#and some of his baby dragon teeth and stuff

[zara-renata]

Hook, Line, Sinker | ao3 | masterlist

I did a little holiday prompt requests thing, and some people were kind enough to send requests in. @starfallforest, @astracora, and several anons. Thank you so much for sending your requests. I combined the requests into one story, which turned out to be a lot more angsty than cute? But I hope you like it anyway. There's one prompt I couldn't fit in because this takes place between Christmas and New Year's, but I'm hoping to be able to do a little oneshot for the last request, depending on time. Anyway, there's a happy ending for everyone in this story, except for one fish and a guy who deserved it. @wearysparrows is the reason Sylus smells like he does in this story, and her fantastic fishing story set in hot springs got me thinking about fishing with Sylus. Edit: @always-just-red also sent a prompt (snowed in) and she did a gorgeous response to one I sent her. But when I went back to my inbox on PC to confirm everyone who sent one, hers didn’t show up and I thought I had hallucinated her request because I admire her stuff so much😭😭😭 and now I see it on mobile again, and can confirm that I am not losing my mind. Thank you for the prompt, I’m sorry this tag is late!!!

Summary: Sylus invites you to a remote cabin in the woods for some fishing before New Year's. When the trip is over, you have a new boyfriend and a new addition to the Crow family. No, it's not a human baby. Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc. This story contains banter, fluff, kissing, angst, a happy ending. CW: canon typical violence. This involves fishing since Sylus likes to fish, so there are a lot of descriptions of fishing and what you have to do to a fish to uh, fish. There's also a pretty grave instance of animal injury/cruelty (not perpetrated by any of our favs), but the animal is fine in the end.

The prompts I received:

falling into soft snow to create snow angels, flailing wildly on the ground.

in a mountain lodge, snowed in from a heavy snow storm.

jamming out to a christmas song, and inflicting the pain of holiday songs on someone else

You see him, in the distance.

It is night. This far up north, it is night all the time, this time of year.

The moon hangs huge in the sky, its reflected sunlight reflected in the snow, a loop without end. Even here in this endless night, you have no trouble seeing him in the distance.

A lonely figure, surrounded by a vast frozen plane of blue and white. It’s strange, seeing him wrapped in blue and silver, when you associate him with lava glow, ashfall.

Circling the silent lake, mountain peaks thrust into the sky, carving into the horizon. The teeth of some great beast, its bones bleached white in the cold and dark, in the endless summer sun on the other side of every year. Between their jagged edges, stars bleed together, liquid gold and silver spilling across the sky. Time loses meaning in the endless dark, swallowed by the endless light, drowned by the dark again. A dragon eating its own tail. This starlight, too, reflected in the ice underneath your feet. Who needs the sun, when this much molten light illuminates the path forward to the man who has summoned you here? The only man you have been able to see since he wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed.

As your feet crunch in the thick snow, as you approach the shore of the frozen lake where the man is waiting for you, you wonder how you got here. When did it start? With the invitation slipped through the mail slot of your humble flat, without address? Crimson wax, pressed with the seal of a crow in flight. The paper is heavy in your calloused hands. It smells delicious, like cloves. The scent is familiar to you now. You would know who this letter is from, even if you didn’t recognize its owner’s sigil, from its smell alone. You think of soft, pale skin. An open collar. A sweep of silver. The crimson wax seal stares at you like a glowing eye.

I need your expertise with a tricky problem. Your options are to come to me, or to come to me.

A plane ticket falls out of the envelope as you read the chaotic, sophisticated handwriting, almost indecipherable in its erudition.

You wonder how you got here. If not the invitation, was it before that? Opening the door every time Sylus stood on the other side. Watching him carefully as he moved about your flat, as he trailed his fingers along your houseplants. As he sipped from the wine glass you had bought in a set after the first time he showed up at your door and you realized you didn’t have any proper glasses for the wine he had brought as a gift to share. An apology? For his hands around your throat? For starvation, and thirst? The wine that tasted of sunspattered fields of flowers spilling down to a cliff, an abyss below. The taste of a memory you couldn’t quite summon, its shadows at the edges of your dreams every time you slept. Wine that warmed your body in the way this man’s eyes warmed you as they caressed you with touchless touch.

Since he released you, you wondered if he was playing a longer, crueler game of hunter and prey. Angler and fish. If every time he shows up at your door, he’s dangling bait, and the moment you wrap your lips around it, try to taste, he’ll hook you, jerk you from everything you’ve ever known, and flay you alive.

But you invite him in, as he requests. Come in, Sylus. You watch him, watching his gaze as it touches everything in your home, as it touches you as his eyes return to your face. He inhabits your flat in the same way he inhabits your mind. Fully. His presence an eclipse. His scent lingers after he leaves. He never asks to stay. He brings a gift to share—wine, a meal, a game of luck, a record. You sit on the couch next to him, and his body heat lures you like an open hearth, but you maintain your distance, the fear of what happens if you finally reach for the fire, if you finally take the bait—such fear gives you the willpower to keep a sliver of chill air between his skin and yours. He never closes the distance, waiting for you to be the one to choose. And when the record is finished, or the film’s credits are rolling, or the game has been won, lost, tied, he stands. Shrugs back into his coat. Only then does he run the knuckles of one big hand down your cheek. Only then does he lean down, whisper a kiss against the edge of your mouth, and then he leaves.

Eventually, he seems to grow tired of the confines of your small home. He begins to ask you out into the world. At twilight, where your world ends and his begins. Daylight bleeding out into night. Night drifting into ash as the day breaks.

Sometimes you say yes. You take his offered hand, his offered gifts of clothing for the occasion, the shoes he kneels to help you slip on your feet. You dress in clothing he buys for you, you sit in his box seat at the ballet, the orchestra’s layered notes flooding your senses but not drowning out your hand in his, your hand he doesn’t let go of through the entire performance. You turn and study his face in the dim light of the luxurious theater, as dancers flow like water, like gazelles, living art across the stage. His face is more fascinating to you than any choreography offered by the finest artists in the world. His profile, his long, uneven nose. The pout of his lips. His hair looks so soft, you want to lift your clasped hands and touch it. You resist the urge, turn your gaze back to the dancers. None of them are as beautiful as the creature lounging next to you in the dark.

Sometimes you know that if you say yes, this will be the time you can’t resist the dangling bait— your teeth, your tongue hungry in a way that frightens you for what he seems to be offering. You feel the hook come so close to your soft lips. The cold metal, like the barrel of a gun that you want to mouth so long as it’s his finger on the trigger. You spook, a prey’s instinct to flee from the lurking, patient predator. You turn down as many invitations as you accept. A compromise with yourself. You’re straddling the twilight—one foot in night, one in day. A knife’s edge that you know will eventually slice you in half if you don’t make a choice.

He accepts your refusals easily. Pretends to believe your flimsy excuses. You know that he knows through Mephisto, through the eyes he seems to have everywhere, that you’re lying when you say you have plans when you don’t. He accepts your fabrications with grace. The next day, a gift always arrives. If you had told him you were going ice skating with Tara, a new pair of skates, in your size, the leather supple, the blades sharp. If you had told him you were going to the arcade with Xavier, a limited edition plushie, one you’ve never managed to catch. If you had told him you were going to a museum with Zayne, a priceless artifact, once owned and cherished by someone who died tragically, along with the certificate of authenticity tucked into the jewel-encrusted box. If you had told him you were attending an art exhibition with Rafayel, an original painting by the featured artist would suddenly appear, hanging on your bedroom wall. The painting that would have been your favorite of the collection, if you had actually attended.

If you do actually go out with friends, the next day, there is a different gift. If you had actually gone drinking with Tara, then a full box of hangover remedies, self-care items for a home spa day. If you had actually gone for a jog with Zayne, then muscle-pain cream, a yoga mat and foam rollers, all to relieve the effects of being sore the next day. If you had actually had hotpot with Xavier, then medicine for indigestion, a fruit basket for supplementary vitamins skipped in a meat-heavy meal. If you had actually gone to the beach with Rafayel, then aloe vera, aftersun care for your sunburned skin.

You open each box. You swallow the remedies, eat the healthy food, massage the cream into your skin. If you imagine that it is his hand, and not your own—well, even Mephisto can’t see into your mind with his mechanical eye. Pulling the fabric of clothing he bought for you over your body, dabbing aloe vera onto the fragile skin under your eyes—this is as close as you will allow yourself to come to him.

Because you remember his hands on your throat.

You remember the sound of a human body bursting at the snap of strong fingers.

You’ve seen him quietly, efficiently, break the neck of an unscrupulous merchant.

Kick a man to his knees and execute him in the dark, the silencer rendering the gunshot a small puff of air, no louder than the last gasp from a pair of doomed lungs.

What scares you the most is not that he is capable of such ruthless, quick, vicious violence.

It is the way you feel, watching him kill someone.

You feel more moved by the dance of death Sylus leads than all of the ballet performances you could ever hope to see at his side.

You are a thirsty spectator, absorbing the line of his hands as he snaps someone’s spine, the delicate veins under his soft skin. The strength in his forearm as he pulls the trigger. The elegant line of his legs as he curb stomps any fool who violates Sylus’s code of ethics that only he knows the tenets of.

You watch him like you’d watch a nature documentary, shot in slow motion—the panther stalking the gazelle in the long grass, the satisfaction of teeth sinking into flesh and tearing.

You are fascinated, and terrified.

He may be courting you now. Fascinated by the challenge you present. Interested in the power you can offer him through your resonance. But how long will it take for this panther to turn from his current prey and begin to hunt you instead? He already almost killed you once. What stops him from doing it again? 

Can such a creature be capable of the unwavering love you crave?

What kind of person does it make you, if you think that you could accept him, the taint of his hands and all of the suffering they have wrought, if you could be assured that at least you would always be safe from his savagery?

The combination of these questions reinforces your resistance to the temptation of reaching out and taking his offered, bloody hand. Of swallowing the dangling bait, concealing the wicked hook.

You don’t know when it started. If it was the invitation. If it was the courtship. If maybe, perhaps, it was the first time you knelt at his feet, and he touched your body with such reverent viciousness. You don’t know what sequence of events has led you to this moment. As you step out onto the ice, soaked in moon and starlight, glowing blue in the night, the white bubbles trapped mid-rise in the frozen lake, as the ice grips attached to your warm boots bite into the ice, as you walk through the silence towards the man ahead, alone in the dark.

You received the invitation. You thought perhaps he was in trouble, and needed your resonance to navigate something dangerous. You didn’t think to refuse this time. Christmas was over—a quiet, lonely affair, even though it was filled with colleagues and friends. Sylus didn’t invite you to celebrate with him, seemingly content for you to attend your work holiday party with Xavier and Tara, the party thrown by Rafayel and Thomas at a gallery downtown, the party at Akso Hospital. Nothing could fill the gaping hole left by Caleb and your grandmother’s death. On Christmas day itself, you lit candles for them and drank two bottles of wine until you passed out.

The next day, the invitation arrived.

You held the heavy, silken textured paper in your hands. You felt the headache of your hangover pounding behind your eyes. You thought about the optional overtime you were considering taking between Christmas and New Year’s, just to relieve the solitude.

You think of the last time you saw Sylus, at the beginning of December. The rough knuckles of his hand along your cheek as he said goodbye, as he watched with ember-glow eyes as you walked to your apartment building’s entrance from the back of his motorcycle. As you looked out your window from your living room, saw him still waiting. As the engine roared in the quiet early morning street and he finally sped away, apparently assured that you were inside and okay. As if you were never not okay. No matter what happened, you’d be okay. 

You wonder when it started. When being okay no longer felt like enough. When did you start getting greedy for more than okay?

So you picked the plane ticket off the floor. Saw the destination—a place you never dreamt of going.

You packed as warmly as you could. You didn’t have much time—Sylus didn’t leave much margin for preparation. You received the invitation in the morning and were on a night flight that evening. 

The flights were long. Uneventful. On the last leg, you sat next to a woman with a little boy. He was sweet, with light colored hair like his mom and blue eyes. You looked into his sweet face and wondered what Sylus was like as a little boy. Tried to picture scarlet eyes in his round face. You wondered if you were ever so young, so small, so fragile. You’ve never felt young in your whole life. His mother seemed exhausted, but stayed awake the whole flight as the little boy fell asleep in her lap.

At the airport, the mother and boy were greeted by a dark-haired man about as big as Sylus with his son’s blue eyes, and he hugged them like it had been years since he had seen them.

You stood, looking around. There was no one waiting to hug you. To hold you in relief. You didn't know why you expected Sylus to be waiting on the other side of your flights.

You hadn’t planned this far ahead. You hefted your heavy carry-on backpack onto your back and followed the signs to the exit. Once satisfied that you knew how to get out, you were reaching into your pocket for your phone when you saw two familiar men standing at the baggage claim holding a sign that just said THE HUNTER on it in messy block letters.

Luke turned his head and caught sight of you, then nudged Kieran. They came loping over to you like two eager wolf puppies.

The relief you felt surprised you, seeing them. They had been nothing but kind, playful with you since Sylus released you, so many months ago, whenever you encountered them. They pulled you into their bets, into their movie nights, into their video game marathons, anytime you happened to visit the base while in the N109 Zone on a mission.  

“You came!” Luke grinned, the deep scarring along the right side of his face twisting his lip. It did nothing to diminish his handsomeness. 

“You should have told Boss. He wasn’t sure if you would take him up on his invitation. He has been an absolute mess,” Kieran scolded you, but also seemed amused at the emotional state of his employer.

You tried to imagine Sylus being a mess. Failed.

“I didn’t have much time to decide and prepare. Sorry.” You took in the twins, whom you’d only ever seen in black leather. They were wearing black parkas, fur-lined, thick ski pants, huge boots.

“Don’t be sorry, stupid. We’re glad you’re here.” Luke was cheerful, threading one big hand under your backpack strap and easing it off your back. “But Kieran’s salty ‘cause he lost the bet.”

“I thought you would refuse, just to vex Boss,” Kieran said, shrugging. “But Luke’s lying. I’m fine losing this particular bet.”

“C'mon, he’s waiting.” Luke took your hand and lead you into the dark, frigid night of the Arctic settlement you had never even heard of before seeing the plane ticket in the invitation. Kieran followed close behind you, pulling up his hood against the freezing wind. 

They herded you to a big four wheel drive SUV. 

“First we drive, then it’s just the snowmobile when the road runs out. Change into these,” Kieran thrust a pile of heavy winter gear into your hands as Luke maneuvered the SUV out of town on a thin ribbon of icy road. In the dark, there were only the vehicle’s headlights, the pale snow-packed hillsides on either side of the road, blue in the reflected light of the moon.

Christmas songs were still playing on the radio, despite Christmas having just passed. Kieran hummed along as Luke began to belt out, in a surprisingly gorgeous singing voice that rivaled Sinatra’s, Oh, by gosh, by golly, It's time for mistletoe and holly, Tasty pheasants, Christmas presents, Countrysides covered with snow…

You put on the heavy black parka over your clearly insufficient winter coat you brought with you. Pulled the ski pants over your jeans. Laced up the boots that fit perfectly to replace your own leather combat boots. You pulled the mad bomber hat over your head, its furred flaps immediately a relief over your cold ears. You were cozy. White Christmas came on the radio. Kieran sang this time, in the same beautiful tones as Luke, Christmas Eve will find me, Where the lovelight gleams, I'll be home for Christmas, If only in my dreams…

You hadn’t felt this settled since last year, leaning against Caleb on the couch, with your grandmother sitting on your other side, watching It’s a Wonderful Life.

You wonder when it started—when the twins started to feel safe, like home to you. Maybe it started the first time you woke up in Sylus’s theater room, with a twin on either side of you, both asleep as you just were, their heads resting on each of your shoulders. The sixth movie in the Alien franchise was just ending on the big screen. Sylus stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, just watching the three of you. You didn’t dare move in case you woke them up.

Help. You had mouthed at him.

One corner of his mouth had ticked up. The scarlet and ink of his evol drifted across the room, lifted both twins’ heads gently, positioned their big bodies so that they were resting against each armrest instead of on your shoulders. You stood, stretched, felt his eyes on you. 

Time to go, you said.

Must you? he asked.

Of course. Work to do. But you had just stood there, staring at him, the twins’ quiet snores filling the silence after the movie’s score ended. He looked so handsome in his soft sweater. Approachable. Human. Yours. 

You reminded yourself of his hands snapping a man’s fingers, one by one, until he gave up the information Sylus needed. You reminded yourself of his hands around your throat.

You wonder how much longer you’ll have the strength to resist the bait that Sylus is dangling in front of you. The hook, gleaming in the moonlight.

In the cozy cabin of the SUV winding through the endless, snowy night, with the twins’ voices softly singing Christmas songs, you gave in to the need to sleep. To sleep off the rest of your hangover that still lingered in the airplane, to prepare for whatever help Sylus needed from you when you finally arrived at your destination. You were safe with them, after all.

You didn’t dream.

You were awoken by Luke leaning over you, shaking your shoulder gently. The SUV was parked next to a small building with two snowmobiles parked in front of it.

“Time for part two of your winter wonderland tour,” he said, pulling you from the vehicle. Kieran was loading the last of a bunch of stuffed bags onto the back of one of the snowmobiles, the other one seemingly already fully loaded. He strapped your carry-on in with the rest. He had a large rifle slung over his back.

Luke produced a coin from his pocket. “Heads or tails?”

You didn’t even question him. “Heads.”

He flipped it, agilely despite the thick gloves he wore. He caught it, revealed it in his palm. “Tails. Damn. Kieran gets you this time,” he pouted.

Kieran let out a cheerful Whoop! and then beckoned you to him. “You know how to drive this thing?” you asked, a little dubious.

“Sylus taught us,” he smiled reassuringly.

He swung the big rifle from his back to his chest, so it hung diagonally over his torso.

He noticed your gaze. “Bears.”

“Of course,” you murmured, because what else could you say?

“Hold on tight.”

You had already come this far. You took his offered helmet, watched him put on his. You don’t know when it started. The trust you had in Sylus’s skills as a teacher. His faith in his men. Their loyalty to him.

You threw your leg over the snowmobile and let Kieran pull your arms around his waist. You leaned your head against his broad back.

The ride was exhilarating, even as tired as you were. Careening over the snow, the wind, the steep hills, the pine trees. Luke and Kieran maneuvered the snowmobiles competently, safely. You suspected that they weren’t trying to flip them or race to see who arrived first out of respect for your clearly exhausted state. You hugged Kieran tightly in thanks. You let yourself drift, and time passed like a dream.

The trees thickened. The hills narrowed. The snowmobiles passed along a narrow ridge, and then Kieran was slowing to a halt. He squeezed your forearm with a gloved hand, said softly into the now silent night, “You’re here.”

You leaned back, let go of him. Stepped off the snowmobile on wobbly legs. You took off the helmet and gasped.

A frozen lake, stretching, stretching, the far shore blurred into snow-covered pines. The mountains soared into the star-filled sky beyond the trees. Your eyes caught on a lone figure, in the middle of the icy expanse.

Luke moved to your side. “Lift your foot.” You did, again not questioning, trusting that he had a reason. He strapped ice grips onto your boot. Repeated on the other side.

“We’ll see you at the lodge,” he said as he straightened, patting your shoulder. 

“That’s it?”

“He’s waiting for you. What more is there?” he asked.

“Are you ever afraid that he’ll turn on you?” you asked, suddenly. You didn’t know why.

Luke just looked at you thoughtfully. Kieran moved closer, feet crunching in the snow. “No,” he answered for the both of them. “And if he ever does, we’ll have deserved it.”

“How are you so sure?”

“He doesn’t use violence without a reason. And once he makes a decision, he doesn’t go back on it.”

“What did he decide in your case?” you asked, not able to help yourself, out here at the end of the world, in the echoing silence.

“That we’re his, to use, to see if we’re up to the challenge to survive. And once he decides something is his, he protects it. Why would he break his own tools?”

“And he also loves us,” Luke added cheerfully. “Although he won’t admit it out loud.”

You searched each of their faces in turn, mirrors, marked and unmarked, trying to see if they were messing with you. They let you. 

“Do you love him?” you asked.

They turned and looked at each other. “We don’t know what that feeling is, even though we can recognize it in others. Because Luke is me, and I am him. Is that feeling love? If he dies, I die. But with Boss,” Kieran pauses thoughtfully. “I think it would feel like dying, if anything happened to him. Even though we’d survive. Is that love?”

He turned to look at you again.

You thought about Caleb, smiling at the end of It’s a Wonderful Life. Teasing you for crying, even as he had tears in his own eyes, despite how many times you two had seen the movie already. How you felt like you were dying, ever since he died.

You thought about Sylus, Imagined how you’d feel, if he never called again. If he disappeared as abruptly as he appeared in your life.

“I think that’s love,” you whisper into the arctic night.

“Then we love him.”

You nodded.

“Are we done with the heart to heart?” Luke teased.

You nodded again.

“Okay. He’s waiting. Don’t keep him waiting for much longer. It was funny for a while, but now it’s starting to hurt,” Luke said.

You looked at him, bewildered. “What was funny?”

Kieran gently knocked Luke with his shoulder. “We’ll tell you later. Go to him.”

With that, they turned, mounted the snowmobiles, and sped along the shore of the lake, not back the way you had just come, but toward what you presumed was the lodge they mentioned.

Now, you see him in the distance. The snowmobile engine roar fades into silence. Your spiked ice grips crunch loudly with each step. The sky is a bowl overflowing with diamonds, pouring over the rims of the mountains.

You find yourself walking faster, the eagerness you’ve been suppressing breaking its leash like an unruly dog now that you’re so close to the man you’ve missed since the beginning of December, despite yourself and all of your fears.

His figure grows in your field of view as you approach him, until you finally reach him. He turns his head. He’s wearing a thick band around his ears but no proper hat like you are, so his silver hair shines in the bright moonlight, in the reflected moonlight from the snow, a ricochet of pearl.

Your breath catches in the frigid air as you meet his eyes, gleaming in the diamond night.

“You came,” he says, as if surprised. Pleased.

“My choices were ‘to come to you,’ or ‘to come to you,’” you say softly.

“If I had known that was all it took to get you to stop refusing half of my invitations, I would have stopped leaving them open ended long ago.” He lifts an arm, beckons you closer with a gloved hand. “But Is that the only reason? The lack of choice?” He’s watching you carefully, and it feels like he’s standing above you, instead of sitting below you on a little camping folding chair. He’s holding a fishing rod in his hand, the line sinking into a small hole cut in the ice. A large black hiking backpack, a rifle strapped to the bottom, and what looks like a wine corkscrew made for a giant sit next to the chair. A thermos is in one of the chair’s cupholders. 

You consider him. Think about how careful you’ve been around him, for months now. How guarded. You think about the look shared between Kieran and Luke, about loving him, their faith in him. You think of how gently he moved them when they fell asleep during the Alien movie night marathon. You came to the ends of the earth for him.

“I missed you,” you admit. It feels like pulling a tooth that has been loose and hurting for a long time. You take a step forward, and it feels like you’re offering him the tooth, an aching, bloody part of yourself.

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” he says, accepting your offering graciously, with no trace of his usual impenetrable arrogance. He looks softer under the moonlight, the starlight.

You give him your gloved hand, let him pull you forward until you’re standing between his spread legs. Even in a camping chair, he sits like a bored king. Like at the ballet. Like when he forced you to resonate with him, when you first met him.

You look down into his upturned face, realizing only now just how true your admission is, how terribly you have missed him this past month. Showing up at your door. Inviting you out. His gifts in beautifully wrapped boxes. Just him. His eyes, warm and red.

“Have you been here, all along?” you ask.

He sets the fishing pole in what looks like a little stand dug into the ice specifically for holding it. 

“Yes.” He reaches for your other hand, now holding both your hands in his. You can’t feel his heat through his gloves, through yours. You don’t like it.

“Fishing?”

“Fishing. Hunting. Thinking.”

You freeze a little, not from the cold, but the finality of his tone. You don’t want to know what he has been thinking about. 

Maybe you never had to take the bait at all. Maybe he would have always grown bored, changed his mind in the waiting. Decided to destroy you just the same as if you had bitten what he was offering. Perhaps, like his latest invitation, you never truly had a choice at all.

You don’t want to know, yet. If he invited you to the end of the world to finally gut you, you don’t want to know yet.

“Your invitation said you needed my expertise. What’s your tricky problem?” you ask instead of asking what he’s been thinking about.

“Straight to business?” He lifts an eyebrow.

You try to memorize his face. Just in case. His wide mouth. His sharp canine teeth. His beautiful nose.

“The sooner your problem is solved, the sooner you can return to peacefully fishing without me scaring all the fish.” 

“You’re not that intimidating,” he teases. You scowl at him. “Have you fished before?”

“No.” You trace the beauty of his irises, the frown line between his brows with your eyes. “Either way, it’s cruel.”

His dark silver eyebrows lift in curiosity. “Explain.”

“You either torture a fish for your own ego and pleasure by catching and releasing it. Or you catch it to kill it. Either way, the fish is never the same.”

He tilts his head, eyes never leaving yours. “You eat meat with Xavier when you go for hotpot. You eat the steak on your plate when we go to dinner. Is it much crueler, to be the one to capture, kill, and eat the animal yourself?”

You know he’s right. If you cared so deeply for the welfare of the animals you eat, you’d be a vegan. 

“Maybe I’m a coward, for not wanting to be the one to butcher the animal myself,” you concede.

“Or maybe you’re afraid of how much you’d enjoy it.”

 Your breath is a cloud in the air, puffing into the still night. You watch it mingle with his, dissipate into the air.

“I don’t enjoy killing wanderers. Why would I enjoy killing a fish?”

“Because you admire the wanderers. Do you marvel at fish the same way?”

You don’t know how he knows how much you regret often having to kill beautiful, lethal beasts. The only comfort you have is knowing that they can’t hurt anyone else when you’re through with them.

“That doesn’t mean I enjoy their demise.”

“Perhaps enjoy isn’t the right word. Perhaps it’s simply that you’re scared of how little you care for the fish you’re killing for the necessity of your sustenance.”

You think about Sylus, snapping the neck of the merchant who was selling counterfeit protocore syndrome drugs in an N109 Zone neighborhood. 

You think about Sylus, breaking every finger on the man’s hand who Sylus knew was withholding the location of a human trafficker, luring victims in with promises of a steady job. By the time they realized that they would actually be fodder for illegal protocore transplants, it was too late.

You think about Sylus, kicking the human trafficker to his knees, executing him in the street, leaving his corpse for the scavengers or a more merciful soul to come and collect.

“I’m cold, Sylus,” you say.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve admitted weakness in front of me, kitten.” He draws you down into his lap. Opens the cap of the thermos and places it in your gloved hands. Wraps his arms around you. “Normally you just hide behind me when the wind is cold, when you could have just asked me to take you somewhere warm.”

You watch the steam rise from the hot drink inside. Take a sip. It’s mulled wine. You detect a hint of cloves, along with the citrus, cinnamon, star anise. It warms you almost as much as Sylus’s eyes.

“You’ve told me enough times now to just tell you when I’m cold.”

“And all it took was luring you to the arctic to get some obedience out of you,” he grouses.

You sink into him, let your head, still covered in the mad bomber hat, rest under his chin. It’s not close enough. All the layers of your clothes seem like an unacceptable distance between your body and his.

“You still haven’t told me about your tricky problem.”

“Would you like to learn how to ice fish, if I promised you that we’ll eat what we catch instead of needlessly tormenting them?” he asks, instead of answering your implied question.

As usual, it will take skill and finesse to get the truth out of him. Perhaps this is how he feels about you, as you accept half his invitations, refuse the other half. As you keep him at arm’s length, even as you imagine his hands working his gifts into your skin.

“I didn’t know you like to fish,” you say, instead of answering. A little petty.

He makes a noise of agreement. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

“Which isn’t fair, considering how much you know about me.” You take another sip, cuddled against him. It soothes your aching head. 

He hugs you tighter. “What would you like to know?”

“Why do you like to fish?”

He answers easily. “The quiet. The solitude. The simple pleasure of a job well done, the reward of sustenance. A feeling of self sufficiency. Enjoying nature. All things that are lacking in the N109 Zone.”

You hadn’t realized that he would crave such things, based on his lifestyle in the city he rules. You’re surprised. Pleased. As if you have a right to be pleased by how the things you love about hiking and camping, away from Linkon City, are the same things he enjoys about fishing.

He’s not yours to be proud of, to mirror. Not yet. Maybe not ever. “What else do you like?”

“How about I answer by inviting you along with me for each one, and you accept each of my invitations, as you did this one?”

You wonder what you’d be accepting, if you say yes to this proposition.

You think about the bait, dangling over your head. The hook flashing in the starlight. 

You stall. “Let’s see how teaching me to fish goes, and then I’ll give you my answer.”

“Ever cautious, kitten,” he murmurs. “A sample of the goods for you, then.”

You sit up, screw the lid back on the thermos, slide from his lap. You tuck the thermos in his pack, pick up his fishing pole and hand it to him. 

“I’ve been sitting here for over an hour without a bite,” he says. “Let’s move to a different spot on the lake and see if we have better luck there.”

“Okay,” you say quietly, and move to pick up the big hiking pack. He tsks, lifting it from the ground with his evol before you reach it. He straps it to his back, flicks the folding chair closed, and hands it to you.

“You can carry this.” He hands the fishing pole to you next. “And this.”

You roll your eyes. “You act like I’m incapable of carrying heavy things.”

“Just because you’re capable, doesn’t mean you should have to. When I’m with you, let me carry the weight for you.” He bends over, picks up the giant corkscrew. You look at him inquiringly.

“Ice augur. We’ll use it to drill another hole in the ice.”

You eye the wicked-looking edges, the handle for turning it, driving it into the ice. “You could kill a man with that.”

Sylus hums in agreement, turning to lead you to another part of the lake. Your boots, his boots, the teeth biting the ice crunch with each step. “But it’s inefficient. Messy.”

You admire the width of his shoulders—they look even bigger in his big puffy parka. “You’ve actually used it to kill someone.” You shake your head, in wonder, in disapproval, you’re not sure which.

“You’re the one who suggested it.”

You scoff. “You’re the one who actually did it, Sylus.”

He shrugs, as if the heavy pack weighs nothing on his shoulders. “I was bored.”

“What happens, if I accept all of your invitations?” you ask quietly. The wind isn’t blowing. The night is still. Your voice carries in the hushed silence, along with the white of your breath in the air. “Will you grow bored?”

He doesn’t turn. His hair shines in the liquid night light.

“When you accept is when the fun actually begins. I doubt I’ll ever be bored again.”

You stare at his back.

“Here,” he says. He shrugs the pack off his shoulders, lets it gently fall to the ground. Drives the fishing pole holder thingy into the ice. He turns to you, gestures for you to unfold the chair.

You flip it out, set it on the ice, as he sets the sharp tip of the augur against the ice and holds it in one hand while twisting the handle with the other. Slowly, it cuts its way through. The shaved ice begins to build, reminds you of snow cones. You want to put a handful in your mouth, but it’s lake water, so you resist. Barely.

After a few moments, he lifts the augur, leaving a perfect circle behind, revealing the water underneath.

You think about the way Sylus’s scent remains in your apartment, long after he is gone.

You think about his hand in yours, through the entire duration of the ballet. 

You think about Sylus slowly drilling through the thin ice around your heart, dipping into the frigid, still water underneath with his blood-soaked hands.

You wonder when being okay was no longer enough for you.

He interrupts your thoughts, his voice deep, soothing, seemingly loud in the snow-quiet. “Some people drill multiple holes around the same lake. Set up tip-ups, a sort of fishing pole system where you don’t have to hold the pole—there’s a flag that flies up when the fish takes the bait. The angler then knows to grab hold and reel it in. Some use more traditional spears. Others use sonar to detect where the fish are, and then quickly drill, ensuring a higher chance of a bite.”

You look at his simple fishing pole. His lack of fancy equipment. “You just use a standard pole, try your luck.”

He nods. “That’s the point for me. Simple. Peaceful. If they bite, they bite. If not, that’s my typical luck. I’ve enjoyed the fresh air, the pine on the wind.” His beautiful mouth tips a little at the corner. “It’s better with you here. Now there’s no losing, even if I return empty-handed.”

“It sounds like you were already winning, no matter what.”

He shakes his head, pokes your forehead with a gloved finger. You hate the gloves, even as they protect you from frostbite. You want to feel his skin on yours again. “As usual, you are wildly mistaken.”

He gently takes the fishing pole from your grasp, then kneels, rummages in his bag. He pulls out a little box, and using his teeth, pulls off his gloves. His hands are so pale they glow like the surrounding snow.

“We’re going to use flashy, bright bait. Maybe we’ll get a pike, or trout.” 

You think of jewel-encrusted boxes. Rubies around your neck, your wrists.

You watch as his nimble fingers, seemingly unaffected by the cold, thread the bright silver hook with radioactive-colored jiggly bait.

You imagine swimming in serene waters, the roof of the world crystal above you. Opening your mouth, trying to catch something delicious dangling in the water. You imagine the pain, the jerk. Being flayed open, your ribs cracked wide. 

You watch Sylus Qin, hair shimmering in the moonlight, eyes like hot blood, and think that even if you know what’s at the end of the hook, you’ll still bite, in the end. You’ll struggle, and struggle, but ultimately try to swallow him whole.

You don’t think Sylus is correct, assuming you’re afraid that you won’t care about the fish’s struggle in the same way you care about killing magnificent wanderers.

He lowers the bait into the water, unreeling the line. He hands it to you. You take it, reluctantly.

He puts his gloves back on, drags the folding chair closer to the hole, sits. “Come.”

You obey, sliding back onto his lap. He puts his gloved hands over yours on the fishing rod.

“And now we wait?” you ask.

“And now we wait,” he confirms.

You lean against him. There is only the moon, the spilling stars, the dark trees in the distance, Sylus’s breath, yours.

“You can’t be mad at me,” you shatter the muffled silence.

“What could you ever do to me, to make me mad at you?”

You breathe out, watch your own breath drift. “I hope we don’t catch anything.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Do you hate it that much?”

You let go of the rod, turn in his lap. “I think I do.” You can’t bring yourself to tell him why.

He studies your face. “Then we’ll go back to the lodge.”

“I don’t want to ruin your fishing trip. Just tell me where to go, and I’ll walk. You can tell me why you brought me here later.”

He snorts softly. “Where you go, I go.”

“Seriously—” you protest, but then the fishing rod jerks in his hands. He grasps it tightly, eyes flicking to where the line is bending the rod in a long bow toward the hole in the ice, back to your face. Asking a question.

You were swimming peacefully in a dangerous, but mostly serene lake. You were pulled out by your tender flesh, terrified for days, and then thrown back in. And now the same angler is looking at you, asking you a silent question, if he is allowed to reel another living creature, just like you, into the cold, drowning air.

But you already care for him so much. So much more than perhaps you care for yourself, in how happy you want to make him. You find yourself nodding, despite the dread filling you.

He firmly, slowly, reels in the fish. It’s big—much bigger than you expect. You take a step back, give Sylus room as it plops out of the water, onto the ice. It’s mouth opens, closes. It has sharp teeth. 

He looks at you again. “It’s a pike. Do you want to release it? I’ll gently lower it into the water, let it swim out of my hands. As little trauma as possible.”

You’re staring at the pike’s sharp teeth. You think of your swords. Your pistols. Your fists. If he tries to put the fish back in the water, it might bite him. You know that Sylus will heal, but you don’t want him to have to heal himself during what is supposed to be a tranquil fishing trip.

“You came here to catch fish. Finish it.” You try to sound firm. Calm. 

Your heart is racing.

Sylus doesn’t waste time. He reaches into his parka pocket and pulls out what looks like a little ice pick. He bends down, grasps the fish with one gloved hand and drives the sharp point of the pick into the fish’s head. It immediately stops moving.

He does this with the same efficiency that he executed a man in the street. The same quiet, decisive coldness that he snapped a man’s neck.

He turns to you, eyes widening. “Sweetheart?” He sounds a little panicked.

The tears are hot on your face. They steam in the frigid air. You don’t know why you’re crying.

“Some people put their fish on the ice—they think that they just fall asleep and never wake up. But it’s a slow death. The most humane way is iki jime.” He gestures with the pick. “A swift strike to its brain.”

“I understand,” you say, because you do. What he did was the kindest thing, once you gave him permission to kill it. You quickly try to brush your tears away with your gloved palms.

He rummages in his bag again, pulls out what looks like a roll of wax paper. He carefully wraps the fish, making sure it’s tightly packed in the paper, and then slips it into his bag. 

“It’s so cold that we don’t need to pack it in ice. It will keep until we get back to the lodge.” He disassembles the fishing rod, which apparently has some sort of telescoping function so that it fits neatly in the pack. He unfolds the camping chair, straps it to the bottom of that pack. He has to adjust the rifle to add it to the pack’s straps. He picks up the ice augur in one hand, and takes yours in the other. You feel useless, like you wrecked his trip. You haven’t even been here on the lake with him for an hour.

You stop, the snow spikes digging into the ice.

“Why am I here, Sylus?”

He turns, studies you with his lovely eyes. “Because I needed you to be here, and you came.” His voice is deep, and soft. Tender. 

You clench your teeth. “But why?”

“Because I missed you. And it’s almost New Year’s Eve.”

You stare at him. Is it that simple? He missed you, and he wanted to spend New Year’s with you? “My expertise? Your tricky problem?”

He doesn’t bother looking sheepish. “Only you know how to make me happy. And only your presence can solve your absence.”

You stare at him, mouth slightly open. Your nose is cold, running a little from the tears, the harsh air. “You flew me to the arctic to spend New Year’s with you because you missed me?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

Your teeth start to chatter. Despite the parka, the fur cap, your warm boots, you’re suddenly exhausted and cold. As if hearing that Sylus doesn’t need you to fight wanderers, or take down some inhumane fur smuggling ring, your body feels like it’s safe to acknowledge your hangover from Christmas, your exhaustion from the flight, the trip out to this frozen lake at the end of the world, the grief of the past year.

“Why didn’t you just say so in the invitation?” you manage through your clicking teeth.

“Would you have come?” he asks, tilting his head.

You think about the fish. The swift plunge of metal into its brain. His hand, holding yours during a ballet. A record spinning in your small living room, Sylus having brought your favorite artist on vinyl to play for you while you played Scrabble. The bones of a thumb snapping, the squeal of a man in excruciating pain. A fish hook, gleaming in the moonlight.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly.

“Do you want to leave, now that you know that there’s no crisis?” He sounds resigned.

You think about how you wanted to make him happy as the fish took the bait. His knuckles, soft on your cheek. His scent in your kitchen, long after he is gone.

You realize now that the hook has been in your mouth ever since he released you gently back into the water, after the auction. It’s been bleeding this whole time, as you refused some invitations, gave in to others. He has been letting out the line, reeling you back in. Making sure you don’t thrash yourself off the hook. A master angler, now looking at you with such sorrowful resignation.

“I won’t invite you again,” he says, and your heart stops. Your teeth stop chattering. The stars are diamonds spilling onto the ice, splashing back up, illuminating his hair, the wine glow of his eyes.

“What?” you whisper.

“It’s almost the new year. If you want to move into the future without me bothering you anymore, I promise to let you go. If that’s what you really want.”

He’s willing to let the line out again, to let you swim away from him.

But his hook is already in you, so deep, you’ll carry it for the rest of your life, no matter what choice you make.

Your teeth start to chatter even harder. You’re not ready. You’re not ready to say goodbye to him. You’re also not ready to make a choice, the fear filling you—the pike’s sharp teeth, your sharp teeth, the sheen of fish scales lovely under the moon, the sheen of lovely fabric draped over your body in a box seat at the ballet, the spike, the sudden stillness after so much thrashing.

“Take me to the lodge, Sylus.”

His breath puffs white. He doesn’t ask you again to make the choice now. He turns, pulls you forward by the hand.

The way back is a blur. You’re exhausted, cold. His big body shields you from the wind as he drives the snowmobile, deeper through the pines, until you burst into a small clearing filled with a decent-sized, but not huge, wood cabin. The lodge. Just as they call Sylus’s mansion ‘the base,’ these men can’t be normal about anything at all and call this wood cabin ‘the lodge.’

He parks the snowmobile under a covered area next to the cabin, next to three others. You wonder if he had the fourth one brought for you specifically, or if this is just the number of vehicles that come with the cabin.

He pulls you to the door, and the heat inside is a welcome relief to your cold, tired bones. He helps you peel out of the parka, the heavy boots. Hangs and arranges everything neatly in a large, stone-tiled foyer. He then strips himself. He’s wearing a soft sweater, soft dark pants underneath. He picks up the pack with one big hand, and yours in the other. It’s warm against yours.

Past the inner foyer door, the cabin opens up into a high-ceilinged, rustic space. Pale blond wood. Furred rugs. Comfortable, overstuffed leather furniture. Huge windows, just like his base, providing a view of the surrounding snow-covered pines. The mountains rising beyond. Open floor plan—living room, big kitchen. You turn, find a balcony overlooking the living room. The upper floor with the bedrooms, you assume.

There is no television.

You turn to him. “How do the twins stay entertained? How do you?”

He shrugs. “We bring books. Graphic novels. There’s a games closet. We hunt. Drink. A sauna.” His mouth quirks when you visibly react to the idea of a sauna. “We can do sauna after you’ve slept.”

You just nod, a little overwhelmed. Like you so often are around this man. You’re so tired.

“Do you want to learn how I prep the fish, or do you want to rest?” he asks after setting the hiking pack next to the kitchen island. The kitchen counters are large butcher blocks, the cabinets more blond wood.

“Rest. Please. I think I’m really tired after the trip.”

He lifts a warm hand, traces underneath one of your eyes with a fingertip. “You look tired.”

You scowl. “Thanks.”

He drops his hand. “You look no less lovely for it.” Then he turns, begins making his way up the open wooden staircase leading to the hall balcony above. When he notices you not following, he turns back. “Coming?”

You shake your head, accepting the feeling of warmth flooding you from his kind comment. You’ve come this far. You refuse to let him make you choose. You don’t know what you’re waiting for. But you know that you’ll just know, at the right moment, when choice must finally be made.

You follow him. He leads you to a bedroom with a huge bed. Polished wood floor. Large window, the night sky spilling onto a snow-filled balcony on the other side of the glass. Pale walls. A rustic dresser with a record player on it, a closet, an en-suite bathroom. Everything is simple. So different than Sylus’s normal style, but it still feels like him. Clean lines. Sylus, if he could relax. The room smells of him. Delicious. Cloves.

The bedding is piled high, puffy duvet, white. 

“Everything you need should be in the bathroom. Are you hungry?”

You turn back to him. “I’m not hungry, but I should probably eat. I can’t remember the last time I ate.”

He tsks, frowns. “I’ll bring you something,” he says grumpily. He turns to leave. 

“Thank you.”

He pauses in the doorway. Rests one big hand on the doorframe, looks over his shoulder. “For what, kitten?”

“For inviting me. For… tolerating me.”

He turns fully. Strides over to you. Places his warm palms on your upturned face. “If you don’t listen to anything else I say, listen to me now. You are the one person I never have to tolerate.” His thumbs sweep under your eyelids, along the delicate skin, just as you imagined when you’d dab aloe vera there, as you’d dab expensive face cream there. It feels better than you were ever able to imagine. “It’s almost New Year’s. I can go through another year, without knowing if you want to face it with me. I will wait for as long as I have to. But if you already know that you’re not going to keep me, it would be more merciful for you to tell me now.”

You stare into his eyes, and for the first time, see yourself mirrored in them. 

The uncertainty. The fear. 

Maybe you’re not the only one who can empathize with a powerful, deadly fish struggling on a hook. 

Maybe you’ve been looking at the trajectory of your relationship with this man from the wrong angle this whole time. That you’ve been missing something essential, all along.

You need more time. You try to memorize the dark striations in his lava-glow eyes. To warm you when he walks out of the room again.

“I’ll tell you,” you promise him.

He closes his eyes, and it’s like the lights go out in the room. He breathes through his nose and releases you.

Then he’s gone. You head to the bathroom, and he’s right. Everything you could want for your stay, waiting for you. You shower. The hot water never runs out. You wonder how big the generator is that powers this place. You didn’t see any electrical lines overhead.

When you emerge, there’s a tray on the bed. Meat and cheese, rustic bread, olives. A large glass of water sits on one of the pale wood nightstands.

You eat your fill, watching the stars shift across the sky. You then crawl under the big pile of duvets and pass out almost immediately.

You don’t dream.

You don’t know what time it is, when you wake up. The sky outside is still full of stars. You’re so warm. Waking up is peaceful, without an alarm. Without obligations pressing in on you. You think that you’ve been missing something essential, through all the hours, days, weeks, months, since Sylus came into your life. As much worry, confusion, dread that he has brought with him, he has brought an equal, if not greater amount, of moments like these. Opening a new pot of cream to soothe your chapped, thin skin. The feel of soft, quality fabric draped over your body. Biting into the chilled flesh of a perfectly ripe fruit, plucked from a gift basket delivered to your door. His hand, warm, enveloping your own cold one. His strong, sturdy presence at your side during missions that may have gone sideways, if not for his strength bolstering yours. Waking up to starlight pouring into a bedroom, a waterfall of crystals plinking onto the floor, the duvet, your upturned face.

You’ve been viewing these luxuries as shiny bait hiding a sharp hook.

What if they’re offerings from a man experiencing his own hook, leading to you, terrified that you’re going to rip it out of his soft mouth?

You turn your head from the window, and only then do you realize you’re so warm because Sylus is heating the space under the duvet with the giant furnace of his own body. Somewhere during your nap, or night sleep, whatever it was, as time has no meaning here, he slipped into bed next to you. He’s breathing quietly, eyes closed, head on the pillow next to yours. He’s not touching you, but his body heat feels like a caress.

You drink in his beautiful face. Imagine a hook caught in the plush of his full lower lip. It hurts you to imagine having to shove it in deeper, in order to dislodge it, to slip the vicious barbed point back through the wound to free him.

You think that perhaps, there was never any choice at all, for either of you.

“Like what you see?” His voice is thick, footsteps over gravel. Sleepy.

“I think you know,” you answer. What’s the point in denying it, here at the end of the world?

“It’s nice to hear, even so,” he murmurs. He opens his eyes. 

“I’ve liked what I see, ever since I saw you for the first time, Sylus.” You stare, openly.

“I wasn’t sure,” he admits. 

“Now you can be sure,” you say.

“But is it enough?” he asks.

You’re getting closer. After such a short time, but at the same time, an eternity, you think you can see your choice. Through the snow-covered pines. A shadow moving in the moonlight.

“It’s not a matter of enough, or not enough.” You touch his cheek with your index finger, let it drift down, along his jaw. He shudders, eyes not leaving yours. You realize that this is the first time you’ve reached out to touch him, and not the other way around.

You’re close. You’re really close. The universe will tell you. You know it. “What is on the agenda for today?” you ask.

He seems to accept your non-answer again. “Do you want to hear the good news, or the bad news?”

You lift your eyebrows. “There’s news?”

He nods, the silver of his hair falling across his forehead. Messy and cute.

“You choose.” You can’t bear bad news right now.

“It snowed after you went to sleep. A lot. It may take several days to dig out the snowmobiles.”

You let out a relieved breath. All at once, you know you were never going to leave.

“And the bad news?”

He looks at you funny. “That was the bad news.”

You laugh. “How terrible. Being trapped with a handsome man in his comfortable cabin, free from work and responsibilities.”

He looks like he’s in pain. “I thought you’d be upset.”

“You’re not the only one who can be unpredictable.” You smile.

He watches you, as if he’s waiting for more. He can keep waiting. He likes games, after all.

“What’s the good news?” you prompt him, feeling a little mean, but enjoying it.

“We have plenty of firewood for the sauna. Plenty of supplies for a long stay, if we have trouble digging out the snowmobiles. We can go for a walk, now that it has stopped snowing again.”

“Okay. Let’s go for a walk, and then do sauna after we’re cold and tired.”

He’s still watching you, as if you’re about to freak out. “What do you always tell me? Don’t overthink it? Relax?” You laugh, gently poke the tip of his beautiful nose. “Take your own advice, big boss man.”

That does the trick—he smiles, faintly. “Does that mean you’ll do as I order?”

You tilt your head, a maybe, maybe not look on your face. “Guess you’ll just have to see.” You roll away, yanking the duvet with you. He yelps from the cold, heretofore a decidedly non-Sylus sound. You like it. You want to hear it again.

“Up. We have snow to trudge through!” 

His evol, black and red swirls, yanks the duvet from around your shoulders, settles it back over himself. You blow a raspberry at him, slam the bathroom door behind you. 

You’re going to have fun, while you’re here. As you make him sweat a little, now that you know that the universe is on the cusp of letting you swallow his bait, just as he swallowed yours, months ago.

The snow has buried the overhang that sheltered the snowmobiles. The front door can’t be opened. After grabbing a simple breakfast in the kitchen, you and Sylus gear up for the cold. The parka, the ski pants, the heavy boots, this time with snow shoes instead of ice grippers attached. Your mad bomber hat, gloves. He slings the heavy rifle over his back, along with a backpack full of snacks and other emergency gear. He slips a headlamp over his own forehead. You hear whooping and cheering from outside the house. 

“You’ll see,” he says to your questioning look. He leads you back up the stairs, to a door at the end of the hallway. He opens it onto a bedroom which must belong to one of the twins based on the clutter of books and half-opened bags. You’re just in time to see one of the twins take a running leap over the balcony railing and disappear.

You hurry across the room, through the open balcony door, peer over the railing. Just a few feet below, lying in a huge snowbank coming up the side of the cabin, are Kieran and Luke, making snow angels and laughing their asses off.

“This is how we’re getting out of the house?” you ask, comprehension dawning.

Sylus laughs, low. “You can jump, or I’ll just lower you with my evol. It’s up to you.”

It occurs to you that with Sylus’s evol, he could likely simply disintegrate the snow covering the snowmobiles. That you’re not actually stuck here. That he’s playing games with you, just as you’re now playing a game with him. You no longer feel bad, or mean, for making him wait for an answer you think you could probably already give him.

You feel like being a little meaner, now. You turn, step toward him. You lift your gloved hand, grab hold of his headlamp, bring his face down to yours. “I think I’ll jump,” you whisper, your mouth a breath away from his. You take a long whiff of his skin. He smells so fucking good.  You hear his own intake of breath, a sharp little sound. He turns his head, brushes his nose against your cheek. But you gently shove him away, turn, and jump over the railing.

The twins whoop and holler as you land in the snow with a loud WHOOMP. You laugh, spread your arms and legs, try your best to carve a path through the snow, making your own angel. The snow is wet, cold. It bites your cheeks, makes you feel alive. After you’re satisfied, you stand, survey your handwork. Not exactly the most elegant snow angel, but it will do.

You’re suddenly covered in a spray of snow, as Sylus jumps over the balcony and the resulting shockwave from his big body hitting the powder covers you from head to toe.

You sweep your hand down your snow covered chest, form a snowball and then jump down into the hole he just made, right on top of him. You reach for his face, trying to pat him with the snowball, but he twists, rolling you. You wrestle, laughing, each trying to get the upper hand, but it’s not a fair fight in the snow. Maybe if you were on proper gym mats you could do some jiu jitsu moves on him, but he manages to roll you underneath him in the wet, powdery snow. He looks down into your face, cheeks pink from the cold and effort, smiling bigger than you think you’ve ever seen him smile.

“Truce?” You offer, a lie.

He leans down, his lips just above yours. “Why would I accept a truce when I have the upper hand? I’m playing to win.”

As he speaks, you let your hand drift through the snow. You lean up, just shy of pressing your lips against his. His eyes flick down, as if mesmerized by your mouth. You bring your hand up, shove the snow against his cheek.

He yelps again, glares down at you. You love that sound. You want to make him whine. “I see, what false sincerity in your offered truce.”

You lean up, lick the snow off his face. It tastes delicious. You always did like chewing on ice. “You were prepared to annihilate me, and you complain about good faith in negotiations?”

He’s staring at you again, but you just smile up at him, eyebrows raised. He looks like he wants to say something. You don’t want to give him the chance.

“Now off. I’m getting cold.”

“Making demands, after launching a pre-emptive strike.” He shakes his head.

You poke his cheek. “A warning shot. Get off, unless you want the full arsenal.”

“I see that I need to shore up my defenses if I’m to withstand a real assault from you,” he murmurs, rolling off you. You both lie for a few moments, admiring the night sky, side by side, in Sylus’s now ruined snow angel.

Eventually, he helps you to your feet. You brush the snow off each other, as best as you can, considering how powdery it is. You’re grateful for the snow shoes that allow you to walk over the surface of the snow without sinking in. You leave the twins to continue jumping off the balcony, hauling themselves up again. They’re daring each other to engage in ever more complicated aerial acrobatics.

“Don’t you worry they’ll break their necks?” you ask as you walk side by side with Sylus, into the pines past the clearing. He clicks on his headlamp, illuminating the way, but the now-rising moon, the blanket of stars overhead continue to illuminate the snow. You think you could see just fine without the flashlight.

“They’re not stupid,” he answers easily.

“What would you do, if something happened to them?” you ask.

“Have you accepted me in this gruesome little scenario, or have you released me?” he asks, not sounding upset at all. Just curious.

You stare at his profile. The bored curve of his lips. His long nose. He flicks you with a scarlet glance, then gazes ahead again.

“Would the answer change?”

“If you release me, I’d kill everyone in the vicinity and wait for you to arrive with the Association to put me down.” He shrugs one shoulder, stretching his neck. “If you keep me, I’d kill anyone responsible, and then entomb the twins in the hills above Linkon City. Build a university in their honor, since they never got to go. When I offered, they said it was too late. Stupid.”

You stare at him. “You love them.”

He snorts. “They’re useful.”

“You love them,” you repeat. 

You can’t unpack the rest. How his answer changed based on your presence, or absence in his life. Why he would want you to be the one to kill him, instead of killing himself.

“Think what you want,” he says, but he doesn’t sound upset. 

The walk is beautiful. Peaceful. Your feet crunch in the snow, alongside Sylus’s. You’re getting tired, are about to suggest turning around, heading back to sauna, when you hear a faint screaming. As if it’s coming from up ahead, and yet under the snow.

“Do you hear that?” You turn to Sylus. He nods. Begins walking in the direction of the sound. You follow. As you walk through the snow-covered pines, the screaming gets louder. A high, pained squealing that breaks your heart. 

Sylus stops, looks down. “Here,” he says. He drops to his knees, starts digging. You try to help, but he motions you away. “If it tries to bite, better me than you.”

“No—” you try to argue, but he just shakes his head.

“Not up for debate.”

Eventually, he manages to reveal a flat surface under the snow. He stops, sits back. The screaming has stopped. He slowly reaches up, turns off the headlamp that had illuminated his digging efforts. 

“What is it?”

“A weasel trap.”

You stare at him. “Why would someone want to trap a weasel, all the way out here?”

“Why do humans do anything?” he asks, strangely, with disgust heavy in his voice.

“Okay, fine. Let’s free it.”

“It sounds like it’s hurt,” he says. “It wasn’t screaming just because it’s caught in a humane trap. That’s the scream of an animal in pain.” His voice is strained. 

“Okay, then let’s look inside, and if it’s injured, we get it to the vet.”

“Even with a vet’s help, for a wild animal like this, the most merciful thing we can do for it is put it down if it’s permanently maimed.” Sylus can’t seem to drag his eyes away from the box.

You kneel down next to him. “Let’s actually take a look before we decide that there’s no hope.” He continues staring at the box. “Sylus.” You bite the tip of one of your gloved fingers, pull the glove off your hand. You touch Sylus’s cheek. It’s cold. You turn his face. “Sylus, I’m not going to kill it. And neither are you.” He finally looks at you. “If you don’t open the trap, I will.”

He searches your eyes, and then nods. He reaches down, gingerly lifts the top of the trap. He curses softly.

You peek over his shoulder, and see that it’s not a humane trap at all. Someone set what looks like a cross between a mouse and a bear trap within the box trap that could have been just as effective without actually hurting the animal. The weasel is cowering away from you and Sylus, its white fur stained red with its own blood. Its leg is crushed in the jaws of the vicious inner trap.

“We need to kill it,” Sylus grates out. “It’s in so much pain.”

Something moves through you, as you absorb the sight of the white fur, soaked in blood, so soft. The creature’s little red eyes, bright jewels in its white, cute little face. It looks like Sylus. His eyes, his hair.

The enormity of the cruelty it took to set a trap in the middle of nowhere, which by itself is terrible enough—in such a remote area, with constant snowstorms, the animal would likely have died a slow, painful death from starvation before whoever set the trap could come back to check it. But they ensured the maximum pain possible, by setting a trap that would crush one of its limbs.

Something moves through you, and it is blotting out everything else. Your skin feels too tight. Your body is hot, despite the cold of the air, the snow. It takes a moment for you to realize what you’re feeling. Rage. You feel like you could explode with it. 

“Sweetheart—”

You hear Sylus’s voice as if from a great distance. You turn your head, slow like you’re underwater. 

You want to kill something. 

You want to kill someone.

You want to kill the person who set this trap, and you want to make it hurt.

“Beloved, you need to—”

You slowly realize that the pine trees are too bright, the snow reflecting what looks like direct sunlight. The weasel has shut its red, red eyes against the bright light.

You look down at your hands. Your evol is swirling around your palms, up your wrists, twisting, snaking. It’s almost too bright to look at. You look at Sylus. He’s looking off to the side, squinting. You know how sensitive his eyes are. You’re hurting his eyes with the golden light of your evol.

“Sylus,” you say. You’re so angry. You’re so angry, you could bring down a city with it. The size of your anger is incomprehensible. “Is this how you feel?”

You think that this is it. The sign from the universe. The sign that it’s time to choose.

If this is how Sylus feels, as he snaps the necks of fraudulent, cruel men, as he puts bullets in people who don’t deserve to be called human, then who are you to judge him? Fear him? You are the same. 

Kindred spirits.

He closes his eyes. Turns to face you. “Resonate with me,” he answers, because why would he begin answering your questions directly now? Just because you feel such rage that you want to rip the spine out of the person who did this and impale him with his own coccyx?

“I don’t know if it’s safe—” your heart is pounding. So loud, it almost drowns out Sylus’s strained voice. The light is only getting brighter. You’ve never lost control of your evol before. Is this how Zayne feels? You’re terrified, but bigger than the terror, is the rage.

He reaches out, blindly, manages to catch your hand in his. He bites the tip of his glove, yanks it off his other hand. He then slides his naked hand against yours. You don’t even think. It’s not a conscious decision. Your evol rushes into him, a dam bursting.

You splash into the ocean of stars, of molten lava—resonance with Sylus. 

The confines of your body no longer restrict your anger. It pours out of you, unchecked, an oil spill across the shimmering net of the ocean of connection between you and him. He’s here with you. His compassion, empathy for this uncontrollable fury meets the oil spill, absorbing it, filtering it, letting it bleed out as fuel, something useful. He gathers it, as he gathers you in his arms, your cheek pressed against his chest. You can hear his heartbeat loudly, even though physically, it’s muffled by his parka. Here, in the endless night, the bottomless sea, your feelings are manageable, shared between the two of you.

Is this how you feel, when you’re snapping a man’s neck? Your questions flow out of you like your anger, unchecked. You can’t control the confines of your other feelings either—your fear, of taking his bait. Your fear, that he’ll grow bored with you. Your fear, that he sees you as a pathetic little fish to catch, easily spiked through the brain, tossed back into the water.

He squeezes you more tightly against him.

Let’s heal the weasel, and then I’ll show you how I feel.

You look up at him. We can heal it?

You can resonate with it, as you resonate with me. My healing ability will pass through you, into the animal. It will hurt. We will all hurt. But then its leg can be fully restored. It's still connected by a thread.

You don’t care. You don’t care that you’ll hurt too. But you don’t want Sylus to have to hurt in the process. Are you okay with hurting for an animal?

You don’t know what to expect. A response saying he’s willing to do it, because you want to do it. That he’ll do it for you, because you asked it of him. A response that shrugs off his own pain—he’s used to it, it’s not that big of a deal. You could have expected anything but the feeling he reveals through the resonance—a flood of empathy for the animal, chained by the leg, a part of its body crushed, the terror of being trapped, knowing that the only end is a long, slow death. 

Coursing around this island of empathy inside Sylus is a wide, rushing river, its current inexorable. A feeling that says If anything were to happen to you, I’d feel like dying. I’ve died so many times, drowning in your absence.

Love. He loves you so much. He has loved you so much, for so long. His love has only grown, as he watched you lose control of your evol because of the fury on behalf of this small, scared, crushed animal.

Your fury dissipates in the torrential river of his devotion. You nod, knowing now that he’s more than willing to heal the creature, to bear its pain as his own, just as you are.

You lean over the open trap, ready to rest a featherlight finger on the weasel’s little head, when Sylus stays your hand. The aether core in his eye glows, and he stares into the animal’s now open eyes. You feel a deep, burning pain in your own right eye, as Sylus’s feelings continue to flood into you, form a slurry, flow back into him, now mixed with yours. The weasel’s eyes begin to glow red, just as Sylus’s does. He then nudges you again. You reach down, rest a finger on its little head, and let your evol flow from you into its body.

Pain. Your leg crushed, its now separate parts only connected by a thin stretch of mangled flesh. Sylus, gaze never leaving the weasel, bites off his other glove. He snaps his fingers, loud in the snow-muffled forest. The trap dissolves into scarlet and ink ash. You pull Sylus’s own evol into you, push it into the weasel. All three of you make a low, keening noise in your throats as the flesh begins to knit back together, an agony of sutures pulling without anesthetic, a fundamental wrongness as you reverse nature, crush entropy into order, make something whole that’s not supposed to be whole, anymore.

After what feels like a lifetime, the pain slowly fades. You collapse back onto your ass in the snow, breaking the resonance with the weasel, but maintaining it with Sylus. Sylus remains kneeling, looking down into the trap. The light in his aether core fades. The pain in your eye fades.

You’re watching the weasel through Sylus’s eyes. He observes with a faint thread of pride how the little animal uncurls itself. Stretches its leg experimentally. Even wiggles its little clawed toes. It looks up at Sylus with its crimson eyes.

You and Sylus expect that it will now scurry over the edge of the trip, scrabble through the snow and into the night, away from this place of pain and trauma. But it just sits there for a moment, looking at Sylus.

It then sits up on its back legs like a meerkat, and lifts its little front legs in the air.

Sylus stares at it in confusion.

It wants up.

He turns to look at you, incredulous. You see yourself through his eyes. Your beloved, beautiful face, reflecting the moonlight. A face he’d die over and over for, if it prevented the look of fear and distrust that he has seen flash across it as you looked at him in the dark of a theater, over the white linen of a fine restaurant, from next to him on your couch, as you listened to the record playing that he brought for you, as you bathed in starlight on a frozen lake at the end of the world.

You’ve been looking at him from the wrong angle, missing something essential, from the moment you looked up into his disdainful face for the first time.

You haul yourself to your knees, crunching through the snow to his side again. You look down into the trap, where the weasel is still on its haunches, waving its little front legs in the air. You reach down with your ungloved hand, offer it your palm. It doesn’t hesitate. It simply launches itself onto your forearm, scurries up to your shoulder. It leaps from yours to Sylus’s shoulder. It scrabbles at the fully zipped up collar of his parka, and then literally weasels itself under the coat, and around his neck. It settles, then peeks out of his coat next to his jaw.

He grimaces. Its fur is still matted with its blood.

You shrug. What, is the coat dry clean only? You tease him. Small price to pay for your new pet.

Excuse me? He lifts his eyebrows.

You wrap your arms around him, hug him tightly, rest your cheek against his chest. His big body slumps, and you feel the relief, the affection, the hope that fill him.

What’s a good name for a little albino weasel?

Sylus hugs you tightly. How do you know it’s an albino?

Arctic weasels don’t normally have red eyes. This little guy has red eyes, so I doubt his coat will turn brown in the summer.

You feel his pleasure at your sharing your knowledge with him, his pride that his beloved is so smart. You snort.

Knowing trivia about cute, cuddly things isn’t necessarily a sign of intelligence.

Sylus dismisses your self-deprecation. I know you’re smart for other reasons, kitten.

You let it go. Let’s go home.

There’s a pause after your thought, as if Sylus is holding his breath, trying to keep a leash on his feelings.

You look up, resting your chin on his chest. Two pairs of bright red eyes look down into your face. Home? His question is tentative.

You send him an image of the cabin. Luke and Kieran. Of his own face.

Will you stay? For the New Year?

For longer, if the invitation is still open.

In answer, he leans down, squeezing you so tightly your booted, snow-shoed feet are lifted from the snow. He presses his full lips to yours. You feel him, feeling you. Soft lips, and then tongue, your mingled breath misting up into the still air. He kisses you, and you feel a little tiny tongue on your cheek. You pull back, and see that the weasel had licked your cheek curiously since you were so close.

Sehnsucht. We’ll call the little guy Sehn for short.

Sylus laughs. Is this some sort of jab at Mephisto’s name?

An open declaration of war. Poor Mephisto, named for something so cynical.

And where will Sehn live, beloved?

At the base. Luke and Kieran can look after him when I’m not around.

I can look after him when you’re not around. A petulant thread of jealousy is wrapped around his grumpy thought. Then he rests his forehead against yours. Does this mean that you’ll be at the base more often?

Your bait was too good. I can’t resist anymore. You’re stuck with me, now.

Sylus laughs out loud, a full, rich sound. It echoes through the trees. It took you long enough to bite.

Maybe next time don’t initially traumatize the fish you’re trying to catch.

There will be no next time. There has only ever been you, and I fucked up at the beginning. I can’t promise I won’t fuck up again. But I will never, ever want to release you. 

Good, no refunds. You tug on him. Bend down, pick up your glove and slip it back on your cold hand. Let’s go. I’m fucking cold. And I’m still pissed that we’ll never know what depraved piece of shit did this to Sehn.

Sylus hums a little, and you feel a wall drift into place around some of his thoughts, feelings. You look at him in confusion. 

Don’t overthink it.

You decide to trust him. If he wants to keep a secret from you, well. Not knowing every single thing about each other is healthy in a relationship

You, Sylus, and Sehn walk slowly back to the cabin in companionable silence, the resonance ocean soft and deep between you and your new boyfriend.

You don’t notice later, when he slips out of bed while you’re sleeping, returns to the place where you found Sehn. Places trail cameras with satellite links to several tree trunks in the area. Keeps an eye out for when the piece of shit returns to check on his trap.

You don’t hear the gunshot from a high powered rifle, meant for bears, in the quiet distance.

You don’t see the missing posters that go up in the nearest town as you’re passing back through on the way to the airport, when your holiday finally ends.

You just enjoy the snow. The quiet. The stars above. Finding yourself under mistletoe that the twins must have hung over every doorway in the house, even though Christmas was over. An attempt at helping their boss get what he had already, successfully reeled in. Because you had already spent a lot of time leisurely kissing him, his tongue hot in your mouth, his thigh shoved between your legs. 

You enjoy watching Luke and Kieran invent toys for Sehn to play with, Sehn who they’ve nicknamed the Noodle, who trips down the stairs like a slinky, and curls up in your lap as you read, before Sylus nudges him out of the way and puts his head there. Sehn then curls up on Sylus’s chest.

You enjoy the promised sauna. Holy shit, the sauna. The traditional wood burning stove heats the water that you pour over the hot stones with a big, wooden ladle—the resulting steam bellows, filling the space with the scent of pine, mint, whatever essential oils Sylus chose to drip into the water. You recline against him, naked, your bodies sweating, slick against each other, until you’re dizzy. You both run into the snow and you get to hear him yelp, whimper, over and over again, from the shock of cold. He drapes himself over you, claiming it’s to keep him warm as you stand in the snow for as long as you both can stand it, until you race back to the sauna, do it all over again. You feel thoroughly detoxed afterwards, and you sleep like the dead in his arms.

On New Year’s Eve, you wake up, find Sylus in the kitchen singing at the top of his lungs. You think it’s supposed to be Auld Lang Syne.  It’s absolutely earsplitting. You will never understand how someone with such a rich, deep, beautiful voice can butcher a song as thoroughly as Sylus Qin can.

The twins are placidly reading on the couch. You look at them in astonishment as Sylus warbles, pulling something out of the oven. It smells delicious, some kind of roasted meat. They look up at the same time, mirror images, and smirk at you. You narrow your eyes. They point at each others’ ears.

Ear plugs. Luke mouths, as Kieran nods sagely.

If you hadn’t known you loved him already, based on how you felt, imagining never seeing him again, you would know that you love him because you refuse the twins when they offer you a pair of your own earplugs. You sit at the kitchen island, head propped up in your hand, and listen to him sing for the rest of the morning as he cooks a feast for New Year’s Eve dinner. He bends down, squints at his phone at the cooking tutorials—apparently his phone has some sort of fancy satellite reception since there is no cellular reception—that he’s consulting to prep the meal. You tease him, call him ‘old man’ as you make your way upstairs, fetch his gold-rimmed reading glasses, and bring them back down to him. He looks so happy when you sit back down to continue listening to his atrocious serenade—it’s worth all the damage to your already damaged eardrums.

At midnight, Sylus pulls you into his arms, kisses you softly. You’re slow dancing in the warmth of the bedroom. A record is playing softly on the dresser. Something instrumental, piano. The Northern Lights fill the sky through the expansive window. I would have taken you to see the fireworks, if we were in Linkon City. But for once, my luck is good. We get to see nature’s fireworks instead. Satisfaction pulses through him, through you, as you resonate together again.

You kiss him, slowly, your bodies soaked in the curtains of light drifting through the arctic sky as you sway together. A thought occurs to you.

Why didn’t you come meet me when I arrived at the airport?

He hangs his head. Rests his forehead on your shoulder. I didn’t trust myself not to level the place if you didn’t walk off the plane.

You can’t stop yourself from asking the obvious question. The question he has already answered, in so many ways, in every gesture, in every invitation, in every sent gift.

Why?

He lifts his head, looks into your eyes, savoring the way they glitter in the night’s light. You admire his eyes in return, his wine gaze more intoxicating than any of his fancy labelled bottles.

You should know by now how much I adore you. No love is purer than mine.

You smile, relieved. Let your own feelings wash through you, into him. Happy New Year, Sylus.

He smiles in return, kisses your forehead, continues to sway you slowly under the arctic stars. We'll ensure that it's the first of many.

[belphegored]

hii !! i hope its not too late to request for the 3 character kink prompt 👀 but was wondering ,, what about impact play / or pain play with gamigin ,, glasyalobolas and leraye if thats alright ? :>

Hiii hello, definitely not too late, thank you for sending one & happy holidays!

°•♡Minors dni; most to least likely to be into pain & impact play- Glasyalabolas, Leraye, Gamigin

°•♡ Glasyalabolas is the freakiest and so also the one who I think would enjoy being whacked around, hit and overall tormented the most. You could be cruel to him and he'd always say thank you.

• See him always taking things a bit too far >_> and so being into the most extreme kinds of masochism (especially but like, he can fall into sadism too. Can fall into anything to be fair...)

As long as it's by your hand he'd take anything, from affectionate, heavy handed face slaps, to cock slapping, to cbt, flogging, paddling, spanking overall...

• The image of this giant demon bent over, ass up, begging for a flogging, for you to leave his ass raw and bruised black though.....

If you have him like that, Glasyalabolas will last little to nothing, rocking forward and humping his fat cock against the mattress, spilling himself without second thoughts. Each whipping making him moan loud- he's not above it, starts with small grunts and becomes a literal whiny mess in no time.

• Extremely partial to hard face slapping for some reason; you hit him as hard as you can either prompted by him or during a fight and he can't help it, he's rock hard in seconds.

°•♡ Leraye is such a cutiepie but also obviously a masochist, being under Satan's command must do that to you...

Anyhow, maybe because he's been so nice and overall cute to us and he collects teddy bears I'm inclined to say he doesn't enjoy it as roughly as Glasyalabolas? But I mean...looks can be so deceiving.

• I said once Leraye probably is into caregiver doms and such and think a good caregiver also has to know how to deal a good spanking when their sub is being a brat, which he lovessss.

Probably has a preference for hands instead of props like whips and stuff, he wants you to rough him up on your own! Seldom anything feels better than you pulling him over your knee and messing him up until he's sobbing, especially if you're willing to baby him with aftercare right afterward.

•Give him a reason though: you've been a brat, you've messed this or that thing up. Leraye likes it best if you're punishing him instead of just beating him up without a purpose. It just makes it feel better, to know that he's made take it.

•Has a weakness for nipple clamps with a little weight too, likes to have them on until he's numb.

°•♡ Lastly I don't know Gamigin as much so that's the only reason that left him as the "least likely" but I still think he would enjoy having you roughhousing with him.

• He's a dragon technically so I see him being into the more primal side of pain and masochism? And comparatively to the two above, lightly. Though you never know...

He's probably into biting hard (both giving and especially receiving, until he's all marked up like a dog toy), scratching, and hair yanking and pulling :3. Gamigin probably does all these things to you unconsciously if he sees you as a mate and don't think he's even aware that there are some people that are not into it? It's just how he works naturally.

• But also likely expects you to do the same things to him unthinkingly, if you're not sinking your teeth into his shoulders until he winces and his hips buck forward are you really that into him? <- his train of thought.

• Really into you just piling scar and scratch and mark upon mark on his body, thinks it's really sensual to be a walking testament of the things you do to him ;_;

[thicctails]

curious about Bill's relationships with the twins in gbc

Bill is the twins' very reluctant, pissy, shithead older brother. At first, his ass is NOT conversing with them, because he's butthurt and jealous that he has to share his parents now that he knows they're alive, and he certainly doesn't consider them family (more like bothersome strays his parents picked up), but he's also smart enough to not hurt/torment them.

Eventually, though, Dipper and Mabel start to claw back his walls and nestle their way into his heart-equivalent organ, like the preteen parasites they are.

Individual twin stuff below!

Dipper: 🌲❔⭐

He likes picking on Dipper more, because the kid is easy to rile up, what with his anxiety and embarassing crush on Wendy. Bill looks at Dipper and sees a smaller, sweatier Sixer, complete with his own (and in Bill's opinion, better) abnormality.

However, where Ford was selfish and willing to give Bill everything and anything for answers, soaking up praise like a sponge, Dipper is far less susceptible to Bill's bullshit, and will actually give him sass. Bill gave Stan a nightmare once early on, and Dipper got so mad that he pulled out Bill's full, legal name and cursed him out in Euclydiean. He's seen Scalene's drawings of Bill as a baby in his comically large shoes, and thus is not at all afraid of him.

Bill, a creature that lives in the NIGHTMARE REALM, is wholly unused to this. It's weird and different, but it's not... Bad. As they get closer, Bill finds that Dipper is more than just the awkward potential puppet that he initially thought he was. He's got a good moral compass, yes, but it wavers now and then, and Pinetree is more than willing to do mean, vindictive things with Bill if someone crosses his family.

While Mabel got her Unicorn adventure with Bill as her first big bonding moment, Dipper's comes when he gets knocked unconscious during his encounter with Gideon's robot. Bill appears to Dipper and offers to wake him up and help him save Mabel, if Dipper is willing to let him possess his body. Now, Bill knows he's desperate, and could have easily added the condition that he gets to keep Dipper's body, or simply just not held up his end of the deal, but he doesn't. When Dipper awakes, he's bruised and sore, and his knuckles are covered in drying blood, but he is himself, and Mabel is safe, grinning at him as she grapples them down to the ground.

After that, Bill starts to casually hang around a lot more, usually by possessing Gompers or one of Mabel's stuffed animals. When Dipper starts to dress up again, Bill makes him a set of star earrings. Now, they are made out of teeth, but it's dragon teeth this time!

Mabel: 🌠💓💥

Bill bonds with Mabel much faster, because it's easier for him to relate to her! Mabel is flashy, chaotic, and unapologetic, and Bill loves that! Usually, humans are very predictable and have boring Dreamscapes, but not Mabel. She changes gears faster than a Mantis shrimp punches, and her antics are way more amusing than anything Ford did.

He 100% enables her crazy plans. She wants to set off fireworks for Waddle and Gompers' wedding? Stan keeps the good stuff under his bed. She's making Dipper a special jug of Mabel Juice? Here kid, have some Smile Dip Ultra! (See you in the astral plane, Pinetree!) Cops are trying to send you to Washington for uncovering a government secret? RUN THEM OVER WITH A CAR!

...okay she doesn't listen on that last one, but you get the idea.

His absolute favorite moment with her was watching her punch Celestabellebethabelle's snout until it looked like a gnome threw up on it. He, at that time, was busy suffocating a Satyr with his plushie Unicorn form, but he was sure to give her plenty of praise.

He was surprised at the warm, fuzzy feeling that bloomed when she grinned at him, rainbow blood splattered on her cheek. Hmm. Had he eaten something recently and not chewed it enough? Maybe he was getting sick or something equally stupid. Surely he was not experiencing... Emotions. Ew.

Mabel bedazzles his bowtie for him. She is the only being aside from his parents who have touched his accessories and lived.

[apomaro-mellow]

Two in the Bush 6

Part 5

Eddie was pretty gung-ho about the shower preparations while Billy seemed mostly ambivalent to it, which was expected. Eddie was really excitable while it was rare to see Billy get pumped for anything outside of the typical alpha stuff. Belatedly, Steve realized he should have put that on his list of things for Billy to work on and wondered how he could get him to do it.

“We gotta get this!”, Eddie came from a rack of clothes and held up a black onesie with a flaming guitar on it.

“Where did you even find that?”, Steve asked, stopping the cart.

“From the super badass baby section”, Eddie said as he tossed it into the cart.

There was no way in hell Steve was letting his baby wear that. Babies should wear soft things in bright colors with cute characters. But at least Eddie was thinking about what his future pup would wear. A stark contrast to Billy, who looked like a kid being dragged around, glowering, arms crossed.

“Isn’t the point of a baby shower that people buy this stuff for us?”

“They will, but we should get a few things ourselves”, Steve said.

“Yeah and no one’s gonna buy this for us!”, Eddie held up a little baby beanie with soft felt horns on top.

“Seriously, where are you finding this stuff?”, Steve asked, shaking his head but unable to hide the smile on his face. 

Billy watched the two of them go back and forth over what a pup should and shouldn’t wear and despite it being an argument, neither seemed particularly upset or frustrated with the other. They almost seemed like they were having fun. Billy had been stuck on it for the rest of the shopping. They brought it back to Steve’s place and for now, kept the clothes in what would eventually be the nursery.

“Yeah, I can see my vision now”, Eddie said, hands on his hips as he looked around. “We’ll put the mural on this wall, I’m thinking a dragon in flight over a village. Over there’s where we’ll have the speakers and tape deck. Nothin’ puts a baby to sleep like some Megadeth.”

“I know you’re joking. But it’s still a no”, Steve deadpanned. “I’m gonna order a pizza. Maybe between the two of you, you guys can figure out some real nursery decor.”

He walked out, leaving the two alphas alone. Eddie continued to survey the room. So far, it only had a dresser. The crib was still in Steve’s room for now.

“How do you do that?”, Billy asked, although it sounded like he did so through gritted teeth.

“Hm? Do what?”, Eddie asked back.

“You disagree with him, argue with him but it’s never-you never escalate or blow up at each other. Are you just playing a game? Is that foreplay to you guys?”

Eddie chuckled and shook his head. “If you think that’s foreplay, you’ve got a lot to learn.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hey, hey, sorry dude, look, that was a legit question, right?” Eddie held his hands up. “It’s not really arguing it’s like…bickering, you know?”

“No I don’t.” Billy crossed his arms, prompting Eddie to elaborate.

Eddie leaned against the dresser. “It’s like, I’ll say things that I know will annoy him, but not make him mad. And it’s fun to watch him get worked up, isn’t it?”

It was fun to get Steve worked up. Made the sex good too. But Billy had never argued just for the fun of it. How was Eddie able to do it so easily? Eddie could see something warring inside of Billy and decided to throw him a bone.

“Look, it’s not hard. The next time something comes up, just neg him a little”, Eddie suggested.

“Hey, you guys want breadsticks with the pizza?”, Steve called out.

“Breadsticks fucking suck”, Billy replied.

Eddie’s face fell into his palms. He might need to write out instructions for this guy.

--------------------------------

Billy got another chance when he was to tag along with Steve for his next appointment. It would have been all three of them, but Eddie had cars to work on. He and Billy had talked beforehand and Billy had written down Eddie’s points on a napkin to keep himself straight.

Don’t attack him directly

Annoy, not anger

Have fun with it

“Why are there all these rules?”, Billy questioned.

“They’re unspoken, but important”, Eddie had said.

He’d never felt this nervous when it came to Steve before. He was easy. Get him riled up a bit, fuck, rinse and repeat. But a pup was potential to be something new. And he didn’t want to lose Steve just because he couldn’t get with the program and evolve.

“Are you okay?”, Steve asked as they entered the clinic.

Billy had gotten pretty good at hiding his scent thanks to his childhood, so he must have slipped for Steve to be able to tell he was bothered by something. He shrugged before remembering him being emotionally stunted was a sticking point for Steve.

“Just wondering how you plan to let down Munson when we found out it’s not his.”

Well, Rome wasn’t built in a day after all.

Steve rolled his eyes. “So sure it’s yours, huh?”

Eddie’s words echoed in Billy’s head. “Sometimes, he’ll give you a real easy in. Something like a challenge. Go ahead and take it.”

Was that it? Was that an in? Should he take it? What should he say? Billy wondered if he could take the napkin out of his pocket without Steve noticing. Had it been too long for him to respond? It felt like he’d spaced out for too long. Steve’s brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to say something else, Billy inwardly panicking, when a nurse called Steve’s name.

They stood and Billy only felt half saved. Steve definitely noticed his pause. And the fact that Billy had yet to answer. They got set up in the room and the doctor did most of the talking, checking in on Steve’s health. Steve was just barely two months in, so they weren’t doing an ultrasound just yet. 

Steve replied to all the doctor’s questions and Billy felt completely useless and out of his depth. He kept his mouth shut for the duration of the appointment, even as they left and got back into his car. But Steve couldn’t keep up with the odd silent treatment anymore.

“Look, are you upset about what I said earlier?”

“What?”

“Because I know it’s probably a sore spot for an alpha to have some other guy ‘challenging his claim’”, Steve used air quotes and rolled his eyes but pressed on. “But I didn’t mean it like-well, we don’t know for sure whose it is, but I shouldn’t throw it in your face like that.”

Well, it wasn’t quite an in, but it was kind of an out, wasn’t it? It was better than admitting what was really on his mind anyway. So he took the easiest escape route.

“I was kinda serious. If it’s mine, how are you gonna tell Eddie?”

Steve sighed and looked out the window. “I won’t know what I’m going to say until we find out.”

Billy wanted to press for more. It felt like there was more that Steve wanted to say. But meeting up with Max reminded Billy that one of his problems was pushing too hard and too far. If Steve wanted to play it close to the chest for now, he’d let him. Their little nugget was barely a pile of beans right now. Besides, it gave Billy some time to think about how little he knew going into the clinic today.

After dropping Steve off and getting back home, he called up Eddie.

“You’ve reached the Munson residence, home of a future baby daddy.”

“You’re answering the phone like that?”, Billy snorted.

“Hargrove! I trust the visit went well?”

“Yeah, I guess.” The doctor and Steve seemed happy enough about it. But that reminded him of the idea he got on the drive home and what he could do about how he’d felt today. Something that both he and Eddie had to do.

“How much do you know about pregnancy?”, Billy asked, leaning against the wall next to his phone.

“Uh, peen goes in hole and pup pops out? Swollen ankles and weird late night cravings? ….Tender titties!”

“We’re going to the library”, Billy decided.

Part 7

[waterfire1848]

What do you imagine would happen if Zuko had been swept away by the current like in the comics and fire fans reactions? Like Ozai does canonically try and swim after him but Zuko just gets swept away.

Hello, @deadlyangelofpurity !!! (BTW love your art)

The fire family loved going to Ember Island every summer and they had never had a problem with the beach before so Ursa and Ozai don't really bat an eye when their three year old son run around on the beach and saves a turtle-crab. Ozai keeps an eye on him while Ursa is more focused on the one year old baby in front of her. When the giant waves comes up and washes Zuko away, Ozai darts into the water to save him and Ursa starts screaming for Zuko. Despite Ozai's best efforts the ocean claims the three year old before he can get to him. The guards arrive and look over as much of the ocean as they can, scanning the water for him, while others stay on land and look over the beaches. Ursa is inconsolable when they have to leave Ember Island without Zuko and holds Azula a little closer while Ozai is too stunned to speak. He could have sworn he was about to grab Zuko. How did he let his own son slip through his fingers? Ozai never made it a secret that he didn't like how weak Zuko's firebending was, but he was still his son. Ozai still cared for him and the thought that his own weakness is the reason his son is dead now is such a blow.

The Fire Nation mourns for the loss of the young prince. Azulon, who didn't care too much for Zuko, uses the opportunity to yell at Ozai and Ursa for failing to watch their son and letting him die. For a moment, he briefly considers removing Azula from their care but Ursa begs him not to and he decides against it. It's not said, but the family seems to understand that Ozai and Ursa aren't going to try and have another child. Ursa because she couldn't bear the thought of losing another child and Ozai because he doesn't want to risk failing a second child. Ursa grows more and more attached to Azula, her baby is now her only child and she showers her with as much affection as a mother possibly could. Ozai trains relentlessly, never letting himself be satisfied with his results. Another unspoken understanding is that they are never returning to Ember Island again. Ursa gives up her love for the Ember Island players and Ozai orders their family beach house torn down and everything sent to them at the palace. It's a very sad time for the family.

Meanwhile, Zuko's not doing so good. He get's swept out to see and survival---amazingly---by the skin of his teeth. While he's out at sea, a familiar group of pirates notice him and pick him up. They help him warm up and give him some food. Zuko's only three at the time, so they have no real reason or want to hurt him. On the ship, Zuko thinks the pirate life is amazing (Zuko: What's that? Captain: Our sail. It's the heart of any good ship. Zuko: What's that? Captain: Crow's nest. It allows us to see what's further out on the ocean. Zuko: Can I see? Captain, laughing: You sure you won't get scared. Zuko: I won't! I promise! Captain: Alright). That being said, the crew does try to ask the boy where he's from and when he says the Fire Nation palace, they come to an issue. On the one hand, they don't want to keep a three year old from his family. On the other hand, they will probably die or be locked up the second they step foot on Fire Nation soil. (Pirate: So we're keeping him. Captain: Of course we're keeping him. Pirate: What about when he asks about his family? Captain: He's three. Give him some time and he'll forget all about them. He'll make a fine pirate.) That's exactly what they do. They train Zuko do be a pirate and to use his bending to help them steal. Zuko becomes incredibly good at sneaking into nobles houses and stealing their stuff to bring back to the ship so the pirates can re-sell it. (Captain: Zuko! Where did you get that? Zuko, holding a ruby dragon statue: I stole it from some rich Earth Kingdom noble who said my outfit *the outfit the captain got for him* was disgusting. Never even knew I was in his house. Captain, shedding a tear: I have never been more proud of you!)

With Zuko "dead" and after Lu Ten dies, Ozai still makes the move to try and get Iroh's position because after Zuko died, Ozai has been pushing himself more and more into just about everything to make himself absolutely perfect (and make up for not saving Zuko that day). Azulon can't order Azula's death because he's running out of young heirs, so he sends Ozai into the war to actually experience what Iroh has gone through. Azula and Ursa remain at the palace where Azula starts her training as the crown princess but remains close to her mother's side (having grown up close to her and since Ursa is the only parent she has left). Azulon takes over Azula's training and puts her through intense sessions to try and make her into the perfect weapon. Ursa does what she can for her daughter, but she can't go against the Fire Lord....or can she? When Azula comes to Ursa one night, terrified because grandfather said he'd kill her if she didn't perfect her lightning strike by tomorrow and Azula doesn't know if she can, Ursa decides enough is enough and kills Azulon and, since no one else is around, she becomes the Fire Lady for the time being.

While that's going on, Ozai is in the war in the Earth Kingdom. He's not on the front lines, he's in the tents with the admirals and commanders but it's still a lot to witness after having grown up in the palace. One night, while some of the soldiers are staying in a coastal town, Ozai is woken up by the sound of someone messing around in one of the tents. Ozai goes to inspect it and, low and behold, it's Zuko (although Ozai doesn't recognize him). (Ozai: Who are you!? What you doing!? Zuko:...Would you believe I'm an inspector? Ozai, holding up fire: No. Zuko: Didn't think so. Catch me if you can, old man!) Ozai does catch him and is about to burn him until he sees Zuko's golden eyes and realizes who the thief is. Zuko is a teenager now so he doesn't really remember Ozai and runs away. Ozai, abandoning his soldiers, run after his son all the way back to the pirate ship. (Ozai: ZUKO! Zuko: I don't know who you think I am! But I'm not your son! Ozai: Yes, you are! Zuko: No! I'm not! I'm a pirate! My mom was some woman from the coastal towns and my dad passed away when I was little. I'm not- Captain: He's your father. Zuko: What? Captain: You....I think we have some explaining to do). Zuko listens to the captain's explanation and hears Ozai's side of the story. When all is said and done, the Captain believes that Zuko should go with his father back to the Fire Nation, so Zuko does (even if it is hard to leave the only family he really knows). Ozai and Zuko head off as soon as they can to return to a palace where Ursa is in charge and Azulon is dead.

[miyaniacs]

Corrupted by Darkness

- Introduction -

Facts ; Wattpad

ACOTAR x Fourth Wing x OC

You know how there’s Good and Bad in the world? Heaven and Hell? Angels and Demons?

For every good person, or fae, there’s an evil one out there. Somewhere.

Well it’s the same for dragons.

And I’m not sure if I found the good one or the bad one.

Hello Family,

I’m sure you all are thrilled to … read from me.

Until I found out you were spying on me the whole time?

Come one! Cassian? Do you have no trust in the way you trained me?

Or you Azzie? You made me a fucking shadow yet you’ve sent your shadows to spy on me?

I know I know, Im still a child in your eyes… but I’m as old as the others around me - besides I’ve survived with you as my “family”, you really think this will kill me?

Anyway, I finally have the privilege to annoy you all with endless letters, the first year is over and I’m still alive baby.

So let me tell you about my year…

On my very first day I made a friend, Rhiannon. We ended up being in the same squad too - Fourth Wing, Flame Section, Second Squad. Two new friends we made in our squad are Ridoc and Liam. I know you told me to stick to the other fae around here… But she’s a bitch and I’m this close to kill her every second she opens her mouth. And I really don’t know why our wing leader is fucking with her- like literally. Humans need to meet more fae, otherwise he’d realize that she’s not special. I really hope more fae will come to the riders and help mixing humans and fae in the future… Geographically our worlds are connected but somehow we are not. Back to this bitch tho. Her Name is Eve and she’s the daughter of some lord from Autumn, who’s dad is or was friends with Beron - this should be enough for you to know that she’s a bitch. So anyway now my friends and our section leader Garrick are now judging Xaden for fucking with her. Which made Xaden, our wing leader, hate me… Don’t ask me why just me and not the others too, but just me.

Maybe it was because I once said to Eve that I know she’s just messing with him because she can’t have the real Shadow boy ( yes I’m talking about you Az) - and he was right behind me. She looked offended tho, so add her to the endless list of girls that want to fuck Azriel, yet he still choses the life of abstinence.

Okay uhmmm all the fighting stuff is actually way too easy for me which is why I’m mainly training with Liam or Garrick and not the other first (now second) years.

The food is awful and doesn’t get better the longer you eat it (pls Rhys I’m begging you, pull some strings and get me a care package).

Well other than that… I know you what you want me to talk about… The dragon who chose me.

Noctis.

What can I say - I or We were the talk of the month when he appeared during Threshing and chose me. Everything around me became black. I couldn’t see anything and then… two glowing red eyes appeared in front of me and he spoke. He spoke in my head.

‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

Then the darkness … vanished and there he was. An enormous black dragon. His scales are razor sharp spikes, his horns ( he has for of them) are so long, I could hold them while riding him. His teeth come close to the size of you Cassian. His tail ends in something that fades into a shadow… just like his wings. They have holes in them and the ends fade into shadows…

He wasn’t a normal black dragon I was sure of that.

Thanks to being a fae I got on top of his back and somehow managed to stay there during the flight.

I’m sure you heard all about the drama that went down afterwards.

He shouldn’t be here.

He’s supposed to stay a legend.

Is he even real?

How can he possible bond to someone?

Rhys.

He doesn’t just look like the Dragon Amren told us about. The one she saw when she first landed on this continent.

He IS that dragon.

And he’s a sarcastic bitch that doesn’t know when to stay out of my head or my business- you two would get along so well.

But he’s pretty cool.

And he’s not screaming in my head rn to write this.

Well… and now to the other matter.

My…signet …

So there’s the one… everyone knows of… Shadow Wielding. That’s kinda obvious with how Noctis looks (and forces me to spend more time with Xaden, since we both have the same signet and he’s told to teach me).

But it’s just one of them… Rhys… I feel it. I feel the blood of the people around me. One time Rhi was bleeding and it just wouldn’t stop and I didn’t know what to do… I just wished it would stop. And then I felt it. I felt her blood running out of the cut on her arm and… I made it stop?

I know it sounds crazy but.. then there was this other time … I was just minding my own business during lunch and Eve had to sit down right in my eyesight and make out with Xaden… I got so annoyed… and just wanted it so end. I thought about blood running down her neck… and then… it started to run. Run out of her nose, down her mouth and…down her neck. She needed to go to the healer’s because it just wouldn’t stop.

Rhys.. what is wrong with me?

Noctis just tells me that he knew why he waited for me.

I know I should go to my teachers.. and learn how to control it.. but something tells me that I shouldn’t.

Oh and Rhys… His power… feels like yours.

Talk to you all later…

Nea.

With a sigh I put away my pen.

Shadows crawl around me and caress my face.

I smile and look at the male behind me.

“Did I wake you up?” I ask him.

“No… But I’m kind of offended our activities knocked me out more than they did to you.” He laughs and gets out of my bed. His lips touch my shoulder blade, right where Noctis marked me. His fingers trace the thin lines on my body, that run from the dragon on my back all over my body.

“They’re beautiful.” He mumbles.

Pfff obviously. Noctis sighs and I feel him rolling his eyes.

“Come back to bed now.” He says and walks backwards, dragging me with him.

[callsign-rogueone]

Hey sweetie! (Me again lol 😵‍💫)

This was supposed to be one thing but the graphic audio made it two 🤦

Brennan and his children, I know I've asked before, but I need to know what he'd be like. And considering that you portray the characters so realistically... Please enlighten me, at least a little.....

There is this one line in IF that for some reason holds me my heart (a second just popped in my mind too 🤦 sometimes I had my mind) but it's a line from violet to andarna. Marbh was watching over Brennan while he was mending the ward stone 🥺 I need more of them. Marbh probably became more protective after the rebellion. But marhb staying on top of the chamber to look over Brennan 🥺

Do you remember that line from Brennan before the battle "disengage your limbs or whatever you're doing" ? If you wanna I'm sending that from the graphic audio you need to hear it, it gives peak "brother who accepts the relationship but is not happy with the thought of someone touching his youngest sister.

I think I overstayed my welcome. But alas. Here you have it. Brennan, bren, mender, the sweetest man alive 😵‍💫🥺

Love you 💐

Aura 🧡

hihi!! I still need to listen to the graphic audio but I’m scared lol

yes!! we need to talk about dad!Bren. he’s gonna be so sweet with his two little boys that look exactly like him 🥹 I’ll probably make a full post about him and some of the other guys as dads, but some initial thoughts:

he’s 100% always helping his partner take care of the babies. we stan an active father!! even if he’s tired from Lieutenant Colonel stuff, he’s always making sure that they have what they need and he’ll get up in the middle of the night to feed them / get them back to sleep etc etc

his mending! he’s immediately fixing any kind of injury. blocking the babies pain when they’re teething, and later when they’re running around, fixing any skinned knees etc. I think I talked about this before but he’d also be the go-to person for all of Aretia’s kids who need their favorite toys and stuffies fixed.

they’d 100% have little stuffies that look like daddy’s dragon 🥺 they’d love Marbh. and of course Marbh would protect Bren’s partner and their babies from anything and anyone. 🧡

Bren would also really value their education when they get a bit older. he’s always reading with them, teaching them another language like his dad taught him…

and of course when they’re more grown up, the age to enlist at Basgiath, he won’t pressure them to do that at all. if they want to be riders, scribes, healers, infantry, or take another path in kife, that’s fine with him. he just wants them to be happy. 🧡

and Marbh is definitely extra protective of his boy after the whole death and resurrection thing.

it must have been painful and emotional for marbh to feel Brennan fade away and then come back suddenly… and Marbh probably feels guilty for not being able to protect him then, too.

in my mind it wasn’t an instant recovery. like Naolin stabilized him and stopped him from dying but he still had to heal and rest for a while. Marbh would be worried about Bren and when he finally saw him again face to face he’d be so happy (even if he didn’t show it — I know they describe him as being kinda aloof lol)

I think he’d be a little glad when Bren went into hiding / wasn’t really in combat anymore. like, “good, he’ll be safe in the fortress. no arrows in there.”

and of course him watching Bren and the kids in the final battle 🧡 he couldn’t be there for Bren the last time, and look what happened then… so he’s being here now. and Marbh has grumpy dad energy to me (not as bad as Tairn’s, but close) so he’s making sure to protect the young cadets too.

that’s all I’ve got for now. more to come in a real post later perhaps, but I wanted to answer this and feed the Brennan girlies at least once this week 🥺🧡

love ya!!

[thehollowwriter]

Banging my head against the wall okay, so I haven't developed abyssal magic all that much since I'm not very good at that sort of thing. It's more of a vague concept atm, but what I did have in mind is that it was always much more violent and untamed than other forms of magic, and you often have to draw symbols (like in the owl house) to cast spells.

Then I thought to myself "well, it comes exclusively from the Abyss, and the Abyss itself is filled with death to the point where you're more likely to find a ghost than another person... so what if Abyssal magic thrived off death?"

And then I immediately thought about the Dragon Prince where the only way humans could cast magic was through either the magic orbs I forgot the names of OR by harnessing dark magic by killing living creatures.

"But if Silas wants to keep Finn away from death, why would he teach Finn abyssal magic?" Well you don't have to kill people to harness it. Silas could not care less if Finn killed a fish as long as no harm comes to Finn himself.

I'm just spitballing but sgjajffjajzf it would be interesting if stuff like bones and blood fuelled abyssal magic. While that technically isn't death, usually to get that sort of thing some form of death would have to take place. I can just picture for a small spell just crushing an insect or something and then casting the spell.

Ngl it would be kinda fucked up if you're duelling Finn or something and he just yanks his own tooth out (cause sharks frequently lose teeth and regrow them so it would be loose) or wipes blood from wherever he's been hit and uses it for a spell 😭😭😭

BUT PLS CONSIDER FINN NOT NEEDING TO USE ANYTHING BC HE'S LITERALLY TETHERED TO FIVE GHOSTS AND HE CAN DRAW FROM THEM AHFSTKTSJTJW. Idk if that actually makes any sense but it would be really funny if Silas decided to teach him a basic spell and just used a baby tooth for it but nope Finn doesn't need it 😭

Abyssal magic is kinda taped to the drawing board atm. Do you guys have any thoughts on it?

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @inotonline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch

@ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts @the-banana-0verlord @cloudcountry

@skriblee-ksk @twstinginthewind @lumdays

[radiance1]

Eastern Dragon Danny, but he ends up in BotW/TotK timeline and chills there thinking Aragon would never look for Danny in a medieval fantasy setting

I know naught much of Botw/Totk lore since all I have read are fanfics but I shall try my best I guess?

Botw-

Danny just, doesn't involve himself with anything regarding this new land, like, at all. He mostly keeps to himself and just tries to enjoy life now,

Mostly just discreetly (as much as a dragon can) flying around and doing whatever he wants.

Perhaps he also meets Dinraal, Farosh and Naydra pre-calamity and become somewhat friends? Like, he visits them a bit from time to time and maybe they act a bit parental because Danny just, gives off the feel of a baby dragon.

Probably because he is a baby dragon, but I digress.

When the calamity happens, he's just blindsided because, holy shit what in the ever-loving FUCK just happened? When he went to where he thinks it came from, he saw the castle that he usually pass by whenever he wanders around (out of sight of course) and found it in ruins.

He didn't even have time to properly look at it, because soon enough he was dodging multiple goddamn laser beams, like, he didn't even know they had these here!

Oh, hey there's a pretty light :D

And then there was some Misty black, purple whatever colored dragonlike(?) being appeared and- hoLY SHIT.

The damn thing gunned for him, like, he dodged it but still what in the ever-loving fuck. He was just mining his own business, doing dragon stuff and checking out what was happening over here, what, did he like kill this guy's family in a past life or something.

Gosh he hopes not.

So, he dodges and weaves, accidentally distracting it from the people down below while also sending off some blasts of ectoplasm and ice.

Which didn't do much.

Great.

He was considering just, leaving, because this honestly was not as much as it was worth. Then some girl who looked literally like, 2 years older than him came running up to the castle and then the thing attacking him just straight ignored him and gunned for the girl.

.

Goddamn it.

He flew forward to intercept the thing, chomping down on it and hoping the girl would get the hint to just run. Only for his teeth to just, not catch on anything and instead for him to get overrun.

Pure, unbridled hatred flooded his mind and malice pumped through his veins.

And then he just, didn't remember what happened next all that clearly.

He remembers a light, then the girl disappearing, then him flying away with basically no destination in mind, only knowing that he tried to keep a hatred and malice not his own and finding some secluded place to keep himself away and everyone else away.

Then he literally froze himself and whatever area was around him, and fell into a struggle.

(Idk how to include Totk so uh, just have this I guess.)

[astrobei]

hi suni astrobi my beloved dear suni ❤️🫂

sending you a valentine's day prompt because i can annnnnd.

i challenge you to write miwi bc i need more miwi in my life. you can do whatever you want with this, but i want to see little baby will making a valentine's day card for his best friend, mike. bonus points if it has like paladin mike and dragons and all that other good ole fashioned dnd goodness.

hi andi andiwriteordie my beloved dear andi <3 happy valentine's day !! as a special present for you, here is my first ever attempt at writing miwi :^)

On Sunday night, Will’s mom brings home a bag of candy.

This, obviously, grabs his attention before anything else– brightly packaged somethings that crinkle loudly when his mom puts the bag down on the kitchen table. He can see them peeking out through the thin white plastic of the Melvald’s bag, and immediately perks up.

“What are those?” he asks, because it’s not rare for his mom to bring stuff back from work– especially on late nights like this, when she knows that Jonathan is busy with homework and no one’s had a chance to cook dinner, not when she’s been out all day and his dad is– well. His dad sure isn’t about to cook dinner, and Will has learned how to heat stuff up in the microwave but they’re currently out of everything that he can stick in a microwave. Will expects her to whip out a couple of TV dinners, and he kind of hopes she will, because it’s late and he’s hungry.

He peers over the long end of the table, trying to catch a glimpse, because the TV dinners don’t usually look like this– all pink and red and crinkly. His mom laughs, then holds the bag open by the handles so he can look inside. “Candy,” she says, “for your class Valentine’s Day party tomorrow.”

Will stopped listening after the word candy. He doesn’t know what Valentine’s Day is, and he doesn’t really care, because the bag is full of the brightly wrapped candies and chocolates that he saw in the store the other day when his mom took him inside. “Whoa,” he breathes out, and reaches out to stick a hand into the bag, even if just to make sure that what he’s seeing is real. A whole bag, full of candy. The wrappers crinkle some more, loud under his palm, and he pulls out a heart-shaped lollipop, flat and an almost aggressive shade of red. “Is this for us?”

“Oh, no way,” his mom laughs some more. “This much candy? All your teeth are going to fall out.”

Will grins. “My teeth are already falling out,” he says, pointing to where he’d lost his first one just a couple of weeks ago. He’s still not used to it, the strange space in his mouth where there didn’t use to be one before. He sticks the tip of his tongue into the gap there, and his mom rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

“Maybe that’s because of all the candy you ate at Halloween,” she says, and leans over to ruffle his hair. “It’s not good for you!”

“Danny in my class already lost three teeth,” Will mopes, “and he got three dollars from the tooth fairy, so maybe if mine fall out too–”

“The tooth fairy will refuse to give you money because you let your teeth rot on purpose,” Joyce says, and Will slumps into the chair next to her, pouting. “It goes against the tooth fairy laws.”

Will might only be six, but he knows that there’s no such thing as tooth fairy laws. There can’t be rules just for one person. That’s ridiculous. He tucks the lollipop from earlier into his pocket before his mom can see, though. Just in case. “What’s the candy for?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow,” his mom says, walking over to the kitchen and opening the fridge door. “Your class is having a party, and these are for your friends.”

Will frowns. “What’s– Valentine’s Day?”

“It’s a holiday about celebrating the people you love.” Joyce emerges with a loaf of bread and a few slices of cheese. “Grilled cheese okay for dinner?”

They’ve had grilled cheese for about four days in a row now, but Will doesn’t mind. His mom makes them perfect. He nods. “Yeah!” 

“You have to eat the crusts this time,” she says. “Don’t think I didn’t see you throw them away last time.”

Shoot. So close.

“Fine,” Will agrees, then leans over to pluck another candy out of the bag. It’s pink this time. He thinks it might be strawberry-flavored. Will isn’t the biggest fan of strawberry, but candy is candy after all.

“I heard that,” his mom chides, back still turned to him, as the candy wrapper crinkles loudly under his fingers. “Put the candy back, Will.”

No! So close again. Will scowls at the traitorous sweet in his hand and tosses it back in the bag. “How did you even hear that?”

“I have superpowers, remember?” Joyce points to her ears and shoots him a wink. She’s probably right, Will thinks glumly. His mom has ears on the back of her head– or whatever it is they say.

“Why do my kids in my class get candy and I don’t?” 

“They’ll give you candy too,” Joyce assured him, flipping a sandwich over in the pan. “That’s the whole point! You trade candy and Valentine’s Day cards.”

Cards? “What kind of cards?”

“You can look in the bag. I picked some of those up on the way back from work.”

Will sticks his arm bag in the bag and shuffles it around, until soft cellophane gives way to the sharp edge of cardstock. He pulls one out– “Be mine,” he reads aloud, then wrinkles up his nose in confusion. “Huh?”

“Cheesy, huh?” Joyce slides a plate in front of him, and smiles. “Speaking of cheesy–”

Dinner! Will’s stomach rumbles, and in the face of a perfectly made grilled cheese sandwich, thoughts of Valentine’s Day slip instantly out of his mind. 

—

They don’t stay out for long, though.

“Jonathan?”

Jonathan’s room door is open, and he has his back to the door, but he turns around as Will peers through the doorway. “Oh. Hey, Will.”

Will shuffles his feet, hesitating. Is this a stupid question to ask? Surely Jonathan won’t think he’s stupid. Jonathan never thinks Will is stupid, even when Will asks dumb questions or says dumb things or acts super annoying. “What’s Valentine’s Day?” he blurts out.

Jonathan raises his eyebrows. “Huh?”

Maybe Jonathan doesn’t know. That’s a weird thought, though, because Jonathan knows everything. He’s in third grade now, which seems big and grown up and far away. It’s old enough for your grade to have an actual number. Not like kindergarten, which Jonathan says is, like, zero grade. “Valentine’s Day,” Will says again. Mom had been so vague about it, and he’s still not sure what’s up with the lovey-dovey stuff. Maybe Jonathan can help. “What is it?”

“Um,” Jonathan says. “It’s– the holiday of love, I guess?”

Oh. That’s lame. “Ew,” Will says, making a face. “That’s gross.”

“Tell me about it,” Jonathan sighs. “Why are you asking?”

“I have to celebrate with my class tomorrow,” Will sighs. “And mom got candy but I’m not allowed to eat any.”

Jonathan makes a sympathetic noise. “Lame.”

“I know!” Will exclaims. “And I don’t even– love anybody. Gross.”

“Well,” Jonathan says thoughtfully, “it doesn’t have to be love love. It can be, um. Any kind of special somebody.”

“Special somebody?” That’s a weird thing to call someone. “Huh?”

“You know. Is there someone special to you? Someone you really like?”

Will likes a lot of people. His teacher is really nice. He likes mom’s boss at the store, because sometimes he lets Will pick out a piece of candy from the display. He likes Jonathan, and he likes his mom, of course. But people who are special–

“Mike,” Will decides immediately. It’s an obvious choice, because Will hadn’t ever had best friends before Mike came into his life earlier this year. They do everything together– playing at recess, eating lunch, sleeping over at each other’s house. The other kids in the class even talk about them like they’re one person– MikeandWill– which makes Will smile. It’s nice to feel like he’s a part of something. Mike is special. Mike makes him feel special.

Something funny happens to Jonathan’s face, super fast, and then it goes back to normal. “There you go,” he says, then nods. “You can make something for Mike.”

“Like what?”

“Um, I don’t know. Draw him a card?”

“Mom already bought cards,” Will sighs.

“Make him a special one,” Jonathan shrugs. “Because he’s– um. Your special somebody.”

Will grins, wide enough that he knows his missing tooth gap is showing. Sue him. He thinks it’s cool, even if Jonathan has, like, five of them and doesn’t care. “Thanks, Jonathan!”

“Uh, yeah!” Jonathan sounds a little confused as he calls after him, but Will is already on his way to his own room. “You’re welcome!”

When Will gets back to his room, he pulls out his crayons and his paper, sits down at his desk, and–

He stops.

Oh no.

What is he supposed to put on a card? For Mike, especially, who’s one of the coolest people Will knows. What if he thinks it’s lame? What if he doesn’t want a card? What if whatever Will makes is so boring and awful that Mike laughs?

Will shakes his head. No, he thinks. Mike won’t laugh at him. Mike would never laugh at him, and that’s why he’s so special– everyone else laughs at Will, sometimes, about his clothes or his hair or the way he talks. But Mike doesn’t. Mike thinks he’s cool, and Mike thinks he’s fun, and Mike likes all the same stuff as he does– the kind of stuff that everyone else in their class thinks is lame but Mike doesn’t.

Will stares down at the blank sheet of colored paper. Blue, because Mike likes blue. And Will’s got a twenty-four pack of crayons and he doesn’t know what color to draw in, but everything else, the candies and the cards in mom’s bag, had been red or pink, so maybe Will should draw in red or pink too. And– everything else had, like, hearts on it, so maybe he can start there.

“For Mike,” Will says aloud, slowly and carefully, as he writes the words at the top of the paper. He’s pretty sure he spelled it right. He knows he’s got Mike’s name correct, at least. F-O-R. For. 

Yeah. That looks okay.

The heart is next. Will tries to make it big enough to take up most of the page, where the paper has been folded in half down the middle. It’s a little lumpy, but– yeah. You can totally tell it’s a heart.

Probably.

He opens the card to the inside, and pauses again. Great, he thinks, because what is he supposed to write on the inside? He’d already drawn a heart on the front, and it would probably be a little lame to draw another one on the inside.

“Think,” he groans out loud, putting the red crayon down and peering into the box. Half of them are broken, and some others are worn down to nubs, so it’s not even like he has a lot of options here.

What sort of stuff does Mike even like? Mostly the same stuff Will does, but then maybe that would be like Will is making a card for himself, and not for Mike. He looks at the paper some more, like maybe something will appear on it, fully-formed, if he stares long enough.

Nope. Nothing. 

Will sighs, and thinks harder.

Mike had liked that book they read in class last week– something about a knight rescuing a princess from a tower. Will hadn’t really been paying attention, because it was kind of boring and, like, sappy and about love, but Mike had been totally into it. Will had looked over during group reading time and his eyes had been huge and his jaw had been, like, on the floor. Will didn’t really get the appeal, because, again, it had been totally cheesy and sappy and gross. But Mike had found a stick at recess an hour later and brandished it like a sword, and Will had been too busy laughing to properly express how lame he thought the whole thing was.

It wasn’t lame when Mike did it, though. That’s why Mike is special– nothing’s lame when he does it.

Will picks up a crayon. He has an idea.

—

Don’t think it’s lame, Will prays, fighting every instinct in his body that’s telling him to squeeze his eyes shut and hold his breath. Please don’t think it’s lame.

Mike hasn’t said anything yet. Maybe he really does think it’s lame.

Will is starting to wish that maybe the asphalt of the playground could just open up and swallow him whole. Mike totally thinks it’s lame. Maybe Mike didn’t even want a card. Maybe Mike is weirded out. Maybe Mike–

“Did you really make this?”

Will blinks. Mike doesn’t sound weirded out. He sounds– impressed? Maybe?

“Um. Yes,” he says anyway. Mike’s eyes are wide where he’s staring at the card in front of him, and Will holds his breath after all– just a little– for one second, then two, then–

“Will!” Mike says, face breaking out into the biggest smile Will has literally ever seen him smile. “This is awesome!”

Oh, thank god. “Really?” Will can’t keep the relief out of his voice when he asks.

“Yeah!” Mike nods rapidly, never once taking his eyes off the paper. “This is awesome!”

“You already said that,” Will points out, but he’s smiling now too. “You really don’t think it’s lame?”

“No way!” Mike points at the crayon outline of a figure against the blue paper. “Is that me?”

“Duh,” Will says, pointing to where he had drawn an arrow and written Mike. Just in case there was any confusion. “It’s you as the knight. From the story.”

“I love the knight from the story,” Mike announces, and Will immediately feels like a million pounds of weight has been lifted off his shoulders. Thank god. 

“I know,” Will giggles. “You almost killed me with the stick you were waving around.”

Mike gasps. “Excuse you. It was a sword.”

“Sure,” Will says. “Okay. It was a sword.”

Mike looks like he’s going to say something else, and then he stops. He shakes his head. His voice is quieter now when he says, “You really made this for me?”

Will doesn’t know why they keep coming back to this. Obviously he made this for Mike. That’s why he’d labeled the drawing with his name. Mike. He’d meant for that to help, in case there was any confusion, but maybe he hadn’t labeled it well enough. Maybe two arrows next time. Or maybe he should add Mike’s last name, just in case Mike thought he made it for the other Mike in their class. “Duh,” he says again, because he isn’t sure what about this Mike isn’t understanding. “It’s for– Valentine’s Day.”

Mike goes a little pink. Will’s not sure why, because they’ve been sitting in one spot for all of recess so far, and Mike hasn’t been running around at all. “Really?”

“Jonathan said I should make a card for someone special.” Will tugs nervously at the zipper on his jacket. Why is he nervous? It’s only Mike. “And I think you’re special.”

Mike’s mouth drops open. He closes it, then opens it again, in an excellent imitation of their class goldfish Bubbles. “Really?”

Maybe Mike’s words just aren’t working today. Will feels like that a lot. He gets it. “Duh,” he says, for the third and hopefully final time. “You’re my best friend.”

“Wow,” Mike breathes out. “You’re an awesome artist, Will.”

“Really?”

Okay, maybe it’s Will’s turn for his brain to stop working. He’s not sure what’s so awesome about his drawing. You can barely even tell it’s Mike.

“Um, yeah,” Mike stares, like this is obvious or something. “You can totally tell it’s me! No one else in our class can draw this good. You should do it more. I think you could get, like, famous or something.”

Will doesn’t know about all that, but something warm and fuzzy is swelling up inside him anyway. Surprised and pleased at the praise. “Oh. Thanks, Mike.”

“I wish I made you something,” Mike says sadly, still staring down at the card, like he’s trying to absorb it with his eyes. “My mom just made me get the ones from the store for everyone.”

“It’s okay!” Will smiles. Really, he doesn’t need a card from Mike. He’s just happy Mike liked it.

“You can have my Reese’s,” Mike offers. He doesn’t fold the card up and put it in his pocket like Will thought he might, but holds it carefully in both hands and looks over at him, eyes wide. “Someone gave me one for our candy exchange, but I think you like them more than me.”

Will grins. “Okay!”

Mike hesitates, then suddenly, moves forward and throws his arms around Will’s shoulders. It’s sudden enough for Will to stumble backwards, a little caught off-guard by the puffy weight of Mike’s jacket and body against his. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Will,” Mike says. “You’re my best friend too.”

[quitealotofsodapop]

Just curious I know that Wukong, Macaque, and maybe Pigsty are like total baby masters here. But what about the others?

Tang is good with the kuds when they're babies, but not so much once they get to the "running around with sticky hands" stage. He's one to proudly wear a papoose so baby MK can cling on to him via monkey-instincts. Tang once forgot MK was asleep while strapped to him, and brought him to work on accident. Tang does get very stressed after a while though. The hyperfocus on caring for a whole baby wears him down quickly - and if he's looking after Mei and MK? He's crying more than they are. It's all worthwhile to him though the moment the kids give him an umprompted hug or call him "Pama". Then his confidence level skyrockets (and he gets insufferable to be around). When the kids are a little older he delights in sharing interests with them.

Sandy is really good with handling kids, but with small babies he gets overwhelmed. He could hurt them so easily! Ironically he's more confident around kittens. First time holding Mei and/or MK he starts crying because they're so small! He's an amazing babysitter once they get to the terrible twos though, he can wrangle them like a horde of kittens with zoomies. Art time, play time, quiet time, food time; this man has it all figured out after a quick brainstorm. Maybe he'll have some of his own in future!

Nezha is uh... he's also terrified. More so; "Oh man I could totally drop this" terrified. He's a younger brother, but he has tended to Red Son before since he's naturally fire-resistant. And the Demon Bull Prince was really chill around him, so maybe a not-on-fire baby will be better? Spoilers: it aint. Baby Mei has dragon stuff going on (mini fire breath and teething with big ol fangs), and Baby MK learned how to climb stuff before he could walk. Please help him, he needs backup.

[covenofwives]

Going Home Part 3

DreamXD is in a whirlpool of emotions after the day they've had. They've got a lot on their mind and A LOT of injuries to heal. GeorgeHD and Sapnap4K are here to happily help him, and give him his much needed cheer up tickles.

Thank you for your patience and as always thank you for your support in this series. Part 3 is finally out.

After this fic i'm gonna take a break from God sibling fics for a while to do with the story line. I've got one more in the works but I want to write smaller fun stuff while it's the summer and work is busy. It'll be easier to get out and it gives me a chance to possibly make a new blog~

Warning for some mention of wounds and healing them. A lot of blood and some mention of gore.

---

The blankets of HD’s realm were always nice and soft. No two blankets were ever the same. Some were soft as cotton clouds and others smooth silk. Despite how they were always thrown about in any sense HD wanted, DreamXD always admired the blankets and thought they were nice, which is why he was so intent on not touching any of them with his bloody body.

The wounds from Dragon were still fresh, but most of them closed up. Most of the blood had dried, but whenever he moved a certain way he could feel wounds reopening and the blood oozed out. He could feel some of Dragon’s blood mixing into his wounds and didn’t even want to think of the problem that would arise from that. Instead he sat perfectly still, pushing out a space between the blankets and pillows to not touch or ruin anything of HD’s. He had already caused enough trouble to the sleepy God.

His lower right arm was still worryingly numb. XD avoided looking at it while he was working but now he was left alone, and thoughts running wild, he looked at his arm instead of thinking about Dream.

It was terribly cut up and bloody. He couldn’t move it, which was more worrying the longer it went on. He was still lucky he had it. Dragon’s teeth were inches away from tearing it off.

XD carefully touched at the arm and tired to move it, but winced as it felt like it burned and quickly lowered it back down.

Thinking about the arm now was distressing, so XD pulled those thoughts back. But then they went right back to Dream again.

Swirling emotions of anger and shame welled in XD’s chest whenever he thought of his brother. Seeing how scared Dream was of him made XD feel worse than dirt. He had only ever felt this angry once before, when Dream had gone missing as a child and XD found him wandering close to the Dragon’s island. Back then though, XD was overwhelmed with relief that he never spent his anger Dream’s way. Now while he was relieved Dream and George were alive, the dissipating of his anger never came. He was furious.

Furious Dream should have known better. Furious he had dragged George into it. Furious that he, himself, didn’t do his job. Furious at himself for not being the first person Dream came to when he got out of prison.

The words he spat at Dream still swirled around in his head:

“I’d lock you in the prison myself if I wasn’t so angry!”

XD’s shoulders winced, like a knife had been stabbed through them. They hadn’t meant it and they regretted the words as soon as they said them, but they were too angry to take them back. Even despite what they’d said about following the DSMP’s laws, they could have never allowed their baby brother to be put back into that place. Even if they were so angry enough to drag Dream there, Dream’s cries and pleadings would have melted their heart instantly and they wouldn’t do it.

Another pulse of pain shot through XD’s body, pushing him forward and then a whole new wave of pain hit him. He doubled over in pain, letting out a long whine and slowly sat up straight again.

It made sense in XD’s head if he lay down then the pain wouldn’t be as bad. He gave a look down to his tattered and bloody cloak and bit his lip in thought. If he could clean it up a bit he could lie down without the worry of making a mess. Or at least so much of a mess.

Before he could talk himself out of his reasoning, XD focused his power and tried to clear the blood from his cloak, as well as mend the many rips.

XD had only mended the first rip, just under his shoulder, and he already knew he had no energy to finish. He was spent from overusing his powers, and now calling on them started to hurt. He could not heal the wounds from Dragon and stop the bleeding, but at the very least he could dissolve some of the blood on him.

He watched, through wincing eyes, as the golden and purple blood melted off his cloak. Slowly the rips followed afterwards, sewing themselves together, but he could only slowly mend for two minutes before being forced to stop. His breathing was haggard and his bones sore, but his cloak was already looking better. He’d fixed the huge rip on the right side, where Dragon’s teeth had torn him apart, though the wound and limp arm still lay under his repaired cloak.

The blood had been cleared away and most of the rips dealt with when XD felt a surge of energy gather near him. He held his breath, preparing for HD’s return and news of Dream’s safety, but he let it out in surprise when it was not HD who arrived. Instead there was Sapnap4K.

The Nether God appeared from a purple swirling portal, his orange eyes settling on XD with some confusion.

“Well…” Sapnap4K spoke with a growing warm smile. “I didn’t expect to see you here alone, but it’s not a bad thing!”

His voice ended in a purr, and XD fought back the urge to look down at himself to see the condition of his cloak. He was sure it was okay, and it must have been as 4K didn’t seem to mention anything. He just walked forward.

“Where is little starlight anyway? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him leave his spot.” 4K asked.

When XD was sure he must have looked normal, he let his voice steady and he replied. “He’s…just doing me a favour. Uh… I-I had HD watch Dream for a bit while I did stuff and he kindly took him back home.”

4K’s steps suddenly stopped, and his eyes went wide. “Your brother was here?!” His voice sounded like a mix of angry and hurt and XD was too on edge he almost took it seriously until he added. “And I missed him by seconds?! Oh this is just unfair!”

He ended his “tantrum” by dramatically flopping onto the pillows and blankets beside XD. His antics would usually be amusing, but he shook the ground as he landed and made XD jump slightly. One of his wounds flared up in pain again and the End God grit his teeth together to stop himself whimpering.

“Can’t believe HD got to see your brother before me.” 4K continued huffing. “Poor boy must have been terrified.”

“He…seemed alright.” XD forced himself to speak to not raise suspicion. “I came back and they were sleeping.”

“Aww that must have been so cute.” 4K pushed himself up on his elbows. “Didn’t take any photos did you?”

“Sadly not…” XD replied coolly.

4K shrugged gently, disappointed but not upset. He opened his mouth to speak again, but there was another surge of energy. The two Gods looked over and GeorgeHD appeared, materialising from nothing.

The starry haired God stood alone and XD’s heart raced. His mind went to automatically assuming something went wrong, but HD was calm and XD forced himself to clam down as well.

HD opened his mouth, then he saw 4K and seemed almost surprised. “When did you arrive?”

“While you were taking a stroll through the Overworld.” 4K replied almost smugly, showing a taunting smile.

HD gave an annoyed tut, no doubt rolling his eyes under his goggles. “I wasn’t taking a stroll! I was dropping off a child.”

XD mouth felt like sandpaper as he asked. “Is Dream…is he…?”

“He’s fine.” HD quickly responded, but his tone wasn’t sharp. “His friend was coming out to see him when I left so he wasn’t alone.” He added as he shrugged off the robes on his shoulders.

That will have been George. XD thought, and relaxed in relief. His shoulders slumped, but then he winced as pain shot through his back.

“You alright?” 4K quickly asked, noticing the movement from the corner of his eye.

XD had to bite their tongue, stopping the hiss of pain before he replied. “I’m fiiiine…” His voice wasn’t convincing at all.

It certainly didn’t convince HD, who looked over at the youngest God and was suddenly eyeing him with an almost annoyed expression. “What are you doing? Why are you sitting away from the blankets and pillows?”

“O-Oh…” XD gave a shy look around to the blankets. He could feel 4K looking questioningly at him as well but tired to keep his eyes down. “I didn’t want to ruin your stuff.”

“Don’t be stupid!” HD snapped. He tore the goggles from his eyes and quickly crossed the distance between himself and XD. “Sit back on the pillows.”

“Why would you ruin the pillows?” 4K asked curiously. He pushed himself to sit up fully, taking in XD with new detail while the end God was praying for him to look away. “You don’t…is that blood?!”

There were a few spots XD seemed to have missed with the blood. One spot was by his knee, where the cloak slightly curled in with XD sitting criss-crossed. The shadows hid the blood somewhat but not from something looking for it, as 4K was now.

XD mumbled their words. They didn’t have an excuse or explanation planned, and no matter what they said it wouldn’t fly with HD quickly ordering.

“Take your cloak off.”

He felt like a child being scolded at, but he couldn’t refuse. While shaking with pain, XD shrugged off his cloak slowly. The weight off his shoulders felt great, but his heart leapt into his throat at the sound of 4K and HD’s gasp.

The arm had not healed while hidden and one of the slashes had reopened, coating more blood over it. His clothes were torn with teeth and claw marks, showing his bruises and gashes on full display. XD didn’t want to look down at himself, but watching the wide eyes of 4K and HD was equally as painful.

“Have you been zipping on the Overworld while you’ve been this injured?!” HD suddenly snapped from his stunned silence.

“HD…” 4K’s voice wasn’t exactly a snap, but it wasn’t his usual fun tone. “Go easy on them.”

“Easy on them?! They’re about to fall apart! The time to go easy on them has come and gone!”

The two Gods bickered over XD, making them feel small. He’d been alive thousands of years, but he could still felt so small next to HD and 4K.

“Lie back on the pillows.” HD suddenly ordered.

The injuries all screamed in unison pain as XD moved, but he followed the command. He scooted himself back to the pillows while trying to mind the worst of his injuries.

HD came to his side, opposite the one 4K was sat at. The Nether God had moved closer as well, which was a nice support from HD’s glaring. Though the more HD looked over the wounds, the softer his expression got, and the angry red of his cheeks slowly swirled into a concerned blue teal of worry.

“Oh XD…” HD spoke in a soft breath.

The softness of the starry haired God’s voice made XD feel guilty. Another stab of pain in his heart, mixing in well with the physical pain around his body. “I-I just need to rest…”

“Lie down properly and I’ll heal you.” HD’s voice was softer now, laced with sympathy and care.

“I…” XD moved just slightly and his wounds did not like the idea of lying down. “I can’t…”

“Hold on.” 4K gently shifted himself over. He repositioned himself behind XD, setting his legs on both sides of the End God and then gently lead them to lean back over him.

XD gave a small hiss of pain until his back touched onto 4K’s chest. It was comfortably warm, and eased the tension in XD’s muscles. They could relax without the bite of pain running through them, and sighed gently.

“That okay?” 4K asked softly.

XD hummed softly, nodding his head slowly as he could. 4K responded by purring gently. His chest vibrating against XD’s back and relaxing him further.

HD brought himself in close to XD’s side. He gave a look over XD before his attention was drawn to the younger God face. “Take off your mask.”

The mask gave XD the last bit of protection against his expressions, but it also hurt keeping it on. Hesitantly he rose one of his non injured arms up and lifted the mask off himself. But HD was still looking at him expectantly.

“Your wraps around your eyes should go too…” HD softly said.

That was line far enough that pulled XD to refuse. “N-No.” He quickly shook his head.

“You don’t need to hide yourself…” HD responded as calmly as he could. “We’re Gods here, and we won’t judge. It’ll hurt more to-”

“No!” XD snapped, shaking his head more vigiously. “The wraps stay on!”

“Okay, alright.” 4K’s voice hushed behind XD’s ear. “Okay, they stay on. That’s fine. If that’s what you’re comfortable with. Right HD?”

It wasn’t so much an ask, but more a tone to tell the older God to drop it. HD was silent for a while but gave a slow nod like it was forced out of him. “Fine…they stay on.” He decided and XD could relax again.

With that, HD returned his focus back to the injures before him. He gave one look at the mangled arm but then focused on the gash along XD’s chest. It started on his left shoulder and ended over the ribs on his right side. HD’s hand heated and warmed against XD’s skin. The biting sting of the wound slowly soothed and faded. The pulsing pain in XD’s chest slowly died down and eventually faded away, taking a weight of his lungs. It felt like he could breath properly for the first time. When the calming warmth reached XD’s ribs, HD pulled away and the wound was healed. Slash and bruises completely vanished.

“Feeling okay?” 4K checked in softly; his purrs lessened ever so slightly with his words. XD nodded but 4K shook his head a little. “Gotta use words Blondie and keep you awake until we heal you. Are you okay?”

“Y-Yes…” XD forced his cottonmouth to speak. He nodded as well though his head felt loose and light as air at the same time. Pain mixed into HD’s healing powers made him feel loopy and terrible at the same time.

Eventually the terrible feelings faded the more wounds HD’s hands mended. The cuts, bites and bruises along his torso were all slowly dealt with, and then it came to the mangled arm.

HD just stared at the arm for a long while before doing anything. He muttered words in a language XD couldn’t understand, though 4K’s ears twitched every so often so maybe he could.

“Prime sake…” Was the first thing he said that XD could understand. HD looked up to XD, who had rested his head back over 4K’s shoulder. “What happened to your arm exactly?”

XD answered as honestly as they could. The details blurred when they were grabbed by the teeth. They just remembered screaming and then suddenly they were awake at the bottom of one of the obsidian towers and the world was blurry with a thousand colours. “Dragon got a hold of it with…with her teeth. She launched me off after that.” They paused. “Then I…Then she got hold of it again as I half shifted and tore it, but then I threw her off but I think her fangs were right through.”

HD listened with a calm expression, though his cheeks swirled with teal blues, greens and grey. They reflected in the realm, XD could see between the pillows and blankets. 4K’s arms behind them tightened ever so slightly but not enough to be a full hug. Still holding himself back for his friend.

“Right…” HD breathed and looked back to the arm. “Okay. I’m going to heal it. But I worry she’s done a lot of nerve damage and…well there’s no easy way to put this but I can see a lot of her blood got in your wound here and I don’t know if I can heal that.”

The rise of anxiety spiked up XD’s spine. 4K must have felt it because his purring got louder and he moved one hand to pet over the God’s blonde hair. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen Dragon before so I don’t know what she can do. I don’t even know what she is - Yes! She’s a dragon, I get that. But I’ve only seen some of the wounds she’s inflicted and that was with fire. Magic fire but that’s damage I can heal. I don’t know if I can heal an infection of her blood without properly knowing what she is.”

XD’s head felt like it was spinning, but 4K’s purr against his back was a grounding force, keeping his head in the moment and reminding him to breathe.

“R-Right…” XD forced himself to speak. “Okay…just do what you can and I can work from there…please.”

HD gave a nod and gave a quick look over to 4K before his focus was on the arm. He shuffled in a little closer but hesitated as he raised his hands.

“Fuck…4K.” He called up. “Can you lift his arm a bit for me?”

“Sure. Lemme just…”

The tallest God shuffled slightly. While still keeping XD on his chest, his arm around the smaller God’s waist uncurled and repositioned under XD’s injured arm. He carefully lifted it a little, looking to XD for any sign of pain, but when it didn’t seem to be bothering him he lifted it up more, and HD got to work.

HD placed both of his hands around the arm. His palms lit up a light blue while he worked down, healing the wounds slowly. Every once in a while, XD would hiss through his teeth, holding back a whimper while 4K comforted and purred against his back.

“The wound isn’t as bad as it looks. It’s just mostly the blood making it look worse.” HD spoke up.

“That’s…reassuring.” XD sighed. The more HD went down the less it was starting to hurt, but he couldn’t stop wincing every once in a while.

“What happened exactly?” 4K asked carefully. “I mean, yous don’t have to tell me but I’m guessing you had a fight with Dragon?”

XD was unsure if he should speak or not. The words felt like lead in his throat but maybe speaking about it would help and sort out his own thoughts. Plus, the talking would keep his mind of the unusually painful healing.

“I had to…stop Dragon from killing Dream.”

“Stop her killing?” 4K sounded confused and slightly worried. “Did she make it to the Overworld or…oh. Did he…?”

XD slowly nodded. “Yes. He and his friend found a way to the End, and I had to stop her before she’d tear them apart.”

HD and 4K gave a look over XD’s shoulder to one another. Both communicating through look alone before HD focused on the task before him and 4K cleared his throat to speak again.

“How did he get there?”

“I don’t know.” XD controlled the growl of frustration in his voice. “I didn’t ask him I didn’t get the chance… He shouldn’t have been able to.”

“You closed off your portal to us.” HD spoke carefully. Their hands worked over XD’s elbow, careful when the arm started to twitch and XD couldn’t hold back his whimpers. “Not even the Gods know how to get there. Is there anyway to open it on our side?”

“Yes but…no-one should know it. I kept the recipe hidden and told no-one. It should be impossible.”

“But Dream knows it?” 4K asked.

“Or someone gave him the knowledge of it.” HD thought out loud. “Dream couldn’t have seen you create it, because Dragon came long before Dream was alive. So if he didn’t make the keys to get there, someone gave him them or the knowledge to.”

These were all questions XD knew he needed to get an answer for but dreaded to think about. He’d have to talk with Dream, which was already not something he was looking forward to.

“How did Dragon get there anyway?” 4K asked.

It shouldn’t have been such a surprising question but it always caught XD off guard to answer it.

“She…came out of the void. I don’t know how to explain it really.” XD paused as HD healed the last of his hand. “There was a rip in the void, below us. It opened to something…unimaginable. Something that can’t be put into words. And when Dragon crawled out of the rip it closed over.”

“Did nothing else come out with her?” 4K asked curiously.

“She was the only thing small enough to fit through the tear.”

4K and HD shared another worrying look, but it was broken up quickly when XD jumped. He hissed in pain and pulled his arm out of HD’s hands ever so slightly.

“Fuck! Your…your healing never hurt before.” XD whimpered.

“I’m sorry,” HD said softly. “I’m trying to clean out the blood and reattach your…well everything. It’s not like a simple cut. But that should be it now.”

The arm looked healed up. There wasn’t a scratch on it, and all the blood was cleaned off.

“I…still can’t feel it.” XD worried.

“Try moving it.” HD ordered.

XD didn’t expect anything, but to everyone’s surprise the arm actually moved. He lifted it up ever so slightly and stretched his fingers. But he couldn’t feel anything. It was strange watching an arm you were controlling without actually feeling it. Like controlling a phantom limb.

“That’s alright at least.” HD sighed with relief. “If it’s numb tomorrow I’ll try heal it again, but at least you can move it.” He shuffled himself down to XD’s legs. “Let’s get the rest of you healed.”

“You don’t have to…” XD quickly offered, but he was pulled back into 4K’s chest and the purring started again.

“Don’t worry, HD is happy to heal you up.” 4K purred happily. “And you could do with a rest.”

It was strange but slowly becoming enjoyable to be coddled and looked after. Usually XD was never the one to be held or hugged so tightly, but 4K could make him feel so small, and even HD who was smaller than him just had to give XD a look and he’d shrink. It was nice every once in a while to be reminded he was the youngest among them.

The wounds down XD’s legs weren’t as bad as the ones on his torso. Some deep cuts and bruises but HD was healing them up just fine. The only thing to really mend was the tears in his clothes, but XD was far too exhausted to fix them up.

“You deserve a good nap once you’re healed.” 4K added, which didn’t sit right with XD. He shuffled in 4K’s arms before speaking.

“I need to get back to Dream…”

“Dream is with his friend. You are with yours.” HD quickly replied. “You both need a break and time away from each other.”

While it was meant in a good way, the words still stabbed into XD’s chest. “But… I need to speak with him…”

“And you’re better to do that when you’ve both calmed down and time to collect yourselves.”

“But he…if he tries to go there again.”

“He won’t.” HD cut in. “I promise you he won’t.”

HD spoke with confidence that XD did believe him, but worry prickled under his skin. He had assumed HD and Dream had been sleeping the entire time he was gone, but it seemed they had spoken together and XD’s mind raced, thinking of what they could have said. Did Dream feel more comfortable speaking to a stranger God than his own brother?

“The last of the cut is done.” HD announced, pulling XD out of his train of thought. The smaller God was sat by XD’s shins, just finishing the last small bruise there. “Time to nap.”

Napping felt like the last thing XD could do. While his body was no longer screaming at him in pain, he felt far too on edge to settle.

“Can’t sleep?” 4K purred close to his ear. The stubble tickled against XD’s ear, making him shudder and pull his head away, but he could hardly go far. His body still felt heavy and 4K’s arms circled around his waist now, holding him in.

“S-Stohop ihit!” XD giggled. He tried to hunch his shoulders to block 4K out, but the sneak had already nuzzled his chin into the crook of XD’s neck and his shoulder.

“Stop what?” 4K grinned. “What am I doing?”

The Nether God was annoyingly skilled at following XD’s movements, keeping his chin and that tickly stubble lodged right in.

“You knohow exactly what yohou’re dohoi-IHIHIN!”

XD squeaked. His cheeks lit up red and he looked down to HD who had grabbed hold of his ankle.

The small God was smirking. One hand holding onto XD’s heel and his other hand was slowly tracing circles around XD’s ankle bone.

“H-Hehehe Dehehehehe…” XD giggled, his lips pulling into a goofy smile he couldn’t help.

“Yes?” HD asked innocently, his finger never stopping. “Something wrong?”

“Yohohou-nn!”

4K’s fingers shifted just ever so slightly, positioning over the End God’s ribs. He didn’t move at all, but even just the threat of them made XD giggle.

“We’ll stop, if you want that, and we can talk if you need or you can try and sleep.” HD said softly.

“Or,” 4K added, “we can tickle aaaaall that tension out of you. Softly knead all your muscles till you’re a giggly puddle and fall asleep in our arms.”

XD couldn’t stop giggling while the sweet words whispered into his ear. His face was glowing red, no matter how many of his hands he hid behind.

“What’ll it be?” 4K purred. His breath tickled XD’s ear and sent shivers down his spine.

“Y-Yehessss…” XD just managed to whisper between his fingers.

“Yes what?” HD prompted.

“Yohohou knohow wh-what!” XD tried to hide further into his hands.

“Gotta tell us Blondie.” 4K said. “Gotta tell us loud and clear.”

“And you need those hands away from your face. We have to see you mean it.” HD added. He gave a soft scribble up to XD’s shin, watching with delight as the End God jumped and his legs gave weak little kicks. Not trying to get away at all.

“Yehehehesss!” XD pulled their hands from their face, showing their sweet smile and pink cheeks. “Yehehes! I-I want to behe t-tihihickled! Plehehease tihihickle mehehe!”

4K’s purrs reached so loud they almost drowned out XD’s giggling. He pressed a long kiss to the side of XD’s head while his arms uncurled from XD’s ribs. XD gave a small whine to the loss of warmth, but it returned with a quick yelp as 4K just repositioned his hands over XD’s ribs again. Specifically over the ones between this upper and lower arms.

“I never got to tickle your ribs with the lava blob.” 4K reminisced almost sadly. “You tapped out before they got a taste of your ribbies.”

XD’s breath hitched, caught in a gasp and a giggle.

“You were so looking forward to tickling them too.” HD added. His tickling had stopped and instead he kneaded XD’s calf gently. Just being on the edge of slightly tickly but not enough.

“Yes. Especially these little ones here.” 4K gave just the softest knead to one of the ribs. XD jumped but 4K held him clam. “Are they more ticklish?” Another knead. “Less?” And another.”

“P-Pleheahase…” XD tittered.

“Softly.” HD warned the taller God. “Softly.”

“Of course softly.” 4K sounded offended as though he would be doing anything else. “Softly for our soft baby boy.”

Before XD could even consider curling up or hiding his face again, 4K positioned his fingers to each of the ribs and begin softly kneading. It wasn’t sudden, in fact the tickling had started quite slowly, yet it still managed to send a jolt through XD’s body. Another yelp escaped him before he melted into warm giggles and chuckling into his arm.

“No. No hiding.”

There was a soft grip around XD’s wrist, pulling his arm away from his mouth and letting his laughs be heard. While XD whined he saw it was one of HD’s helper hands, guiding his arm down before disappearing. XD had to fight back wanting to move his arm again, or any of his other arms.

“If you hide again,” HD continued. “I’ll stop this.”

The hand around XD’s calf stopped kneading. Instead HD had shuffled himself up slightly and his hand went, tauntingly slow, towards XD’s knee. His fingers so gently skittered over the top of of his kneecap, sending tingles softly up the blonde God’s legs and shivering up his spine.

“N-Nohoho…” XD shook his head. “Noho nohohoho…”

“Don’t hide your face, XD~” 4K cooed in his ear when he saw XD’s arms twitch ever so slightly. “You don’t want us to stop do you?”

“Nnn…” XD shook his head into 4K’s neck, fighting with himself not to hide his blushing, giggling face despite how embarrassing it was. Not helped at all by the two cooing at him and pointing out his blushing face.

It was a strange torture wanting to be tickled and having the body fight against that want. He was elated to the soft tickly shocks running through him, breaking up all his nerves into soft mushy clouds. But his limbs wanted to curl in and his instinct told him to hide his red face, which would end the tickling and earn more taunts.

4K switched from tickling all of the ribs at once to going at them one at a time. He kneaded each one softly, listening for the different laughs and chortles XD would make before moving onto the next, tickling and listening again. He only had three ribs to play with but that didn’t seem to deter him, especially not when he went back over all the ribs again.

“So are they more or less ticklish?” 4K asked. “I’m tickling as softly as I can but I could dig in more.”

“Th-Thehehey… Nnn…” XD clenched his fists to stop his arms moving. “Mohohore s-sehensitihive…” He giggled.

“Well I suppose that makes sense.” HD nodded, as one of their fingers made slow circles into the side of XD’s knee. “Those ribs are more hidden. Little secret ribs.”

“Absolutely secret.” 4K purred. “Oh how I really wanna nibble those ribs and give them a taste.” He shook his fingers softly with the words. Vibrating over the ribs with his excitement. It almost jumped XD’s laughter up, but just before it reached that point of verging to hysteria, 4K stopped. “But this is good for now.”

“You are getting far too excited on his ribs.” HD warned. His tickling stopped over XD’s knee and the kneading along his ribs slowly died down. “I think we need to switch.”

“That’s fine!” 4K responed enthusiasticaly. “I want a shot of his knees.”

The two spoke so brazenly about him, like he was a tickle toy passed between them. It tingled his nerves, made him more on edge and more ticklish. He loved it.

4K shuffled out from behind XD and took HD’s place by his knees. When HD came by his side, he motioned for XD to lie down more so his head lay over HD’s lap. The scent of jasmine and daises overtook XD’s senses as he rested his head. It further relaxed him, and let him melt over the older God’s lap while he brushed back XD’s hair.

“Do you remember your safe word?” HD asked in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

XD nodded. “G-Glade…”

“And you can use that any time you want to stop. Even if you just want to go to sleep.”

XD nodded again, this time ending in a surprised yelp. He looked down to see 4K by his shins. The Nether God placed one of his own legs over XD’s, and he had one of his clawed fingers tracing over XD’s sole ever so slowly.

“M-Mihiy feet aren’t t-tihihicklish…” XD giggled.

“Why you giggling then?” 4K grinned.

“Behecause it’s sihihilly…”

“It is very silly you don’t have tickly feet. It’s outrageous honestly.” 4K nodded in agreement, ignoring XD’s giggly pleads that wasn’t what he meant. “Don’t worry. I’ll make them tickly, one way or another. But at least for now you have tickly knees.”

He didn’t move from tracing shapes over XD’s sole, and instead his tail slithered forward. XD could feel it wagging behind him when 4K was at his back and now it was making it’s way slowly towards his knee. The black fluffy tail coiled around his shin, the tip of it flicked back and forth against the back of XD’s knee.

It was only lightly touching him, but even that was sending jolt after jolt through XD’s body and drawing up high pitched giggles. Wasn’t at all helped by HD softly petting through his hair.

“Where do you want your tickles?”

XD pushed past his nerves and the giggles bubbling in his throat from 4K’s tail. “T… T-T-Tuhuhummy…”

HD smiled softly. “Rough tickles?”

XD whined but nodded through. “N-Nohohot too r-rohohough…”

“Of course.” HD nodded and then two ephemeral hands appeared.

XD almost jumped at the sight of those hands. They appeared out of thin air, wiggling their fingers at him; taunting him. They lowered down to the End God’s stomach, wiggling all the way. They wasted no time building up or taunting XD anymore, instead going right into kneading over his stomach.

The hands worked all the way up and down the sides of XD’s stomach. Kneading along the sides and scribbling onto the front. One of the hands found the shape of XD’s bellybutton through his top and it became their whole focus to trace over and wiggle over.

XD’s laughter kicked up just squeaking above his giggles. His shoulders hunched in a makeshift attempt at hiding his face without his hands. He was pulling up fistfuls of blankets just to stop his hands from instinctively hiding his face.

“Look how much you love your tummy tickles.” 4K’s honeyed voice came back to XD’s ears. Even down at his knees, it was like the Nether God was still purring against his ear, sending goosebumps down his back. The tail still coiled around his leg had stopped flicking so quickly, instead softly brushing under XD’s knee. Swaying so gently back and forth. Back and forth.

XD snorted as they tried to answer which only made them laugh more and their face brighter. They felt lighter than air, even as HD and 4K cooed over their snort, and HD’s hands soon joined in giving soft scritches to their neck. Their senses flooded and overwhelmed with soft electricity, just ever so lightly tickling their nerves. They felt warmed. Loved. In bliss.

The giggling trills and chuckles soon died down over time. When XD’s breathing and gasps got shaky, the two tickling Gods eased up and finally the gentle giggles fell into soft snores. 4K’s tail stilled to rest over XD’s knee and HD waved his helper hands away as they looked to XD. As they suspect, DreamXD had fallen asleep.

“He falls asleep while being tickled.” 4K praised while keeping his voice hushed. His tail wagged with his joy, but he did his best to keep it far from XD’s knee. “He is literally the cutest thing ever. I cannot believe you kept him from me for so long.”

“Oh shush.” HD rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I was hiding him from you.”

“You were, you absolutely were.” 4K insisted while he uncurled his tail from XD’s knee. While still being careful to be quiet he shuffled up to HD’s side. “I consider this a great crime against our friendship.”

The older God gave a playful scoff, but the light-hearted smile was gone from his face. He watched XD slumber against his lap and all trace of his light and free mood were gone. His expression pulled to a frown, and then he let out a long sigh.

“I need to go back to the Overworld…”

The silence to follow was heavy, but it was freeing to say it out loud. Weight lifted from HD’s shoulders and out into the world.

“You can’t go back just from the guilt of wanting to help him.” 4K spoke in a tone so unlike himself. He had lost his playful tone. It was jarring to hear him speak so seriously. “I know, I was the number one voter for wanting you to go back, but you can’t go from guilt. There’s nothing you could have done.”

“I could have done something!” HD snapped, running his hands through his hair, streaking with more stars than before. The colours streaking down his cheeks were overrun with grey and yellowish teal. “I could have helped him close more portals. Make them more hidden for him. I could have helped him find Dream or…or figured out where they were going. I could have done so much for him!”

“Shh…” 4K’s voice was calm, motioning to XD sleeping. “I know how frustrating it is when you couldn’t help someone, believe me HD I know. But beating yourself up over it, and going for what you thought you could have done won’t help you.”

“No… No I know, you’re right. I’m sorry.” The tension melted from HD’s shoulders, and soothed his voice back to a whisper. “But I need to go back. I know I do. I’ve known for a long time. It’s not fair leaving it to XD to fix. It sounds like it’s fallen into chaos.”

4K only gave a careful nod. One of his fingers found a strand of XD’s hair to play with, carefully wrapping it around his finger. “How long has it been since you’ve been back?”

The silence was longer than 4K expected it to be. “I honestly…20 years…? Maybe more? Time and keeping track of it isn’t exactly my thing.”

“I bet it’s hardly changed at all in that little time!”

While it had a more uplifting tone, the two Gods knew it was just an empty saying. But while the words might have just been to make HD feel better, 4K still perked up with a smile. He bumped his arm against HD’s, snapping the God’s attention out of his thoughts.

“Well, you aren’t going back tonight.” 4K shuffled himself down slightly. “XD’s got the right idea. We could all use a nap.”

Usually the first one to jump for the chance of a nap, HD was unusually quiet. He gave a small hum while 4K picked one of the many blankets laying around.

“You want me to move him off you?” 4K offered.

“Nah…” HD shook his head softly. “Leave him there.”

4K cocked his eyebrow. “Won’t that be uncomfortable sleeping? At least let me move him so you can lie down a little.”

A wave of HD’s hand summoned a pile of large plush pillows behind his back, which he lay over softly.

A slight frown pulled 4K’s lips. “I wanted to cuddle.” He almost pouted.

“You can still cuddle him.” HD pointed out.

“I wanted to cuddle you both…”

A flush of red swept up HD’s cheeks. He could feel the coloured stripes running down his face flicker to a soft red before he quickly flickered them away. He busied his mind with thoughts of XD, and the Overworld, and the colours ran back to a worried teal.

“XD could use your full attention right now.” HD quickly excused, and it seemed to work. Or at least go unnoticed. 4K’s attention was on XD at that moment.

The Nether God hummed in thought before he moved. He didn’t lie down fully as HD expected. Instead he lay his head over one of the pillows by HD’s hip and curled his arm around HD’s back. He pulled XD close into his chest, still keeping him on HD’s lap and allowing 4K to lean over the older God’s hip.

“Not a perfect cuddle.” 4K huffed. “But it will do.”

HD wanted to scoff at the absolute childishness but he couldn’t deny his heart fluttered over 4K’s care. He was an absolute sap, with a huge heart. But HD loved him for that. And XD desperately needed someone like that.

Soon XD’s soft snores were joined by 4K’s snoring. He was louder but not annoying. It faded into a comfortable white noise as HD let their mind wander and pet through 4K and XD’s hair. Their mind was racing with all the things they had to do, the messes the had to fix, and the fears they’d inevitably have to confront as they returned to the Overworld. But HD didn’t focus on that for now.

Right now, HD lay back and slept.

[disfrutalakia]

Okay since i'm bored as fuck, I'm gonna make a list for how I envision each character and how I would design them if I could draw!! This baby will be long so shh it will take a while also there will be like a LOT of images. (also last moment decisions this will be in parts lmao cause tumbrl will kill me if I do so much people, so this part will be the brazillians)

Pac

In my mind he has very sharp and big bottom teeths, almost like a those fantasy shows orcs and I see him as a bat hybrid, with big leathery wings that he never really learned to use so they are just there, also in terms of hair he was a pretty long one (it's almost a mullet) with some dark blue in the tips, his style in what I would call "techwear" but with blue always in there.

Mike

An obvious creeper hybrid, like just look at him it makes sense!! He has some green marks around his eyes and on his shoulders that are very sensitive to the touch and look a lot like scales. His natural hair is pink as he has mentioned before but I imagine it being longer now, he don't have time to take care of it so usually he just puts it up. In terms of outfits he prefers comfortable stuff so it's very normal to see him running around the island in like his pjs and just the lab coat/anarchy coat being on top of it

Forever

He is a werewolf, he can't really remember when he started turning but it always happened, when he was together with Brunim they would go on a bunker together in nights of full mom so Forever would't just ran around. But for some reason in the island he stopped transforming. He is very careful about taking care of his long hair, spending hours in the morning taking care of it and braiding it.

Cellbit

Yes he dresses like a doctor who character, he thinks it gives him a mysterious aura (it doesn't) and he is a own hybrid, but his wings were clipped a long time ago (during the war) so all the owls traits he was left with were the big unsettling eyes, the ability to stay up way too long and his head can turn into agles that should't be possible.

Felps

He is... well Felps, he dresses like the coolest person in the island and might be a cybord (he already was before the feds, the only thing the feds did was fuck up his enginas by throwing him into the ice. He was actually turned into a cyborg by Mike, who felt bad for the guy being killed by Cell in the prison so... robot Felps was born!

Richas

Child baby, when not imagining him as an egg I see him as the water dragon hybrid he wants to be, but since he is young all he has are the white pointy horns (like the dratini) coming out, in terms of clothes he always wears his brazil shirt (it's a difficult task to be able to wash it) but it's usually covered in paint just like the rest of his body, it's pretty rare to see Richas without splatters of paint on his arms or pencil stains on his fingers.

[alexanderlightweight]

Any writing with short!Alec? I can imagine Magnus introducing Alec to his friends and they’re like ‘is this a joke? Is he invisible? Have you finally lost it?’ And Alec just steps out from behind him and completely fucks them up while Magnus watches with adoration.

i really love show malec and so i headcanon them as that and don't have any plans to write alec smaller though i would considering and have writen magnus bigger due to his warlock mark?

i wrote alec super tall for a prompt for @saeths and i also wrote a giant megladon!magnus mer for them but i like keeping malec at least as tall as how they come across.

i know that in the books alec is shorter than magnus but personally, i just adore that alec is a bit taller and scowly and softens and submits so beautifully to magnus. all of that power and strength and training and he just melts for magnus and my brain goes a;ksjbaksdbjf;abf.

this is an absolutely fine ask btw! i appreciate asks like this because it helps me explain stuff and i'm also willing to work around stuff to try and incorporate things.

this is smol!dragon!alec because i just got some good news (a meeting cancelled which means i dont have to leave the house or see none-house people today! - i am an anxious introvert and @saeths is a non-anxious extrovert so i love cancelations! and they like that i am around for cuddles) dragon style. part of the 'taste of his magic' verse as a treat?

<3 lumine

-

"I thought you said you had something impressive to show us?" Ragnor mocks as he steps in and plops in his chair, he stares over at where Alexander is pretending to nap and rolls his eyes.

Magnus stares at Ragnor and wonders just what is going on.

Alexander is curled up the size of a housecat on the windowseat and Magnus knows that he looks small, but he's still a dragon.

"Are you experimenting with reptiles again?" Ragnor asks, absently summoning himself a cuppa, "I thought you gave that up when you lost Baby to Camille?"

Magnus can feel the glow of jealous, accusatory eyes on his back and he blinks rapidly at Ragnor and wonders if he can get away with just summoning a scone into the other warlocks mouth. Anything to get him to stop talking.

"Ba-" he starts and there is a subtle hiss that only he seems to hear and he clears his throat. "The snake was merely an accessory, Ragnor. A security feature, hardly anything more than a sometimes useful pet." Magnus leaves out how cute the snake was, he doesn't think it would go well for him.

That seems to placate Alexander but Ragnor is sending him a confused, dubious look.

"Well then, what's with the lizard on your windowseat, hmm?"

"He's not a lizard." Magnus bites through gritted teeth because he can feel the force of Alexander's stare growing colder. "Ragnor, when was the last time you slept?"

"Oh a few days ago or so. Research and all that, you know how that is." Ragnor does look a bit peckish and the hollows under his eyes are a dark green rather than the normal shade.

"Ragnor-" Magnus starts and then he sees movement and he shifts, lunging forward to grab Alexander's nape with his maw. He instinctively growls and shakes and to his delighted surprise, Alexander goes limp.

-

Alec glares at the tired old warlock who interrupted his nap and then sighs, content as Magnus holds him close.

It's exactly as he planned and he smirks, smug from his position of being held and rocked by Magnus' mouth.

Alec smirks and, with a flick of his tongue, freezes the old warlock's tea.

The man splutters and gives them both an accusatory stare before his skin pales to a soft, sage green with fear as their eyes meet.

"Ducky, please tell me you don't have a dragon in your mouth."

Alec smirks and gives the lightest of trills and the warlock shivers, hands up in surrender.

Magnus chuffs around where he's holding him and Alec rolls his eyes, finally taking the force of his gaze away.

It's hardly his fault if even as the size of say, a lizard, Alec is too powerful for warlocks to gaze upon without fear.

... well, all warlocks except for Magnus of course.

[robodove]

SHOW US THE PIRATE STUFF DO THE MERMAID STUFF ALKNASDAS

OKAY I FINALLY HAVE A LITTLE TIME ARRGAGRG I hope this aimless infodump is readable

so! Their designs and junk are a mess rn but I do have some stuff of them!!

Ignore the little dragon in the last I'm still working on Lloyd's whole... business. And! Don't mind the text in the pink one, I was just tryna think up silly nicknames!

Anyways! They aren't really... Traditional pirates? Y'know.. cause their crew size is like 5 + a child and ancient beast.

Under division is a small ramble

Cole's the "captain" and is a selkie (although I know they're usually seals I accidentally chose a sea lion)! He's the sea lion in the pictures and I'm desperately trying to work his skin into the design. I thought it'd be silly since he was raised in dance and entertainment.. and hey! Sea lions are known for that too!

(he wasn't meant to look so forsaken here, sorry Cole)

Jay is a mermaid (thing?) When in the water, he has the lower half reminiscent of an electric eel (I saw reminiscent as there are some major differences)! No one really has powers in this but he can still shock like that,, Ed and Edna are still human in this and I'm trying to remember if they still lived at a scrapyard or a shipyard.

Both Kai and Nya are only half mermaid! Nya ended up inheriting way more mermaid traits than her brother, who doesn't even have a tail in water, but still has a lot of human drawbacks. She can only breathe underwater for so long and ironically Kai can last down there longer. He just chooses not to since I thought it'd be funny to still let him be scared of water in this 😭 sorry Kai. He still has the recognizable sharper teeth and has bits and flashes of shimmery scales but is overall the most human of the bunch once you count out Cole's unskinned form.

I couldn't resist myself on Zane and ended up making him a siren. Mainly because.. bird! And also if he was going to be organic, I wanted to isolate him from the other sea related creatures. He has the wings and feathers of a gyrfalcon and can't swim as well in the ocean! He ends up bonding with Kai over this Kai originally hadn't liked him too much! Reasonably so since.. y'know.. sirens eat people. And mermaids in this.. although Zane eats human things as he was raised on it by a still very human Dr. Julien (who I guess is more of a bird-oriented wildlife scientist in this? ornithologist?). insert joke about him being a hand raised bird.

I don't have my sketchbook with me right now so I'm scrambling for pictures but ! Like all their designs, he's still a work in progress. Will most likely make his legs longer or something but this is just my ideas LOL

And anyways! Onto Lloyd! (And the others?)

I was struggling to decide what Lloyd should be,, like? A dragon could still very much work and his normal version is already so cool?? However, I ended up on leviathan.. a baby one. The serpentine aren't decided but Lloyd's still pretty much not taken seriously by the town. Still winds up being taken in by the "ninja!"

Garmadon is still locked up, although now at the bottom of the ocean! The Skulkin are drowned/dead pirates?

Wu is who I've been struggling to decide on as well! For whatever reason I've been contemplating making him like just some statue in the Destiny's Bounty that speaks to them.

There's plenty of other things going on,, Kai and Nya come to them on accident and Jay is over the moon to see other moons and wants to show them their "ways" despite having never even met others before. Cole is desperately trying to keep everyone in one place as they've accidentally made the perfect collection of the world's most valuable pelts.

Kai still raises Nya at the forge (which in this, is beachside), but years later there's a rise in pricing for the scales of mers and the boy decides that they need to leave in effort to protect her. Nya is devastated because this is their home! Where else would they even go?? They barely have any cash! Kai's decision is further inland AND with the money they get from selling the forge. Yadda, yadda, the buyer turns on them and they wind up in the ocean near their home! Kai's knocked cold, which is for the better as Nya swims them further and further into open ocean.

For the first time, Nya meets another mer as she tries to save her brother, and he helps them aboard a ship! The Destiny's Bounty! (Or perhaps a ship before it? It's all still up in air)

I'd expand more but I'm out of time </3 please give any suggestions if you'd like to! I'd always appreciate criticism

[mouthfullofmunson]

i’m begging for more pest eddie and pest reader because they’re so funny

Omg thank you so much 😞

Here is some more just for you :)

Okay okay so they are very lovey dovey, but they are obviously pests so any cute moment between then usually turns into something stupid

Eddie wiping her tears while she’s crying and all of a sudden “your fingers smell like cigarettes so bad have you ever washed your hands in your whole entire life?”

And when he fingers her and she gets close to cumming “Jesus Christ could you moan any louder directly in my ear? There is no way a few fingers can feel that good.”

And if he laughs at one of her jokes a little too hard “nothing I say is never that funny” but then she starts laughing at his wheezing (I’m guilty of doing that one 😔)

I don’t know if I said this already but if they get on each others nerves too bad they will bite each other, hard

He goes on complaining about something for too long, bite on the arm

If she gives him the silent treatment, a bite on the neck

And she LOVESSSS to lie and say Wayne is mad at him or Wayne asked him to do something

“Oh my god Eddie what happened I just got in and before Wayne left for work he told me that he’s not speaking to you?!”

“What?! He said that just now? I don’t think o did anything… all we talked about today is how I finished this huge drawing of this dragon, it was super cool he even helped me tack it up on my wall since I can never get it up straight.”

“You’re so stupid! You should’ve seen your face! You looked terrified!”

“You’re the worst girlfriend ever!”

And she also makes up the most random lies to tell the group just so they ask him about it and then he gets all panicked and confused and then he remembers that his girlfriend is a little shit who does this stuff for her own entertainment

“Y/n told me about your problem and I just want you to know I’m here for you man. You know… I have no problem with that, but if you need to talk in here” Steve says while giving Eddie a little pat on the back

“What? What problem?”

“You know… down there”

“What?!”

“Dude she told me you can’t get hard because you used to jerk off too much”

And he does the same but he fucked up so he makes up the most disgusting lies

“Yeah she can’t give head because she’s got a terrible gag reflex and if she does well… you know. And no one wants to clean that up”

“No I do not! You’re the one who threw up trying to eat a fudgsicle yesterday!”

he wants to constantly tickle her because he knows that she hates it and can’t handle more than two seconds

Anytime he’s talking about something that is boring to her (but she knows it won’t hurt his feelings) she fakes falling asleep and then jolts up “oh my god Eddie, I just had a fucking nightmare that you were talking to me about the most boring shit… wait…”

And he is so the type to pants her

She’ll be brushing her teeth and he yanks her shorts down and runs off

And when they are just chilling in bed and he’s eating he will all of a sudden shove a mouthful of chips into his mouth and start loudly crunching them in her ear

And when she’s irritated with him he with grabs her face and start kissing all over her face “oh baby, forgive me! I didn’t mean to break your heart! It was a mistake, a one time thing! It didn’t mean any! I didn’t mean to pants you infront of Steve and Robin!”

“It wasn’t infront of Steve and Robin it was infront of everyone at family video!”

“Okay so it was in front of them because they are included in ‘everyone’…”

OKAY THATS ALL THE THOUGHTS I HAVE I LOVE YOU THANK YOU SM

:)