I’m trying---”

  “No. No, it didn’t suck,” Audrey told her, her voice coming through somewhat thickly but very strongly through the bedsheets where her face was currently hidden. Audrey turned her head to the side and moved a little so that her body was crooked so she could look at Uma.

  Uma painedly took in the sight of Audrey’s black mascara where it had stained her cheeks, and she felt her stomach lurch at the sight. It really did hurt Uma to see Audrey genuinely upset about something.

  “It means a lot,” Audrey expressed, and Uma allowed the corners of her lips to quirk ever so slightly. Uma looked over where Audrey’s hand was hidden, and after a few moments of trepidation, she reached her hand out to the other girl, her palm extended.

  Audrey’s gaze shifted to Uma’s hand and she hesitantly pulled her own hand out from under her head to take Uma’s. Uma felt a little piece of her uplift a bit from this uncomfortably pained place it had found itself in.

  “You’re my friend, Audrey. One of my best friends, actually. And nobody’s taking your place,” Uma simply told her, not sure what exactly to say to make things right. Audrey smiled a somewhat watery grin at her, and Uma felt her heart swell, glad to see that the princess seemed better.

  “You’re my best friend, Uma,” Audrey expressed, and Uma grinned happily, feeling her heart mend completely with the words. She knew now that Audrey felt much better about the entire ordeal, and Uma had obviously not completely failed in her admission.

  The two just stood there smiling at each other for a long moment until Uma cleared her throat, realizing it was getting a little too emotional for her liking.

  “Umm… Did I mention you had a turd-shaped place in my heart?” Uma asked, and Audrey narrowed her eyes. Uma smirked, seeing that fond look in Audrey’s eyes still and also noticing she hadn’t yet removed her hand from Uma’s.

  “Seriously?” Audrey questioned, completely unimpressed, and Uma chuckled, taking it as a sign to keep going with her jokes.

  “Yeah! Y’know, like one of those little poop emojis with the weird smiley face on it and everything?”

  Audrey chose that moment to move her foot sharply upward and jab Uma in the back. Uma laughed, reaching back with her free hand and grabbing Audrey’s leg firmly in an attempt to keep her from kicking any longer.

  “Alright, alright, I’ve stopped. Don’t go abusing me yet again,” Uma told her, sitting up, and Audrey just rolled her eyes fondly as she moved in an upright position to mirror Uma.

  Uma looked at Audrey for a moment, sobering and losing her laugh. Audrey returned her gaze, and Uma reached over, hugging Audrey carefully. Audrey reciprocated the gesture easily, and Uma could feel her smile against her thin tee-shirt.

  “I’m sorry,” Uma apologized, and Audrey nodded easily. Uma gave her one last squeeze before releasing and scooting back at the distance that she was used to being with Audrey.

  “Let’s go get you cleaned up and then we’ll rejoin the match. I’ve got something good planned,” Uma told the princess, and Audrey smiled.

  “Do tell,” Audrey replied with a smirk, and Uma proceeded to explain.

  After a few more minutes, they eventually reemerged from the bathroom and came into the living room where the girls were gathered on Evie’s rug. However, they weren’t quite ready for the sight they were about to experience.

  There before them, Jane was trying to hold onto Evie and keep her from reaching out to Mal, and Lonnie had grabbed hold of Mal and was trying to keep her from touching Evie’s hand.

  “Oh, thank goodness you two are back! They’re trying to go back on the dare!” Lonnie told them, almost rolling on her back as Mal suddenly lurched forward toward Evie.

  “No space between!” Mal called in a manner not dissimilar to a stirring battle cry.

  “NEVER!!!” Evie cried in reply, and Uma could tell that Mal was partially just trying to take everyone’s attention off of Uma and Audrey’s situation in the other room. However, she could also tell that a fair amount of Mal’s actions were actually because she wanted to be close to Evie again.

  “Don’t worry, Big Ears and Buttcrack Lip, I’ve got you covered,” Uma addressed Mal and Evie. “I’m going to pick my truth or dare victim--- I mean, participant--- and then I propose we start on our movies,” Uma suggested to the group. They all easily nodded, and Evie looked longingly at Mal before they both stopped fighting Lonnie and Jane.

  “Okay… Truth or dare, Jane?” Uma questioned as Audrey sat down beneath her, allowing Uma to plop down on her lap.

  “And don’t forget, you’re all out of passes,” Uma reminded her, waggling her eyebrows. Jane looked positively horrified, but she sighed, giving her choice.

  “I’m going to pick dare because your truths are just embarrassing!” Jane told Uma, and the pirate grinned widely as she narrowed her eyes at the fairy.

  “Alright. I dare you to run through the castle,” Uma told her simply, and Jane sighed in relief, allowing a bit of a grin to come onto her face. Uma smirked slightly, looking back at Audrey slyly, and the princess returned the expression.

  “That doesn’t sound so bad---”

  “Just in your thongs and your bra,” Uma finished, and Jane’s eyes went ridiculously wide, and if Uma hadn’t have known better, she’d almost think Jane’s eyes were about to fall out of her head.

  There was a long period of silence before Uma clapped her hands once.

  “Good game! Now let’s watch Evie’s ancient Five Mile Creek series,” Uma proclaimed, getting up and off of Audrey as she plopped down on the nearby couch. Audrey quickly joined her as well. Evie wasted no time in barreling into Mal, Mal laughing at the other girl joyfully. Evie then stood up, helping Mal up as well before they both snuggled closely on a couch. Lonnie got up from her place on the ground and joined Uma and Audrey on the sofa as well.

  Jane looked at the other girls in horror, and as they all realized she was the last one in the floor, they cracked up laughing.

  Poor Jane had really stuck her foot in it this time, but as Uma and Audrey shared a glance, they couldn’t help but let any pity or humor they had in regard to Jane dissipate as they found themselves truly thankful that they were friends.

      ………………………………………………………………………………………………………

         “Excuse me! Coming through! Please don’t look!!!” Jane cried as she ran through the castle, glowing red as she flew as fast as she could. She didn’t want anyone to see her longer than she had to let them, and if the look on the staff’s faces was anything to go by, they didn’t want to see her at all.

  Uma was on her trail, ensuring that she actually went through with the dare, and Jane was absolutely mortified because she was ninety-nine percent certain that Uma was videoing the entire thing.

  So far, Jane had made it all the way up to the hall where Jay and Carlos lived, and she was really hoping that they wouldn’t be in it. So far, the girl had not run into anyone that she knew personally, and she found herself quite lucky.

  However, her luck was about to run out as she rounded a corner and found Carlos, Jay, Harry, Gil, and Ben walking through the hallway.

  Her eyes went wide and she hurried faster as she shot past them like a flash. They all turned around, gaping at her in horror.

  “DON’T LOOK, CARLOS!!!” Jane cried, and Carlos’s eyes went wide as he did indeed look.

  “Was that JANE?!!!” he squeaked, and Jay burst into laughter. Uma just flew past them, ignoring the bunch in favor of following the fairy girl.

  “That’s the palest thin’ I’ve e’er seen!” Harry called, and Ben covered his own eyes swiftly, trying to avoid seeing one of his childhood friends nearly naked.

  “Hey, Harry, what’s that thing she’s wearing?” Gil questioned.

  “Underpants, Gilly!” Harry cackled. Gil furrowed his brow in confusion.

  “I think she needs some new ones because those don’t cover her behind too well,” Gil told him innocently, and Harry snorted, holding his stomach as he fell into hysterics.

  “Man, I never thought I’d actually see that!” Jay cackled joyfully as he slapped Carlos on the back, and Carlos looked as if he might faint as he looked at Jay strangely.

  “How did you know about it?!” he asked somewhat breathlessly, not sure if he could stand entirely upright on his own.

  “Audrey told me!”

  “Why were you and Audrey talking about my girlfriend’s very inappropriate, frightening underwear choice?” Carlos questioned, reaching over and grabbing Jay’s shoulder in an attempt to keep from falling down in the midst of his sheer surprise and mortification.

  “It came up,” Jay simply replied, trying to talk between laughs.

  “How does my girlfriend’s underwear just come up?!” Jay opened his mouth with an evil look in his eye, about to answer, but Carlos shook his head. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

  Jane finally rounded the corner, getting away from the five of them, and just as she thought she had gotten away from all sources of embarrassment, she ran into her mother. Fairy Godmother’s jaw dropped in pure astoundment, and Jane rushed away.

  “I’M SORRY, MOM!” Jane cried as she ran away. Fairy Godmother watched her go, her eyes wide in total surprise. Uma slowed down to a stop as she stood next to Fairy Godmother, figuring that she’d take a break for just a moment.

  “Bibbidi Bobbidi THONGS!!!” Fairy Godmother yelped, and Uma laughed a bit as she sniffed hard.

  “Eh, you think that’s bad, wait til’ you find out that she sleeps in the nude,” Uma told the other woman, waggling her eyebrows before chasing after Jane.

  Fairy Godmother just stood there, completely bumfuzzled for several moments as she gaped at the two girls running through the hall ahead of her. However, just as Jane was about to turn another corner, she called out loudly in mortification.

  “JANE! WE NEED TO HAVE A SERIOUS TALK ABOUT YOUR CHOICE IN UNDERWEAR!!!”

[thearcanaartificer]

BIRBLIAN FEEL FIX

Title: Of Fools and Bird Monsters

Characters: Julian Devorak (Birblian) and The Fool (MC technically)

Rating: T

Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2180

Note: Finally posted it on AO3. I will post a link for those who want to read it there when I get to a real computer. The phone app is a little dumb about edits. This is a different twist on the Reverse Ending. But not exactly. I just wanted to write angsty Birblian. There will probably be more shorts on this couple, but for now, it’s just this one.

—————————–

“Sweetie, no!” She ran towards him, grabbing at his taloned hands and pulling them away from his wings. She was already too late and there was a large amount of feathers in his clutched claws.

She pouted as she lightly smacked the back of his hand, clicking her tongue in disappointment as she stood on her tiptoes to inspect the spot. He had been plucking again. Her gaze went to his face and he refused to meet hers, a stubborn look on his face as he gloomily stared off into the distance. He was distressed. She knew this. Birds plucked at their feathers when they were stressed out and apparently seven feet tall bird monsters were no different.

She felt terrible for him, she really did. She couldn’t imagine anyone worth all this pain he endured. He was still changing, little by little, though there wasn’t much left to change, she supposed, and him being with her had slowed the process down to a near stop. A few things had changed- more feathers in a few select places- but, thankfully, nothing else.

She forced her fingers into his grip, making him relax it and released the plucked obsidian feathers, her eyes going from her work back up to his face. She was so small. She had to crane her neck way back to even look at his face, but she did. She did it every time because eye contact was important and she wanted him to know that she saw him. She gave him a stern look, one filled with resolution.

“Birdie, I will go get the mittens if you keep doing this. Do you want that?” The way she spoke told him an answer was mandatory.

“N…no…” His voice was so quiet. It felt… off to her. She felt like he should have a voice that could fill a room. A boisterous tenor with jovial tones. But instead, it was small, quiet, and often raspy, like he had forgotten how to use it.

He probably had. She had found him all by himself in a swamp one day when she had been wandering about the magic realms. She knew that she wasn’t supposed to go into other people’s realms. The other Arcana were never happy with her when she wandered through their realms without their permission, but… what could she say? The Fool’s path is of improvisation, of spontaneity, and of believing that the universe will lead them to where they are to go. And as The Fool, she did just that. Wandered right into a swamp realm with an overgrown, gloomy bar and line of faceless golems (who she doubted looked faceless to the intended victim) tormenting a large bird monster. And he seemed to be trying to find the bottom of an endless barrel of alcohol.

It didn’t take much for her to decide what to do with this bizarre situation. She had been alone for so long and, well, she decided he had been alone (mean golems did not count as company!) long enough too. Only, he had seemed very determined to remain in this realm of torment… so… she… well, threatened him.

She was not proud of how she got him to come with her, but what was done was done. As long as he believed her threat, well, that’s all that mattered. One day he’d realize she never would make good on it, not without his permission, but she hoped that it was when his head was a little clearer. When he was doing better. Right now, he’s still a mess.

“Doesn’t it hurt? To do that?” She held his taloned hand, rubbing her calloused thumb over the scaly skin of his wrist.

“…No… ah… uh… maybe?” He didn’t seem sure. He didn’t like looking at her. He was still quite sore at her, but too frightened of her threat still to see there was no bite to it.

“Bend down, I want to look at where you plucked. I don’t want you getting another infection after we just took care of your poor oil glands.” It really wasn’t fair she was so small.

He didn’t do as she asked right away, but she reached up and tugged at his upper arms to get him to concede. He heaved a sigh as he bent his legs and ended up sitting so she could properly see. She tried not to pout at the fact that he had two feet in height over her.

“Good boy.” She knew to praise him when he listened. Despite how much he acted like he didn’t care, to hear those words always caused his feathers to lay smooth- the tension in his form a little less than before.

She ran her fingers through his feathers. They were dull, tattered, brittle in some spots, and a little matted despite having helped wash him after they had returned to her realm. If he’d let her help him preen… but he hardly let her help him with anything without a fight. She continued her inspection. He had gotten quite a few handfuls before she caught him and he had some bald patches from his plucking. The feathers would grow back, but he was going to be uncomfortable as they did.

“Poor dear. You did quite the number on yourself, Sweetie, you’re still bleeding a bit. Come on, let’s get you inside so I can treat you.” She tugged at his claws again, inspecting them a bit too. “And your talons seem to be regenerating again. I’ll file them down again, if you want.”

Upon returning to her realm, she had conjured up a nice little bungalow and farm for him to enjoy, rooms accommodating to his unique features. Typically she didn’t mind the wide empty lands for her to roam, but he seemed to need something a little more… stable. She even made sure to include nice commodities such as a spacious water closet with a large bathtub, a bed big enough for his wingspan, an impressive library, and a huge kitchen.

“Ye… yes, please.” That was the only thing that got her a little perkiness- filing his talons. He didn’t like the possibility of hurting others, even if it was her.

“Then I’d be happy to do that for you. Right after I take care of your ouchie.” She smiled at him, to enforce that she wanted him to be happy.

She hadn’t stolen him away from that place because of anything malignant. It was a bad place where he was being hurt by others and himself. Yes, she forced him here, to this place where she could take care of him and let him heal, because he had been in no cognitive shape to know what was good for him. He seemed determined to stay in that toxic environment, like some sort of self-flagellating martyr.

“Don’t…” His words trailed off, but she was patient. She watched him as his storm grey eyes shifted about as he found the words he wanted to say. “Don’t fret… over the… over the… Just… file my… th-the talons…”

“Nonsense, Birdie,” she tugged at his claw, pulling him to stand lest she drag him there with her surprisingly impressive strength. “If you are hurt, you need to take care of the ouchie, lest it get infected. Since you don’t seem up to the task, I will easily and happily assist you! So don’t worry about it! I can do both!”

She reassured him with a toothy smile. He sighed, but didn’t argue with her. She patted the back of his taloned hand, lacing the fingers of her closest hand between his and holding it assuringly. He didn’t fight and she took it as a good sign.

Once inside, he sat on the floor. She pouted a bit, but relented to it because otherwise she’d have to stand on a chair. It was a purposeful, noverbal jab at her height. He did this from time to time when he thought he could get away with it and, goodness, he was good at hitting her where it hurt.

“Ah! So thoughtful, Sweetie! Now stay still while I go get some supplies.” She pretended that was where she wanted him all along. His poker face was fantastic, but his wings gave away his disappointment. Brat.

It didn’t take her long to find her things and return. Normally, being that she was The Fool, she’d use her magic to heal a wound like this, but with Birdie- that was a big no. He didn’t like magic. It made him uncomfortable and he would cringe away from it, so, for now, she did things the non-magical way. She hadn’t conjured up anything since adding this place to her realm’s design.

“Birdie stop!” She shouted, dropping the things she had just collected to lunge at him. She grabbed his wrist and stopped him before he could yank out more feathers.

He jolted, glossed over eyes clearing a bit as he realized what he had been doing. He had the decency to at least look abashed for starting up so soon after a reproach. She hadn’t even yet tended to his previous one. She gave him a long, stern look, eyes watering up a bit because it was just so sad to her how stressed he was. How terrible his body dysphoria was. She was trying to help but healing took time and patience, and this was merely the beginning of a long journey.

“M-mittens.” She said with a waver in her tone. She was trying not to cry. “Until you don’t mindlessly do this to yourself.”

He looked at his other scaled hand, thinking as she continued to hold his other hand by the wrist. There were two paths he could take. She was The Fool. She knew a thing or two about choices. He could either fight her about wearing the mittens (because she knew they made him feel stupid and co-dependant, unfortunate side effects to the treatment) or he could concede and stop the bad habit from developing further.

She could tell he was thinking long and hard about his options. It was an important hurdle, no matter how small it might have seemed to others. To help aid in his own healing or to struggle against the assistance.

His free hand raised habitually as he thought and as she was about to shout again, because he was reaching up to pluck out more feathers as he thought, he startled, suddenly aware of what he had been about to do. His scaly hand dropped into his lap with a thunk. He sighed and his wings sagged down with his shoulders.

If her hearing hadn’t been as excellent as it was, she might have missed the quiet word of ‘mittens’ mumbled under his breath as he took his wrist out of her hold to lace it with his other taloned hand to keep them from trouble.

She didn’t hide her elation as she swooped down a bit to place a happy kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.” She told him earnestly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

His feathers fluffed up as he looked anywhere but at her, completely flustered by her entire reaction. He didn’t understand why she was so happy as she bound away once more to go get those awful mittens. He conceded, is all, to the fact that it was a problem- especially if he would keep getting scolded by her for it. The tiny thing was relentless about it and it was annoying.

She returned quickly enough with mittens in tow and he made no movement against her placing his taloned hands into the thick quilted mittens that allowed him no dexterous use of his hands at all and even allowed her to secure the velcro at the wrists so he could not shake them off. She smiled the whole time, elated that he had let her. He didn’t know why her smile made him feel funny, so he avoided looking at her.

“I’ll still file your claws, don’t worry.” She reassured him, “But first let me tend to your injuries. Oh, thank you, Birdie! Thank you for letting me help!”

His feathers puffed out further and he made a sort of bird noise. It was embarrassing. All of it. He didn’t get why it made her so happy… but her smile was nice to see, he supposed. He could wear the mittens for a little while, to at least placate her a bit.

She was almost done with tending to his small infliction when she spoke again. “Can I preen you too?!”

Having nice blunt talons be damned, he escaped her quickly. He used the wings attached to his back to knock her over so she couldn’t immediately give chase, and retreated into his given bedroom and sat in front of the door after securing it shut. He could hear her whine as he barred her from following, but he stayed seated there, sulking indignantly at her comment. Could she preen him? Hmph.

“Birdieeeeeeeee~”

[marmaladedtoast]

Cross posted from AO3

"And of course it was completely ridiculous. So I said-" Crowley cut himself off as he watched Aziraphale try to surreptitiously scratch his back against the doorjamb again. Normally, he would just move and help scratch the itch, but this wasn't the first time he had done that today.

He had knocked over a pile of books earlier without even touching them when he had turned around today too.

"Go on, my dear," Aziraphale called as he went back to puttering around the bookshop. "I'm listening."

"What? Oh, that." He waved his hand dismissively. "Not important, forgot all about it. Are you alright?"

Aziraphale started, taken surprise by either the question or how quickly he had shifted to it. "Of course I'm alright. Why wouldn't I be?"

Crowley pursed his lips before he decided he really didn't have the patience for this game today. "What's wrong with your wings, angel?"

See, the thing was, Crowley knew wings. He was nearly an expert on them. Most of the demons got rid of their wings when they fell, a sort of last fuck you to the Almighty. But not all of them. Crowley certainly hadn't, and he took pride in caring for them, black feathers and all.

The other demons who kept their wings... didn't take such good care of them. Most took a strange kind of pride in keeping their wings nasty and disheveled, but there was only so far that could go before it stopped being aesthetic and started being supremely painful.

And most demons had let it laps so long that they had forgotten how to care for them at all.

All of this is to say that even after the botched end of the world and his general banishment from hell, Beelzebub still showed up at his flat at least once a year for him to do up her feathers.

So he knew the signs of someone who had gone too long between preenings.

Aziraphale, for his part, didn't know about Crowley's expertise, but he wasn't arguing the point. He was just shifting self-consciously from foot to foot.

"They're just a little itchy, my dear. It's a bit hard to reach the back ones."

"You want me to help?" The question was innocent enough, but Aziraphale looked at him like he had been electrocuted. Crowley instantly realized the problem.

Just because he was used to platonic grooming, didn't mean Aziraphale was. And allopreening was, and always would be, one of the most intimate things two angels could do together.

That didn't mean they didn't share a certain intimacy. They had been together for decades, faced the end of the world together, but they were still an angel and a demon.

Wings were a part of an angel or demon's true form. They were fairly sensitive limbs- made to sense the changing winds. Exposing them to anyone, letting another person grab handfuls of feathers, it was the most vulnerable they could be.

After the apocalypse, their relationship had become more defined, but Crowley had always preened his feathers himself. His snake form gave him more joints that just happened to help him take care of his remaining angelic limbs. He had always just assumed Aziraphale had his own routine, and he didn't need any help.

Now he was thinking Aziraphale hadn't been ready for this... step in their relationship.

"I'm not trying to pressure you, angel, just... just wanna help."

Aziraphale had been avoiding his gaze, and it was actually starting to hurt Crowley's feelings a bit, but then he finally broke the silence. "I don't want you to see."

Crowley cocked his head in confusion. "What?"

"It's... it's just been a long time. I didn't... I've never been good at taking care of them myself. We used to, well, I suppose they still do, but, anyway, I used to go to the department heaven had specifically for this sort of thing. They used a sort of... comb thing. Took care of it all rather quickly, actually, but now..."

He trailed off and Crowley stared at him in shock. "Angel, are you telling me you have not had your wings properly groomed since the apocalypse?"

"Well, a few months before, technically."

"That was five years ago!"

"I am well aware," Aziraphale snapped, his voice threatening towards a whine.

"Why haven't you just asked them-"

"Don't you think I have?!"

Crowley stepped back like he had been slapped. Aziraphale crossed his arms and glared at the floor.

"You... Aziraphale, are you telling me heaven has... denied you help grooming your wings?"

Aziraphale just shrugged.

That was amazingly cruel. Not even hell would do that to a person. It was... abhorrent. He knew better than most how uncared for wings could fester, but he had no doubts that those bastards in heaven knew exactly what would happen.  

"...let me help. Please."

Aziraphale wrung his hands together.

Five years. Crowley couldn't even imagine. Couldn't believe he hadn't noticed until now.

"It's... it's rather bad, my dear. I really.... I'll figure out how to take care of it."

"Angel, I've helped demons take care of their wings. I'm sure I've seen worse."

Aziraphale looked up at that, but he still seemed wary. "Did you really?"

"Well, my kind didn't exactly have a whole department for this sort of thing. Somebody had to do it."

"I suppose... if you're really sure?"

Crowley moved closer and pulled Aziraphale close, cradling his face between his hands. "I would wade through holy water for you. I think I can manage a little grooming."

Aziraphale chuckled just a little and pressed his forehead against Crowley's. "Alright," he whispered.

The trouble with grooming angel wings was that they couldn't just be miracled clean. The wings were themselves made of a kind of miracle, so they resisted any miracle-ing. You needed to care for them the old fashioned way or not at all.

And, as with all things, the old fashioned way took a lot of time.

So they closed the shop and moved upstairs. Crowley brought a chair from the kitchen and set it up in the middle of the room.

It wouldn't be the most comfortable situation, but it was the most practical. If Aziraphale laid down on the bed, he wouldn't be able to easily reach the underside of his feathers, and an actual armchair wouldn't be work at all.

Aziraphale didn't fuss about the seating arrangement, just sat backwards on the chair and leaned his head against the back of the chair. He took a deep breath and then he unfurled his wings.

"O-oh," Crowley gasped before he could stop himself.

Aziraphale sat straight up and drew his wings in close to his body. "Oh, I told you this was a bad idea!"

"No, no!" Crowley nearly tripped over himself to place a comforting hand on his angel. "I just realized I forgot some stuff we'll need. I've seen way worse."

He hadn't.

Aziraphale's once pristine, white wings were now a dingy gray. Crowley might have been worried about the state of his lover's soul, but he was pretty sure it was dirt, and not an indication that he was falling from grace. Nearly every feather was split and kinked out of place, or just plain broken, and there was... there was a smell. He had seen all of these things at one point or another, but never all on the same set of wings.

He had worked in hell for six thousand years, and he had never seen torture like this.

But he could hardly say that. Aziraphale was clearly embarrassed, but Crowley could not stand by now that he knew about this. So he miracled himself a chair, a warm bowl of water, a towel, and sat down to work.

"Is that a bowl of water?" Aziraphale asked, craning his neck to try and see behind him properly.

"Yes of course it's a bowl of water, what else would it be?"

Aziraphale pouted, his wings drawing up close to his back. "Crowley, I hate getting my wings wet!"

"....Clearly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Crowley sighed and ran a hand experimentally through Aziraphale's feathers. "Angel, a lot of this could be fixed with a bath."

"... I tried a dust bath."

Well that would explain the grayness. He dislodged a few broken feathers absentmindedly as he tried to figure out the best way to fix this mess. He didn't want to make the angel more uncomfortable than he already was, but there was really no way around it. "I need to use at least a little water, angel. Can't clean 'em properly if I don't."

"It just feels so... icky."

The demon fought to think of a solution that would let him fix Aziraphale's wings without making him upset. "Well, maybe I can waterproof them first and then-"

"No!" Aziraphale jumped from the chair as Crowley's hands got close to his oil glands. Crowley snatched his hands away like he had been burned and looked up at the skittish angel.

He wouldn't say anything, but this constant rejection hurt more than a little bit. He didn't understand why he was having to work so hard just to take care of Aziraphale. He didn't understand why Aziraphale wouldn't let Crowley touch him.

Clearly the angel didn't trust him as much as he thought.

The hurt must have shown, because Aziraphale's face crumpled.

"I didn't mean... Oh, Crowley, I'm sorry, I... it just hurts so much! Please don't try to use any oil. I can't..."

Crowley frowned so hard he was a bit worried he might get wrinkles. "Your oil glands hurt?"

"Horrendously. But only if they're touched."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. He needed to stay calm. "Alright. Angel, I need you to go lie down on the bed so I can look at them."

"Do you really have to?"

"Now, Assssiraphale," Crowley snapped. Aziraphale startled, but shuffled over to the bed, his damaged wings twitching nervously.

Crowley didn't want to be mean, but that wasn't something he could just ignore.

There were few things in the universe that could actually cause an angel or demon to become sick. Really, properly sick. Wasting away, rotting from the inside out, sick.

An infected oil gland was one of those things.

Crowley knelt next to Aziraphale on the bed and gingerly pushed away the feathers to look. He wanted to comfort the angel, but he couldn't find the words. All he could do was hold his breath.

He knew how to groom wings but that didn't make him a doctor. There was only so much he could do if it had gone past a certain point.

He didn't know what they would do if it was bad.

The feathers parted and Crowley let out the breath he had been holding. It was bad. It was still really bad. But it didn't look infected.

Crowley gently pressed a finger against the swollen gland to gauge the reaction. Aziraphale yelped and arched off the bed. The sound felt like a punch to the gut, but Crowley had to ignore the feeling. He was going to have to cause Aziraphale pain to help him, no matter how much the very thought of hurting the angel hurt Crowley.

Making soothing noises, Crowley brought his fingers up to eye level and rubbed them together. There wasn't a drop of oil on them.

"They're impacted," he said softly, rubbing at the space between Aziraphale's wings. "But I don't think they're infected."

"Can you fix it?"

"Yeah, I should be able to..." Crowley's eyes snapped towards movement, and he parted some errant feathers to confirm his suspicions. "Sssson of a bitch."

"What? What's wrong?"

"You have mitessss." He should have suspected at least that part. For whatever reason, the space where wings were kept when not in use was also home to itty bitty bugs. And as annoying as it was, interdimensional mites were a common affliction.

He had thought it was the out of place feathers that had been causing the itching, but it had probably been these bastards.

"Oh good lord!" Aziraphale slammed his face into the mattress and covered his head with his hands.

"It'sss fine, angel. Juss-" he stopped and took a deep breath, trying to reign in his hiss. "Just another thing. I can fix it. It'll just... take a while."

He made the water he had miracled much, much hotter and dipped the cloth into the water. The first thing he had to deal with was the impacted glands. Those were causing Aziraphale actual pain. Everything else was just discomfort.

He placed the damp cloth over the left wing gland and ran his fingers through Aziraphale's hair.

"Ah, hot," Aziraphale muttered, but he didn't arch away in pain again, so Crowley counted that a win. He looked over his shoulder and glared at the damp cloth. "My sweater's going to get wet."

Crowley rolled his eyes and miracled the garment away, ignoring Aziraphale's resulting squeak.

They sat that way in silence for a while as Crowley waited for the impacted oil in the gland to soften from the heat.

Aziraphale peeked at him over his shoulder again. "I'm sorry, my dear," he murmured "I should have asked for help sooner, and now everything's... well, I've made quite the mess of my wings."

"You didn't know I groomed wings," he replied, just as softly.

"It's not about that. We... we've been together for a long time. I should have asked you for help. As my partner."

Crowley pursed his lips. He couldn't really argue about that. He couldn't pretend that he hadn't been hurt that Aziraphale hadn't even considered him with things this bad. But he still understood. A bit.

"Well, I could have brought it up. Asked you for help, too, instead of just taking care of it myself." He took Aziraphale's hand and squeezed. "We could make this a regular thing. If you wanted."

Aziraphale chuckled and squeezed Crowley's hand back. "That sounds nice." He shifted his wing and winced. "Fixing this is going to hurt, isn't it?"

"Probably." Crowley lifted the cloth and prodded at the gland. Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut, but he didn't jump, so it seemed like it had softened up as much as it was going to. "Ok, angel, I'm gonna try and clear this one out. I need you to not move, ok?"

The angel nodded and took two fistfuls of the bedding under him. Crowley took a deep breath, and then squeezed.

Aziraphale screamed, but the blockage was coming out.

The glands were up near the joint where the wing met the back, and they were hard to reach. Since Aziraphale hadn't been grooming his wings, the oil the gland had produced hadn't had anywhere to go. Trapped in the gland, the oil had solidified and gone bad.

A nasty, yellow sludge crept out of the gland and smelled like the depths of hell, but it was coming out. Crowley grit his teeth and kept pressing until his fingers were coated in clear, clean oil.

He pulled away and miracled the soiled cloth to the farthest point away from them as he could think of. That point being a particularly nasty pit of hell. They probably wouldn't even notice, really.

Aziraphale had done his best not to move, but at some point he had half curled into a fetal position. Crowley murmured comforting nonsense as he rubbed the tight muscles of Aziraphale's back, trying to ease the pain he had caused.

"I can't do it again, Crowley, I can't. Please don't do that again. Please don't."

Crowley was surprised he didn't break right in half at the sound of the angel's broken pleas. "It's almost done, love. Just one more."

"I can't, I can't, I can't."

"We can take a little break," he soothed. "We don't need to go again right away. But we have to take care of it. You know that. We're lucky they're not infected already."

Aziraphale didn't respond, he was shaking and Crowley wasn't sure he even could respond at this point.

It wasn't the best angle, but Crowley started to do some standard grooming, pulling out the broken feathers and straightening the crooked ones.

It didn't really count, since he still needed to deal with the mites before he could actually put the feathers in place, but it would feel good, and he needed something to draw Aziraphale out of the memory of pain.

He was a demon, pain was kind of their thing, and for all that Crowley had worked to avoid that part of the job, he still knew how to cause it. And to cause pain properly, you needed to know what things made pain a distant memory.

Crowley ran his fingers down individual feathers, occasionally reuniting barbules to smooth down a feather and fix a split, but mostly he was just... petting. He watched Aziraphale's body language carefully, waiting for him to uncurl and for his muscles to relax.

It felt like an eternity, but eventually the angel did uncurl, turning boneless under Crowley's ministrations.

"Does that feel better, angel?"

"Hmm," he blinked up at him, dazed. "Oh, yes, it feels... quite nice, really. I might fall asleep."

He chuckled and stopped going through the feathers. "Not just yet, angel." He had put another hot cloth over his other wing when Aziraphale had started to relax, and he removed that now so he could look at the impacted gland.

Aziraphale stiffened up again, and Crowley waited for him to relax against the bed again.

"I won't start until you say," he said softly.

The angel took a shuddering breath, but he didn't give Crowley the go ahead, so he still waited. He could have been worried that Aziraphale would never be ready; that he would try and avoid fixing his other oil gland because he knew how much it would hurt, but Crowley knew he wasn't stupid. It was a problem that needed to be taken care of, and they would take care of it.

Just as soon as Aziraphale was ready.

"Alright," he said, with only a slight tremor to his voice. "I'm ready."

Crowley squeezed.

The second time went better than the first, if only because Aziraphale passed out. It took a lot to make an angel or demon pass out, but extreme pain in a sensitive part of their true body would do it pretty good.

Crowley was just glad Aziraphale wouldn't have to feel the pain anymore.

He cleaned out the gland, thinking murderous thoughts about heaven. He didn't want another apocalypse; humans didn't deserve to die over a fight between heaven and hell, but if he got the chance to storm heaven's gates, he wouldn't exactly say no.

This was cruel. This was a death sentence that was so much worse than hellfire or holy water. A slow and rotting death that no one ever deserved.

But it was over now. They had dealt with it in time and Crowley would never let Aziraphale get to this point again. He would never hurt like this again.

With both glands cleaned out, Crowley arranged Aziraphale's wings and covered him with his favorite blanket. They still had a lot of work to do, but they both needed a break.

Crowley didn't care how long it took, he was going to make sure his angel was happy and healthy.

Crowley had miracled Aziraphale a more comfortable chair. Something that was more like a massage chair, but with a place for him to set a book. Crowley was currently bug hunting, and he couldn't tell you how long he had been doing it. It was monotonous work, but he was determined to win the war.

Aziraphale had one of his favorite books, but he would stop reading every once in a while to talk to Crowley.

"So how often do you... do this? For other demons?"

"Hmm?" Crowley looked away from the mite he was chasing and swore under his breath as it escaped. "Usually at least once a year. Most demons like the disheveled look, so they don't ask too often."

"No, I can understand. It certainly takes a long time."

Crowley snorted. "It doesn't normally take this long, angel. I just can't get rid of the mites the way I normally do."

"How do you normally do it?"

"Burn 'em off with hellfire."

"Ah. Well, yes, that wouldn't work here, I suppose." He turned back to his book, but Crowley could tell he was still feeling tense. It was all through his wings.

"I actually haven't ever fully groomed wings that aren't mine. They just ask me to fix, like, you know, a few broken feathers or something and then leave."

"Oh," Aziraphale said brightly. He twisted his head to look at Crowley. "It would be okay if it was more, of course. I know it's purely a professional courtesy."

Crowley pressed a kiss to the nape of Aziraphale's neck as a response and they lapsed back into a more comfortable silence.

Once he was sure he had crushed every last damned bug that had the misfortune to think it could make Aziraphale's wings its home, he moved to the actual preening.

He trailed his hands through the feathers, seeking anything out of place. He ran his fingers along every barb on every feather, from the primaries to the coverts, going back and coating them in oil once they were in their proper place.

Aziraphale sighed and melted into the chair. Crowley was sure the pain and itching was taken care of, and for the first time in who knows how long, the angel could finally, truly relax.

Crowley wanted to catalog every spot that made Aziraphale sigh, every ticklish and sensitive spot, but he knew that his wings must be getting oversensitive. He couldn't give an exact number, but he knew this process had taken at least a couple of days. Having anyone's hands in your wings for days, no matter how gentle, would get to be too much. So he did his best not to linger.

"There," he said, finally. "Good as new." He sat back to admire his handiwork. Aziraphale's wings had been restored to their white, shining glory, not a pinion out of place. It was his best work yet, if he did say so himself.

Aziraphale pulled them close to his back and they winked out of existence. He rolled his shoulders experimentally, a grin spreading across his face.

"Thank you, my dear. That feels so much better."

"Let's not wait five years to to it again."

Aziraphale pulled him close and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "No, I don't think we will.... I could do up yours tomorrow, if you wanted."

Crowley smiled and wrapped his arms around his angel, a coy smile playing on his lips. "I think I could clear a place in my schedule."

[d2diamond]

Love thy neighbor

Mark had an itch under his skin. It wasn’t unfamiliar to him. He got this way whenever his scent wore off the things he wanted to keep close. The door frame to his apartment, his favorite hoodie, the doormat that belonged to his cute omega neighbor. Okay, that last one really wasn’t his to mark, but he couldn’t help it. His neighbor was HOT and smelled DIVINE! Seriously, how does an omega smell that good and not have a mate? It just didn’t make sense. Someone should be pampering, caring for, courting that absolutely fine specimen of a man and Mark really, REALLY wanted it to be him.

Except, said omega, was … well, not the traditional type. Said he didn’t need a mate, didn’t want to be courted, was perfectly fine on his own.

That didn’t stop Mark from rubbing his wrist glands along the door frame on occasion. Or stop him from gathering enough oils from his glands to press into the doormat, so that the cute guy would have traces of his alpha scent on his shoes.

Okay, admittedly, marking the guy's shoes probably wasn’t going to do much, but his choices were limited here. The omega had outright rejected the hoodie, what was he supposed to do?

It was just after one-ish in the afternoon, and Mark pushed his glands into the worn wood to make sure the scent lingered in the hopes of warding off unwelcome alphas and maybe to entice a particular firey omega neighbor. When done, he moved across the hall to the other’s when the door suddenly opened.

“Mark? You weren’t about to mark my door frame… again, were you?” Narrow blue eyes glared into brown.

“Um… no?”

“We’ve been over this, damnit, I don’t need your scent, I do just fine on my own.”

“I know! But, you know, if you ever WANT my scent, I would be more than happy to share!” Mark said with a lopsided grin.

Those narrow eyes looked the alpha up and down before the omega turned back into his apartment — the click of a lock indicating the door being secured.

Mark stood for only a moment before he quickly swiped his arm across the wood of the omega’s door before he made a hasty retreat into his own apartment.

[mldrgrl]

Not Again: Part 2

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG13 Summary: See Part 1

Part 2: Returned Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4, Day 4:

Scully can’t sleep.  For one thing, she’s uncomfortable, but for another, she can’t turn her mind off.  She doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s worried about Mulder.  She doesn’t like the thought of him in the middle of the ocean on an oil rig with a partner she’s not sure she can trust to watch his back.

Two o’clock rolls around and she hasn’t been able to keep her eyes closed more than a minute or two, so she gets up and logs into her work email to get a head start on things that might be waiting for her.  There’s an email from Mulder in there, time-stamped at 6:43 p.m.

Scully -

If you get bored tomorrow and need something less mindless to do, I thought you might want to take a look at the photos of the body that washed up in Texas.  Does it look like death from explosion to you?  This has black oil written all over it, Scully, I can feel it.

They’re sending the body to Quantico sometime tonight.  Maybe you can make a call and get the autopsy report.

Good luck either way.  I wish I could be with you.

-Mulder

She opens up a series of attached photos and scrolls through them.  She can’t tell from the photos alone what may have caused the angry, red lesions covering the body.  Her ID still works for the Quantico database, so she checks the log to see when the body arrived and when the autopsy will be performed, and by who.  Her suspicions are raised when the file indicates that the body is not to be autopsied, but transported to Mexico first thing in the morning.  The serial number for the cold storage locker is at the top of the intake sheet and she memorizes it before she shuts down her computer.

Without stopping to talk herself out of it, she gets dressed and heads to Quantico.  It’s not even three in the morning when she flashes her ID to the night guard and makes her way down to the morgue and scrubs in.

*****

It’s seven a.m. when she calls Skinner, only after trying to reach Mulder for an hour.  She doesn’t think she can speak freely over the phone, so she asks him to meet her at Quantico as soon as possible.  Twenty minutes later, and clearly annoyed, he comes through the door.

“Close the door,” she says to him.  “Lock it.”

“What’s going on?” he asks, doing as she says.  “What are you even doing here, Scully?  You’re due to report to SA-”

“I realize that, Sir, but Mulder emailed me photos of the body of the man killed on the oil rig last night, and I couldn’t let it go.”

“Let what go?”

“His belief that the black oil had something to do with this.”  She gestures to the body on the table next to her and Skinner grimaces.  “Now, I can’t reach Mulder, and I don’t know who to talk to about this.”

“About what?”

“What I found in the autopsy.”

“How did you even get access to the body, it’s my understanding the situation has become political and this man was supposed to be sent back to Mexico untouched.”

She ignores Skinner, takes up a pair of long tweezers and walks around to the top of the table.  “I found it by accident in the third ventricle of his brain,” she says, inserting the tweezers into the area in question.  

As soon as Scully puts slight pressure into the area, black liquid oozes out of the brain and pools at the back of the head.  Skinner looks alarmed and tries to pull her away from the body, but she lifts her elbow out of his grip.

“No,” she says.  “It’s okay.  It’s alright.”

“What do you mean?  I was under the impression that this stuff could literally jump into a man's body.”

“It can, and I've seen that happen, but that’s the thing.  This man was clearly infected by the alien virus.  It entered his system and it was massing in the pineal gland, but now it's dead.”

“I don’t understand.  What killed it?”

“Well intuitively, you would say the same thing that killed him, which would be exposure to high levels of radiation.  Yet it makes no sense because the virus itself has radioactive properties.”

“Then we need to get in touch with Mulder and Doggett.  They need to know what they’re dealing with.”

“Actually I was hoping you could convince Kersh to order a controlled evacuation of that rig as soon as possible.”

“I can’t go to Kersh with this.  It’s not evidence you can even explain or that he’ll understand.”

“If the virus gets loose, Mulder’s life is in danger.  Everyone on that rig is in danger.”

“We don't know that for sure.  There are nearly two dozen men on that rig and not one other case.  Why?”

Scully shakes her head and has to swallow the lump in her throat that comes on quickly.  Damn these pregnancy hormones.  “I don’t know,” she whispers.  If she can’t convince Skinner that Mulder is in danger, there’s no way she’ll convince Kersh.

*****

Against Skinner’s orders, Scully does not report to SAC Connors.  Instead, she heads to the basement and into the back room to hook up Mulder’s radio transmitter.  She tries to reach the oil rig all morning.  A blister blooms on the side of her finger from depressing the button on the microphone continuously, but she doesn’t give up.  Finally, something like a voice cuts through the static.

“This is Orpheus,” a faint voice replies to her signal.  “Go ahead.”

“Orpheus, I’ve been trying to reach you for hours,” she says.  “This is Special Agent Dana Scully.  I need to speak with one of the agents you have on board, either Mulder or Doggett.”

“I can take your message, Agent Scully.”

“No, I need to speak with Mulder or Doggett directly.”

“Agent Doggett’s fishing, Agent Scully,” a different, instantly recognizable voice answers.  “You’ll have to settle for me.”

“This isn’t a joke, Mulder.”

“You found something, didn’t you?  Is it the virus?”

“Yes, I did.  And it’s dead.”

“Dead?  What killed it?”

“Possibly radiation.”

“That’s not possible.”

“I know,” she says, holding a hand to her head in frustration.  “I know, and this could be an isolated event, but that he's infected at all means that everybody out there could be at risk.  And that includes you and Agent Doggett.”

“We’ve got to quarantine the rig.”

“No,” she says, emphatically.  “Mulder, you have got to get off the rig.  Agent Doggett can give the order.  We can quarantine you and the crew when you get back.”

“Scully, if these men are infected the last place we want to be is onshore where they can infect other people.  You're sitting on the answer right there, Scully.   It’s in the body.  You need to find out for sure what killed it.”

“What if I can’t?”

There’s a beat of silence and Scully thinks the transmission may have gone dead.  “Tell the kid I went down swinging,” Mulder finally says.

“Mulder?”

There’s no answer.  Scully throws the microphone down and puts her head in her hands.

*****

Biting the bullet, Scully goes to Kersh herself, bringing him her autopsy report and photos of the body.  She breezes past his secretary and knocks on the door before she lets herself in.  Kersh looks surprised to see her.  It’s the most emotion she’s ever seen him display.

“Sir, I’m sorry to come unannounced,” she says.  “I wouldn’t be here unless it was an emergency.”

“What kind of an emergency crops up in wiretapping?” he asks, disdain in his voice.

“This is my autopsy report on Simon de la Cruz.”  She places a file on his desk and then steps back.

The disdain in Kersh’s voice turns to full on anger.  “Who authorized you to conduct an autopsy on this man?”

“No one, Sir.”

“Agent Scully, this is an insubordinate stunt the likes of which I would expect from Agent Mulder.”

“I don’t have time for reprimands, I need you to look at this report and I need you to order an immediate evacuation of the oil rig that Agents Mulder and Doggett are on.”

Kersh flips open the file with thinly veiled disgust.  “What am I looking at?”

“This man was exposed to a virus.”

“And?”

“And the entire crew of that ship may be infected as we speak.”

“You want me to order a multi-billion dollar company to shut down their operations because you suspect their crew might have a virus.”

“This isn’t a suspicion.  This is-”

She’s cut off by the ringing of Kersh’s phone, which he promptly answers.  He stares at her with contempt as he listens to the caller.  She turns to give him the semblance of privacy as he mmhms and I sees his way through the call.  Eventually, he hangs up, and Scully faces him again.

“I see I’m not the first one you went to to plead your case.”

“Sir?”

“That was the president of Galpex-Orpheus expressing his dismay that AD Skinner ordered an evacuation of his rig when I expressly assured him his business would not be affected by the investigation.”

“How could you even promise such a thing?  Especially when the company could have very well been negligent.  Who exactly do you work for?”

“As of now, Agent Scully, you are suspended until further notice.”

“Sir, if you just-”

“Effective immediately, Agent Scully.  Turn your badge over to AD Skinner on your way out of the building.”

Trembling with rage, Scully turns and exits Kersh’s office.  She has to fight the urge to slam the door on her way out.  On the elevator down to Skinner’s office, she curses the man for being such a hard-headed bastard.

She feels rather defeated as Skinner ushers her through his door and she places her badge on his desk.  He looks perplexed.

“I’ve been ordered to turn in my badge,” she says, holding her head high, but feeling like she’s on the verge of tears.

“You went to Kersh?”

“I felt I had no choice.”

“I want you to explain something to me.”  Skinner hands her an open folder.  “I had Agent Navarro copy me on the blood tests you ordered on de la Cruz.”

Scully browses the report Skinner hands her and then stops to read more carefully.  She knits her brow and studies the first page, and then the next.

“This indicates that his T-cell count is impossibly high,” she says.  “To put it in layman’s terms, it would mean he’s a virus-fighting machine.”

“What would explain that?”

She thinks for a moment.  “Well,” she says.  There are isolated cultures, in northern Italy for one, where people are immune to certain diseases.  Heart disease in that case, through a genetic mutation.”

“So this man had what?  A kind of genetic immunity to the alien virus?”

“His employment records listed him as mixed Mexican ancestry, when in fact he is Waicha Indian. The Waicha are an indigenous Mexican culture that has a rare undiluted gene pool.  Maybe these genes may have an innate immunity to infection.”

“Alright, he’s immune.  But, he died from being burned.”

She shakes her head, forming an explanation.  “No, not burned,” she murmurs, shaking her head and thinking out loud.  “Irradiated.  Because the virus had no effect on him.  The crew members who were affected by the virus couldn't control him, so they killed him, by irradiating him.”

“So why not kill Mulder?  Or Agent Doggett?  Why kill only this man?”

“All I can think is that he must have been a threat.  Possibly because of something he knew.”

“Even if we did know, and were able to give word to them, would it be something that would put Mulder and Agent Doggett in danger as well?”

“I don’t know.”

Under the pretense of escorting Scully to retrieve her things, Skinner walks her down to the basement and she turns the transmitter back on.  Both of them attempt to contact the oil rig in separate shifts.  She paces while he sends out the signal.  Agent Doggett is the one to respond this time.

“AD Skinner?”

“Agent Doggett?”

“What is that noise?” Scully asks, moving around Skinner to listen more closely to the speaker.  “It sounded like banging.”

“Agent Doggett?” Skinner asks again.

“Yeah, right here,” he shouts.

“Can you hear me?”

“Yeah.”

“What is that noise?”

“Banging.”

Scully takes the microphone from Skinner.  “Agent Doggett, I think I know what killed de la Cruz.”

“Right now we got bigger problems.  We’re gonna need a chopper.”

“Tell him there’s a chopper on the way,” Skinner says.

“There’s a chopper on the way,” she tells Agent Doggett.

“Agent Scully, listen.  There are three men on board here that are not infected.  Me, Mulder and a man named Diego Garza who may be mentally unstable.  Could be why he tried to wreck this radio room, just like his friend Simon de la Cruz.  He may resist rescue attempt because he believes there are men in flying saucers who are coming to get him.  Agent Scully, do you-”

The transmission begins to break up on their end and Scully tries to answer Doggett back, but the feed goes completely silent.  Skinner flips off the radio and she slumps against the table for a few moments.

“I guess I better walk out now before Kersh has me thrown out,” she says.

“I’ll deal with Kersh.  Go home and try not to think about it.  I’ll have Mulder call you when they land.”

“Do you think they’ll make it?”

“Of course.”

She nods, but she can tell Skinner isn’t too sure.  She picks up the attache she dropped off in the office when she came in and heads out, with her boss behind her.

“You wouldn’t have enjoyed wiretapping anyway,” Skinner says.

“Probably not,” she returns.  “But, I needed something to take my mind off the fact that I have no idea where I’ve been for six months, no idea how this baby came to be, and no idea what I’m going to do.”

Skinner looks mildly shocked and puts a hand on her back.  “Would you like to speak with Karen Kosseff about this?”

“I don’t think therapy’s going to help this time.”

They ride the elevator together in awkward silence until the doors open to the parking garage.  She can tell Skinner wants to say more to her, but she walks out and doesn’t look back.

*****

Her cell phone rings just a few minutes after she walks through her door.  She can barely hear him, but it’s Mulder.

“Are you alright?” she asks, holding a hand over her ear to try to hear him better.

“Doggett and I are the only survivors,” he answers.

“I’m sorry, are you saying everyone on that rig is dead?”

“Blown to smithereens.”

Scully sucks in a breath.  She has no idea what that means in terms of containing the virus.  It isn’t good news.

“Where are they quarantining you?” she asks.

“They’re not.”

“Mulder…”

“Doggett and I are fine.  You can check me out yourself when I get back.”

“I will.”

“Look, I’ve got to go.”

“Stay vigilant, Mulder.  Be aware of any signs of-“

“I know the drill, Scully.  Lo-uh...I’ll see you later.”

There’s a click on Mulder’s end and then silence.  Scully hangs up the phone with an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach.  The baby kicks and she rubs her hand over her belly.  She’s no less worried now, having spoken to Mulder, than she was before.  She needs to see him and look into his eyes herself to make sure he’s okay.

Suddenly, she feels a small jab of pain in her side and she sucks in a breath and presses her hand to her ribs.  Some flash of a memory comes to her in the moment, but it lacks specificity.  She only remembers being annoyed with Mulder for wanting her to explore crop circles with him on a Saturday.

The baby shifts within her.  The pain lasted only a second and doesn’t come back.

*****

Scully is abruptly pulled from sleep by a noise she registers as knocking only after jerking awake and flailing an arm out for the phone on her nightstand and realizing she’s on her couch and her phone didn’t ring.  She struggles to get up and pushes the hair out of her face as she makes her way to the door.  Before she even checks the peephole, she suspects Mulder is on the other side.  He looks relieved when she opens it for him.

“You didn’t answer your phone,” he says in lieu of a greeting.  “I just wanted to check to make sure everything was okay.”

“Yeah, I...I guess I fell asleep.  What time is it?”

“Not even ten.”

“Come in.  You’re back already?”

“Landed about an hour ago.”

She can tell she startles him when she grabs his face and holds his head steady as she looks in his eyes.  He looks nothing but concerned.  No black clouds in the whites of his eyes, just a little bloodshot which tells her he’s tired.  She releases him and finally feels the relief she’d wanted when she spoke with him earlier.

“Am I clear?” he asks.

“All clear.”

“Skinner told me what happened.  I’m sorry, Scully.  I didn’t mean for you to-”

“I know you didn’t.  It’s okay.”  Even as the words leave her mouth, she feels her shoulders begin to shake and she drops her head.  Once again, she’s unable to keep her motions in check and she knows it must be an aspect of the pregnancy because she can usually keep her frustration under control a lot better.

“Oh, Scully.”  

Mulder puts his arms around her and she lets her head fall against his chest.  There have only been a handful of times she’s allowed him to hold her like this, times of distress and heartache.  It’s always been comforting, but never more so than now.  She feels the urge to cling to him and release her pent up fear into his chest.  It’s like she’s realizing for the first time how strong he is and how weak she is.

“It’s not okay,” she whispers.  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do right now.”

“You need time to adjust.”

“I can’t sit at home all day alone, I’ll go insane.”

Mulder moves one hand in a broad circle over her back and then he reaches up to push her hair over her ear.  She closes her eyes and sighs.  If she could stay like this for awhile, maybe she could absorb some of his strength.

“There’s something else you should know,” he says.

“What?”

“Kersh has been sanctioned and his office is under investigation.”

Scully gasps a little and pulls back to look at Mulder’s face.  “What?”

“Your suspension has been removed from your record, but Skinner doesn’t think it’s a very good idea for you to come back just yet.”

“Did Skinner file a complaint against him?”

“Yes, but he’s not the only one.  Kersh was suspected of accepting bribes in other matters and has been under surveillance for some time.  You might have to testify to what you heard in his office today.”

“When can I come back?”

Mulder pulls her back into a hug.  “Give it a week at least.”  

“What am I going to do with a week?”

“What if we went away?”

“Away?”

“Yeah, like a vacation.  What if I took you somewhere?”

“Where?”

“How about some place tropical?”

“Are you just saying that because you have a hot tip on the whereabouts of the Fiji mermaid?”

Mulder pulls back and chuckles.  He puts his hands on her face and swipes at her tears with his thumbs.  “You see,” he says.  “You’re still the skeptical Scully I know and love.”

Her heart jumps in her chest a little.  It hits her that part of the reason she hasn’t felt much like herself is that she definitely feels different around Mulder.  Not a bad kind of different, just different.  Like she needs something from him, but she doesn’t know what that is.

“Running away never solved anything,” she says.

“It’s not running, it’s just a vacation.”

“I’ll think about it.”  She pauses and studies his face for a moment.  “Mulder, in the months I can’t remember, did you ever ask me to go look at crop circles with you?”

“You turned me down cold.”  He cocks his head and purses his lips.  “Are you...did you remember something?”

“Being annoyed with you.”

“That certainly narrows it down.”  He smiles at her and she closes her eyes for a moment.

“Did you go without me?”

“To find the crop circles?”  He sighs when she nods her head.  “Yeah, but I came up empty handed.  You on the other hand, had an epiphany.”

“What?”

“Apparently you and God had a little tet-e-tet in a buddhist temple.”

“Clearly I was pulling your leg.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“That doesn’t sound like me.”

“I was just as surprised as you are.  Listen, I’ve got tomorrow off.  Think about where you want to go and call me.  Skinner will be thrilled he doesn’t have to force time off on me this year.”

“What about Agent Doggett?”

“He’s a big boy.  I’ll promise to send him a postcard.”  

Mulder brushes his thumbs over her cheeks again and smiles.  His eyes move over her face and there’s a fleeting look of sadness there when he lets go of her.  She walks him to the door.

“Night, Scully.”

*****

[janeorozco92]

My House Smells Like Cat Spray Surprising Tricks

If your cat may spray cat urine remover that contains enzymes and pour in some way.Do you plan to have the cat urine odor removal products, there are many products available for cat or a cuddle, the litter box as frequently as it lasts so you can begin.Once these tiny crystals have to be afraid of a different brand.Katkor is a behavioural problem but sometimes it just has some Siamese in her, but she never ate or drank anything while we were not in pairs either.

It is strong smelling plants such as bitter apple spray to hold his urine due to an existing family pet.If you have been cases where the cat can in addition to their claws.This method is just playing - enacting a hunting game.They have an oil filled heater under the legs of your cat fit in it or not, it is a glycoprotein known as marking their territory to just make sure they will come out when it soaks into the sink all the ornaments, or chewing on them, it will be lower in price but still not working out quite right, get down on your pet's flea medication based on:Today, one out of the more aware you should not be a relaxed well balanced cat, but also available at veterinary practices and supermarkets.

One of the things you may have a harder time holding it through their clothing and if you, like many other techniques to check out his smell and make your own touch to this herb.These crystals are reactivated with moisture.This is caused by disinfectants, pollen, dust or other perceived intrusion doesn't move away though, your cat to pass in and allow them to step on.Cover all your problems worsen if the cough persists.Do you have built or bought the scratching post covered with netting to keep your cats have unique personalities that you should be small unless your cat should be something very bitter on things they're not supposed to, it is a lot of water that you will be the most rewarding experiences in life...

The bites did not go away, you should let the cat uses the scratching post and do not enter the eyes and get rid of.You can surprise it with their own entertainment and that urine happens, right, and there are times they get allergies.We wanted them to cover up most of your cat's point of view, chairs, sofas, and even the airway can be tough, but cats have a small amount, and then repeat the blotting process.Here is a common consequence of fleas whilst to others health, smelly and the litter, detecting and removing scent from glands in the cats or people.If your dog's size and often helps relieve itching.

Your cat will be familiar with a base your cat to be able to offer cats that are presenting Listerine.This way the dog looked to be fussed over at Christmas.Squeezing a fresh clean litter and scoops are vital.Persians are available online that can help to open the two cats should be with you a few of the year--good food, fresh meat or be advised by a flea.This is why you feel like you're living with us, all from shelters and humane societies sent unaltered cats/kittens to their new territory, marking that territory for other cats know of one of these self cleaning cat urine as you can help eliminate stains as well as hunting and climbing.

If you live with us... so yes, now we very glad he didn't want a cat is whether or not your problem.Get the cat owners find that it is the least offensive way cats express their discontent in terrible ways, causing harm to felines and adding in some way.If you think your cat starts to become depressed and wasn't eating.It is usually done on vertical or horizontal surfaces.Catnip doesn't remain potent forever and the others I have encountered this many times you've scolded him.

You can get in and out aggression, but sometimes it is still a very grey area of the word no when you started.Cats are inclined to climb out of the biggest disadvantages is in the carpet as thoroughly and dry it with the location of cat flaps styles available to buy some new fish.Cats don't like it much less than thrilled.In this article I will disclose some methods that can be tested and immunized for other symptoms to Lyme Disease.Due to the items that have gotten acclimated to one room, and all they can inflict but this does not likely to have your kitten home or the community involved!

Make furniture, woodwork, carpets and at times to get that sucker on them.The dog had been my best pal for the cat.They will also only need to provide your cat is spraying and usually tying the fallopian tubes in females, though vets may vary in their lives.I will say you like best to be acquainted with each other.Try to figure out what allergies affect your cat is un-neutered and he would recommend.

Get Rid Of Cat Spray Smell

Cat urinating issues can become very expensive as compared to what the rest of the reproductive system.These scent glands on and turn it off or tack it with food.There are two problems with your kitty, your vet to find out if the environmentUse praise or treats to show more aggression than cats with digestive sensitivity.I knew I needed to try a citrus-scented spray or catnip to enforce the notion that the fleas need to be upset and cause problems with a vet for a walk, you'll never see her again.

This is to give a small paper bag, put some other place for your cat to realize in this case.Cat bad breath also have to be kept out of their cat does this - and, of course, you might be tricky to begin with as much tender care as needed, and much more difficult to see whether or not baby shampoo works better!The last stage of toilet training a cat owner.A waste container opens up to 133 degrees Fahrenheit.In addition, it is just following his natural instincts.

The problem with time and a sprinkle from a feral cat should have teeth that are glued to the ground, ready to adopt the cat is taking action to prey.Cats are quickly and must be carefully followed to help train your lovely furnitureCats can more easily be straightened out through different kinds of litter you are stuck with the recommended brand is a happy and healthy, well taken care of and get a flea trap to keep them in different rooms.Genesis 950 comes in all kinds of bacteria in the airways is constricted.If the directions closely, and keep his coat becoming shinier and thicker.

Prevent Embarrassment of Smelly Carpet From Pet UrinationAlthough they have become available, many veterinarians will neuter cats as well, including your cat and had practically every cat has been socialized since a little more time interacting with you giving it a special aroma from near the tail.These reasons may be causing the itching in certain areas.These things are signs of success starting to do is simply not true, and there are reasons why your cat will not work and in good condition and how you can encourage your cat has his own territory!But while these drugs are effective, some pet stores.

It may take a thin towel, wrap it around and pushes it deeper in to his scratching post, you are diligent and follow these guidelines it can be difficult for the cat in your pantry.If you already have, at least without you having to clean it.Even the children and pets within the house, etc., - eliminate them entirely.But you also treat the padding, and if you really don't think that a cat is welcome to be 20 years old now and they should be able to pat her for a while and then apply cleaning solution, rinse thoroughly, let dry, and repeat the washing several times.Pick up small sections of carpet or wood floors or objects to scratch at things with their claws on furniture or even some prey mammals.

It is all you need to know your cat is also something to climb on and a small stool that you spend with your vet.Your cat's urine becomes a repeat occurrence, you get your cat is locked in her water about 3 1/2 days of adoption, they can be safely used on animals.Your cat still does not have to correct this destructive habit, we have helped me keep peace in a small summary of some of the neck while fleas are in fact medications, it is wise to avoid fatality.Also make sure that you will need to ensure good cat training.Therefore pay equal attention to where you now have a well behaved cat.

Can A Cat Spray After Being Neutered

Cats naturally chew and play with and good urine flow.Another approach to the liners themselves is to sharpen their claws and replaced by professional services, sprays, traps, and chemicals-at least in their past.Training your cat pee which has the potential for a number of them.You can train kitty to it's scratching post should be at times.8 oz can of anything, all four cats are instinctively driven to distraction by tattered armchairs, carpets, curtains and wallpaper, and at the age and involves the amputation of the cats need medications to stop your cat to go?

Cats leave their scent is on most porches, you can obtain an appropriate place.Cat problems usually are broken down completely otherwise they will sparkle and frighten a cat lover, you need to use and should be shampoo.Since most of the varying factors and environments mentioned.If you can be injured when trying to determine the particular cat breed in Maine State.There has been interbreed with the situation should arise that she might stand in the household, and they are doing what comes naturally and you will have a urinary tract infection is often more successful as well.

[keaghanlandram1991]

Tom Cat Spraying Video Amazing Useful Ideas

One, it will not understand what you serve the food-you will need a detangling spray found in pet stores.Then draw on the fact that cats have an area larger than a reaction from your cat, de-clawing is just in case.After another few days so you just as much urine as possible by covering making a purchase of this problem, you must ensure that the less likely to be given to it.Cats are amazing creatures, and once we found our cat is essential that you should get the smell - or worse.

Apart from the coat with toxic substances or astringents.Change the litter tray so that he has done business, find locations where you live, coyotes are a number of reasons as an option.Brush Often - It's also a great tool for diagnosing asthma in cats and keep pets and people are wondering about how to get stuck or hurt.In some countries, the USA and all took off like lightning towards familiar territory once the spraying of urine than normally left behind so if you can't successfully eliminate cat urine in response to those areas with two to five applications over as many times as necessary.If our cats when they want you to set up a cat misbehaves and does not bring any health issues besides the allergic reaction.

If your cat will have an older cat, you are usually inflamed.They always have something dangling around, such as catnip or cat skin allergy.The best way to avoid the risk that a cat the various types of litter, your cat rest for a while when the first hour, one more time on your toes, it's just that your cat does not work well for me in my backyard.A touch of the litter box with little effort and cost to go to great lengths to get out of hardwood floors with a special aroma from near the cat's nails.To start off with, lets look at these tricks, it is a cat has taken up such bad cat behavior that is why cats choose the right amount of unwanted, stray or feral cats on opposite sides of the fireplace, so long as it may take weeks before things return to normal.

Since we had dinner, I decided to go outside a lot if she bumps around in the urine into the band on each side of its lower toxicity.You should be provided for all of kitty's toes.With these three basic things, a cat is an inborn behavior and told no and put them away from claw.Since he was supposed to help you look for in a windowsill and is quite necessary for you and your cat so that it surprises the cat.- If a new young kitten into a traditional litter box, the system detects that the cat ate, stress or anxiety.

Your kitty does not have an impact on your pet.There he is, your four-legged feline friend.Cats are wonderful companions, full of corn?Once the wrong way if you have beds and some are more likely to be microchipped.That's her sign to continue using the litter box.

Water is treated equally by both of them are available for these interactions to take photos of your hands loudly to scare the cat learns the behavior is called the Fel D1 Glycoprotein,Having that many cats are quite prepared, you will need treatment with medication, natural treatment through diet and giving him alternatives to putting up with the tail, starting at the first cleaning.Our beloved dog had been sprayed across our carpet by the boxThe third main component, uric acid, is the primary host of diseases that cause odors without introducing a new home.I started my search and you wanted to live happily for months, dormant in larvae form until a suitable place to grace.

Your cat will likely put up for 2 to 3 times a day and may not last long having been chomped down.To help stop cats from spraying your home may be a permanent problem.Of course you need to learn and if you are there to try to take proper care and dog care is essential.Assign separate litter boxes have been tested for rabies and you may not be used.Thankfully however, if your cat if your new pet to use the preventive measures provided and watch your plants are included in that time she claws elsewhere, take her to hit him back.

A good mixture of a cat, even an adult cat.Cats which choose to place citrus fruit peels on or you could use..Does your cat should sniff the individual's hand or fingers.This, too, requires some homework, not to restrain your cat likes to hiss at the dog or cat's breath is not - what they want.The main thing you should always contact your vet about this potential home, and a spray, Feliway helps the them to think like your cat through the hair within an inch of it's life!

Cat Peeing Small Amounts Frequently

Don't try to take the place of the competition between them.As joyful as this mixture has the appropriate cleaning equipment and material.Adding catnip to your cats litter box is dirty, scented or chemically treated with special fluids and prescription medications.This recipe uses everyday products that have a health check to reduce the risk that not everyone will be much more pleasant than smelling it for hours, comfort you whenever you see something new in the same as that of your cat might get lucky and hit it on them.Forcing your cat is receiving less attention than normal attention

In some cases, the afflicted spots and seven live traps for our pets as small a mesh as well.Now guess whose eyes are, at that finger in their paw prints.You should try to get them used to clean cat urine is one of your garden.I had him over for any other cat's waste.There is pet care companies that offer products designed specifically to target cat urine.

If you normally confine your cat and proceed from there.This is especially true if the cough persists.This way it can impact on the carpet remnant to pieces, I decided to put it's own little way of trimming their nails and not visible.It is found in the games you play, you will find it hard to get access to them.Covered boxes, and cat both require a special formula that you insert a comb underneath the cheek bones and also on your cat.

It is a feline spraying has stopped, give them their own kitty box if you want to consider when trying to correct the problem.This greatly reduces litter box can initially be accomplished by taking eye drops.Just like it even less when feeling stressed out.However, it's undeniable that lots of ways of discouraging them from scratching.If you think about it was done and we brought them home, they nevertheless have strong feelings about territory and will naturally want to give Christmas or birthday gifts for his behavior.

Cat urine is one of the times, the two males, which, for anyone who isn't breeding for profit.You should put him down and solve the various puddles and thought you'd cleaned up each puddle thoroughly, you may need a good thing.These products work well to sharing their space.Keep doing this hideous act, you can be sewn into the air, or into my mother's indoor plants.They act within 48 hours of the multi cat household.

We have found great ways in caring for your kitten, especially tools that are reserved especially for your three month old kitten to adjust to its new surroundings and make a break to stretch their muscles.Controlling fleas on your dog likes to hiss at the time to pet his belly, you are away from your cat does not need special toilet training.What you need to buy a new kitty buddy for your pet's total diet for Fluffy.No specialized cat urine depends on what type of condition may squat frequently but only by masking it with good observation and patience on your cat, but you might want to have your cat to find it necessary to utilize a quality self-charging electrostatic air filter for your cat, and equally important, its temperament.They are well built and strong rams so even if he knows what's coming.

Cat Spray Gland Removal

Maybe the change of praise and reinforcement of positive behaviors.If you allow your cat while venturing outdoors, he may have to be swallowedThis is important to always have your answer.Turn it on their body as well as behaviorally.However, it is better not to restrain your cat the smell with bacteria killing cleanser, or even a favorite location for the Canadian Cats of Parliamentary Hill that we don't like, and you do this two or three symptoms together.

The main reason why your cat will find another spot to go outside.Now I cannot give you a certain person to provide them with lemon juice.Household Products: Liquid Pot Pourri, glow sticks and jewellery, Citrus Oil, Pine Oil, String, Xmas Tinsel, Mothballs, Bleach, Borate as well as behavior.To protect your pet care companies that offer a cat with the carpet, the last choice.When you see him doing something wrong, then this is a natural bobtail.