#and what a LOAD OF FUCKING BARNACLES THAT TURNED OUT TO BE

[lifewtr]

imagine losing me. Devastating.

[sadhours]

Billy and Steve kinda drunk at Tina’s stupid party, decide to smoke a j together and end up jerking each other off because you know, they’re not gay and anything more would just be too gay 😉

I really fucking love these two, thank you for this request.

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, they uh jerk each other off, it’s not gay I swear, drug and alcohol use

💟💟💟💟💟

“She said I’m bullshit,” Steve mumbles, “That we’re bullshit.”

Why the fuck he’s saying this to the new guy who stalked up to him with his chest puffed as their first interaction, he isn’t sure. But it’s been a few hours since Nancy basically broke up with him and left with Byers. And Steve was just gonna go home. He hadn’t drank before then, planned on staying relatively sober for the night but that went out the window when he passed a bottle of vodka on his way out. Drank about half of it before he stumbled downstairs in the basement and found who other than Billy Hargrove, Hawkins new Keg King as the fucks he used to call his friends gloated about seconds after Hargrove took the record out from under Steve.

Hargrove was by himself. Sat on the couch Tina’s mother decided was out of fashion and retired to the finished basement. Looks like it’s mostly meant for storage. Loads of boxes. Steve was coming down here to be alone. Get a second to breathe. Asked Billy what the hell he was down here for and turns out, for the same thing. Then he held up a rather fat joint and asked King Steve to join him.

Half a joint and the rest of the vodka bottle later, Steve’s venting to the new King Asshole.

“Girls’ are bullshit,” Billy says with a strained voice, holding the skunky weed smoke in his lungs. Exhales. Looks cool and it annoys Steve, cause he used to care about looking cool and he wishes that didn’t change. At least he didn’t hurt inside this much then. Billy passes the joint back, “They’re only good for one thing and honestly, they ain’t that fucking super at that either.”

Steve’s inclined to agree, mostly out of hurt. Maybe shit would’ve been easier for him if he did to Nancy what he’s done to all the other girls he’s been with. Unfortunately, he liked her.

“She wasn’t,” he huffs, “I mean— Nancy’s great.”

Billy snorts, leans back and wraps an arm around Steve’s shoulders. He smells like some musky cologne, beer and cigarettes. But Steve kind of likes looking at him and he’s not sure why.

“Bitch dumped you,” Billy whispers, leaning close to Steve like this is some big secret, “You’re allowed to be mad at her. Granted, I don’t know what the fuck you did but King Steve, you’re a senior in high school. Bitches come and go.”

Steve huffs again and sits back, ‘cause he can’t argue without explaining a whole bunch of weird, confusing shit he doesn’t even completely understand himself to a complete stranger. He rubs his palms against his eyes, wants them to stop stinging. Billy’s being nice now but again, he’s a stranger. And if Tommy’s clinging to him like a stubborn barnacle, he’s probably not all that kind. There was something in his eyes when he stared Steve down earlier that was scary. Because Steve didn’t understand it. If he wanted to kick Steve’s ass, he could’ve but he didn’t. Just stared at him like he wanted something out Steve but Steve still can’t figure out what.

“Sorry— I shouldn’t be whining about this shit to you,” Steve laughs, awkwardly, “I don’t even know you.”

“But I know you,” Billy replies with a smirk.

“Y-you do?” Steve looks back to Billy with hesitation, perhaps even a little fearful.

Billy nods slowly, lips pursed with the joint hanging from them. Plucks the paper from his lips and passes it back to Steve as he says, “You’re all these boring fucks care about. King Steve is the only thing they can talk about. Barely been here but I know all about you.”

Steve likes this fact but he also feels guilty that he likes that, because he isn’t supposed to care about the whole popularity thing anymore. He even blushes hearing it, shakes his head and takes the joint. Takes a small pull and passes it back because he’s already too stoned and school’s gonna be hell tomorrow.

“Yikes,” he says and Billy laughs, cruel and deep in his belly and it makes Steve feel uneasy. But he likes sitting on this couch down here, hidden behind stacks of boxes. Labeled things like XMAS DECORATIONS and TINA’S SUMMER CLOTHES.

“They like you still,” Billy whispers, smoothes his fingers down the back of Steve’s neck. Gives him chills but he doesn’t move.

“Wanna forget about her?” Billy asks then, “Just for right now?”

“Yes,” Steve chokes out in spite of how his brain’s firing off about how this is weird and he should be getting home. But mom and dad are out of town again. And he does wanna forget about Nancy. Wants to get this hurt out of his chest.

Billy’s hand drops to Steve’s lap, he pulls another drag from the joint and exhales the smoke in Steve’s face. His hands barely moving but Steve can feel it. And maybe it’s the smoke making his head feel all fuzzy and his body feel all warm. His dick’s getting hard. Because Billy Hargrove is feeling him up over his Levi’s.

His palm pushes a little harder on Steve’s crotch, his eyes look straight ahead as he finishes off the joint. Pinches the cherry between his fingers before he tosses it to the floor. Steve watches it and then looks straight ahead like Billy does. Next, Billy grabs Steve’s wrist and pulls his hand to Billy’s tight jeans. Drops it in his lap. And Steve’s filled with a curiosity he’s never felt before. He starts rubbing Billy’s crotch. He kind of wants to look at Billy’s face but he’s scared to. Keeps his eyes trained on a rolled up rug in the corner of the room.

The pressure of Billy’s palm on his cock feels nice. It’s easy to focus on it. Weed’s always made Steve a little frisky. Everything just feels hotter. Kissing feels better, eating pussy is funner and it makes his cock like, a million times more sensitive. So he’s fully torqued in his jeans. Feels like Billy is too. Which weirdly enough, turns Steve on even more and his hips kind of roll up into Billy’s touch. And it has to be the weed that makes Steve whine. He’s trying to ignore that it’s Billy’s hand on him but he can’t, really. Gives himself a moment to glance down at his hand on Billy’s lap and finds that Billy has some pretty seriously defined abs. And it’s real weird that he likes them. Definitely the weed.

Soon enough, Billy’s unbuttoning Steve’s jeans and Steve moves to help get them down his thighs, along with his underwear. His cock pops out, bounces and hangs. Billy’s also pulling his pants and underwear down and then he’s spitting on his hand and wrapping his fingers around Steve’s cock.

Steve whimpers from the wet touch, eyes rolling back in his head as his hips stutter up. Billy’s voice is quiet and strained when he asks, “Thinking about her?”

“No,” Steve confesses, looks down at where Billy’s languidly stroking him and it’s odd seeing another man’s hand wrapped around his cock. Not odd enough to stop this, though. He returns the favor, spits a glob of saliva into his palm and smears it over Billy’s thick cock. Squeezes at the base, curls his hand on the upstroke. Billy lets out a sweet, breathy noise that Steve likes a lot. Different than a girls’ moan but just as pretty, he thinks.

Steve gasps when Billy squeezes his cock a little tighter and speeds up his strokes. Quick and firm. Steve mirrors it with his own hand on Billy. Steve stares down at his own crotch, Billy does the same. The pair of ‘em gasping and moaning softly. Steve comes first, a mess on his thighs and Billy’s fist. And the blonde strokes him through it. Steve’s whimpering and it’s pretty damn pathetic the way his hips cant up in the air. Billy’s following suit soon after, jerking his hips up as he fucks Steve’s fist.

The boys sit back, hands loose around softening dicks as they pant. Steve looks down at the mess in his lap, not sure how to clean it. He glances around the room but there’s not much in here. Just the couch and boxes. So Steve leans forward, shucks off his blazer and uses that to soak up the cooling cum on his thighs and hand. Hands to Billy before pulling up his briefs and pants. And this whole interaction has sobered him up. The realization that he and the new guy have just jerked each other off in Tina’s fucking basement hits him hard and Steve needs to leave. So he does. Without a word to the guy.

Worst part, at basketball practice the next day. Both of them wildly hungover. Billy crowds behind Steve and says, “Harrington, right? Heard you used to run this school, that true?” like he didn’t just jerk him off the night before.

[keyh0use]

Kinktober Day 7: Dacryphilia

Everything is consensual. Hitting, spitting, little bit of blood, being tied up, degradation, daddy kink, name calling

When Barry had proposed the idea of camping before the weather truly got too cold for two Carolina boys to be out all night in, Rafe was surprisingly on board. So Barry made all the plans and executed them, packing up coolers of food and drinks, stacking a couple pots together and loaded everything into the truck, which was parked beneath a big shady tree by a secluded beach. The boat was small and easily manageable, Barry guiding them through the strait while his boy sat on his lap. Until they were alone. Suddenly everything was annoying Rafe, from the copious bugs flying around to the lack of phone service, permanent pout etched into his pretty face. And Barry was used to this type of bratty behaviour, in fact he loves how high maintenance his baby is but this is pushing it, even for Rafe. Once the tent was pitched and the food was properly stored, Barry led them to an old, dilapidated dock that was covered in barnacles and moss. They already had food, they didn't need to sit out here for hours and fishing is boring, complained Rafe on a loop. Only his actions betrayed the true intentions behind saying such things, nimble fingers playing with the hem of Barry's long T-shirt. Barry knew they'd fuck, he didn't think Rafe would be this much of a brat about it. And Rafe was right; Barry didn't need to fish for any other purpose than he wanted to, and he was damn well going to get the time in. Scooting back on the wet wood until just his knees were bent over the edge, Barry balanced the rod in one hand and fought to get his dick out with the other.

"Go on," encourages Barry with a nod to his soft cock.

Rafe sputters, "What?"

"Maybe I oughta stop smacking you around so much, since you can't follow simple fuckin' orders," Barry grumbles, reaching up to grab a fistful of blonde hair and yank the boys face down to his crotch, Rafe scrambling against the damp dock to get comfortable with a pained cry. "Put your whiny mouth around my prick and shut up, country club."

And Rafe did, he sucked Barry's cock hard and smiled victoriously with the taste of come on his tongue, and that had been that.

Until they were sitting around the roaring campfire finishing up dinner.

Barry genuinely thought once would satiate his boy until they were cuddled up in bed, warm and full and ready to go again—fuck, was he wrong.

The complaining started slow, about how he burned a marshmallow and now his mouth tasted of ash, or how the weather was fucked this time of year and Rafe couldn't decide whether he was too hot or too cold for a sweater.

Then Rafe tossed his hands up and said the same damn shit he did on the dock: this is boring.

It wasn't. They were spending quality time together all alone, no distractions and Barry knew Rafe loved it as much as he did. God, what a fucking brat.

So the dealer yanked Rafe out of the camping chair and over his knee, sweatpants pulled down as the boy squirmed in anticipation, and then Barry beat his ass until he was positive it would turn black and blue.

His hand fucking stung and Rafe was a weeping mess, having came against Barry's thigh from the continuous impact.

And Barry...Barry's cock was throbbing between his legs, but he pushed his own desire aside in order to comfort his baby.

The night went on. A blanket was spread out for them to stargaze and it was disgustingly romantic, hands clasped between them while Barry pointed out constellations.

Then Rafe suggested a moonlit walk along the shoreline and how sweet Barry thought that idea was all but forgotten when five minutes in, the boy was shooting his mouth off again.

Rafe had the audacity to act confused when Barry started tearing at his clothes, soft sweater and thick sweatpants discarded on the sandy floor, leaving him to stand naked.

And he whined, and begged and promised to behave but Barry had caught on--he knew this was all Rafe had wanted since the prospect of camping came up.

Barry freed his dick and bent the boy over a fallen tree, stuffed him up and rutted ruthlessly, big hands keeping Rafe's wriggling body in place.

"It hurts," Rafe had said.

Whether the kook was referring to the cock relentlessly fucking against his prostate or bark scraping along his belly, Barry wasn't sure—and didn't care.

But then Rafe sobbed.

It's not unusual. Rafe cries over everything and runs to his man for comfort, which always results in bouncing on Barry's stiff prick.

Barry loves that shit. Loves when Rafe begs to stop while wrapping long legs around his waist and loves when Rafe squirms under his weight and he especially loves when Rafe gets worked up enough to cry.

Fuck, he needed to see.

The intention behind pulling out was to sit Rafe's pretty ass on the dead tree and watch the tears roll down his face while Barry fucked into his used body.

But Rafe straightened up and turned, and before the older man could position him—he ran.

The forest was unfamiliar and vast, shadows being cast from the moon hung high overhead and mossy roots winding across the forest floor like twisted fingers reaching out.

Barry's feet pounded against the soil, chasing down Rafe. They've never done this, but they've talked about it and now that it was happening, the thrill of hunting his baby down admittedly had his balls aching for release.

It was a game, and while Rafe was a sore loser, he would lose. It was inevitable.

The boy went plummeting into the ground face-first, grunting loudly before scurrying to turn over, looking up at the man who shoved him.

Before Rafe could get a word in, Barry swooped down and grabbed a thin ankle in each hand, dragging the kook across the clearing to where they had set up camp, depositing him on the blanket laid out earlier.

"Shit," exclaims Rafe loudly, nails caked in dirt from gripping at the loose earth. "That—I'm—fuck, Barry—" The older man is dropping to his knees in annoyance, which Rafe clearly picks up on. "Sorry, daddy, I meant—"

"Shut up," snaps Barry. Grabbing at the hem of his T-shirt, a strip is torn off quickly and then he's turning Rafe over.

Rafe catches on and says, "Wait! Hey, I don't think—"

"That's right, you don't think. You do as you're fuckin' told."

Only Rafe doesn't. His lean body struggles against Barry's hold, the dealer grunting while forcing Rafe's wrists together at the small of his back, wrapping the fabric around them tightly.

"Daddy! Please!" shouts Rafe in protest, kicking out his legs to no avail.

"No one can hear you, you understand me? Scream all you want," says Barry menacingly. "I'll fuckin' scream with you if you'd like. No one's coming to save you."

Rafe is laid down on his side against the rumpled blanket, much less comfortable in this position than it was an hour ago while looking at the dark sky.

"What are you doing?" Rafe whispers, turning his head to try and spot his man.

"What I was trying to do before you decided to be a dumb little brat," Barry answers, spooning the kook and slipping his leaky tip against the relaxed hole. "Ain't gonna get away this time, huh?"

Rafe whines loudly when a strong arm slips between his head and the blanket, bending to bar across his throat and Barry's calloused fingers curl around his cock.

The fat cockhead breaches the ring of muscle only for Rafe to tense up suddenly, forcing Barry to grit his teeth and stop.

"Don't do that," Barry warns with a threatening squeeze to the boy's dick. Fingers brush against his tummy where Rafe's bound hands try to get free, making him let out a genuine laugh that has the boy whimpering. "Put up a fight all you fuckin' want, ain't a thing you can do to stop me from coming inside my holes, little boy." When there's no give after a second of impatient waiting, Barry's hand leaves Rafe's dick to slap his thigh hard. "Keep that up if you want the shit beat outta you, bitch."

Rafe let's out a heavy exhale and forces himself to relax, big cock fucking all the way into him in one push, making him squeeze his watery eyes shut. "Aw, you gonna cry?" Barry mocks while using the boys body, fingers digging bruises into Rafe's hip and shoulder.

Blue eyes flash open and cut to the side. "Daddy," Rafe breathes out, bottom lip quivering.

"Fuck, you feel how hard that makes my cock, baby?" asks Barry, thrusting shallowly.

The already erratic pace picks up until Barry can only grunt, the feeling of Rafe squeezing around him enough to have him teetering on the edge when Rafe starts to tremble, mindlessly fucking back onto the dealer's dick.

The sob Rafe let's out has Barry's hand hastily fisting his cock just as ropes of come shoot out across the blanket, the boy a mess of tears and moans.

"Holy shit." Barrys jerking hand doesn't let up any more than his hips do, torturing the kook from both sides and relishing in the way Rafe squirms to get away—but can't. "None of this was for your pleasure, Rafe. You just came from me using you like a set of holes, you get that? Only a desperate little whore would get off on this shit."

Rafe can't reply, can't do much of anything except snivel against the blanket, sore wrists chafing. With a final tug to milk the last of the boy's come, Barry releases his hold and pulls out.

There's an annoyed sound of protest when Rafe is left gaping suddenly, the tug on his rim making him wince. Then he stretches and writhes, sore from being used all over the island with no end in sight.

Barry knees his way over the boys abused body until he's situated in front of pleading blue eyes, and grabs Rafe by the hair.

The first slap is delivered with a simple order, "Open your mouth."

When he's denied, Rafe's brows drawn together in silent protest, the second blow is much, much harder.

Rafe's neck is craned at an uncomfortable angle, whole body limp and he still takes the smacks without giving in, three more just as brutal.

"You gonna listen now?" heaves Barry, teeth bared at the show of defiance.

Ignoring the tight hold on his crown, Rafe lurches forward and noisily spits on Barry's cock, hanging heavy between his legs. Even in the blue moonlight, the saliva is noticeably pink from blood.

Rafe's gaze trails up the length of the older man's body before meeting hungry eyes, lips parting in invitation.

There's not an ounce of tenderness left in Barry's body, worked up from getting hard and not coming three fucking times and it shows when he feeds Rafe his cock, forcing the boy to swallow around the intrusion painfully because he's not stopping.

Not for anything.

The hand that was gripping Rafe's hair makes a grab for the back of his head, the other curling around his nape and Barry's hunched over, skull fucking him without remorse. Short nails bite into the flesh of Rafe's palms behind his back, trying fruitlessly to free himself of the constraints.

a combination of spit, blood and tears drench the man's public hair and drips down his balls, which knock against Rafe's messy chin.

"Look at you slobbering all over my prick, you must really want it, huh?" Barry mocks, rejoicing in the obscene slurping noises coming from between them. Barry loves Rafe—loves him and wants to see him fall apart. So with a final nudge against the back of the boys throat, Barry's pulling out and sitting back on his ankles, wrapping a hand around himself to slap the tip against Rafe's cheek, smearing precome. Barry says, "So fuckin' pretty like this, baby," and then leans down to press a kiss to Rafe's drooling mouth with a wet smack. With a skilful hand, the older man manages to untie the makeshift cuffs, freeing Rafe's sore wrists and making him moan in thanks against the tongue sloppily licking over his own. They separate panting, eyes locking and Rafe goes eerily still before turning in an attempt to skitter across the blanket, only to claw at the wet ground when rough hands grab him by the hips and yank him back aggressively. Rafe is all but picked up a couple inches off the ground and thrown onto his back, Barry shoving his way between the boys kicking legs. "Stay still and take it like a good boy, Rafe," the older man grits out, pinning the squirming body down with his own weight. "Just let me come and it'll be over." Rafe cries brokenly, "Can't. Too much." Barry's prick sinks to the hilt, eased by the coating of his boys bodily fluids and Rafe is arching up, so pretty and so full. "Yeah?" he goads, staring down into bawling blue eyes. "For someone who doesn't want it, you takin' it pretty fuckin' well."

The boy shoves weakly at Barry's shoulders and chest but it's pointless, the dealer is stronger and heavier than him, rendering him defenseless once the barbaric onslaught against his prostate starts.

Hoarse whines and cries and moans fall from the kooks pretty lips, dirty nails carving out scars on bulging biceps, Barry above him letting out animalistic grunts.

Barry fucks into him—fast and deep, not letting up no matter how much Rafe begs.

Blue eyes open impossibly wide and Barry taunts, "Use your words. You gonna come again, pretty baby?"

"No," gasps out Rafe, rapidly shaking his head from side to side, blonde hair a sweaty mess.

"Yeah you are," Barry says with a sick grin. "Gonna come on my cock, boy?"

Rafe truly tries to hold out and not give in to the pleasure ripping through him, scratching down Barry's back and arms before latching on with a bruising grip. He's fucking himself on the throbbing dick stretching him out mindlessly, so lost in the high.

And when it peaks, Rafe's cock twitches violently and bobs, but only spurts a little come—dry orgasm making him throw his head back and let out a silent scream, the last two catching up to him.

"Oh, that's it, baby," Barry praises, stomach tensing and caving in the harder he thrusts. "That was fuckin' beautiful."

"Please," begs Rafe, face wet from drool and the endless flow of tears.

Barry says sternly, "We're done when I say we're done."

Instead of arguing, the boy starts pushing again, this time wiggling his hips to try and get away, Barry grunting in frustration above him.

"Stop that!" demands Barry gruffly, one hand closing around the boy's throat and the other delivering a sharp slap to his ruddy cheek. "Lay there and take it!"

The rush of Rafe struggling and whining like a bitch and sobbing has Barry fucking hard, hips snapping erratically against the boys bruised ass, balls slapping noisily against the purpling flesh.

Barry spits, "Pathetic little bitch, you want it to stop? Beg for it."

"Oh, fuck," whines the kook, fingers cramped up from the overstimulation. "Please, daddy, please—"

"Please what?" asks Barry, jaw muscles jumping as his cock starts to swell and pulse.

Rafe babbles dumbly, "Come in me! Please, please fill me up, I need it! I need it so bad, daddy—"

Bowing forward from the sudden surge of pleasure, Barry muffles his own primal shout by sinking his teeth into the boys throat, surely breaking the skin given the high-pitched cry from beneath him.

It's so good Barry feels intoxicated, head swimming as he floods Rafe's tight passage with warm come.

Barry stays there, buried deep with his balls smushed against the boys ass to make sure every last fucking drop has been milked out into the kook.

And when he does eventually pull out, slowly so the head will tug against Rafe's abused rim, Barry watches come dribble out of the fucked open hole, gaping wide and so hot it has the man's heart thundering.

Sitting back, Barry sets a sobbing, delirious Rafe in his lap and pets tawny hair from in front of leaking blue eyes. "You learn your lesson, sweetheart?" asks Barry sweetly. When he gets no response, the man trails gentle kisses over the bridge of the kooks nose and down his face. "My broken little baby, can't think for yourself anymore, huh?"

Rafe shifts to rest his head against his man's broad chest and cries out in pain.

Its too soon for Barry to get hard again, but that doesn't stop his prick from reacting to the sound, giving a weak twitch where it rests against the boy's hip.

"Daddy," he whimpers.

"Answer the question, Rafe. You learn your lesson, baby, gonna stop actin' out?" Barry repeats, petting down Rafe's trembling body.

Rafe makes a motion Barry can't catch, just a twitch of his head.

"Use your words, little boy. You gonna stop being a brat? Huh? You learn better yet?"

Licking over his split lip, Rafe glances up to meet his man's eyes from beneath wet lashes and swallows harshly.

"No."

[the-dutchmanjr]

…I have some HEADCANONS!!!

This is about the Flying Dutchman’s crew in “pirates of the Caribbean”, just a couple of things I came up with…ok maybe more than just a couple, I kinda got carried away. 😂😂

What if maccus usually goes to sleep on his stomach since he can’t really lay down on his back with those tendril pinchers, and he can’t lay on his side with his hammerhead like….head. 😂

What if he lays in his hammock and just nuzzles into the fabric and lets himself sink into it like a bed of wet sand, what if he has these itches on the back of his head he just can’t really reach so he goes around to one of the wooden beams and just rubs his head back and forth on them (hammerhead XD) till he gets that itch.

What if jones has a tendency to play his organ when the Dutchman’s underwater and he draws in all sorts of creatures who just wanna hear the music. What if he draws in mermaids, and dolphins, and all sorts of fish who either dance (swim) around or start singing (chirping) with his song.

What if jones has all these different octopuses that he uses as scouts, growing attached to them he’ll use them like little pets and will play with them from time to time in the privacy of his quarters.

We’ve seen him fall asleep at his organ before. But when Beckett takes charge of the Dutchman, he’s gotta relocate his living quarters (probably down somewhere in the ship) everyone has this known silent rule where if he goes to that certain part of the ship, they all leave. That’s his new personal space.

What if when the kraken’s around, it’ll grab certain parts of the ship and just tags along for a ride before disappearing back down to the depth to sleep.

What if Davy jones watched the kraken grow from a young (but large) squid into the giant beast (baby) we know today.

What if bootstrap bill tries to help the others as much as he can with the more littler things, just trying to help ease some of the crews load.

What if when bosun (who apparently is actually named Jimmy Legs???) finds out that bootstrap is helping the others with their loads and he starts giving turner more heavy burdened tasks to do “since he obviously doesn’t have enough chores to do”

When the others find out, they all sort of pitch in together to try and take some of the load off of bill turners duties (to which he’s grateful for).

I can definitely see bootstrap bill turner being as kind as one can be in his situation to the newer recruiting members. Trying to help them out a bit before bosun takes notice again and basically starts punishing him for stepping outa line (fucking bosun man 😂)

What is Palifico (who I’ve taken the liberty of calling Ree) has the duty of cleaning the barnacles and the bottom of the ship, while he’s down there he finds all sorts of things that get stuck on the coral parts that have grown. He like collecting weird things. If they’re in shallow enough water and he has the time, he’ll scope out the bottom searching in the sand and seeing if he can find things like rocks or shells or random trinkets.

What if he likes giving those things to the other on the ship. I could definitely see him giving someone like Koleniko an urchin just to see his reaction and start cracking up when Koleniko just glares at him.

Speaking of Koleniko, what if he had a lover in a past life.

What if some days he gets really reminiscent about her and he starts to get really bitter about how his life turned out, About jones, about his decisions, about the duties he now has to do for the remainder of his time.

Because of this, he gets really moody and becomes kinda cold towards the others. It makes him a good crewman getting all sorts of things done and pushing through a lot of of the elements and hardships, but everyone usually tries to stay clear of him when he gets like this. Bitter about everything.

But on the better days, he’s pretty neutral to everyone. Even going as far to help some of the others out if he’s feeling generous. He’s usually a quiet person, only speaking when he has to. But when he starts feeling better he can talk to someone he’s more close to on the ship and just goes on and on about anything. It’s not often, but when he wants to- he can be a real chatterbox.

This was fun, I’ll have to see if I can come up with some other things for the rest of the crew later! 🤣

[asknarashikari]

Keiwa:Ahh...What a wonderful gijnka-less day... Michinaga:Wait! WHATS THAT?! *POINTS AT THE GIANT BUBBLEGUM MACHINE APPROACHING LIKE A METEOR* Emu:DEAR GOD! IS IT ANOTHER RIDER ALREADY?! *The machine approaches faster and faster and finally crash lands near the riders sending them flying* *we then get an inside view of the bubblegum machine where we see...GIJINKA POPPINGUMMY!* Poppingummy:Gummy! *Tries to open the door by pressing the button but it doesn't work* Chocodan:Gummy i knew you would screw this up choco, OPEN THE DOOR CHOCO! Poppingummy:It's not my fault gummy! the damn thing won't open gummy! See gummy? Emu:This is a load of barnacles... hopper1:hey guys me and steamliner are back from our...fucking... Poppingummy:*Muffled* Maybe if we bang on it hard enough we can get out! come on bang with me chocodan Gummy! Chocodan:P-Poppingummy that's my trigger word Choco! Poppingummy:CH-CHOCODAN ARE YOU ACTUALLY BUSTING A NUT RIGHT NOW GUMMY?! *Meanwhile hopper1 seems to increasingly angerier by the second* Chocodan:Ah- AH~ AHSA~ CHOOOCOOHOOOO...~ HOPPER1:HOOOOOOOPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!! (translation:POPPINGUMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!) *The 2 gochizo look out their window and see hopper1 looking like arc if it was covered in shadows* *HOPPER 1 CHARGES AT THE SPACE SHIP PREPARING TO LEAVE NOTHING BEHIND-* *bonk* Hopper1:THIS WALL OF PSYCHIC ENERGY IS PREVENTING ME FROM HOPPIN POPPINGUMMY AND CHOCODAN HOPPER! Steamliner:You mean the window liner? *Suddenly without any warning* Orange lockseed gijnka (I don't got a name for her):Step aside bug! *Throws him onto steamliner* ill handle this! *Immediately prepares finisher* Poppingummy:*Activates the gummy defenses* *ORANGE LOCKSEED GIJINKA (I don't got a name for her) USES HER FINISHER ON THE SPACESHIP...only for the gummy defense to turn her leg into actually gummies* Orange lockseed gijnka(I don't got a name for her):...*BREATHES IN* A- *gets turned back into an actual lockseed* Emu:Huh so...who are these guys we are dealing with? *The two gochizo exit the machine* Poppingummy:Gummy! Chocodan:Choco! *Meanwhile the other chemys get in on this and...* Panpakaparka:...*Looks at the 2 for a moment and gasps* *Screams a bunch of trumpet nonsense* (Translation:WHO CARES LETS PARTY!) *everyone there immediately starts dancing and the gochizo are confused* SO YEP INTRODUCING GOCHIZO GIJINKAS! if i can even think of a design

This is pure chaos and I love it

[lovevalley45]

introvert solidarity

a/n: got in my feels abt behrad 1.0 as one does n remembered this fic i wrote. literally over a year ago. and never actually posted. but it's funny and cute, and if you haven't read any of my other behrad 1.0 fic, you should.

Some days, Spooner felt like the only rational one on the Waverider.

Well, scratch that. A lot of days, she felt like that. But today the feeling was especially strong. 

It had started with some totem nonsense. She wouldn't pretend she knew exactly every loophole the Tarazis could squeeze out of their family heirloom, but they had stumbled upon a realization: if there was a Zari from an alternate timeline in there, then surely there was the Behrad from that timeline in there too.

The Legends took the news excitedly and as usual, took things overboard. Which meant that within five seconds the now-dubbed Behrad 1.0 coming out of the totem, they had broken the man by trying to go in for the group hug. 

She had to admit, the team realizing they'd fucked up by just being their usual touchy selves was a little amusing. Spooner, however, got tired of their tryhard energy pretty quick and slipped off to the lab.

That was where she had been keeping herself busy and working on her guns when the door slid open. She glanced up as Behrad 1.0 hurried inside, glancing out the glass window of the lab. 

She nearly said something, but it only took a second for her to pick up on a whole load of adrenaline pumping and stress. He didn't seem afraid, like he was running from the team. But she could guess that they were probably a tad overwhelming out there.

Spooner set her gun down on the metal table, catching his attention. When he turned to her, the weirdness of him being just a few years younger than the Behrad she knew hit her all over again. She'd never really thought of him as that young before, though she was probably closer in age to his older sister. But she guessed folks stopped aging in the totem, because it was uncanny. "Sorry. I didn't know you were here."

"Hiding from them too?" she asked him.

"I'm not- Yeah, I'm hiding from them," Behrad answered. He pushed away from the door, peering over her shoulder. "Whatcha working on?"

"Just my gun." Spooner patted the barrel proudly. "Made them myself."

"Cool," he said. "I'm not a really big fan of guns, if I'm being honest." He raised a hand to his chest, making her realize she'd never exactly learned how this version of Behrad died. 

"Well, some things don't change." She turned around to face him. "Other than being all in your face, how's the team been treating you so far?"

He went over to one of the chairs, plopping down. "Are they always so... tiring?"

Spooner chuckled. "Yeah, I'm still not used to it either."

"My siblings told me lots of stories about their shenanigans, but they certainly didn't warn me about this." Behrad threw up his hands. "All they said is that they're a bunch of lovable losers, not lovable losers who try to cling to you like a barnacle."

She knew Zari 1.0 was still out there, probably lecturing the others about not being all in her brother's face. She didn't know what she'd been expecting when this Behrad popped out, but she had to say, it was a little amusing that he seemed to share her dry humor unlike the chill, bro nature of the one she knew. "At least you got a warm welcome. I was introduced to them by getting abducted."

"How did they abduct you?" he asked with a laugh.

"Uh, well the other you and another Legend who isn't around any more broke into my property and then the others came and scooped me up," Spooner told him. "Fun stuff."

"From what my sister - the one from my timeline - told me, they seem to have a knack for that kind of stuff."

"Guess there's worse things than almost being smothered with affection, huh?" she asked.

Behrad smiled. "Yeah, there are."

The door to the lab slid open again as Zari came in, Sara in tow. "Oh, there you are."

"What, did you think I'd get lost?" he asked. 

"Honestly, I thought you just went back into the totem," she told him.

"Nah, we were just hanging out," Spooner said. 

Zari turned to her in surprise. "Oh."

Nate and Gary appeared in the window of the lab, grins on their faces. Spooner didn't need her powers to see the fear on Behrad's face from their enthusiasm. 

"Ava's making dinner," Sara said. "You two coming?"

Behrad glanced over at her, as if waiting for her answer. 

"Sure, why not?" Spooner asked. "What's on the menu?"

"Uh, I think it's turkey burgers," Sara told them.

"Ugh," she said. "They better not be dry."

"B?" Zari asked. "Are you gonna skip out on dinner?"

"Nah, I'll come," Behrad said. "I just needed a moment."

As he followed Sara out of the lab, Zari turned to Spooner. 

"What?" she asked her.

"Nothing," Zari said. "Thanks for not ratting him out."

"I ain't a snitch." Spooner put her gun back in its holster. "Besides, y'all can be a lot. I don't blame him for hiding out."

"Yeah, I realized I forgot to tell them not to bombard him right as him and the other B were swapping places."

"How long do you think it is until they let up?" she asked.

Zari gave her a serious look. "Oh, never. They pride themselves on making anyone who comes onto this ship their best friend. They just think they'll wear him down eventually."

With a grin, Spooner started off out of the lab. "Right." 

The rest of the Legends would be lucky if he ever stepped foot back on this ship again. But at least she'd accidentally won him over, without even trying.

[kpopchangedme]

Sun-drenched [M] - Youngjae

Every time you opened your mouth something outrageous came out but unfortunately, your new dorky step-brother seemed to be immune. You couldn’t tell if Youngjae was actually that clueless or if your reputation preceded you. 

Protagonists: Choi Youngjae & You

Word Count: 4.6k

Genre: NSFW - Cringe Fest - Smut - slight exhibitionism - f*ckgirl - Stepbrother!au || [One Shot]

[The Pleasure Chest: A Cringe Fest]

GOT7 | M.list

Your mother was doing that thing with her hair again, slightly shaking her head every time her new beau spoke. Every single bob invariably made her blonde curls spring. How disgusting. You had asked to be bleached once, a few years ago, and she had the audacity to claim it would look cheap on you. So unfair. 

She hadn't met her fourth husband for more than 6 months before she did just that. She thought it made her look younger, but Miami-midlife-crisis was more like it. It wasn't pretty wheat blonde, it was white yellow-ish banana buttercream. On-sale daffodil... Much like the sad ones Youngnam had gotten her from the convenience store yesterday.  They were now awaiting certain death in a crystal vase husband-number-two had gotten her for God knows what occasion.

You rolled your eyes when your latest stepfather started going over safety rules again. At your dad's there was never a need for them and if you correctly remembered the last time you had lived with your mom... You smiled, imagining how Dr. Top Surgeon would react if he found out his perfect church-going wife used to pop pills like candy and store a very impressive bong in the third drawer of her kitchen.

That would make for a fun scene. 

The goodbyes seemed to stretch half an eternity in the living room, after which you got dragged to the hall where the speech began all over again. Your mom gave you a short hug, more of a shoulder squeeze, then she pulled back and frowned with intent as much as her botox allowed. You shrugged off her silent don't-screw-this-up warning, already waving goodbye to her husband. Shoo shoo, you thought, sending the adults off to a far far away location. 

As soon as the door shut behind, you squealed in excitement. 

Summer had officially begun! 

Moving half across the country to fake “house sit” their new place while they honeymooned in Boca wasn't exactly what you had scheduled for your vacations. But when Youngnam accidentally let the words infinity pool and cars – as in with an S – slip out during the weekly video call, not even the dread on your mother’s face could’ve deterred you from flying over. 

As it turns out, Dr. Choi was loaded. 

Something you probably would’ve figured out earlier if you’d bothered showing up for the ceremony at all. Unfortunately, the wedding hadn't matched your Spring Break’ schedule and you decided having been present to the many previous ceremonies should be considered enough daughterly care for a lifetime. 

As you bent to the freezer for a celebratory parent-free popsicle, you felt the eyes of that gift-that-came-with-the-house glued to your ass. He briefly glanced down at the flash of your stomach’s skin when you jumped to sit on the counter. 

Surprisingly enough, your mother’s many rings had never once come with a step-brother before...

Usually, she went for the bachelor or womanizer types and those had the decency to never have baggage. Dr. Choi was a break of pattern and the news came with complete horror on your part.

For as long as you could, you had made a duty of never meeting his son, pretended he didn't even exist. So when the bubbly blended trio came to pick you up at the airport yesterday, you had been shocked.

They had said soloist of the local Choir and you’d heard; loser. Piano lessons? Dork. All-boys school graduate? Stuck-up. Computer Science Major? Nerd alert.

No one had talked about… That.

As a matter of fact, Choi Youngjae himself had not spoken much either, but he was certainly looking... 

And there were few things you enjoyed more than having a man's undivided attention.

Standing in the middle of the kitchen in all his glory, your new step-brother was staring, as usual, watching intently as you sucked your popsicle. You made sure to make a show of it.

“So… What about lunch?” He finally asked even though it was barely 9. Just to rattle him you hummed on the sugary treat as a reply. Mission accomplished. “S-Should I order pizza?”

“Don't worry, I’m easy...” Youngjae’s gaze fluttered down to your belly ring again. Boy, if he liked that one he had a few things coming. “I’ll eat anything if it's on you.”

Gaze widening, he pretended to look at something over in the living room and walked away.

Wait no, the poor guy literally bolted out of the kitchen to escape to safety. So fast one could wonder if this whole first exchange was the fruit of your devious imagination.

Oh no, you had just traumatized your babyish step-bro.

It made sense, you were one scary bitch.

All-boys school graduate? Virgin, you mentally took note. 

Or perhaps your mom had said something about you devouring the souls of poor innocent men. They said the apple never fell far from the tree. Grinning like a shark, you discarded the melting popsicle in the trash.

This promised to be one Hell of a summer break. 

______________________

“It’s been more than 10 minutes...” Chimlin flipped the phone over to yell unintelligibly at her demonic baby twin sisters. Despite the protection, you winced. “No DMs.”

“Then he hasn’t seen it yet.” Artlessly reporting for BFF’ duty was a lot more fun face to face, but for a few months, video calls would have to do. “Trust me.”

“I don't know,” she whined, going on all over again about how her boyfriend hadn’t picked up the phone since their nightly routine fight of yesterday. 

Sometimes you wondered if you’d even follow her back on Insta if you met this current sad version of herself. Kinda hard to tell, but she used to be the coolest baddest chick on campus. Then she was partnered with that Italian exchange student for a Statistic class, disgustingly dripping pheromones, cash and European pizzazz. Yes, Statistics. The most boring course ever, let's be real. But Chimlin was a genius, the deadly hot kind. No matter how shit-faced she was, that girl could track the B-52s and Gin Tonics’ calorie count of each respective member of your girl squad, not that she'd ever had to care herself.

Then Massimo came. At first, he was just a casual hook-up, but he managed to worm his way into her brain and grew there like a tumour. By the end of last semester, they were full-on steady-going together like in cringy 90s rom-coms. He was always stuck to her like a parasite.

Gone was your favourite 4 feet 11 party animal.

“Do you have any idea how many bitches Mas could meet this summer?”

You snorted, “Not even close to the number of dicks you could have in Pattaya if you wanted to.”

“Phatthaya,” she corrected automatically with a dramatic eye-roll. “That’s the thing, I don't want to. I only want one dick and he's miles away.” She waved her hand to brush it off right as your mouth opened in protest.

Her Italian barnacle did want to remain with her on campus for summer, but Chimlin thought she had better plans that involved a lot more beaches and fruity drinks. She simply couldn't live with her own poor life choices now and you were just about to tell her so when a flash of skin on the screen distracted you.  

“What else have you been hiding?” You sing-sang, impressed by the view. 

She glanced over her shoulder, “That's my uncle. Like... He’s literally my mom’s lil’ brother. Gross.”

“I know what an uncle is and that's a very hot one if I’ve ever seen one. You can look.”

“We’re not all depraved sluts like you.” She only half-teased with a sharp laugh. “How's the cute new brother doing, by the way?”

“No idea.” You flipped the camera and zoomed on Youngjae's bedroom window like to prove a point. The curtains were drawn, concealing anything worth mentioning from view. You were lounging by the pool on one of those fancy long chairs, much as you had been for the past week. Margarita, sunscreen, repeat. If this boring routine went on, you’d be so tanned by the end of summer no one on campus would recognize you. Sometimes you did think Youngjae's curtains were wobbling, maybe he was spying on you but it could all be your imagination. “Typical. He's been in hiding from me since day one.”

“I don't blame him.”

“Don't blame me for wanting him either. He's a good boy in a bad boy’s body.”

“I don't even know what that means...”

“No one does. But he's not cute, he's hot. I need him all over me and I've been telling him so, but he's strangely elusive. I think he hits the gym above the grocery store on the corner, I should join.”

“Stalker.”

“I don’t stalk, I live in his house.”

“No wonder the poor guy doesn't go out of that room, I bet he picked up on all your slutty energy.” In the rectangle screen, Chimlin switched to tan the other side and you did the same, laying on your back.

“Ha ha. He'd have to be moronic not to,” you were holding the phone above, casting a partial shadow on your face.

“Your legend precedes you. He's scared you're gonna trap and fuck him.”

“What else am I supposed to do when you've abandoned me and flew to the other side of the world? You know I need a summer project.”

“And of course, it had to be a guy.”

You were so glad she stopped whining about Mas for a minute that you let that one slide. “Well, I am not a needlepoint kind-of-girl.”

“Right, hey maybe it isn’t the incest that’s creeping your brother out. Maybe he's gay.”

Someone snorted out loud at that – not you – and you sat up in alarm.

Two guys were standing by the edge of the pool.

“No, he's not,” said the one on the left, a smile in his voice. They were directly in your sun, so you had trouble making out their features. One silhouette was slightly slumped, the other tall and all limbs. You suddenly felt very exposed, dropping Chimlin to fasten your bikini top in a hurry. This show wasn't for strangers to enjoy.

“Who are you?” The second man asked, clearly lost.

“She's it,” the other echoed.

“Who are you? I live here.”

“We're your brother's social life,” the frisky one smiled largely, kind of in a dangerous way that you immediately recognized for your own. Friends, they were Youngjae's friends and they very clearly overheard your embarrassing banter with Chimlin.

Flushing – a rare occurrence – you brought a hand to shield your eyes from the sun while you corrected; “Step-br–”

A sharp voice cut in, “She's not my sister.”

Behind, Youngjae was standing awkwardly by the patio door, a stern look on his face. He didn't seem surprised his people were there. He didn't even glance in your direction before disappearing back as you blankly stared after him. 

“Well, thank fuck,” the you-guy turned to wink, following him inside. “Good luck with your summer project! I’ll root for you!”

In a daze, you picked your phone back up. Chimlin was still there, waiting dilligently to be briefed on what just transpired. You puffed your cheeks, mentally preparing for what was to come.

______________________

Swear to God, Youngjae had not come out of that room for two days.

Two.

Fricking.

Days.

Maybe he had a fridge in there.

Maybe he only came to life after midnight like a vampire to avoid the whore squatting his dad’s house. 

Whatever his annoying friends told him had certainly made a lasting impression. You just hoped he wasn't the type to go cry to parents whenever something happened. You had no intention of going back to your tiny dorm all alone and sad for the summer just because you hurt his feelings by finding him bangable. Or worse, at your father's.

What was he even thinking?

You had not done anything wrong. Pushed a bad joke a little bit too far perhaps, nothing to get all worked up about. No reason to get shunned out of your mother's life again. 

Youngjae's reaction, or lack thereof, was way out of line.

It's not like you had actually done anything to him. He was such a prude. A prude that eye-fucked you all the time!

Church baby boys were the worst.

What an ass.

.

.

.

Three days?!

Three days of an overly empty house. The atmosphere had gotten so heavy, the air so tense you couldn't even think about anything else. There was nothing left to do. Just sit on the couch inside or by that dumb infinity pool, starring at the drawn curtains of your step-brother's bedroom. They weren't wobbling anymore.

Which was what you were actively doing this afternoon, ruminating your dark thoughts for hours. You didn't even notice you were getting dangerously warmer. When your timer went off, announcing it was sunscreen time again you nearly fell from your chair. 

Doing the legs was the easiest part, your favourite to be honest. They were one hell of an asset of yours. You were massaging the thick lotion on your right calf when something at the corner of your eye caught your attention. 

For a heartbeat or two, you thought you were hallucinating. 

Youngjae had finally reappeared. 

He was standing at the end of the pool, a knapsack thrown over his shoulders. His thumbs were hooked in the straps, hands dangling to his sides like dead weights. If he looked like a young boy at first glance, the heated look on his face was one of a man.

Frozen still, you gulped. True to form, he kept staring for a long moment before turning to the house and you thought he was about to go into hiding again – but oh no, fuck – he was actually pacing towards you. 

“I’m back.” Youngjae blurted out awkwardly, mouth twisted. 

Yours was opened in a mix of disbelief and shock. He was actually addressing you. “Back?” From where the corner store?

“Yes,” his eyes ghosted over your poor excuse of a bikini before anchoring themself back to safety in yours. Again, horny eyes. If you were warm earlier, now you were burning up. “I thought it'd be better if I stayed away at Bam's for a few days…”

Right? No one could actually stay between four walls so dilligently. It made sense. You were so dumb.

Apparently, your confusion was evident. “Didn’t you notice I was gone?” No, you had not. So your step-brother was so freaked out being around you that he actually moved out for a few days. Had you gotten that bad? Jesus. “Anyway, I’m back home with you now.” 

Youngjae took a step closer, kindly getting in your light so you'd stop squinting at him. He looked even hotter in the bright light of day, sweat pearled between your breasts. He frowned and bit his lower lip waiting for a reaction. The things you'd do to that perfectly proper mouth. 

Of course, what came out of yours at the moment was less than appropriate. He was right to be scared, you weren't safe at all.

“Wanna do me?”

Yes, you were that bad. Terrible indeed.

“Do I-I,” he gasped for air – oops, “w-what?”

“My back,” you clarified smiling like a prisoner that hadn't been fed a good meal in days, “sunscreen.” The poor man should've stayed far far away from you. 

You weren’t crazy or desperate, but you couldn't resist. You had been patient and unusually upright so far. You deserved a treat. You were hungry and you knew your step-brother wanted you too, he wouldn't have felt the need to hide away otherwise. Youngjae had an interesting duality, shamelessly thirsting over you one minute and getting flustered and embarrassed the next. He must have been deeply unsettled by your open invitation because before you could flip over, he had claimed possession of the bottle. 

Or maybe he just didn't need to be asked twice this time. He knew. He wanted to give in to temptation. Why would he even come back here otherwise? 

Laying down, you reached to undo the bikini strings, pressing your loosely covered chest against the rough towel on the chair. You waited.

“You must really hate tan lines,” Youngjae said in your back, sounding tormented, “it seems you're never properly wearing clothes.” He sat down in slow motion like an obedient little boy as you grinned. 

“Are you ever gonna put your hands on me?” You teased once more, it was like a string was tugging up your insides through that dirty mouth of yours. You wanted to keep pushing him, wanted to find out what it'd take to make him break. And just fuck you really. It was fighting the inevitable by now. 

Every guy you met wanted to have you.

Usually, you didn't have to beg.

“I'm trying not to,” he admitted the obvious. “I promised I would never touch you,” Youngjae grumbled and you jerked in surprise when lotion spurted on your lower back. “Promised my father I’d treat you well.”

It made sense, a good boy would never disobey and do his dirty step-sister. If your legend preceded you, his golden son’s reputation certainly did too. Honestly, this promise made the taunting easier and even more tempting. It made for a funnier challenge and the spark in Youngjae's eyes when he looked at you hinted you could break him if you really tried.

You were about to defy his ethics again when words went back down your throat, letting way to a sharp sigh. He had suddenly fully committed to applying your sunscreen, fingers exploring your skin. You asked to be touched and he had risen to the occasion, firmly rubbing the lotion on your naked back. 

Earlier you had every intention of teasing him further by enjoying this a little too much, but you weren’t sure it was entirely voluntary when the first moan escaped. If he wanted to keep it PG, he probably should’ve stopped right there, but it didn't seem to deter your step-brother. He kept going, massaging you along the way. His thumbs traced circles up your spine until one of his palms cupped your nape. 

Perhaps this is what an erotic massage was supposed to feel like, heaven. Every stroke was totally appropriate, very perfect boy-ish, but still, your toes were curling. After a few minutes, Youngjae's breathing was heavy, he was enjoying this impromptu contact just as much.

You both had made yourselves obvious these past weeks; him with the eye-fucking, you with the open-truths. Clearly, the forbidden nature of your desires would make for an even more intense experience. You couldn't even imagine how it'd feel to take it further now. 

“I've never had a step-brother before,” you mewled, mentally following the downwards path of his hands.

“I bet you love messing with me,” he replied, barely audible. 

His pianist’s fingers were now haltingly sliding up your ribcage. He wasn't rubbing in anything anymore, just caressing all he could reach. 

He was right, but you wanted more. That was the sexiest thing that happened to you in forever. Having a guy want you bad enough he had to hide away to resit, and now having his hands on you. You wanted him everywhere, all over. You didn’t care; step-brother promises or not.

Giving in to temptation, you turned around, resting on your elbow. Your untied bikini had not followed so you watched as his face fell in realization. Youngjae's mouth opened in awe, eyes glued to your bare perky breasts. At the moment, there was absolutely nothing going on in that male brain of his. He didn’t move; you helped.

As soon as you put one of his hands on your chest, he came back to life. 

“Jesusfuck,” he breathed out, completely winded.

Wow.

Church baby boys were the best.

Entertained, you reached for the sunscreen, pouring lotion on yourself again. “You aren't done.”

“I…” Youngjae swallowed back his protests, cupping your boobs with both hands. He couldn't even look up anymore, enthralled by your nakedness.

No matter what their intentions were, it seemed good guys were still guys after all. If you had known he was this easy to overwhelm, you would’ve walked around topless sooner.

“The neighbours will see us...”

He didn't seem to mind that much, seeing as his thumbs were stroking your pierced nipples relentlessly. If those middle-aged housewives you only caught glimpses off looked over the edge now, they’d have a pretty impressive show. 

“Let them,” sitting, you snaked a hand to his dramatic bulge. Your mouths got so close you felt his breath ghost over. Beaten by your expertise, his shorts’ button came undone first, his fly was even more compliant. 

The moment of truth.

Youngjae's whole body shook when you took his cock in your palm. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. Fuck, he was so hard and flushed for you. He pinched your erected nipples in response and you felt a familiar vivid jolt of pleasure and pain down to your toes. Not a virgin, after all, no doubt he would handle you just fine. 

You pressed your mouth to his neck and sucked, right where his Adam's apple bobbed.

That's it, all for you. You were so going to eat up that good boy.

“Mmmm, I’ll tell daddy you’re treating me so fucking well...”

Of all the filthy things you had said so far, this was the one that got the strongest reaction. The wrong one. Youngjae jerked up to his feet, tugging at his shorts in panic. He swore a dozen of times, out of his mind as you stood there, frozen still.

“Sorry,” he offered at last, pitiful before running for his life to the house. 

Fuck.

No.

Surely you were feverish. 

Having a heatstroke.

You had imagined the whole thing.

You had not just being left out cold by a man.

This type of shit never happened to girls like you. 

It took a few minutes to gather back your thoughts and when you did, you decided this wasn't even close to completion.

Without wasting a second more you stormed inside the house, almost flying upstairs to that mythical off-limits bedroom of his. You didn't bother banging, he was in such a hurry he forgot to lock behind, so the door flew open. 

Like a scene straight up from a bad porno, Youngjae spun on his computer chair, a hand still wrapped around his fully erected dick. You couldn't believe your eyes.

“Are you jerking off?” He was already pulling up his shorts again to cover himself, caught red-handed, blushing as though you hadn't been doing it yourself a moment ago.

“I’m sorry, I don't think you–”

“Please don't stop on my behalf,” you waltzed in, confident, and sat on his well-made good boy's bed.

“W-What?” Youngjae blinked, even more, rattled by the sight. 

He didn't leave because he didn't want you, he clearly did. He probably only left because of his father and that dumb promise he mentioned.

“Is this how you've been dealing all along?” You laid back on the comforter, smirking and remembering all those afternoons by the pool you’d thought you’d seen his curtains fall. He certainly enjoyed spying so it gave you an idea. He could try to resist you all he wanted, you'd still made him cave. “You don't want to touch me, right?” Your step-brother nodded, spellbound. “Because you're the perfect son.”

He swallowed hard, “But you keep… Saying those things, sunbathing… And to my friends...”

“Yes, you’re right... So let's start over.” You sighed in fake contrition, “I'm sorry, I've made this so hard for you. I’ll be good too from now on.”

Youngjae scoffed in disbelief, “You are sitting topless on my bed.”

“Oh,” looking down at yourself, you cupped your breasts. “I thought you liked the looking.” His cock was standing up, glorious testimony to this mess. “Don't worry, I get it. I promise I won’t let you touch me...” Throwing your head back without breaking eye contact, you moaned and lightly twisted one of your pierced nipples. “But I’ll make you watch...” Out of his mind, Youngjae did just that as you caressed your own chest for him. Somehow his eyes on you now burned even better than his hands earlier. 

You were so turned on, so worked up by all the days of teasing and loneliness. Your hips started swaying on his bed, craving some fiction and release. 

“You're crazy,” his voice was laboured but he had yet to escape again. This time you wouldn't have followed.

“I-I'm so wet, Youngjae...” Giving in, your right hand fell to your sex, rubbing your last piece of clothing. He was captivated. 

“Fuck it,” he immediately breathed out in surrender, hand wrapping around his dick. That was it, you finally had him. He was all in, playing along with your new favourite family game.

No touching, just innovative teamwork.

You had to establish ground rules, but pushing them was what fun was all about.

“I want you so bad...” You mewled, slipping your middle finger inside your bikini bottom.

Stroking himself, Youngjae groaned, “So you’ve been saying baby, but now you have to show me.”

Oh shit. You were going to come so fast if the golden son had other surprises like that. In a hurry, you wormed out of your panties before he could change his mind once more. In front of his fully clothed self, you laid back, touching your damp slit while he observed intently. The whole experience was surreal, your mind was buzzing, overwhelmed by the wrongness of it all.

It felt so amazing though.

Touching yourself for your step-brother was the sexiest thing you’d ever experienced, and you were very accomplished. You would’ve done anything he'd asked of you, and Youngjae knew that but he abided by his dumb rules. Standing up he came closer, boxer messily shoved down from his earlier haste, one hand was in his hair, the other working hard. You kept rubbing your clit repeatedly letting him see, hastening the pace until you were numb all over, panting. 

“Youngj-jae, I-I–”

Moaning, you broke faster than you had ever with someone, then again no one knew how to make you reach your own high better than yourself. Paroxysm made your thighs jerked as the pleasure waved through you, annihilating all sense of your surroundings.

When you came back, your step-brother was giving up too, bursting in thick spurts of hot cum all over your body and chest. His eyes were wide opened in black elation, intense, not missing a second of the show as he came on you. His whitish-gray seed painted your bareness in ribbons until he was completely emptied.

In silence, Youngjae dropped next to you on the bed, hands covering his face as you both caught your breaths. His now softening dick was still protruding out of his shorts and underwear for the world to see. It probably made for quite a view; your naked body covered in semen right by your respectable step-brother’s way more humble cock.

If your parents came home early, they would both have a stroke.

Youngjae sort of kept his word though... For today at least. 

Because now that you had him all over, you knew you were going to crave him under you.

And no man had ever resisted your charms before.

Step-brother or not.

[The Pleasure Chest: A Cringe Fest]

GOT7 | M.list

[onewfantaesy]

Yes! Give me all of the old goodies! I want the good, the bad, and the cringe.

u asked for it!!! it’s terrible and horrible but if literally anyone wants me to go more into it i’d be so down to just starting writing shit for it. i’m straight up just gonna copy and paste it from the message i sent like literally 4 years ago also it’s long as hell so it’s almost all going under a readmore there were no line breaks i had to go put in every line break omfg

okay so this is both a bandfic sort of idea but it's also a high school sort of idea so just bear with me pls 

 so like,,,u know how taemin and kai went to the same arts high school??? what if,,,,and this is a big fun fanficy what if 

 but what if okay so taemin and kai are in one class yes because same school year if i remember correctly, then sehun and krystal are in the year below them i'm like pretty sure so they're also both in the same class just for fics sake lmao 

and like,,,they're all just doing their school thing, and taemin and jongin sit sort of next to each other in their class, and by that i mean taemin sits in like the 3rd row by the window and jongin sits in the seat directly behind him so taemin's always turned around during breaks talking with him and playing like rock paper scissors and all that bullshit 

 and okay so lets just saaaaaay there was like an new reality-ish show, like that one show where taemin went to high school again with all those other idols and it was at an arts school, but like this show is for older idols to do other jobs and lmao this is why i don't wanna put it on tumblr or anything because it's so fanficy it's gross but it's so fun to imagine in my head and i wanna just headcanon it with someone who also likes the idea 

 but like so jaejoong ends up being taemin and kai's teacher for like a week or 2 for this show, and then fuck idk Rain is the teacher for sehun and krystal's class and when taemin finds out he's SO JEALOUS 

 "WHAT THE FUCK NO I LOVE HIM MAKE HIM SWITCH TO OUR CLASS" 

"and get stuck with jaejoong, fat fucking chance lee taemin go dance to rising sun or some bullshit why don't you" 

 and also just because why not add more fanficy shit with something that's already so ridiculously fanficy and let's say taemin used to be fairly close with jaejoong before the whole ~lawsuit~ thing happened, and he used to maybe see him and the other dbsk members like once a week because he was close with them and they helped him with dancing, singing, etc whatever cute bonding shit

 and then one day taemin went to go see them and jyj were just gone and taemin was so confused and changmin was upset and yunho was upset but just like "they left the band taemin they're gonna leave the company" and taemin's this lil freshly debuted kid and he just "but they didn't say goodbye?????" 

 and taemin's been so upset with jaejoong since that day because like he feels very hurt about them just leaving and not saying goodbye to him 

 so when jaejoong shows up as his teacher that morning, everyone in their class thought it was just a normal day, and there were cameras in the classroom but they also just assumed that it was something taemin or jongin related because idols in their class and all that so taemin's just turned around playing rock paper scissors with kai, and then the door opens and it's another camera and then a man walking in but it's right after the bell and no one's really looking so they just assume it's their teacher so everyone just "goodmorning teacher" in monotone voices because they have to, and jongin pushes taemin forward so he's facing forward and everyone just 

 "what's going on" 

"taemin what is this!" 

"jongin!! is this a new reality show??" 

 and taekai are just what the fuck because jaejoong is standing at the front of their class and that's definitely not their teacher where the hell is Mrs. Kim 

 and jaejoong explains that it's a new reality show, and he'll be their teacher for the next week or so, and everyone is kind of excited except for taemin and jongin who are like well SHIT because once their company gets a load of this, they're gonna be in a load of shit 

 and jongin just leans forward and whispers in taemin's ear "this is a load of barnacles" like that guy from spongebob, and taemin absolutely SNORTS so of course everyone and the cameras and jaejoong turn to him, and jongin immediately falls back into his seat and taemin tries to put on a straight face and jaejoong just 

 "taemin, jongin, is there something you'd like to share with the class?" 

 "no, nothing," taemin says, sending a very annoyed smile at jaejoong. 

 and then when jaejoong isn't looking (but a camera is still pointed at them), jongin leans back forward and just "we're good noodles" and taemin fucking SNORTS SO LOUDLY and slaps jongin away from him and jaejoong just 

"taemin. stay after class, won't you?" 

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH”

 everyone immediately just is like lmao u know how high school students are when someone gets in trouble lmao and taemin just huffs, and when jaejoong turns back around, taemin turns quickly to hit jongin on the shoulder and turn back around before jaejoong can see it 

 and like, taemin and jongin quickly become so annoyed with all the cameras, and like they're honestly just trying to do their work at one point and taemin is slumped over his desk trying to do the work with the person who sits next to him, and he just turns to the cameraman and just 

 "can u get that thing out of my face pls i'm not a cast member on this show"

 "but you're in the class!!!" 

 "i'm not the only one in this class!!" 

taemin is so exasperated like man i'm trying to learn i didn't sign up for this shit and then during a break someone like

 "oh u know those things we sign at the beginning of the year that say we can be on media and shit for the school?? this must file under that, we must be one of the classes where everyone's guardians signed yes" 

 and then at lunch, taemin and jongin go see if sehun and krystal have this same problem and they just walk up to the classroom because it's lunch time and usually the teachers all leave right away and taemin just pushes the door open so dramatically like

 "sehunnie!! you'll never believe who our teacher is this week holy shit!!" 

 and he just runs smack into Rain and just

 "oh my god" 

looks up at him with these wide ass eyes and he's having such a fanboy moment he loves rain so much omg and jongin has to like hold onto him to hold him up because rain just 

"oh, shinee. big fan" 

and walks away and taemin practically fucking FAINTS

 "BIG FAN!! HE SAID HE'S A BIG FAN!! OF ME!!!!" 

 "he said shinee u dipshit"

 "I AM SHINEE!!! I'M GONNA SHIT MYSELF!!" 

 "who's your teacher though don't leave us hanging" 

 and the other three come over and taemin immediately sobers up and just "ugh that fuckhead jaejoong i can't fucking believe this you know who's gonna get in toruble for it?? US. un-fucking-believable" 

 "you know, you never had a mouth like that when i knew you. also, if i recall correctly, i asked you to stay after class" 

 and taemin turns and sees jaejoong and a camera and he just "shit" because dammit he hopes he didn't get caught cursing on camera and now he's gotta have some fake heart-to-heart with jaejoong and he's none too pleased and jaejoong pulls him aside but there's still a cameraman following them and taemin is so uncomfortable and just

 "please i'm serious get that thing out of my face" 

 "taemin it's just for a couple minutes." 

 "what do you want?"

 taemin is just so upset and like he's so on edge because at school he can be somewhat normal but no now he's got an idol teacher and cameras following him around and dammit he just wants to go eat his lunch 

 "i wanted to talk to you about what happened when i left"

 "no, sorry, i'm not doing this" 

taemin just cuts him off and walks away, but jaejoong follows him and just 

 "why not"

 "because!! that's a personal thing, and if you're only gonna talk about it because you're being filmed, then you really don't care at all and i don't wanna hear it. now can i go eat my lunch please, i'm hungry" 

 and jaejoong just sighs and looks at taemin, and taemin's just this sad kid right now looking at him with these big eyes and he looks so upset and jaejoong just 

"okay. go. but no more disturbing the class, got it?" 

 "that wasn't even my fault" taemin grumbles "jongin was the one saying shit not me" 

 "don't let it happen again" jaejoong warns him, but taemin just walks off and goes to look for his lil friends. 

 also!!! kwonho is his friend from school right?? that's the guy taemin sits next to in class lmao i just remembered that, and kwonho is part of their lil group and!!! probably also moonkyu!!! moonkyu can sit next to jongin lmao so that's like the general gist of it i'm sorry this is so long lmao but i've had this idea in my head for probably a year now and it flows a lot better in my head than in writing but yeah i just!!! really wanna talk about it

and also another part of this au deals with a manager and is like mm three or so days into jaejoong being their teacher and maybe fuck idk kang hodong is a lil first year class teacher who taekai barely realize is there until they hear him crashing down the hall on day 2 and everyone in the classrooms goes up against the windows to look outside and see what's going on only to find kang hodong leading a bunch of firsties down the hallway as some form of prank or lesson or no one really knows what's happening, but everyone wishes hodong was their teacher after that 

 and anyways a manager comes one day to pick taemin up for a schedule and taemin completely forgot about it so he's absorbed in the lesson that jaejoong is teaching, and so the manager has to go straight up to the classroom to collect taemin because he forgot to go down to the office to get picked up and the manager just knocks once and opens the door and just

"taemin, come on" because this happens rather often but then he sees who's teaching 

 and taemin "shit" and gathers up his things really quickly and just tries to get out of there without some sort of weird fight thing happening and just "sorry hyung sorry sorry i'm coming!!"

 "what is going on" 

 "what?" 

 "why is HE in your classroom?? and cameras???" 

 "we're on a show hyung can we go please i'm gonna be late" 

 taemin's just got his backpack slung over his shoulder and he's so anxious to just leave because oh no this is the angry manager and he's getting that angry look and oh no "get in the hall"

 and he just grips taemin's arm and shoves him outside and FUCK it kind of hurts and fuck everyone saw and the cameras saw and just fuck 

 "jongin, get out"

 "what, i don't have a schedule today!" jongin is seriously like annoyed like no today is a day off until like 6 pm fuck that "jongin, NOW" and jongin is so freaked out and he just "sorry okay i'm coming" 

and he gets his things and he's hurrying outside and he just "how long has this been goig on??" 

 "what??" 

 "how long have you two been on a show without telling anyone!!" he's getting so angry and taekai are so freaked out holy shit they didn't think it was that big of a deal

 "hey, do you have permission to take jongin out of class?" jaejoong is like worried like is this even legal 

 "you stay out of this" the manager Does Not like jaejoong. not one bit. and the manager like gets so angry and he's yelling at taekai in the hall and another teacher hears it and peaks out to see what's going on and he like grills them for not telling anyone that they were on a show and that jaejoong was their teacher and blahblah 

and he asks if sehun and krystal have been ont he show too and they both just "yeah" and he makes them go get them and so they hurry down the hall to their classroom and knock on the door and they're so nervous when rain looks at them like 

"excuse me what the fuck you're interrupting my lesson" 

 and taemin just "um, we have to, um, a manager is here and, we sort of, have to have sehun and krystal come with us right now, now, like right now"

 and he's so obviously extremely nervous and the other two immediately know which manager it is just by how nervous taemin is and they start packing their shit up and they all hear the manager yelling for them to hurry up, and rain just "you two stay in here. everyone stay in here, you two come with me, you're going back to class" 

 and taemin just pipes up as rain puts his arm around the two of them to guide them back to class and he just 

 "i actually have a schedule right now i'm actually supposed to be leaving" 

 "then kai will go back to class and you can call another manager"

 "um actually, rain, sir, i go by jongin when i'm at school"

 "then jongin will go back to class, and taemin can call another manager to come pick him up" 

 "yes sir, rain, sir, okay, yes" 

 and by now jaejoong and the manager are outside of the classroom arguing, and a cameraman is out recording the whole thing and then rain joins in like

"hey can we just let this one go back to class and let the other go to his schedule why do we have to fight and get the children involved"

 and then the bell rings but it never fucking stops and after a moment of confusion, taemin and jongin just look at each other like 

"holy shit holy SHIT is this real holy shit HOLY SHIT"

 and all the classroom doors close and lock and the blinds on the windows get shut and jaejoong, rain, the manager, and the cameraman have no idea what's going on but taemin and kai run up to their classroom and start banging on the door and just 

 "HEY LET US IN LET US IN OMG OPEN THE DOOR" 

 but their classroom president just "sorry we can't open the door for anyone until the lockdown bell rings again or until the principal says over the intercom that lockdown is over" 

 "hey kids what's going on??" rain is so confused and the camera is going between the boys and the adults

 and taemin just "WAS THERE A LOCKDOWN DRILL TODAY" 

"what??"

 "YOU'RE THE TEACHERS OMG WAS THERE SUPPOSED TO BE A LOCKDOWN DRILL TODAY YES OR NO"

 "i don't know???"

 "OH MY GOD YOU PEOPLE ARE USELESS"

 taekai are just freaking out holy shit because if they're on lockdown that's like serious they never go on lockdown unless it's a drill and they go back to banging on the door begging for their classmates to let them back in but their classroom president keeps saying no despite the fact that many other people are saying they should let them in 

 and taemin just "JAEHYUN YOU PANSY SON OF A BITCH OPEN THE DOOR" 

 "WHY DON'T YOU GO HIDE IN THE BATHROOM, IDOL" 

taemin just "THIS IS WHY I VOTED FOR [insert girl's name here] INSTEAD OF YOU" 

 and the girl just "wait taemin you really voted for me???" 

 "yeah you're WAY BETTER THAN THIS PANSY PIECE OF SHIT" 

 "WHY DON'T YOU TELL THAT TO THE BATHROOM YOU'RE GONNA GO HIDE IN"

“WHO DIED AND MADE YOU KING?”

"IM IN CHARGE WHEN THE TEACHER IS ABSENT"

 "YPU ONLY WON FROM LIKE 3 VOTES NO ONE LIKES YPU" 

 and taemin and kai just scream a little bit out of frustration before kicking the door one last time but when they realize that the supposed adults in charge aren't doing anything they just 

 "fuck this we're hiding in the bathroom until this is over have fun ARGUING IN THE HALLWAY"

 and they run down the hall to go hide in the bathroom and lock the door and then over the intercom the principal just 

 "there is a man trying to take our student idols without authorization. the proper law enforcement officers have been notified, but do not let any of your student idols go with a man who says he is here to pick them up. this is not a drill. teachers, lock your doors, and keep your students away from the windows." blahblahblah 

 and taemin and kai are int he bathroom just laughing out of both frustration and a little bit out of disbelief that the school is actually calling the cops on their manager and then someone in shinee calls taemin, probably key, and taemin ends up facetiming with them and the other four see that taemin and kai are int he bathroom at school and just 

 "what the hell taemin you're so late for this recording where are you???" 

 "so long story short, manager hyung got the whole school put on lockdown and me and jongin had to hide in the bathroom because our stupid pansy fuck of a class president wouldn't open the door for us to go back inside of our class"

 "what the hell are you talking about" 

 so taemin and jongin explain the whole reality show thing with jaejoong being their teacher for a week and jinki probably just 

"you're saying jaejoong was your teacher all week and you didn't tell anyone" 

"basically yeah and then the manager u fucks sent to pick me up BLEW UP AT US and it was not pretty can you please tell the NOT ASSHOLE MANAGER that i'm going to be late because THE ASSHOLE MANAGER is probably in the process of being arrested ~~thank you~~ COME GET ME. I'M LITERALLY LOCKED IN A BATHROOM. THIS IS NOT FUN."

 and idk other people they were supposed to be on the show with that are just lingering about are giggling at the misfortunes of the young idols and lmao idk the asshole manager probably gets fired literally all our lil high school idols babies get in trouble for not telling anyone they were being filmed at school for a tv show and taemin makes up with jaejoong yay happy ending i just wanna talk about this so bad 

Tbh I mostly just enjoy the image of taemin and Kai being followed by a cameraman as they run through the halls in their school uniforms to the bathroom because their asshole class president won't let them in because of a technicality and just shouting "This is BULLSHIT" and scrambling to lock the door to the second floor boys bathroom

Also just taekai and their two other friends goofing off before class and forgetting a camera is there and they're talking about a new movie or something and taemin just

 "IT! WAS! SO! KICK! ASS" and alternating between fists to punch the air in front of him and they all like re-enact scenes they liked or whatever 

 And they're just being dumb boys u know and then the teacher and jaejoong come in and they all immediately scramble to sit down in their seats and just It's a really funny contrast to what they act like as Exo/shinee u know

And then Kai just "wait when did you go see that movie??" 

 "I went with kwonho on Sunday" 

 "WHY WASNT I INVITED??" 

 And moonkyu just "OR ME??" 

 "I'm sorry but you knew going into this 4-person relationship that I would have to split my time up between the three of you" 

 "Taemin fuck off" 

 Taemin is just unphased and continues "and that sometimes one might get more attention than the other" 

 "You are the worst" 

 "Thank you I'm taking that as a compliment" 

 And just uwu the four of them being smart asses together

And taemin just shakes his head and closes his eyes and shrugs like "I am a busy busy man" 

 And Kai just scoffs like "hey busy man, did you finish the math homework?" 

And he waves around the paper that has half of his homework done 

 And taemin just Pauses 

 "I am a busy busy man who forgot there was math homework" 

 And he leaps forward and takes a piece of paper of moonkyu and a pencil and just "lemme see lemme see lemme see!!" 

Because they have math first and fuck he totally forgot and there's only 5 minutes before class starts 

 And moonkyu lets them copy his homework and then the class president comes over and just "Excuse me IDOLS are you CHEATING?" 

 And taemin just makes a face at him and goes back to it, but before anyone can really say anything about, another classmate comes over and just "Oh shove off asshole, you copied my history homework at lunch yesterday" 

 And everyone just snorts, and he goes shuffling off to his desk 

Everyone hates the class president because right after he won he became a dick about it and everyone regretted voting for him 

 And the girl who ran against him just "I told you to vote for me" 

 And taemin turns to his friends and just "I told you to vote for her" 

 "Taemin shut up"

 "Never trust a man who only wears glasses in class!!!" 

 Kwonho just Shoves taemin closer to the window

[langdxn]

i have always been a storm | jim mason x reader

SUMMARY: Jim Mason’s idyllic PV life is falling apart. Can anybody save him before it’s too late?

WARNINGS: Drug use, death and all the angst you can expect from a troubled Jim.

WORDS: 2.2k -- sorry!

A/N: I know, right? It’s been a month and the first thing that brings me back is the most depressing Jim content I could muster... I was stuck in a Fleetwood Mac binge and Storms just fit Jim so well, I couldn’t resist.

The PV waves gently lapped at Jim’s toes, but their sensation had long since numbed.

His hard, impenetrable stare into the grey horizon could not notice the flocks of birds fleeing the coast, the waves beneath them gathering momentum as a storm brewed. His clenched jaw fiercely gritting his teeth together, a dull ache roaring in his gums which he simply could not process.

“I don’t want you seeing her anymore,” Sandy wailed at the top of her voice, emphatic arms flailing about her as she stormed around the house, expertly swooping between cardboard boxes and dismantled furniture littering the corridors. “We’re leaving next week, there’s no point keeping a girlfriend here.”

“But mom—“ he defended himself weakly, halting her reckless motion as she turned to face him.

“No buts, Jim Mason,” she spat, reaching to run her fingers through his golden locks and gazing into his eyes, raw with pain, brimming with tears, igniting with fury. “We’ll have to change that name too, have a think and we’ll decide on something else.”

His mother disappeared around the next corner in a blur of fuzzy cotton and brunette locks, leaving Jim to the terrifying kaleidoscope of his own emotions.

The crashing shore fell on deaf ears. So too did the approach of a dull roar of music, carrying on the gathering gusts that swirled across the beach. So too did the swoosh of sifting sand underfoot as someone neared his side.

“Thought I’d find you here,” you called out cheerfully as you arrived at his spot, slumping to the sand and taking a seat beside your boyfriend. “What’s up, babe?”

Your cacophony of syllables and musical notes nuzzled gently into his stupor, but not enough to encourage a response. His steely glance refused to falter.

Every night that goes between

Resting your speaker in your jacket pocket, your music penetrated his bubble and averted his vision down to the sand.

“Jim? What’s happened?”

I feel a little less

He sniffled softly, wiping long since dried tears with the sleeve of his wetsuit.

“I have to leave,” he muttered under his breath, a flimsy conviction behind his words suggesting he wished they weren’t rolling from his tongue in the first place. You slapped your thighs crossed beneath you to prepare to stand.

As you slowly go away from me

“Sure, I’ll walk you home—“

“You don’t understand,” Jim snapped, a curt hand waving in the tense air between you. “Mom’s moving us away.”

This is only another test

“Really?” Your calm tone unnerved Jim almost as much as his own predicament. “Well I’m sure however far you go, I can always come and see you—“

“Montana,” he scoffed through rage-curled lips. “She’s moving us to Montana.”

Every day you do not come

“Oh.”

No shaky delivery, no sinking shoulders as you realised the gravity of the situation, you remained peaceful as you meandered around your thought process.

“How long?”

Your softness fades away

“Next week,” Jim huffed before another wave of tears burst its banks, searing down his weary cheeks.

Your gaze joined his on the horizon ahead of you, the greying ocean reaching out to touch the darkening sky as they mimicked each other, cloaking themselves in the raging storm that beckoned beyond.

Did I ever really care that much?

“Do you want to go?”

Jim’s tumbling curls shook frantically in reply.

Is there anything left to say?

“Then let’s run away together instead,” you suggested without a glance in your boyfriend’s direction, fearing the moment you broke your stare with the sea, your own tears would swell too.

“Wh... where?”

Every hour of fear I spend

“We could go to DC,” you chuckled, shrugging softly at your knowingly absurd suggestion. “We could become politicians.”

My body tries to cry

Jim’s hand idly rinsed through the sand beneath his knees — his grip on every last grain symbolic of his control of his own destiny, his own path, his own future. Slipping through his fingers with every tumbling grain.

Living through each empty night

“I hear Minnesota’s nice this time of year?”

A soft, dismissive snort responded.

A deadly call inside

“Then let’s move up to the desert, live underground in a nuclear bunker and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist. How about that?”

Jim blinked hard, as if your proposition registered a familiar sensation in his mind. Hiding out seemed a preferable alternative.

I haven't felt this way I feel

You reached out an arm to link with his, scooting across the sand to lean into Jim as you continued your shared gaze beyond.

Since many a year ago

“I’ll always be happy wherever we go as long as I’m with you, Jim Mason—“

“Don’t call me that,” Jim snapped, a shiver pulsing through his body as his mother’s words resonated with him. “My name’s not Mason, not anymore.”

But in those years and the lifetimes past

“Good start,” you smiled warmly, politely assuming his sparky reaction was a stage of his distancing from his current life and into a new one together. “What should I call you now? Just Jim? Jungle Jim? The artist formerly known as Jim Mason?”

For the first time since you spotted him on the beach, Jim smiled. The curl of his lips cinched his bronzed cheeks so beautifully that even out of the corner of your eye, his smirk lit up the stormy sky.

I did not deal with the road

“I’ll... I’ll think of something,” Jim sighed, finally wrapping his fingers over yours draped over his elbow. His rough fingertips were cold, abandoned by the rush of blood to his face through his trauma.

Dipping your head to plant a soft kiss to his knuckles, you inhaled deeply against his skin. Jim always smelled like the ocean, a swathe of sharp seaweed scent bloomed in your senses as the curt tang of seasalt stung at your lips, the sensation you treasured so highly as a surfer’s girlfriend.

And I did not deal with you I know

“Wanna hit?”

You looked up to find Jim now gazing at you, his blue eyes enrobed with strained red veins. In his free hand, he held a small baggy, white powder collecting in the corners like a barnacle, a fungus, a cancer.

Though the love has always been

“Jim... what the fuck—“

“Don’t, please... please don’t lecture me like my mom,” he quickly interrupted your building objection. “I just really need this.”

The despair in his eyes as he looked to you for support spoke the truth in his words. Jim needed a fix, a release from his anguish, and he knew no better alternative.

So I search to find an answer there

“I’m not... I’m not trying to lecture you,” you retorted sharply, yanking your arm from his clutch. “If you touch that stuff again, you’ll die.”

“That’s what you all think,” he pouted, tearing the baggy open in one fell swoop, gazing longingly at its contents as if they held all the answers to happiness and life itself. “I just need this release right now.”

So I can truly win

Craning back in disbelief, you scowled at your boyfriend; the same fear lacing your pupils as the day you visited him in hospital after his last ‘release.’ You jolted to your feet, stepping away from his side.

Every hour of fear I spend

“Did you fucking hear me? You touch that shit again and you could die right here on this beach, Jim Mason—“

“I told you not to call me that,” Jim spat, fury curling his lips as he stumbled weakly to his feet.

My body tries to cry

“Is that all you can think about right now, your goddamn name? I’m not having my boyfriend wash up on this shore like a plastic bag and end up inside a body bag, you hear me?”

“You don’t know what’s going on in my mind, up here,” Jim tapped demonstrably at his forehead, vicious raised veins coursing across his temples as the white baggy slapped his furrowed brows. “It’s a storm in here. It’s always a fucking storm.”

Living through each empty night

“Then let me help you,” you half-shouted,  stepping forward tentatively with arms outstretched toward him. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“I’m always alone,” Jim wailed, cradling his head in both hands and his eyes clenched shut in a vain attempt to hold back tears. “Even Medina’s got that dick now — Adam or whatever the fuck his name is.”

A deadly call inside

“I’ve lost everything that ever mattered to me,” Jim continued. “My family, my home, even my girlfriend hates me.”

“What?!” You almost shrieked, frowning so hard a muscle tinged in your forehead. “When did I say I hate you?”

So I try to say goodbye my friend

“You won’t even let me touch a tiny bit of coke, just to help me get through all this,” Jim barked. His seething tone reminded you of his mother, every word a loaded sentiment to test your reaction.

“I’m trying to help you get through this, Jim. Please.”

I’d like to leave you with something more

Jim’s volume crept louder and louder with every expletive, causing you to glance around you in case someone was watching you. The outline of someone sunbathing in the distance behind you was all you found.

As your gaze returned, Jim had already emptied the contents of the baggy onto the back of his hand, running trembling fingers through the soft powder to create haphazard lines on the tracks between his muscles.

“Jim, no!” You screamed, grabbing his hand and vigorously shaking it in yours, ignoring his wailing protests and flailing arms as he watched the powder float on the breeze. “I can’t let you, I can’t let you do—“

Your thoughts halted mid-sentence as realisation hit you.

But never ever been a blue calm sea

“Someone’s sunbathing?” You questioned aloud, eyes darting up to the charcoal clouds above you, blinking harshly through the light droplets of rain splattering on your face. “There’s no sun…”

Gripping Jim’s shaking hand, you spun on your heels and looked back at the outline you saw across the shore. A person laid out on the beach, too far away to tell which way they were facing.

“What the fuck are you—“

“Jim, we have to go.”

You tugged on his hand and pulled him alongside you as you ran toward the shape, breaths laboured with every panicking stride.

I have always been a storm

The closer you came to the outline, you realised the mound of brown hair signalled the person was facing down into the sand. Breaking into a sprint, you let go of Jim’s hand as he ran beside you.

Always been a storm

“Help, please, somebody help!” Your screams echoed across the bay, calling out to the surfer vans and lifeguard hut on the cliffs.

Oh, always been a storm

Tumbling to your knees at their side, you pressed your palms to the man’s back to shake him.

“Sir—sir, are you okay?” Your trembling tone pierced across the bay as Jim arrived at your side. “He’s not breathing, we need to turn him over.”

I have always been a storm

Kneeling next to you, Jim fixed on the man’s hair. Tousled mousy brown curls just like his own, sun bleached just like his own, battered by relentless salt water just like this own.

We were frail

He fell back in despair, crawling away on his hands as tears poured down his cheeks.

“Jim, please help me—“

She said "every night he will break your heart"

Tugging frantically at his wet shirt, you grunted as you heaved the man onto his back and brushed the hair from his face. Speckled with sand, his jaw drooped and his eyes lay fixed open, pupils blown wide. Spotting his sallow, wrinkled cheeks and a congealed white powder at his nostrils, your breath hitched in your throat.

I should've known from the first

“Is... is he dead?” Jim stammered as he stepped forward to look over your shoulder.

Your eyes dropped to the sand beneath you, straining to your feet to step back as an official-looking woman raced across the beach to attend to the scene.

I’d be the broken-hearted

“He’s dead?!” Jim wailed, rinsing his face in his hands. You turned to cradle him into the crook of your neck, his heartfelt sobs soaking into your shoulder as the woman plucked a radio from her pocket and called out for assistance.

“That could have…. he could have been me.”

“It’s okay, Jim, I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry,” he cried helplessly, hooking trembling arms around your waist. “I’ll never touch it again, I promise, never again.”

But I loved you from the start

“I know,” you soothed, running your hands over the rain-dripped neoprene expanse of his wetsuit. “Let’s get you home.”

“Wh...” he trailed off as he calmed his hysterics, tumbling onto you for support. “Where’s home?”

Not all the prayers in the world could save us

You smoothed his now-drooping curls with a reassuring hand, blinking aside your own streaming tears.

“Home is wherever you are, Jim.”

[1989dreamer]

Full Offense (no offense)

Cross-posted at my AO3

Summary: Stiles lives in an apartment below the worst neighbor in the world. Derek always submits false complaints about Stiles and his roommates to the front office. Well, tables are turning. Derek is hosting a party this Saturday, and Stiles fully intends to crash it and confront Derek over his asshole-ish-ness.

Main Relationship: Sterek

Rating: T

Tags: Angry Stiles, Human AU, drunk characters, Derek cooks, dub/non-con drugging, attempted assault mentioned, over-protective Laura, enemies to lovers, asshole Jackson

                                                                                                                     ~ * ~

“I’m offended,” Stiles announces to the room in general. No one looks up, too used to his outbursts by now to pay much attention. The fools.

He marches up to Scott sitting at the breakfast nook, a large bowl of Fruity Pebbles in front of him. He stares him down while Scott keeps shoveling cereal into his mouth.

Finally, after about five minutes, once his bowl is empty, he looks up as if just noticing Stiles for the first time. “Sorry,” he says laconically. “You’re offended?”

“Yeah, and you wanna know why?”

“Not really.”

Stiles ignores Scott and forges ahead. “That bastard in 3A wrote another complaint about us.”

“Really?” Now Scott looks interested. “What’d he say we did this time?”

“Something about an over-loud party last weekend.”

“But we weren’t even here last weekend,” Scott protests. He shoots a look at their roommates, Boyd and Jackson, sitting on the couch and playing a first person shooter game. They both shrug. Boyd had been at his girlfriend’s. Jackson had been who knows the hell where. Stiles doesn’t keep track of him. As long as he pays his rent, they are cool.

“So I’m thinking he’s targeting us,” Stiles says. “Why, I don’t know. That is something I intend to find out.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Scott asks.

“A little bird told me that 3A is planning to host his own bash this weekend. So guess who wrangled an invite?”

“You’re going to crash 3A’s fancy shindig?” Jackson snorts. “In what outfit?”

“In this one?” Stiles points down at his button down, left open over a graphic t-shirt and baggy khaki pants. The only thing he might change is his shoes. He’s got a fresh pair of sneakers just waiting for a spin out in the world. Might as well break them in at 3A’s party.

Jackson snorts again, but he’ll be waiting a long time if he thinks Stiles either wants or needs his fashion advice.

“And how exactly did you get an invitation?”

“The front desk clerk gave it to me.” Stiles pulls out the blue paper and waves it in Jackson’s general direction. “Look, ‘Derek Hale formally invites you to Apartment 3A to partake in games and alcohol from the hours of 6:00 pm to 10:00 pm. Cabs will be called for all attendees who do not wish to stay overnight.’”

“Wow,” Scott says, “this Derek fellow sounds awfully polite on paper.”

“Yeah,” Stiles admits. “It’s probably to disguise how much of a shithead he really is.”

“Well, have fun,” Scott says. “I will be at Allison’s this weekend.”

“I’m heading back to Erica’s,” Boyd adds.

Jackson rolls his shoulders. “Any chance that invite has a plus-one on it?”

“Fuck off,” Stiles says, but he checks anyway. “Nope, sorry. Nothing about that. Seemed pretty exclusive from what the front desk clerk said.”

“Well I guess I’ll just have to get my own then,” Jackson says with too much nonchalance. He’s a bad liar. Stiles knows his tells. When he’s this relaxed, he’s worried.

“What? You think I’m going to his party to hobnob?” Stiles forces out a laugh. “Buddy, I’m going to confront the bastard and see what his fucking problem with us is.”

“Oh of course,” Jackson snipes back. “Couldn’t be that you’re finally fucking picking up culture.”

Stiles snorts. “If you consider going to Derek Hale’s wine-and-game-night culture.”

“Well,” Scott says, “it is more cultured than beer and C.O.D.”

“Hey, don’t shit on C.O.D. nights. That’s culture too.”

Boyd gives Stiles an air-five.

“Anyway. It’s just a party. If I can get Derek Hale off our backs, isn’t that a good thing?”

The others agree, and Boyd and Jackson go back to their game and Scott gets up to wash his bowl and spoon.

Stiles goes to his room to plot his speech for this Saturday. Derek Hale won’t know what hits him when Stiles walks into his apartment. It just might be the last thing Stiles ever does, but by God, he’s taking that asshole with him.

                                                                                                                    ~ * ~

The rest of the week passes so uneventfully that Stiles is scared that things are going too well.

The day of Derek’s party dawns bright and beautiful and quiet.

Boyd left last night to Erica’s, and Scott didn’t even come home before he headed out to Allison’s.

Jackson is still around, but Stiles is ignoring him. As far as he knows, Jackson never managed to get an invite to the party, so he’s hoping to sneak out before Jackson can attach himself like a barnacle and slip into the party as a plus-one even though it really isn’t that kind of party.

Stiles spends most of the day in his room, on his computer practicing his speech until he can recite it without notes. If he was being graded on it, he’d accept nothing less than an A+. It’s that good.

Stiles has his outfit picked out already. Despite what he told his roommates earlier, he’s actually going to be wearing a fitted gray blazer over a buttoned down blue shirt and pressed khakis. He also managed to find his dress shoes from graduation. So, he’ll be decently dressed and can pass for one of Derek’s swanky friends.

At least, Stiles assumes they’re swanky. Derek dresses nicely all the time—at least whenever Stiles runs into him in the hallways.

About an hour before the party, he dresses in complete silence and then uses the fire escape outside his window to get down street side, and then he just chills at a small park about five blocks away.

Once 5:45 pm arrives, Stiles heads back and jogs up to Derek Hale’s door. The front desk clerk who’d given him the invite is nowhere to be seen. Instead, it’s an older, lecherous man that Stiles calls Uncle Bad Touch in his head. UBT waves at him as he hurries past.

Thankfully, UBT only works once in a long while. Usually it’s one of two clerks who look remarkably the same aside from different hairstyles. Stiles likes Cora best. She is abrasive in a good way, and she gives things to Stiles, like extra soap when he forgets to buy some or the invite to Derek’s party.

Despite all his careful planning, Jackson is waiting in front of Derek’s door, dressed even more smartly than Stiles. Hell, that might even be Jackson’s high school prom tux, and it really isn’t fair that he still fits in it, even if the shoulders look a little tight.

“Ready?” Jackson cocks an eyebrow at Stiles. He knocks before Stiles can answer.

The door immediately swings open, and Derek stands before them. Stiles can’t help fist-pumping a little when he notices that Derek is dressed in slacks and a button up shirt instead of a suit or tux like Jackson. He does bite back the “Culture,” that wants to come out, though.

“Welcome,” Derek says, looking from one to the other, a frown of confusion pulling his brows low over his eyes.

Stiles clears his throat and shoves the invite from Cora at Derek. He takes it, tucks it into his back pocket and then steps back to allow them in.

“Drinks are in the kitchen. Thanks for coming.”

He leaves them standing just inside the door as he makes his way to what must be the kitchen. The layout is similar to their apartment just downstairs, and Stiles heads for a couch in much nicer condition than theirs. Jackson follows him, perching on a loveseat across from him, a sturdy metal coffee table between the two sitting areas, and clutching at his knees. He seems far more nervous than Stiles feels.

There aren’t any other people here, and for a moment Stiles thinks he might have arrived too early, and then Derek reappears with a tray of finger foods just as the door slams open.

“What’s up, asshole!” the not-Cora front desk clerk yells, bouncing into the room, closely followed by a guy dressed identical to Jackson.

Jackson doesn’t look any relieved to see that.

“Hey, Laura, hey, Jordan.” Derek gives them an awkward sort of wave. “This is Cora and her fiancé.”

“Really now?” Laura peers at Stiles and Jackson with pretend interest. “Coulda swore those are your downstairs neighbors.”

“All right, you got me. Cora and Lydia were busy tonight so they gave their invite to Stiles and Jackson.”

Jackson shoots a sort of smug look at Stiles, completely ruined by the fact that he also looks like he wants to throw up. Stiles refuses to react, but he is a little bummed that it actually was a plus-one invite.

“Cool.” Laura looks marginally more interested. “Are they any good at Risk?”

Derek rolls his eyes so hard that Stiles waits for them to pop out and bounce along the floor. “We’re not playing Risk. I donated the game after last time.”

Laura turns a funny shade of red while Derek all but runs to where the door is being timidly knocked upon.

All told, five more people show up; a vivacious blonde couple, Rachel and Sean, who seem more interested in flanking Jackson and making him blush hotly before Derek makes them move; Kira with cat-headphones and a shy smile when she catches Stiles admiring the many fandom pins on her bag; permanent-frat-boy Sammy, with a backwards cap and saggy basketball shorts; and thin, elegant brunette, Abigail, who has an aloofness to rival a freezer. Derek keeps running back and forth from the kitchen until his tasteful coffee table is loaded down with cups and food. He encourages everyone to eat, and it’s delicious. Stiles eats way too much and drinks only enough to wash it down. He manages to put away two loaded potatoes, too many breaded mozzarella sticks, fried mushrooms, jalapeño poppers to count, and half of a small cheesecake. Only Abigail eats more than him. Derek is a fucking fantastic cook (even if most of the foods are pop and bake) and bartender. He’s also the quintessential host, and Stiles really feels bad about what he’s going to do.

He decides to wait until everyone else is too drunk to stop him before he confronts Derek about his well-hidden asshole-side.

                                                                                                                    ~ * ~

About three hours later, the food is gone, drinks are back in the kitchen, and Laura is drunkenly trying to set up Jackson with Jordan. Despite wearing matching clothes and red faces, neither seems to actually mind her meddling.

And Derek keeps staring at Stiles with a heated gaze that is definitely not helping the stomachache from too much food.

Stiles wins every game they even try playing because everyone else, including Jackson, is smashed. Then, once they’ve settled into just conversation, he begins putting away the games. Derek tries to help, and Stiles has to bite back a fond smile as Derek rests his head on his shoulder while he tries and fails to sort the Monopoly money.

“So, how’d you get an invite?” Derek slurs against his ear when Stiles takes the money from him.

“You said it earlier: Cora gave it to me,” Stiles says honestly. “She also told me that you filed another complaint against us.”

“What?” Derek hiccups on the word, pulling back and staring wide-eyed and innocent at Stiles. He isn’t buying it.

Not at all.

Derek hiccups again, and then lets out a low burp. He blushes, covering his mouth. “Sorry. But I didn’t file any complaints against you. You’re great neighbors. You haven’t done anything at all. Even your get-togethers are quiet and respectful. Why would I complain about you?”

“If it isn’t you, then who…?” Stiles looks away from Derek. For some reason, he finds his gaze locked onto Jackson. Who is staring back at him with a kind of terrified look on his face.

“Jackson?” Stiles asks.

“Yeah?” His roommate swallows hard.

“Why has Derek been filing complaints about us at the front office?”

“He hasn’t,” Jackson whispers. “I have.”

“Why?” Derek asks. “You guys are perfect! My parents love you.”

“It’s stupid,” Jackson mutters. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I’ll move out too. I’m sorry, Stiles.”

“What did you hope to accomplish by filing complaints against us? You realize you would be kicked out too, right?”

“Yeah, but…” he pauses to blow out a breath that he doesn’t seem like he can spare. “I just. It’s just so stupid. I’m so sorry, Stiles. I just wanted to get you evicted. I knew the rest of us could play off as quiet and nice tenants while you’d probably have a loud reaction and get kicked out. I’m sorry.”

Hurt, Stiles leans back like that can even begin to give him the distance he needs right now. Jackson does look reproached but sorry doesn’t make up for the fact that his roommate, someone he thought was his friend, filed three noise complaints against him. One more and the landlords would have no choice but to investigate and possibly kick him out.

Derek pats at Stiles’ arm. “I’m sorry you have such a shitty friend,” he says.

Stiles nods. “Me too.” He stands up. “I’m sorry, Derek. I came here to yell at you for unfairly complaining about us, and you’ve been nothing but awesome. I hope I get to see you again someday. Right now, I just need to go. I need to find a place to stay for tonight.” He looks back at Jackson and then away just as quickly. “I can’t stay at our apartment right now.”

“Everyone was just leaving, right?”

“Fuck no,” Laura says. “We’re stealing your bed, Derek. You can sleep on the couch.”

Derek frowns at her. “Okay, so we’re all a little too drunk for this. Stiles, why don’t you stay here tonight and Jackson will go back to the apartment. We’ll sort it all out tomorrow when we’re not drunk anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Jackson says again. “Really, Stiles. I am.”

“I get it,” Stiles tells him, “but right now, I don’t care.”

“Jordan, walk Jackson back to his apartment,” Laura orders. “My buzz is fading and that’s not what Saturday night’s all about.”

It’s definitely an awkward end to what had been a fun and kind of sweet night.

Stiles sits back down on the sofa as the door closes behind Jackson and Jordan. Derek watches him, eyes soft with concern. Stiles isn’t sure that he wants whatever sympathy Derek has for him, but he’s glad at least someone seems to realize how hurt he is by Jackson’s betrayal.

Laura grouses a bit and then stumbles to the bedroom, half the rest of the party following her while the other half goes to the other bedroom.

Derek sighs, leaning against Stiles. “Are you okay?”

“Not really, but I guess I will be. Anyway, I better call our other roommates and let them know that I’ll be moving out.”

“You can stay on my couch tonight, and if you need a place to crash, I’ve got a spare bed.” He glances at the second door. “I’ll clean the bed and put out fresh sheets tomorrow,” he promises.

“Why would you do that for me?” Stiles asks. “I’m practically a stranger to you.”

“Well, my sisters like you. Cora especially. So,” Derek shrugs, “I like you too.”

“That is, ostensibly, the worst reason I have ever heard to like someone,” Stiles says.

Derek rolls his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “It’s worked out so far,” he replies. “Anyway. I should let you get settled.” He pauses, studying Stiles with a serious, contemplative expression, lip between his teeth. Honestly, it’s a little adorable.

Stiles sighs and shakes his head. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Derek, you’re being a real friend, unlike Jackson.”

It’s Derek’s turn to sigh. “I’ve had my share of bad friends,” he admits. “I do my best to not make anyone feel like they’re unwelcome even if I don’t know them. I guess it makes people think I’m soft or something, so I try to keep my true emotions hidden when I’m out in public…” he trails off, blinking. “I don’t remember where I was going with that, but yeah, I really just want you to know that you’re welcome here as long as you need it.”

“Thanks,” Stiles says sincerely. “That really means a lot to me. Thank you, Derek.”

“No problems.” Derek does a two finger wave as he stumbles to a trunk set between the bedroom doors. He returns with a couple of blankets and pillows, thumping one set into Stiles’ chest. “You take the couch. I’ll sleep in the kitchen. Wake me up if I’m not already up when you get up.”

“Okay.” Stiles refuses to believe it’s a promise, but the hopeful look Derek gives him before he disappears into the kitchen makes him think that whether he meant it or not, Derek definitely took it as a promise.

Could be worse, he decides, dropping the pillow onto the couch and following it down.

His brain, usually wired too fast to get much sleep must be as exhausted as he is because almost as soon as he buries his face in his borrowed pillow, he’s out.

                                                                                                                    ~ * ~

Stiles wakes up when one of the guests trips on their way to the bathroom, and because it’s daylight outside, he decides it’s not worth chasing that last minute of sleep, so he gets up and goes to find Derek in the kitchen.

Derek is rolled into his blanket, face smushed into his pillow. He’s adorable, and Stiles is struck by the sudden realization that someone needs to be kissing and loving up on him, and that maybe it should be him.

The floor creaks a little as Stiles moves closer, and Derek snuffles a bit and then sits bolt upright, bleary-eyed and yawning.

“Wha’ time’s it?” he mumbles, a hand flopping out of his blanket wrap to scratch at his beard.

Stiles pulls out his phone. “It’s almost 6:30,” he says. “Are you okay from sleeping on the floor?”

“’m fine,” Derek says around another yawn. He scrambles up and stretches until his back pops. “So, do you want something to eat? If I know Laura and her hangover, she’ll want the greasiest thing I can make. I’ve got three types of bacon—regular, thick, and turkey. I have eggs, cheese, hash browns, biscuits, and gravy.”

Stiles laughs in disbelief at the size of the menu. “Just how many guests do you have?” he asks. “Jordan’s still with Jackson. That means there’s eight of us left, including you. Do you really thing we can eat all that?”

Derek grins at him. “You don’t know hungover Laura. She’ll put it all away if we don’t stop her.”

Stiles rolls his shoulders. He’s not inclined to stop Derek if he’s planning on cooking again. Besides, it’s not like he has anywhere he has to be. Not until Jackson is out of the apartment because even though he’s the one moving out, he doesn’t want to be in the same room as his former friend.

Instead, he sits at the little table tucked under the window and watches Derek dig out everything he talked about and more. He tosses an orange at Stiles and then hums under his breath as he heats up a skillet and begins cracking eggs into a bowl. He pops what look like homemade biscuits on a baking sheet and starts a pot of country gravy.

“You know,” Stiles says, contemplative, “you’re handsome, can cook, and are so sweet. Why don’t you have a significant other?”

Derek’s shoulders tense for a brief moment before he continues, using a fork to beat the eggs. “I’m un-datable,” he says easily. Certainly far more easily than Stiles could have in his position.

“And why is that?” Stiles digs a thumb into a groove of the table while he waits for Derek’s response.

“Because he’s a fucking martyr,” Laura says from the doorway. She saunters in and sits down in the chair across from Stiles, wincing as her chair scrapes the floor. “Way back in high school, he wasn’t always so reserved and cool. He was dorky as shit. There were a few girls—popular bitches. You know the type, rich, never had to work for the things they had. Anyway, some of them targeted him because while Derek was never ugly, he wasn’t the cutest boy in school.” Laura pauses to rub her temples. “We have money. Obviously. Our parents own this apartment complex. So they just wanted to fuck with him. The last one was the worst.”

Derek’s shoulders are shaking, and Stiles stops Laura. She looks over at her brother and swears colorfully.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I’ll stop talking. We won’t say anything more. I promise.”

“It’s okay,” Derek says, calmly sliding several slices of the turkey bacon into the pan. “It’s been years. It’s not like she’s out yet.”

Stiles startles, a soft, “What?” slipping out.

Derek sighs heavily, reaching for a spatula. “My last girlfriend drugged me. She was trying to record something incriminating and ended up getting busted by a chaperone.”

“It was junior prom,” Laura fills in.

Derek nods. “She got five years. It was extended after she fought her cellmate and almost killed her. So, she’s got another five years. She’ll be released in two years.”

Stiles quickly counts up on his fingers. “So that makes you, what, twenty-five?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Twenty-three.”

“I’m thirty,” Laura interjects, shrugging when both her brother and Stiles look at her. “Yeah. I had an outside perspective.” She goes quiet. “I was the chaperone.”

“That’s some heavy stuff,” Stiles says. “No wonder you don’t date anymore.”

“Anyway. Breakfast is about halfway done. You should call the others.”

Derek moves onto the potatoes next. Laura leaves, probably to rouse the other guests. Stiles sits back at the table, rolling the orange one way and then the other.

After a few minutes of nothing but the sizzling of potatoes, Stiles clears his throat. “So,” he says softly. “Are you ready to date again or still…?”

“Probably ready,” Derek answers, so low that Stiles has to strain to hear him. “Been ready for a while, but Laura feels so guilty that she kind of sabotages my relationships.”

“If it were me, I wouldn’t let her push me away.”

“Are you insinuating that you’d date me?” Derek turns just to raise an eyebrow at him.

Stiles waits until he turns back to stove before saying, “Maybe more than insinuating.”

Derek doesn’t respond, so Stiles assumes he hasn’t heard him. That’s okay. Stiles can just sit here and enjoy the view. Maybe after breakfast he’ll bring up the insinuation again. He doesn’t want it to be awkward if he’s going to crash with Derek before finding his own place.

But if it goes well, aside from Laura, then maybe they can move in right away. Derek has two bedrooms. It’s not like they’ll jump right into bed. Stiles is still virginal and a bit self-conscious about it. And besides, Derek might be ready for dating but dating is miles from having sex. At least, Stiles thinks it is. It’s not like he has experience there.

He finally peels the orange to give his hands something to do and then Derek clears his throat. Stiles looks up.

“So, uh, about what you said, about it not being an insinuation. Did you mean that?” Derek sets a plate of the fresh biscuits onto the table and then grabs the pot of gravy too.

“Yes?” Stiles coughs, feeling the flush rising in his cheeks. “I mean, yeah, yes. Definitely. I definitely would like to date you. I mean, technically, we’re already on our second date.”

“True. So, formally, Stiles-I-don’t-know-your-last-name, would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Stilinski,” Stiles says, “and yes, Derek Hale, I’d love to go on a date with you. Formally.”

Derek makes a face. “Your name is Stiles Stilinski? Who named you?”

“Excuse you, I did.” Stiles makes a face back at him. “It’s a nickname, duh.”

“So what’s your real name?”

“Ah,” Stiles waggles a finger at him, “that’s a third date kind of question, don’t you think?”

“Are we going on a date tonight?”

“Probably,” Stiles says, and then realizes what Derek is getting at. “Cheeky,” he says. “Maybe I’ll never tell you until the day we get married, and then you’ll be like, ‘What happened to Stiles?’ and ‘How the fuck do you even say that?’”

“Wrong.”

“How so?”

“I’d never be so crude as to swear on our wedding day. That’s for the honeymoon.”

“Oh yeah, and what’ll you be saying then?”

Derek blushes and doesn’t answer, but Stiles can guess and it makes him blush too.

“Oh isn’t this cozy?” Abigail says as she drops into the chair next to Stiles. The rest of the guests file in, grab food and file out, all shuffling in some kind of zombie-walk. Only Laura joins them at the table. Abigail adds, slyly eying Laura, who has piled a plate high with a lot off food, immediately stabbing a fork into the mess and shoveling it into her face, “Are you finally going to admit your big, fat crush on little old Stiles here, eh, Derek?”

“Yeah, actually, we’re way past that,” Derek says. “We’re on our second date.”

Laura chokes on her eggs. “What?” she demands, glaring at Stiles. “When did this happen?”

“Um, well, the party last night was the first date,” Stiles says. He holds her gaze, giving as good as he gets. “Breakfast this morning is date number two.”

“And we’re going on a third date tonight,” Derek announces. He stares down Laura, almost daring her to challenge him. Instead, and Stiles gets the distinct feeling that this is rare, Laura sinks back in her chair and digs back into her eggs.

Briefly, Stiles thinks he made a mistake agreeing to date Derek so easily, but the first moment Derek looks up from his plate and grins at Stiles as he reaches for more food, he knows he was gone the moment he sat on Derek’s couch and listened to him make his friends leave Jackson alone, the way he let them in at all. The way he’s been nothing but gracious despite his semi-drunken confession to purposefully putting on a grumpy air in the hallways. Derek Hale is a sweetheart and Stiles realizes that he wants to date Derek in all the ways. He wants to learn his favorite color, which movies he loves, what he reads, why he gives up his bed to his friends and his couch to a stranger. He wants to know Derek, and Derek’s gentle smile lets him know that Derek wants to know him too.

So maybe Jackson deserves a little credit for this, but Stiles is still mad at him. Even if it’s the best thing that’s happened to Stiles in a long while.

“Mieczysław,” he says suddenly, aware that he��s interrupting some weird bantering between Abigail and Laura.

“What?” Laura asks.

Derek just grins wider. “Mieczysław,” he repeats and he doesn’t completely butcher it, but it could use some work.

“Yeah,” Stiles says.

And that’s how he knows they’ll work out, eating breakfast foods at a table with Derek’s older sister and special friend, on their second date, Derek’s blanket and pillow still shoved into a corner of the room, the sound of the rest of Derek’s friends chattering in the living room.

Derek and Mieczysław sitting at the table, making eyes at each other over eggs and bacon, gonna get married and say bad words on their honeymoon.

Yeah, it kinda sounds perfect.

~ The End ~

[semperintrepida]

Three Hunts in the Shadow of Delphi

The ship lay broken against the rocks, the cracked shell of its hull exposed to the surf while its tangled rigging and torn sails flapped in the breeze. There were people climbing all over the wreckage, tossing bags and boxes onto the wet sand below, and they froze and stared at Kassandra as they noticed her approach. Judging by the rough homespun fabric of their clothes, they were merely villagers from a nearby settlement taking advantage of the luck that had dropped a loaded ship into their laps.

At the tideline, a man stacked boxes onto a pile as a woman and a small boy scurried between him and the wreckage, their arms loaded with goods. The woman noticed Kassandra first, and she whistled a warning to the man, who whirled around to face this incoming stranger.

His eyes flicked from Kassandra's face, down her armor, and then to her weapons, and he looked over nervously at the woman who was probably his wife. She watched Kassandra warily and pulled the boy behind her.

Kassandra held her hands open. "I'm not here for trouble," she said. "I just want to know where the figurehead of this ship went."

His head jerked in the direction of the bay behind him. "Somewhere out there, along with the crew."

"Do you know what ship this is?"

"No idea. They blew in here in a hurry and ran aground in the shallows. Most of it's out in the bay except for the stern here. But if it's treasure you're after, you're too late. Those soldiers dragged it all up to their camp." He looked up the hill behind Kassandra, where a fortified encampment of Athenian soldiers stood overlooking the water.

Kassandra wasn't here for treasure, though that would have been a bonus. She was looking for a particular ship, the Shark's Tooth. Its captain, Gelon, had asked Kassandra to find it along with her missing lover Gyke, Gelon's second-in-command. And once Kassandra found both ship and Gyke, Captain Gelon would pay her in information more precious than jewels and drachmae.

"I need to get to that wreckage."

"You're mad if you think you're going to swim out there. You'll end up food for the sharks like these poor bastards did."

The villagers had pulled their boats high onto the beach. She nodded at the nearest. "I'll give you coin if you let me borrow that felucca."

The man glanced at his wife, who gave him a quick nod. "All right, but you pay up front."

A short time later, Kassandra was knee-deep in the surf, pulling the felucca behind her into the shallows. The water was warm, and the white sand below gave it the color of a summer sky. On most days it would have been beautiful, but most days didn't involve a dismembered leg floating in the waves, or the sticky-sweet scent of blood in the salty mist.

She hopped up on the felucca's deck and poled the boat out to deeper water. Matted coils of rope, broken planks, and other debris bobbed gently on the waves, along with a growing number of human arms, legs, and torsos. Kassandra had seen blood and horror, but never anything like this: the sea like a butcher's soup. She fought down a queasy churn in her stomach as she guided the boat into the center of the floating patch of bodies. She couldn't see what lurked in the depths below. The water was too deep for the sun's light to reach the bottom.

It meant she'd have to go for a swim, against all reason and sense, for the Shark's Tooth and Captain Gelon were the only leads she had in finding Elpenor, the man who'd already tried to kill her once, and was bound to keep trying until he succeeded.

She gritted her teeth and reached for the first of the leather ties that secured her armor. It had to come off — breastplate, greaves, and bracers made of iron and bronze, all of it far too heavy to swim in. She stripped down to her underclothes, took a deep breath, and stepped off the side of the deck before she had a chance to think any second thoughts.

Thankfully, her tendency to sink like a stone in water quickly pulled her below the carnage floating at the surface. Shadowy forms too smooth to be rocks loomed in the darkness below, and she swam towards them as the pressure grew in her ears and the burn crept into her lungs. There: the unmistakable curve of a ship's bow. She rolled to her left and finned her free hand so she'd follow it around to the very fore of the ship. Her eyes began to adjust to the watery gloom, and then she saw it, a figurehead of a large shark, its mouth open in a toothy grin. This was the wreckage of the Shark's Tooth after all.

A dark line of shadow snaked across the figurehead and the bow. Her heart beat faster. She looked up just in time to twist out of the way of the lunging maw of a real live shark. Her back slammed into the ship's keel, the barnacle-encrusted surface slicing into her skin. She let herself sink, following the bow's wooden curve down into the darkness. Her lungs were burning. Fuck.

The shark swimming overhead was massive, dwarfing the one on the figurehead. She'd never outrace that monster to the surface, and there was fresh blood in the water now.

Think, Kassandra. She swam in the murk along the seabed, trailing a hand along the sand, looking for a sharp rock or a piece of wood, anything, when her fingers touched something cool and soft. She gave it a tug and her heart seized in her chest as the arm came free of the body it belonged to and she realized exactly what she was holding. And there, around its wrist, was a flash of gold and green stones. Could this be the bracelet Gelon had mentioned she'd given to Gyke? Apparently the second-in-command had gone down with the ship.

Kassandra was running out of air, and with it, time. She pulled the bracelet free and kicked upwards, saw the graceful, deadly glide of the shark overhead, let it pass by on its circular path, then kicked upwards again so she and the shark swam at roughly the same depth. It turned, spotted her, opened that great and terrifying array of teeth, and she somehow held her nerve as it swam closer and closer, and at the very last moment she surged out of its way and slammed her fist straight into its eye. Its entire body thrashed in surprise, creating a wave that pushed her away, and she kicked hard, fighting panic and a right now desperation for air as her blood pounded behind her eyes.

She broke the surface, took one great breath of blessed air, and swam for the felucca floating several body lengths away. Then she was lifting herself onto the deck, and she lay there on her back for a very long time, gasping for breath. When the fire in her lungs finally subsided, she looked down, saw the reddish tint in the seawater drying on her skin as she remembered Gyke's arm in her grasp — and then she rolled over and vomited into the sea.

.oOo.

Gelon surprised Kassandra by taking the bad news like a Stoic would, uttering a quiet, lamented "Oh, my Gyke..." before she shook her head and set her hardened mask back into place. She shed no tears as Kassandra handed her Gyke's bracelet. Instead, she sighed wearily and said, "I suppose I'm not much of a captain," as she slid the bracelet around her wrist. "Can't be a captain without a ship."

"I can help tide you over," Kassandra said. "But give me the information you promised me first."

Gelon glanced around, then gestured for Kassandra to follow her further up the beach, away from any unfriendly ears. "You're looking for Elpenor, right?" she said.

"Yes."

"That fucker's a snake. But unlike most snakes he's got a lot of friends. That's why no one here will talk to you. They're all afraid." Gelon uncrossed her arms and pointed at herself. "Lucky for you, I don't give two shits about him or this place."

"You know where he's hiding?"

"Nope. But I know someone who might. Her name's Auxesia."

"Go on."

"Sex-crazy, she is. She's probably fucked half of Phokis, but imagine the pillow talk she's heard..."

Loose hips made loose lips. "Indeed," Kassandra said drily.

"She's not usually one to kiss and tell, but if you help her somehow, you might get her to talk."

"Help her somehow?"

Gelon looked Kassandra up and down pointedly. "You're fucking hot. I'm sure you can figure out how to work with that."

Kassandra rolled her eyes. "If I must."

"I'll introduce you to her."

"Good."

"I gotta warn you, though. She's like a hundred years old."

.oOo.

Auxesia wasn't exactly a hundred years old, but she was old enough to be Kassandra's grandmother. It made for an amusingly awkward conversation where Kassandra got to hear all about an old woman's voracious sexual appetites while being openly ogled at the same time. It turned out Auxesia had plenty of drachmae and libido — and a husband who couldn't keep up. Might Kassandra help her find the ingredients she needed to make a potion to give him back his youthful stamina?

Kassandra never would have expected that finding a deer's tongue and a bear's scrotum would put her one step closer to finding Elpenor. The world moved in strange ways.

.oOo.

Kassandra sat high in the fork of a tree on the upper reaches of Mount Parnassos, where the stags had gathered to wage war amongst themselves for the best of the hinds. Their roaring calls echoed off the shoulders of the mountain, carried on an autumn breeze as crisp as frost on fallen leaves, and she could see them coming down the ridge line and up the river gulch individually and in contentious pairs, antlers already clashing, none of them the stag she wanted.

She leaned back against the tree trunk, the old oak's bark digging into the tender spots on her back she'd earned during her swim a few days ago. Her armor and sword were back on the Adrestia where she'd left them, prioritizing speed and silence over protection. And now, dressed as she was in just her chiton, armed with nothing else but her bow and broken spear, it was like she was back in Kephallonia, hunting deer to keep herself and Phoibe from starving.

But today she hunted no ordinary deer — only the oldest and most clever of the stags that lived in these mountains. The hunters in Delphi called him the Alpha, or First, and they said his antlers were as wide as a man's outstretched arms. No man would ever be able to track the Alpha Stag, they said, but Kassandra was no man, and she had something no other hunter did: her golden eagle Ikaros, who was just as adept at hunting big game as he was at hunting small.

Ikaros had led her here, and it was Ikaros she depended on now, as he flew somewhere above, his keen eyes searching for their quarry.

She sighed and idly drew her spear, studying the pitted metal surface of its blade while trying not to fidget. All this sitting around allowed her mind to wander back to places she'd rather it didn't go.

Just when she resigned herself to experiencing unwanted memories, she heard Ikaros's hunting call sound over the ridge. If that's where the Alpha Stag was, then she'd have to move to keep herself downwind of him as he approached. One breath of human scent and he'd flee, ending her chase in failure. She swung her leg over the branch and climbed down the trunk.

Her path cut an angle further up the mountain, and she shivered as the wind blew into her face. The chill didn't last long as she climbed up the steep hillside, the long muscles in her legs warming up after sitting still for so long. Ikaros called again, closer this time. The king was on his way.

He was far too canny to stand in silhouette against the treeless ridgeline, instead choosing to pass through a small copse of dwarf pines that clung to the ridge, their gnarled trunks twisted from years of battering by bitter winds. She knelt behind the trunk of a grand old oak and readied her bow with an arrow nocked. From here she had a clear view of the pines. The snap and clatter of breaking branches told her something big was approaching.

Kassandra's breath caught when the Alpha Stag finally emerged into open ground. He was easily the largest deer she had ever seen, his antlers spreading into a regal fan of points above his head. A crown worthy of his majesty.

Her bow hand did not move. The idea of killing this beautiful animal gave her no pleasure, nor did the possibility of inadvertently raising the ire of Artemis herself, whose punishments were swift and cruel. She had hunted before, when the stakes were kill or go hungry, and not a single scrap of those animals had gone to waste. But what now, when the priestesses in the Temple of Artemis had promised her a bear's scrotum in exchange for the antlers of the Alpha Stag...

Elpenor was out there somewhere, waiting for another chance to orchestrate an attempt on her life. It was kill or be killed. She raised her bow and lined up the shot, aiming just behind the crease of his shoulder where his heart beat and his lungs drew breath.

Forgive me, she thought, and let the arrow fly.

.oOo.

The priestesses of Artemis had accepted her offering of the Alpha Stag's antlers along with as much usable meat as she could carry. Bringing it all down from the mountain had been an arduous and bloody ordeal, but after everything was said and done, she had the ingredients she needed for Auxesia's potion.

Auxesia's husband Koragos was not particularly happy to see Kassandra when she arrived at their home, and he figured out the purpose of her visit the moment she handed the fetid-smelling package of ingredients to his wife.

"Oh no! We've already discussed this, Auxesia!" he said, backing away slowly. "I can't satisfy you anymore. You're going to kill me with your lust."

"Nonsense. I'm going to make you an elixir that will give you the vigor of a man a fraction of your age."

Koragos's voice pitched higher in desperation. "Gods save me. I can't do this anymore."

Kassandra held up a hand. "Enough," she said. She turned to Auxesia. "Your husband doesn't want this, and I'll not be a party to forcing him."

He looked at her with gratitude while Auxesia began to protest, "But—"

Kassandra cut her off. "No more potions. I'll satisfy your hunger instead." While taking Auxesia to bed was not something she would have considered in normal circumstances, what harm could there be? Maybe an older lover would teach her a thing or two — or several.

Auxesia recovered quickly from her surprise. "Very well, let's see what you're made of, misthios." She took Kassandra by the hand and led her inside the house, to a chamber lit by oil lamps with their wicks trimmed low. Even in the dim light Kassandra could see that the bed was richly dressed in silk and linen, and that the furnishings in the room were simple and elegant. A table holding jugs of water and wine stood next to the bed, along with a large basin of water. This room was clearly a place where Auxesia enjoyed spending her time.

And Auxesia was a gracious host, offering Kassandra a cup of wine while she removed her bow and her swordbelt and began to work on the ties that fastened her armor. She surprised herself by declining the drink. Her heartbeat had sped up and her neck and shoulders were suddenly stiff with tension. She had no idea how this was going to play out.

However, once Auxesia's clothes came off, it was apparent that though her hair had gone to grey and her skin held more wrinkles, she was still a woman, with the same parts and hidden mysteries as all the other women Kassandra had ever slept with before. Kassandra smiled at her misplaced apprehension.

"Something funny, misthios?"

"Just the foolishness of youth."

"Youth I'd like to see revealed. Now hurry!"

Kassandra slipped out of her chiton and underclothes and stood by the bed in full glory.

Auxesia took her in, smiling in delight. "Well, aren't you magnificent!"

It was always nice to be appreciated, and once their bodies met, age ceased to matter all that much. Auxesia was surprisingly strong and limber, and any worries Kassandra had about needing to be gentle were quickly dispelled.

Auxesia knew exactly what she wanted and exactly how to tell Kassandra to give it to her. Fingers, tongue, thigh, palm of hand: Kassandra used them all and more, as Auxesia came and came and Kassandra's own pleasure grew, in the giving and in the forgetting of the past and the future. There was no grand meaning to be found here, just two women sharing a moment, or in this case, a great many moments as the sun set and the night spun its wheel overhead and the dawn broke through and turned into day.

How long could they go before someone got tired — that became their game, and Kassandra was well served by her peerless stamina. All that running and sword swinging was paying off.

Finally, finally, Auxesia threw herself back against the pillows of her bed, saying, "By the gods, I'm done! No more."

"Are you sure?" Kassandra teased, drawing out her words as she slipped her hand between sweat-slicked thighs.

"Yes! No! Stop!" Auxesia said between gasps. "Now I know how it is to be ravished by a god."

Kassandra laughed, low and rich with satisfaction.

A short while later, Kassandra was mostly dressed as they shared a cup of wine between them, Kassandra sitting on the edge of the bed as Auxesia lounged languidly within her silks.

"I doubt you're in Delphi to pleasure old women in need, misthios. Tell me why you're really here."

"Have you heard of a man named Elpenor?"

Auxesia narrowed her eyes and set the cup down on the table. "That's a dangerous name."

"I'm a dangerous person."

"A lover and a fighter," Auxesia mused. She studied Kassandra, considering how much she would say, and then she mentioned a handful of places where a snake might make a hidden lair, if one were looking for such a thing.

Auxesia had given Kassandra exactly what she needed.

.oOo.

One by one, Kassandra crossed locations off of Auxesia's list, scouting caves and tombs and villas across Phokis. To her frustration, it appeared that Elpenor had hidden himself in plain sight all along, in one of the many ruined temples within the Valley of the Snake. The damned thing even had an enormous skeleton of a snake wrapped around it.

For most of a day she'd watched the comings and goings of the guards and servants from a hidden crevice in the cliffs that stood above the ruins. From their movements, it was obvious that there was someone of wealth living in the caves under the temple; she could see it in the number of guards posted at the perimeter and in the goods the servants delivered throughout the day: amphorae of Athenian wine, baskets of fruit and other delicacies. The master they served had expensive tastes, and Elpenor seemed the kind of man who expected luxury to follow him wherever he went.

She waited long past sunset, until the servants were sent home and only guards remained. At least she'd be helped by a moonless night.

The cornice she crouched upon was a perfect place to spy upon the ruins, made even more so by the long, thin crack that ran alongside it down the face of the cliff. She stuck her left hand inside the crack, twisted it until her fist jammed into a solid hold, then swung her feet off into space. For a few dizzying moments her life dangled by a single handhold, until her toes found solid footing against the stone below. Then she jammed her right hand inside the crack at a point just above her waistline, and began the long climb down.

By the time her sandals sank into the grass at the foot of the cliff, she was sweating lightly, and as she ducked out of sight between two boulders, a frisson of anticipation slid up her spine. The nearest guard, like all the others, stood with his sightlines facing out towards the river and the road. They'd forgotten that danger could come from within.

She pulled a length of black linen out from under her armor and looped it into a hood that shrouded her hair and face. She drew her broken spear. Then she moved like a gust of wind, enveloping the guard from behind and wrapping an arm around his chest, the blade of her spear resting against his throat.

"Leave here and take the others with you if you value your life," she said.

He apparently didn't, for he took a deep breath and tried to shout a warning instead. She cut his throat and let his air wheeze quietly into the night. These were no ordinary hired thugs, loyal only to themselves and fleeing at the first opportunity.

She quietly lowered the guard's body to the ground while her heartbeat surged and her body wrapped itself in a familiar warmth. Her spear hummed in her hand. She spotted four more guards at watch along the edges of the ruins, and one at the entrance to the cave. She'd have to be quick to get them all before they noticed their numbers dwindling.

The temple ruins were a perfect hunting ground. She flowed between dark places shadowed by crumbling marble columns and the twisted skeleton that arched above, and came upon each guard in turn, her spear flashing, leaving silence and blood soaking into the earth as she passed. No one would sound an alarm.

Only two men were left: a sentry walking a line between the temple and the path to the cave entrance, and a guard at the entrance itself.

The sentry's torch blazed in the darkness, and she approached him at an angle, careful not to throw any shadows from the lights behind her. Her spear cut a silver line into the night, and he died silently like the rest, his body folding to the ground as she eased him down. Then she picked up his fallen torch and walked boldly up the path to the entrance of the cave where the final guard waited.

"Hey! Wh—"

She hurled her torch at him and rushed him at a full run, and in the margins of his distraction she ran him through with her spear as if he weren't wearing armor at all. The Spear of Leonidas seemed to be growing ever more powerful, its keen edge now punching through armor that would turn aside nearly any other blade. Even now it seemed to pulse in her hand.

She turned and faced the mouth of the cave, pulling her shroud off her head as she stepped inside. Elpenor would know who killed him.

The upper tunnel was barely wider than the span of her arms, but it was well lit with candles and oil lamps. She could see its lower section opening up into a larger chamber.

She found Elpenor seated at a writing desk in the chamber's center. He did not seem surprised to see her.

"What a shame," he said, eyeing the spear in her hand. "We would have made you rich." His left hand curled around something in his lap.

She let him throw the blade, tilting her head at the last moment to let it fly past. "I'm going to enjoy killing you," she said.

He leapt to his feet and drew a short dagger from his belt. Instinct told her his blade was poisoned. It left no room for mistakes, and when she struck, her hands could not waver. A thread of memory loosened within her, and she heard her mother's voice. Hesitation hastens the grave...

The tight quarters of the chamber only added to the danger, and she backpedaled, trying to draw him out. She watched his hips and kept her spear at the ready, and when he shifted his weight to his back leg, she let him strike, neatly sidestepping his blade while grabbing his knife arm and twisting it upwards. She slammed her spear deep into his side, just under his ribcage, and then she stabbed him a second time for good measure.

His legs turned to water and he sank to the ground. She followed him down, keeping a tight grip on his arm, then slammed his knife hand into the rocky floor until he let go of the blade. A flick of her spear sent it skittering out of reach.

The pool of blood under him grew as he bled out, and he clutched uselessly at his side. "Killing me is a mistake."

"Trusting you was a mistake."

He smiled, showing bloody teeth. "I was the reason you left Kephallonia alive. The Cult wanted you dead."

"What Cult? Where are they?"

She'd get no answer from a dead man. She examined his body anyway, looking for something she might have missed. There, on the ground underneath his waist, was a sliver of a golden... something that had fallen from his belt. Out of curiosity, she poked at it with the point of the Spear of Leonidas, but the moment the spear touched the object's surface, it began to thrum with even more force than it had before, almost as if it were angry. She jerked the spear away reflexively, then reached down and picked up the object with her free hand, wiping Elpenor's blood off on his own robe.

The object was the size of her palm, triangular in shape, and about as thick as a knife blade. It gleamed gold in the lamplight, but was far too lightweight to be real gold, or even bronze. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen, and she realized that it hummed in her fingers the same way her spear did when she held it, like a whispered promise of power.

She tucked it into a pouch on her waistbelt and turned her attention to the rest of the chamber. The scrolls she found amidst the opulent rugs and furnishings detailed routine business deals from Phokis to Krete. Elpenor was certainly well connected, but that was hardly unusual for a merchant during times of war.

Kassandra drifted over to his desk. In an alcove, she found a dark set of robes and a white mask that could have come from any play in any theater from here to Athens. Elpenor had mentioned a love of theater, but there was something about the mask that put her on edge, and she decided to hang on to it and the robes while she figured out where they came from later. The rest of the scrolls in the alcoves were much like the others elsewhere in the chamber, listing ship manifests and accounts due and other transactions, but then she began to sift through the scrolls on top of the desk, and found a scrap of papyrus addressed to no one, written in a neat but delicate hand.

The situation is under control. Kassandra will be dead soon, and Deimos will find her mother. The Eyes see all. —E

She crumpled the letter in her fist. Every answer she found only seemed to create more questions. She was certain of only two things: that her mother was in danger, and that Elpenor was part of a much larger conspiracy that plotted against her and her family.

It was time to pay a visit to the Oracle of Delphi.

Author's Note: My original outline for this story began with the sentence "Kassandra punches a shark." Suffice to say, this story took a few unexpected turns while I was writing it. However, the biggest surprise was actually deciding to write Kassandra's encounter with Auxesia. I never planned on it, but here we are. The game plays this scene as a comedy but I chose to write it with a bit more sensitivity. I have no idea if I succeeded or not.

Part of the Elegiad. Go back to the previous story, or on to the next...

[kariachi]

Okay, second episode of the day, LaGrange Muraille.

Apparently one of the chars here has Kevin interactions later on in the series, so of course I have to watch this shit like a hawk.

~~

Oh look, the Great Wall

Gwen- here for the view. Max- here for the food. Ben- here because the other two are here.

1) this season is just big on teaching Ben patience isn’t it. 2) Ben has an app to call Glitch.

I still don’t give two shakes of a rat’s ass about Glitch, btw. Worst part of Innervasion, does nothing for me.

Ben: I’m gonna see the whole of the Great Wall! Gwen: Uh-huh, sure you are

Ben is so annoyed there’s so far to go and not safe for the Wall for him to use alien stuffs he isn’t even noticing fireworks

Oh look, it’s the guy who supposedly interacts with Kevin eventually. Not surprised he has what Ben refers to as “the coolest car I’ve ever seen”.

Okay I had to go back to confirm that we actually have seen Vin Ethanol before. It was in that national park treasure hunt race episode back in season 1. The only mention I have of him in my notes from that one is, quote, “I like the dude with the tattoos”. Also y’all better be happy with the detail and length in these liveblogs now because the early ones were for shit. This one is already nearly as long as the one for that episode.

So yeah, hi Vin. That cannot be your real name, but we let Zombozo go around getting called that so I guess I can’t give you flack. At least it’s cool.

He didn’t go to prison for being involved in that episode, he just got community service, which he did. “Of course I did, the community’s like family! And nothing is more important to me than family.” You really want me to like you, don’t you Vin? Listen dude, you’re already on thin ice because I’ve seen people talk about you getting Kwarrel’s position, which would ruin my chances of getting him back, watch it.

Also dude is fucking intense.

Strongly family-oriented, good with kids, I’m not going to continue liking you Vin, I’ve made my decision, you are a threat to getting Kwarrel, I can’t have it.

I do not understand half the words that came out his mouth but I feel Kevin would and would die.

A V12 engine, dear gods. You can’t find that shit in actual cars anymore, it’s all boats and planes and military vehicles now.

“A lot of hard work and patience went into this car. Start now and you could build one like it by the time you’re old enough to drive.” Stop it this instant, Ethanol, I’m not liking you! No matter how good and encouraging you are towards a kid you shouldn’t have reason to like by the standards set by this franchise! Or how clearly I can see Kevin latching onto you like a fucking barnacle! I won’t do it!! You can’t make me!!

Oh dear gods he has decided to teach Ben to change a tire because- quote- “You ain’t gonna understand the rush you get building a car unless you get your hands dirty” Stop it you monster!!

He’s so good and encouraging how dare he!!

Oh look, it’s LaMoron. Ruining everybody’s day from the look on Vin’s face.

*sigh* Men.

Also can I point out that is a really shit ramp? Really Vin you’re better than this. LaMoron isn’t, the man thinks you win speed records via distance racing, but you are. Tell me you are.

Oh Vin. I mean I get it, jumping the Great Wall would be awesome, but really. Did you see that ramp? It’s placed horribly. And built horribly. I’m just saying, Kwarrel wouldn’t do this.

Slapback? Interesting choice, Ben.

Bitch! LaMoron needs to get slapped upside the head at best, as worst he needs to shot in the gut. I will let y’all decide which is preferred.

Welp. Vin is in the zone, it seems. Also knocked Slapback off LaMoron’s car with a crowbar which, really Vin.

*sigh* Ya know, I’d forgotten Glitch was gonna show in this episode. Now I am disappoint.

LaMoron is just a fucking dick.

Vin, not as much an asshole, doesn’t wanna fuck shit up, just wants to race.

“Ethanol, get the boy off our tail!” “You tried driving faster than him?” I’m not going to like you, Vin, we’ve discussed this.

“He’s gonna destroy our cars!” “Speak for yourself.” No. I won’t.

“We were family once! You wouldn’t turn your back on family.” I’m not sure whether I’m more intrigued to hear that Vin and LaMoron are in some way related (how even?) or pissed off that LaMoron is that brand of asshole. Dude I don’t wanna like Vin but I already preferred him to you so back the fuck off!!

Vin is not happy, but also he has a load of pictures including LaMoron attached to his sun visor. Looks like they’re brothers? Maybe cousins? Either that or relatives of the “our parents were besties since before we were born“ variety. There’s a baby picture there. A joint mugshot. Them just, being close. Also them with the others in Vin’s intro episode.

Just, is very clear that 1) Vin’s probably been putting distance between him and LaMoron, which given his stunts I wouldn’t be surprised. 2) He does care, but at this point he has to keep reminding himself that. 3) LaMoron is a dipshit taking advantage of the fact that Vin is very dedicated to his family.

(I’ll be honest at this moment I kinda wanna see him take Kevin under his wing because I wanna see the disaster that would fall if LaMoron tried to pull that shit against Vin’s specific kid. Holy wrath is all I can picture.)

“You better not make me regret this.” Oh yeah, Vin’s tired, and feathered, of this bullshit.

Well he handled Ben quick and easy. “Nothing personal Tennyson, family just comes first.” Damnit Vin.

Max and Gwen need to contact Ben. Max’s idea- scream as load as we can and the sound should carry to him. Gwen’s idea- just grab her goddamn cell and call the boy.

Somebody notices the ramp is shit! Thank you Gwendolyn!

Vin is happy to be actually racing LaMoron, instead of just going fast while the dipshit tries to be as much an asshole as possible.

And LaMoron just fucked up kin for the sake of winning a race. Tell me you are gonna burn those picture, Vin, or at least cut him out of them because damnit I’m done for you.

And Vin is pissed. And hurt. Good. Go kick LaMoron’s ass.

Vin is this close to taking something out as long as it’s not his car. Which he loves. Ben is just, trying to survive the moment, FourArms or no.

“LaGrange doesn’t deserve to be part of your family.” “You might be leaning a little hard into the whole family thing to win me over here, but I like what you’re going for.”

Have I mentioned today that LaMoron is an asshole? Because he’s really waving his asshole flag this episode.

Welp.

And lo, the ‘ramp’ collapses just from having a car on it. Shocking. And Ben throws LaMoron over the wall, as he deserves.

9/10, though I will note this ranting is given under duress!!

[theythemsam]

spn 1x03, liveblog, collected posts (all 16 of them) or as i like to call it: creepy children, picturesque shots of the impala, root cameo and dean is not an asshole in this one:

“guys don’t like buff girls”

thats cause they are cowards. the right guy (or girl for that matter) will love you no matter what your prefered state of buffness is

#as a lesbian... (supporter) i think buff girls are very attractive and trying to shame girls from achieving the body they want to have? #a load of barnacles #lazy green shit outfit dude i dont know her name but i dont like you

wow, those impala wide shots really look good, i forgot that asdfg, they look like they could come straight out of a commercial, i love it!

what the hell is sam wearing? like this dark green sweater with just a red stripe over the chest? asdfgh the colors are bad.

#sam needs to go to queer eye #like... he gets better later on but season 1 sam fashion is definitely not A Looker #(except the dog shirt... never forget the wonderful dog shirt) #(i would... wear that dog shirt) #(so you know my fashion sense isn't better. all the sweaters and stuff its the depression)

poixsupernatural crossover, where Root goes undercover as Andrea Barr and when Dean hits on her, she just one hit murders him, because she’s a perfect lesbian

Dean trying to (very) cringily flirt with every woman he comes across is so… painfully obvious that episode. Ufff.

#but i love how she calls him the fuck out #'must be hard with your sense of direction. not being able to find your way to a decent pickup line' asdfgh go off Andrea

I do like that we get to see Dean’s childish side in this episode and him getting to related to a traumatized kid that saw his parent die, i love that parallelism

also thats the first episode where dean is something else than “constantly flirting, macho, kill all the monsters, kind off dude” and idk i think that’s one of the reasons why this episode always stood out to me?

its good is all i’m saying.

asdfgh so like there’s three shots of Will, the brother, trying to get the sink plug.

in the first one when he puts his hand in, the line hangs straight down into the water.

then we get a side shot that they must have filmed after or something. Because, the plug is out of the water and resting on the table besides the fish he just cut.

but then in the next close up shot, we see him pull the plug out of the water and look confused. asdfgh i know thats just a little continuity error that can happen, but it’s still so funny, cause it’s just so obvious and then to go from the thing on the sink to him pulling it out of the water. nice.

#and then he puts the plug on the tray where it is in the second shot #so now im just thinking: what went wrong with the one shot they had of this #what did they do with it?

creepy sea ghost child time

#i love the way he throws the boat

asdgh sam’s perfect “green. the light’s green” like any person that sits shotgun ever

#me: haha i do that

the fact that the bathtub is already nearly all the way full and andrea just… doesn’t turn to water off gives me more anxiety than knowing that there’s an evil ghost out there trying to murder her

#i feel like that person in the majoras mask livestream where the streamer fell asleep #so they just went: the moon... its falling #except its me going: the water... its spilling #like... you have 0.5 seconds to shut that water off rn or it goes all over the sides and thats a mess noone wants to deal with #especially not after a nice long bath like it completely ruins the relaxation effect you get

poor lucas :/

i do like how well they filmed it though… just like… no boobs visible despite her being all the way nakey

#but its also weird like... ah yes we can show really gory scary things #but god forbid a 16 year old sees a nippel #although i know thats the american thing and its so weird to me

on the one hand… they just… dug a really tiny hole to bury that whole bike in, it’s like… just a couple of inches underneath the ground asdfgh. on the other it makes sense, they were twelve

#in like 40 something years not a person did anything in that garden which tbh is even funnier to me #like... its right in front of the house and just buried a couple of inches underground thats amazing i love i 

oh wow, for the first time ever i realized that Lucas didn’t just… wander off towards the lake, but that the ghost child actually says “play with me”, nice

#ive seen that episode like... eh 5ish times now? #and i just now realized

they actually jump into that water real nicely. i would have probably made a beautiful splashy belly flop.

#im... envious #although im just not big of a swimmer so theres that but awww rude i wanna do that

I’m glad that lucas gets to do some healing, it’s what that adorable psychic child deserves

#hmmm.... why is he never included in any like... next gen stuff? i like that kid #but probably his psychic abilities disappeared after the ghost did

[elaianna]

Tides Be Well

Days at sea. The long voyages always ate up a little portion of Thomas' sanity. Often, it was in a quite good way. He found it helped to chew off the little blisters in the mind -- the abrasions that society caused. Time at sea could free a man of such restrictions, make him feel free again, as he ought to be. But -- not this time. All the while Thomas only thought about the ache of war ahead, and the safety of his men and women. Of his wife, most of all. Indeed, once the Admiral and his crew were safely berthed at Barrowfield once more -- having left as many refugees as they could carry back in Stormwind Harbour -- he could not bring himself to leave the docks. He took fresh water, and food, but he remained at the dockyard. A peculiar sensation, he mused upon. It was so often the other way around, her awaiting his return from sea. Now, the opposite. He found himself hating the feeling, and made a little promise in his mind to alter things. If this is how she felt so often, he did not want it to be so. The spread of evening came across the sky, and Thomas was standing at the far end of one of the piers.

The battle had been short, as far as battles were confirmed, but it had been taxing on every one on board the ships. Even more on those that never made it onto the ships. Some of the Company members tried to give praise for the Duchess's plan on funneling the refugees onto the ship. Others merely tried to look to her for some sort of comfort and solace. Reassurance that they had done good. They had done good, but Elaianna felt like it wasn't enough. Even with Karthe's portal to Stormwind to send through as many refugees as they safely could, it wasn't enough. Little did she know how many would die in the coming days. Below deck Elaianna had hid out, avoiding the scrutiny of Captain Sentris's crew. Her ship would return to port, the first of the last ships that had been left after the Admiral's. She was not on it. Then Captain Rackham's ship, and finally, Captain Sentris's ship. There was a forlorn expression to her face as she came down the loading ramp, but once her gaze found her husband waiting, it lifted just a bit. At least her family was safe.

The Perserverance did not have her aboard. Fair enough, it was possible they had to make swift sail and she was aboard a different vessel. She was not aboard the Freebooter. Thomas laid his gaze hard to the outbound sailors and aide crews, watching for the flutter of her hair amongst the seaside breeze. Nothing. His stomach churned, eating in knots that were far beyond most pains a man could endure. He had been consumed by such beating pain before, and it soured his blood to feel the inklings of it again. But .. then the Errant Venture made berth. The Admiral stood at the very end of the docks, beside the mooring lines, watching and offering some stoic comfort to the sailors leaving the loading ramp. A brave face, a strong face. Perhaps it was what they needed. But he had no energy to slip up a humored grin, or an 'atta-boy-smile, or any of his usual bluster. Then -- he saw the first flicker of her hair against the waning sky. The momentary sight already filled him with an easement, a joy, and merely seeing her gave his mind to her scent. There was no time for her to get down the loading ramp, Thomas ran up it at full-tilt, grasping the Duchess in his arms, clutching and breathing her in. "Oh .. gal -- piss'n me twice, y'had me stuck in a worry. Tides be well, oh .. gal."

Arms were quick to respond, holding herself tightly to her husband as she hugged him in tight embrace. She winced, briefly, in the pain from her bandaged shoulder, but the pain was dulled by the sense of relief washing over her. The familiarity of home, of her beloved. Selfish as it was, the troubles of the kaldorei were not hers. Her home was in tact. Her family was in tact, and at the end of it all, she was here, with Thomas, where she ought to be. She clung onto him, letting out a shaky breath. "Sorry, sorry. I should have called you over the comms... My mind wasn't with it. I'm sorry," she murmured in earnest, but tilted her head back to look up at him. Seeing his face was grounding for her, it anchored her back from the brink of her dark thoughts. "Tides, it's good to be home."

Not the smartest man at times, Thomas did not even notice her shoulder at first. He kept clutching at her, holding her to his chest as he lead them back down the loading ramp and onto the dockhead. "I'd much rather y'had, but all what matters is that yer' home, an' safe." One fat-fingered hand came up to brush her hair, stroking along the side of her face. "I'm so glad yer' okay .. " A bubble of emotion wracked his voice, but just briefly. Off-coming sailors and aide crews still mingled around them.

Elaianna hadn't even noticed the build up of crew ready to unboard while she and Thomas blocked the way. All the better that he led her down the ramp. "All that matters is we're home and safe," she corrected him. Not one or the other. Both of them, and where their little girls were. She reached up to pat his cheek once they were out of the way of the hustle and bustle of the ship's disembarking sailors. "It's going to take a lot more than some lowly horde to be rid of me." She rolled her shoulder, lowering her arm with another wince. "Despite what we faced, it could have been far worse. Everyone did well."

The ebb and flow of sailors and dock staff gave Thomas a moment's pause. He peered about, then looked back to his wife. "I reckon it'll take th'entire Great Dark t'ever take us apart, dear. An' even then, we'll put up a fuck of a fight." A smile grew on him, and the color and bluster began to return to him. He had certainly become a man who was only half his truth without his partner. "Come on, gal, let's get up to th'manor an' have you look't at. Abby is asleep with Nerina -- or they were, when I left them."

A nod of her head was given at mention of being seen to. "I only took a single arrow. Not to say it doesn't hurt like a barnacle ridden cunt, but I'll survive."

Thomas' face came about, squirreling and twisting at her verbage. His shoulders wiggled in a shiver. "Please, don't ever make me conjure up no image of a barnacled batch a' lady parts again. Ruins all th'fun of it." With trumpeted lips, he made an exaggerated 'bleck!' face before leading her up toward the manorhouse.

Despite how downtrodden her spirits had been before, her husband had grasped ahold of her and breathed life into her with his very presence. So much so that she was even able to huff a breath of laughter at that. "Ruin all the fun? You shouldn't be seeing such sights in the first place, love. You have me for any sort of lady parts, and I promise you they aren't barnacle ridden. You can thoroughly inspect if you so choose. -- After I see the girls. Even just a glance in the nursery. I wouldn't want to disturb them."

As they tread up to the manorhouse, Thomas bubbled up with some mirth. It was a fine feeling, a centering feeling. A muddling thought lay in the back of his mind, leaving him to ruminate on how he missed her so dearly when he was away at sea. And having to wait for her return, wondering about her well being... it made him ache in his ribs. Perhaps a change was needed, in the future. All the same, he turned toward her as they walked, "I ain't seen no undercarriage what ain't beholden to you in quite a time, gal, don't you worry none. -- Well, unless y'count some of th'pranks crew have pull't on me. Saw Woodford's chocolate starfish once, had his bits all tucked back like a lady. Don't know if'n that counts ... " He waved a hand, dismissing his attempt at humor, "Let's go see them little ladies. I reckon they're still spent. It was so cute -- Nerina had Abby in one of th'guest rooms in th'west hall, was playin' all about with blankets strewn up like a tent. Lil' baby-bear lady-bears -- lil' sweeties." His voice turned a bit sing-song toward the end, using baby-talk even without babies present.

[ This post is a little late, and happened pre-Teldrassil burning, albeit, just by a day ]

@atc-wra @thomasstalsworth @rackhamwra (brief mention of your ship)

[dandelions-sea-blog]

Sushi Chop Suey Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Cringe gets some eggs. 

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There isn’t a particular moment that can be defined as Cringe waking up… he is constantly in and out of murky dreams—swimming with his mother as a child; exploring caverns that seem to twist and turn and never end; long winter evenings spent with his sisters, or his mate, or a friend—just swimming around and enjoying the northern tropical weather before they have to migrate down south…

Sometimes, when the pain gets bad enough, his dreams turn dark. He sees snails slipping in and out of holes in his tail made by worms, or sharp rocks stabbed through his bones, or powerful jaws wrapped around his fins, tearing them apart as Cringe sends wave after wave of bone constructs, hoping one will hit something vital and free him-

After a while his body exhausts himself of sleeping and he is forced to face reality at the bottom of the hopeless trench. Cringe, the once proud Mermaid, reduced to a pile of meat and bones being devoured by parasites while his flesh retains it shape and hasn’t yet burst into a mixture of seafoam and dust…

Except…

He isn’t at the bottom of a trench???

He moves his head slowly, refusing to so much as twitch his tail as is last memories of him doing so were a little more than painful. It isn’t surprising at all that he hasn’t miraculously regrown his missing body parts - however it is confusing as to how on earth his lower half had gotten tangled up in a mess of sea lettuce, especially seeing as how there isn’t a stalk around him to be seen. Only the twisting ins and outs of a floral cave system. How did he get here…?

He carefully moves his chest, using one of the walls and his least injured arm to prop himself up into a sitting position. He is surprised to find the action doesn’t cause him nearly as much torture as he remembered. A quick touch of his scales confirms what he suspected - his flesh has ceased its decay.

Cringe sucks in water through his gills, taking stock of the situation. Clearly he was rescued - the only way his body could have survived the trauma is with healing magic, and the seaweed bandaging is just further proof that he has been helped; but why? If it is another school of merpeople surely they have no need for a crippled mer who can’t even take care of himself anymore.

Could it be his own school? They were no doubt long gone by now, but perhaps someone decided they turn around to collect Cringe? Even he knows that is too good to be true… the clan has never turned around once. It would put everyone in danger needlessly, and no matter how beloved and cherished Cringe was they would never risk it for just him, especially after they’ve already made the decision.

But maybe it was his mate…

His mate may have realized half way that he made a mistake - that Cringe’s new disability was worth putting up with. That he would come to Cringe’s rescue and save him from the clutches of hopeless oblivion - be Cringe’s hero, his savior, his world once again. The thought grips at Cringe’s chest. Yes! Surely that is it. There is nothing else it can be! His mate has returned to him to bring him home to his family and friends once more.

That brings a new question to Cringe’s mind: Can he forgive his mate? The decision his lover came to was abundantly clear - he turned around and swam away, casting Cringe into a pit to be his grave. Even if he regrets it now, he still, at one point, thought it better that Cringe dies a slow and painful death than he care for his newly crippled mate. Cringe frowns at the thought. Is that understandable, and, more importantly, forgivable? He was alone for such a long time - he called out for his clan and his mate hours after they were gone, and yet nobody came… shouldn’t he have corrected his error sooner? Seen that Cringe is worth keeping around before so much time had passed. Cringe truly thought he’d been left…

He takes a deep, sharp breath and spits it out. Alright, enough moping - think objectively! Cringe is now a liability - a hindrance to survival. His mate will have to care for him for the rest of his life - hunting, feeding, moving him around. The only thing left that Cringe can provide is a child, and he can get that from many other young Mers in the school. The fact that his mate came back for him at all is astounding, and he shouldn’t spit in the eye of his savior. Yes, he can forgive his mate, and he will be forever grateful for his return. Cringe will allow his mate to care for him and in return he will be everything his mate wants. He will bear him many children, prepare food that he brings him, keep him warm every night no matter if he smells or if Cringe isn’t in the mood for cuddling. Cringe will dedicate himself wholeheartedly to his mate - his entire existence will be defined by the being who saved him from oblivion. It’s the least he can do for being such a burden and to thank his savior, his love his mate.

His stomach rolls and he moans, though this time not quite in agony. Fuck… he’s still in heat, isn’t he? A glance down confirms that his cloaca has dilated at his submissive thoughts, his body hoping that Cringe’s wishful thinking will summon his mate presently to deposit his load into him. Cringe smiles to himself contentedly, rubbing his spine where his children will be. Soon… he thinks. Soon I’ll be filled with his babies… and we’ll live together happily ever after.

The current shifts and Cringe can feel a mer approaching. He straightens his spine, trying to look less pathetic when he greets his mate for the first time in god knows how long. He doesn’t want to mess this up. Cringe wants him to know just how much this means to him, and just how determined he is to be the best possible mate…

He relaxes, steadying his steadfast soul. His life isn't over yet; sure, it may be a bit dull without his fins, but as long as he has his mate, as long as he is loved… he’ll survive this.

He has to.

He looks to the hole in the cave lighted by flowers that glow when the current hits them - they glow brighter and brighter as they shine off the golden scales of a mer. Cringe can barely contain himself as he jumps up slightly, barely feeling the pangs in his tail through the nerves in his chest. Tears he thought he had all but cried away spring to his eyes as bubbles leave his mouth, calling to his mate. Cringe wasn’t abandoned at all! His mate is back, his mate is-

His smile falls suddenly. Ice drips down his spine, replacing the pleasant tingle that had been in his soul, beating with excitement now lost.

This… This person isn’t his mate…

Cringe watches in numb, horrified shock as the new creature swims into the cavern, locking eyes with him. This creature (who Cringe can’t imagine ever having mistaken for his glorious mate) has a posture more fitting a seahorse than a merperson, his spine crooked and jutting in-and-out at odd angles. His scales are dull and dark from ill maintenance, clinging to his flesh like barnacles and grime to a sunken ship’s rusted hull - with the color and texture of one to match. His upper body, though skeletal like Cringe’s mate, is cracked and battered with wounds fresh and old alike. While a few battle scars can show off one’s bravery and courage in hunt or battle, injuries this numerous simply display weakness and cowardice. At best it means his so-called “savior” has a temper that his strength can’t back up.

And his face. His disgusting face.

He smiles like a child first learning about sex - a grin that seems as though it is permanently etched into his grossly elongated skull so that it seems even the death of the entire ocean wouldn’t cause him to frown. The smile only serves to show off a broken fang that has been crudely replaced with an oblong pearl jammed roughly between two crooked teeth just waiting to rot out. His lids droop lazily over his eyelights, hanging low enough for Cringe to wonder how on earth this subspecies of a merman can see at all!!

He stiffens when the creature approaches; the rust-colored mer flicks that ugly tail of his to float towards his captive. Cringe opens his mouth to reveal his proudly straight and sharpened fangs, hissing loudly and pushing himself away. He will not be pitied or cared for by such a substandard creature - he would rather die!!!

The hideous mer seems taken aback, smile tightening as he stops for a moment. Cringe feels a tiny prick of pride that even in his current state he can still manage to elicit an intimidated response; however, it isn’t enough as the merperson’s smile relaxes and he continues to approach.

Cringe curls back, realizing that his (admittedly pitiful) bluff has been called and he backs away.

Unfortunately his body has other plans; warmth seeps into his bones like he’s never felt before, overtaking all other sensations. On the one hand, this is good since it means he can no longer feel the remnants of pain caused by having a vital appendage ripped off… on the other it makes the cold dread pooling inside of him intensify as he realizes what this means; and why he was saved.

This wretched creature is in heat too - and he’s ovulating… Cringe’s cloaca responds quickly, ready to accept eggs from any creature producing them. Cringe, however, is not unfastidious, trying to cover his hole with a hand to discourage this wretch from mating - but the other doesn’t slow his approach in the slightest.

Cringe hisses again, bearing his claws to strike out against the slowly advancing mer. Cringe is a skilled, trained fighter, dammit!! He will not be disgraced by some betamale, bottom feeder! His body is for his mate - only he deserves bear Cringe’s children.

Except he abandoned Cringe to die alone at the bottom of an abyss…

That thought alone distracts Cringe long enough for the approaching mer to take advantage and snatch up Cringe’s wrists. Despite being healed to endlessly better health he is still weak and starved, not to mention without his strongest limb, and thus he is doomed to flail helplessly in his pursuer’s grip - hissing, screeching and yelling. No. Absolutely not. He won’t allow this mutt to put children in him!! It is out of the question.

And yet his body disagrees, heating up and cramping as his hole dilates impossibly wider. His body is stretching itself and yet completely empty of what it truly desires, the heat pushing him to chase this need despite his conscious mind adamantly rejecting. Up close he Cringe realizes just how much he underestimated the other’s size. Despite his slouch he easily triples Cringe’s height and more than doubles his weight, giving him an unfair advantage over the malnourished and injured mer.

Cringe scrunches up his face as he shakes his head and upper body, trying to wrench himself out of the merperson’s tight grip. The disgusting fish merely coos, giving soft trills and clicks that urge Cringe to relax and calm down. There is no reason to be this upset - it is only what is nature between them. They both have needs right now and this is he best way to fulfill them.

Well fuck that!!

Cringe’s struggles double in response to the attempted reassurance. He has better control over his so-called “needs” than this gup! Even if his body yearns for him to reciprocate more than anything he’s felt in the past few days he can still force himself to wait for a proper mate of his status - if not his own mate.

Fuck, what is he thinking?! He can’t give himself away to just anyone. He needs to save himself for when his mate gets here! That way he can carry his first clutch of eggs with him, not an equivalent, and certainly not some gross, cheap knock off of his beloved mate. He won’t submit to this creature - not now, not ever.

Except when he does, eventually. He is too low on energy to keep up his struggles for long and he quickly depletes the last of his energy reserves, falling limp into the other mer’s grasp. The mer smiles, like a guppy catching their first minnow. He leans down and presses an almost chase kiss to Cringe’s cheek, causing him to shudder. He watches numbly in despair as his captor releases his hands so the mer can move out and flick his own tail, letting his organ extend from a hole to an ovipositor that grows almost three hands long and one hand thick. Cringe whimpers as he attempts to cover the opening at the top of his mangled tail. Surely that can’t be the thing that his body is demanding, right?? Something that big would tear him apart!

But his body responds and his hand is shot away by instinct, his body pushing forward and allowing the mer access in kind. Fear courses through him. He’s terrified of more things than he can count but the heat steadily thrums through his body, begging in a chant of hormones. It’s clear that the mer above him is enchanted, his mouth moves, nipping and kissing and biting over Cringe’s neck.

The first time he feels the length brush his scales he bristles, terrified that his luck has run out. But... that doesn’t seem to be the case. His hands somehow end up back in the mer’s grip, and though it’s strong and unforgiving, his thumb gently brushes over the delicate bones in his hands. For the umpteenth time in only a few days he feels tears spring to his eyes. He’s caught in this awful place between needing so badly and the utter disgust, and fear of pain, and loss - and so, so much grief he has. What if this creature, this beast... what if it forgets the raw injury and lack of tail? What if he gets too rough, what if this splits him open and he can never have a clutch again?!

Then, in a surprising twist, the touches stop. Cringe watches the mer remove himself at the signs of Cringe’s distress, cocking his head. Cringe just takes the time to catch his breath. What…? Why did he stop? Isn’t this what he wanted Cringe for - to breed? To mate with? Why else bother saving him?? If Cringe refuses will he just be thrown out if the other is unwilling to force him? Surely there is no other reason for him to give Cringe aid. As much as he doesn’t want this… dying is much better, right?

He finds himself afraid of being alone again; despite his dislike of this creature, his presence is better than none at all. If this is the price for being alive, Cringe supposes… he could put up with this. Being the mother of this creature’s children would certainly be incentive enough to feed and care for Cringe, even if the idea made his pride burn.

And - he finds that he does want this. On some deeper level, on some primal, instinctual level he absolutely needs this, regardless of who.

So he relaxes and allows the larger mer to do as he pleases; for the sake of survival. Cringe’s mate would understand, right? If he hadn’t left Cringe alone so long this wouldn’t have happened in the first place - not that he would hold it against him. Never. And besides, his body has already made the demands on his behalf, he need only listen.

The second time Cringe feels the length nudge him, he’s positive the mer is trying to get him to beg. He presses against Cringe teastingly slow; Cringe finds a tiny whimper escapes his mouth, and all sense of control leaves his body. It is the first pleasure he’s felt in days, wounded tail becoming a distant haze in his mind. Before he even realizes it a pressure builds up on his teeth, and opening his eyes reveals that the source of it is the mer’s mouth on his in a sensual kiss.

Cringe finds himself reciprocating, his movements taken over by instinct. He would like to say it was disgusting and horrifying, but he’d be a liar. It felt like bliss, the closest thing to sweet relief he’s ever felt in heat. In the back of his mind his sanity demands he resist - this sort of intimacy is meant for his mate! But somehow the haze of the heat allows him to push that part of him aside. Sane, logical, tactful Cringe is dead, buried with his pride and senses; what remains is a creature of base desires - too busy and too tired to contemplate the true definition of its actions.

Cringe lets out a soft whimper, not sure if his hips shifting was an effort to escape or chase the sensation anymore as he moved. The tongue moved at its own leisurely little pace, not seeming to care for the needy demands of the being attached to it. The mer himself, however, seems enraptured in the movements of the other below him, eyeing Cringe as if he is the most precious thing he’s ever seen. His hooded eyes stare up at Cringe’s expression as if just trying to catch a little more of the pleasure he is causing. When Cringe finally makes eye contact with him, he smiles and begins moving. Vigorously. His hands released Cringe’s and he guides his hips closer, always careful of his captured prize’s injuries but never letting up on his desires - or Cringe’s. The former’s eyes widen and he lets out a noise of shock - quickly morphing into a steady moan. His body arches at an obtuse angle into the motions, searching for the relief the tongue alone isn’t providing him in a heat this searing.

It isn’t long after the spike in arousal that the mer seems to have gotten what he wanted, and Cringe is left to lay there gasping as the mer readjusts. Despite his body feeling the twitches and spasms of being left denied, he still feels a spike of panic as the mer lines himself with Cringe’s entrance. He doesn’t want to do this with a stranger - he wants his mate. He wants to be held by familiar arms, kissed with a familiar mouth… this is wrong and yet Cringe needs it more than he’s ever needed anything before in his life. Because he’s in heat. Because he’s at this creature’s mercy and this disgusting act may be the only way to continue his life until he is healed.

Cringe’s hands are captured back once more in passion and the ovipositor begins its steady push into Cringe’s waiting hole. He moans, and the relief of finally accepting his body’s demands is dwarfed by the knowledge that he will never be taken back by his mate again. If there was ever a hope before... that is gone now. This will ruin him below for sure.

It wouldn’t be the first time such a thing happened to Cringe...

The creature’s soft touches and trills do more to spoil the moment of bliss than enhance it. Those are the noises his mate would use on Cringe. How dare this dumb, ugly creature think for even a moment he could mimic the behaviors of a mate! He may be giving his body over in exchange for the other saving his life, but his soul will always remain with his mate. From now to the end of his days.

Both of them are too wound up to last much longer - soon Cringe can feel the merperson release inside of him, sending heat through his body and reaching a peak in sensation. Foolishly, he thought this meant they were done; those hopes are promptly dashed as he finds that the substance inside him is not, in fact, the eggs. Unlike in his own school, where the eggs are small enough to be inserted mostly unnoticed (and certainly not uncomfortably) he feels the mer on top of him shudder as an egg almost as large as his fist enters the ovipositor and starts sliding its way down. It seems far too large for Cringe… his womb isn’t built to hold something of that size!! He lets out a sob of fear. What kind of merperson was this?!? The mer on top of him senses Cringe’s fear and gives him a reassuring smile, running a hand along Cringe’s cheek. It does little to convince him he’s not about to be ripped in half by the egg.

Luckily the egg is soft and malleable, not causing more than a mildly intense pressure before sliding down into its rightful place. His magic quickly summons around the egg to hold it, stretching and growing to accommodate the size. It causes a slight burn, but it isn’t the tearing agony that Cringe would expect. He relaxes some - that… wasn’t so bad. He could deal with this if that is the only one…

And then the next egg comes - this one also signaled by its father’s shudder - making its way down and into its mother. Cringe feels the pressure of just two sitting there. It isn’t much, but he can tell the tight fit will get exponentially worse if there are any more gross, freakishly oversized eggs headed his way. He figures he could probably do one more before he’d feel bloated and miserable. If it’s just these two it at least won’t be painful - degrading, shameful, and horrid; but thankfully not painful...

The merperson seems in a different mindset entirely, softly rubbing a hand over the forming stomach of his new mate. He gives a gentle thrust of his hips, ensuring his new mate’s safety and watching the tiny mer for any signs of physical distress. Cringe simply gives a glare - he doesn’t need this moron’s sympathy. Just get this over with so Cringe can go back to… whatever he’ll do when he isn’t doing this! Despite his displeasure, he isn’t showing signs of overstretching and so the laying continues on.

Cringe gets to five before groaning at the sight of another egg. The merperson peppers kisses over his face - Cringe’s only response left is to turn his head to resist and growl. Sex and mating is fine if that is what the other wants, but Cringe does not want this sort of affection from him. The mer eventually gives up on that and continues rubbing Cringe’s distended stomach, as if giving him a thank you and apology wrapped up in one motion. But Cringe doesn’t want to be thanked - he wants to be done with this. He whines when the next two push their ways in, starting to meet resistance. The eggs slide around against each other, searching for space. Cringe gags at the sensation. It’s so gross and wrong…. His belly bulges out of his body at this point, far past what it should be for a normal pregnancy - and yet, there’s no sign of the merperson relenting.

Eight isn’t too bad. He is bloated, sick, and his magic aches, but he isn’t stretched too thin... nine starts to burn. But by ten? Ten feels like he is on the verge of popping. He wants this to end right now, and yet he can see one more egg sitting at the top of the creature’s ovipositor and panic starts to rise in his chest. He squirms and whines, looking up at the larger mer and throwing away the last of his dignity to whine and beg for him to stop. This is his limit - he can’t fit another one. He needs the mer to understand that, and listen, and it is uncertain if he would even care. Why should he? Cringe’s whines double as he catches the creatures eyes. No… no more...

Somehow, this gets through, and the final egg never enters his body, the mer pulling out and letting it break down naturally in the tubes.

And then it’s done then - his magic has sealed the eggs in and will protect them with his life until they are born… he is going to be a mother now, but not of his mate’s children.

He feels sobs hiccup in his chest, refusing to let them out - he doesn’t want this creature to see him cry. The merperson looks sympathetic, moving forward to stroke Cringe’s face apologetically. Cringe hesitates before pushing the merperson’s pitiful attempts to soothe him away. He doesn’t need this dumb creature’s pity or remorse. It is done. Over with. Finished - Cringe’s body has been destroyed once more; he can’t imagine his magic will ever work right again down there. He will never carry normal eggs after this - these deformed blobs he’ll loosely define as eggs are all that his body will accept now. He can’t even imagine these things will ever hatch…

He will spend his entire life spent incubating infertile eggs...

Cringe let’s that realization sink in as he curls around himself - unable to properly do so now with the gross, lumpy belly in the way. The mer reaches out as if he wants to try again to comfort Cringe, though he thinks better of it and takes his hand back. Without warning he turns and swims away, leaving Cringe blissfully alone with his despair.

[ruffsficstuffplace]

The Viridian Vanguard (Part 5)

In hindsight, Weiss probably shouldn’t have been so surprised that the Water quadrant was so much more expansive and impressive underwater than it was above.

It was like a whole different world down there, with giant coral reefs, expansive kelp forests, and thriving wildlife; elaborate floating obstacle courses, arenas, and training areas kept in place by anchors or special buoys attached to certain points; and all manner of stone structures and sunken vessels as far as the eye could see, the runes on them humming and pulsing with magic even through the layers of barnacles and algae growing over them, if the organic matter weren’t intentionally integrated into the architecture and the hull already.

Underwater beacons regularly pulsed with warm orange light and invisible waves of magic, vines with Fae oxygen masks dangling around it, signs for instructions when recharging from it, be they Fae, elemental, or vehicle. Floating nets and filters turned and wavered with the current, catching and sucking in the debris and wastes that came its way, strange fish and crustaceans either feeding off of them, or catching what they missed. Massive floating rings hummed with power, some only big enough for a handful of folks to pass through shoulder-to-shoulder and swimming tightly together, a handful large enough for a whale or a large submarine to swim through no problem.

Weiss watched Aeilana pass through one before rocketing off, even deeper into the water; she and Penny approached one, and after a moment’s hesitation and tightening her grip on Penny’s hand, Weiss went through it, chasing after the slipstreams Aeilana left in her wake.

The sunlight began to fade, replaced by the orange glow of the beacons, underwater lights here and there, the glow of bioluminescent creatures and algae. The muted sounds from above the water disappeared completely, now there was only the currents, the hum of the magitech, and the rush of water as Weiss and Penny passed through the rings. Caves in the Terrace’s mountain, sprawling underwater temples and structures, and much older, monolithic beacons started to come into view, resonating with a very different kind of magic than the ones higher up.

Powerful. Ominous. Slowly but steadily crushing, pressing down on Weiss on all sides, making it difficult to breath, harder to move, cold starting to seep into her bones...

She felt Penny’s arms wrap around her, warmth slowly but steadily pouring into her, the weight lifting. Penny’s eyes and magic started to grow brighter, lighting the area around them in a friendly green haze. She locked eyes with Weiss’ through her mask, put one of her hands where her mouth and nose would be.

Weiss began to slowly breathe in and breath out, her heart slowing down, the rising panic ebbing away.

Penny pulled her hand of Weiss’ mouth, raised her arm and its tablet attachment up. “Better?”

Weiss nodded, and they continued to descending to the very bottom of the Water quadrant.

There was a flashing in the corner of Weiss’ eyes, the colour of Aeilana’s magic. She and Penny swam to where she was, Weiss watched as Aeilana put her hand to a featureless section of rock, it opened up to reveal a tunnel with an enchanted vortex slowly spinning in the center of it.

Aeilana gestured for them to go in, Weiss and Penny did. They were gently pulled along first, before it got faster and faster, taking them through a convoluted series of turns and checkpoints before it turned straight up. Weiss watched in awe at the carvings all around them, glowing and surging with magic, elementals like fish swimming around her, the darkness rapidly fading away as she got closer and closer to a bright, beaming light at the top of the tunnel…

Splash!

Weiss gasped, dazed for a moment as they broke through the surface of the water, her head kept above it by the force of the vortex still beneath her. She stared and gawked at the cave around her, every inch of its surface covered in ancient runes, the figures and the scenes around it moving and playing out before her eyes:

Stories of great battles and legendary hunts, streams of magic flowing and spraying as blood was shed, weavers going against horrific monsters, armies of their fellow Fae, or rivals depicted in as great detail and regard as them.

Stories of miracles and fantastic feats, great cities, vibrant plantlife, and abundant wildlife sprouting up in the aftermath of weavers summoning storms in drought, creating rivers where there was barren wasteland, and cooling frost where there was only scorching heat.

Stories of revolutionary work and creation, potions and serums that brought life back to an ailing populace or invigorated it with new life, machines and structures that dramatically reshaped the world around them, and new spells so powerful they swept through the whole mural like a wave, ushering in the next series of tales.

Aeilana popped up soon after, already swimming to the edge and climbing up a set of stairs. “Welcome to the Water Primal’s Sanctuary, Weiss!” she cried, grinning as she spread her arms out wide. “Feel free to gawk and drink it all in; I know it can all be too much your first time.”

Weiss nodded dumbly as she still gazed at the living mural around her. “Are these all of the Primals?” she asked.

“Not all of them!” Penny replied. “But, those are the ones who either asked not to be included, or were kicked out of the position for one reason or another. Similar to the Protectors of Truth in the Chuch of the Holy Shepherd, they can be impeached and/or ousted from office in case of grave misdemeanors and other high crimes.”

Weiss nodded again, before she began to swim to the edge. “How big is this place?” she asked as she climbed out of the water.

“Pretty fucking big!” Aeilana replied. “I swear, every time someone with a magitech bent becomes a Primal, they just have to expand the Sanctuary, and add even more things to it! Honestly, don’t even bother trying to learn the whole layout, it’s a giant mess and most of it is closed off at the moment, anyway.

“And before you ask: you or anyone else are going to have to give me a DAMN good argument to convince me to unseal those chambers.”

“Understood,” Weiss said before she took off her mask and magicked most of the excess water off of her, Penny evaporating the rest and warming her back up. “So what parts of this place are open at the moment?”

“The ones that matter. Come on, I’ll show you one of them,” Aeilana replied, beckoning to her with a hand before she turned into a large tunnel leading out of the cave.

Weiss looked at the other exits currently sealed off with rock or ice, before she and Penny followed on after Aeilana. True to her word, the path ahead was filled with sealed off entrances and dead-ends, crossroads with only one remaining choice, large circular hubs that had only a handful of their exits still open.

“What did they have in these tunnels, before they got closed off?” Weiss asked.

“Eh, personal laboratories, storage rooms, equipment rooms, special Raucous Rooms, contingency plans, or extra dorms, kitchens, animal tanks and barns, and whatever the fuck else,” Aeilana replied. “Basically whatever they needed or wanted, a lot of the previous Primals were fussy like that.

“Me, though? I like to take the simple, utilitarian approach, just the absolute basics you can use for almost anything and everything, kinda like getting a quality set of free weights, instead of spending on those ridiculous exercise machines.

“You have too much crap and baggage to keep track of, you end up not getting much of anything done, or you just end up off-loading it to someone else, and that’s not how I want to roll as a Primal, how I want folks to remember me.

“Speaking of which!” Aeilana stopped, and gestured to a tunnel exit, covered with an ornately decorated arch brimming with thriving coral, jewel-like ice, and magic. “You first—and with Penny staying outside, I want it to be just us two in there.”

Weiss looked at Aeilana skeptically.

“It’s for a good reason, I promise.” Aeilana replied, smiling.

Weiss sighed. “Fine.” She turned to Penny and bade her goodbye, before she and Aeilana stepped into the tunnel, then out into another wide, circular cave. Only the path to the center and a pedestal were brightly lit, the rest of it was shrouded in darkness.

“What is this place?” Weiss asked.

“The Gallery.” Aeilana replied as she put her hand on the pedestal, magic surging from her hand and into the rock.

The whole of the cave suddenly lit up clear as day, unseen altars all around them activating. Weiss turned around and watched as statues, tableaux, and memorials formed and erupted all around her, images of Fae standing proud, reliving some great battle or historic achievement, or models of their magnum opuses or their crafts.

Some were static, cast in stone, metal, or ice; others moved, enchanted streams of water pouring out from spouts and fountains; but all had plaques with the weavers’ names on them, the dates they had served, and some of their most notable accomplishments.

“These are the past Primals of Water who’re in display this month,” Aeilana explained, gesturing to the altars around them. “The differences between us are bigger than all the bodies of water in Avalon combined, but there is one thing we have in common:

“We all managed to raise the bar for elemental weaving.

“However we did it, few could match what we’d done and could do, until we died, decided it’s time to retire and pass the title onto the best of the next generation, or got shown the hard way that someone had become better than us.

“Maybe you won’t become the next Primal, but I’ll be damned if you don’t end up as one of the greatest weavers to have ever lived. You know why? Don’t answer: because even if you’re shooting ice and water out of your hands, you’ve got that same fire in your belly that your grandpa had.

Aeilana put her hands on Weiss’ shoulders, bent her knees to look her in the eyes, and asked, “Tell, me Weiss: what did you do, what did you accomplish thanks to that fire inside you?”

“A series of rash, impulsive, and disastrous decisions like joining my father’s very first expedition into the Valley? Faking my own death on live HoloVision? All the other self-inflicted miseries I’ve subjected myself to over the years from a combination of anger issues, impatience, and misguided determination, usually in matters of romance, almost exactly like Grandpa?”

“… Wow, they really weren’t kidding when they said you had a lot of issues, huh?”

“No, no they were not.” Weiss said as she slowly shook her head.

“Okay, you know what? Let me answer that for you instead:

“It helped you survive through that absolutely bullshit life you had under your asshat of a dad. It kept you going strong and going hard when most people would have long thrown in the towel, thought it’s all over, best to just lay back, float, and see where you’ll wash up, if you don’t sink first. It’s a big part of that mana surging in you right now, and not to discount your friends, your girlfriend, or the might of the Keeper’s scythe, but most of that kickass ice beam you stopped that crazy bitch Cinder Fall with?

“That was you, Weiss.

“You have the power, the potential, and most importantly, the drive and the determination to master your magic and change the realm for the better in a Big Way, capital letters, just like your Grandpa when he managed to lead his expedition to Candela.”

Aeilana smiled.“And together, we’re going to help you get there.”

“And who’s we, exactly?” Weiss asked.

“Me and the rest of my students, and your new classmates,” Aeilana replied, patting Weiss on the shoulders before she stood back up. “They’ve all been wondering when exactly they were going to be able to meet you in person, ever since Glynda told us you’d be in my class after your first visit, and especially after all the shit that’s gone down recently.”

Weiss frowned. “I’m not exactly the best learner in group environments...” she said.

“Well too bad, because you’re going to have to adapt and go with our flow down here!” Aeilana said, gently patting Weiss’ on the back and coaxing her back out the exit. “That’s one of the first lessons us Water weavers need to learn, you know.”

Weiss sighed. “Is there anything in particular I should know?”

“Just four things, three of which you need to know right now: we’re almost all girls, with just the one guy; only one of them speaks and understands straight Nivian like we do; and all of them are younger than you—our youngest is 10, our oldest is 15.” Aeilana explained as the altars deactivated, and the room went dark once more.

“So not only am I delayed by Fae standards, I’m also even more of an outcast than the only Human-Fae hybrid, and there’s a language barrier, to boot,” Weiss said flatly. “Great, just great.”

Aeilana patted her on the shoulder. “You’ll live, Weiss—if what already happened to you hasn’t killed you and/or broken your spirit, I seriously doubt anything else life can throw at you from now on will.”

She would end up being right on one account, at least.

Note: Extremely intense concentrations of magic, as can be found in the much, much older parts of the Weaver’s Terrace can be harmful to young and/or inexperienced weavers.

Fire weavers describe it as so intense they feel they’re burning or will turn to ash or simply vaporize. Earth weavers feel suffocated and trapped with no way to escape. Wind weavers feel like they’re going to get blown away and subsequently ripped apart at any second, and/or lethally electrocuted. Water weavers feel crushing, cold pain, and/or steadily creeping, incredibly painful frostbite.

Aeilana would normally escort her students and guests down there, unless they’ve already got someone accompanying them who can handle the intensity. Same goes for the other Primals’ sanctuaries.

P.S. Aeilana is very tall, at 6’3 ft or 195.50 cm. Weiss has no high heels nor footware, so cut off about four inches from her official height chart.