#anyway giant is so good the metal sounds scratch my brain

[linoyes]

[zikadraws]

Okay so I've seen some fanart from @kollieflower about their Dark Deception AU which featured between others a scrapped fourth member of the Joy Joy Gang, a cat named Roman ; and long story short I liked this concept so much that I ended up doing my own character based on that. Yes I'm being a goblin, and yes I cannot get my brain to shut up about the Joy Joy Gang. Sue me.

So anyways, meet

Tabby The Cat (long post ahead)

The scrapped fourth member of the Joy Joy Gang.

Scrapped because he was judged useless, too laid-back and slacking on the job. Also being too grouchy with Malak. And Lucky may or may not have pressured on his scrapping for barely ever following his leadership. Basically : insubordination.

Actually OP he just doesn't care because cats live by no master, rock'n'roll

Not deactivated (though fairly beaten up, which left his left eyeball cracked), but got ditched in the dark infinite void between the Demon Realms, where innocent mortals in a comma, monsters judged too weak, accidental minor demons and tormented victims of sinners either fight for scraps of dominance or wander in idleness.

He chooses this second option and keeps company to the victims of sinners, especially the children, as a reminder of a time where he could have been the kid's favorite mascot. He provides them context, guidance and safety and watches the Realms with them (picture when you noclip out of a game's background and can see the levels layout floating in a black void, basically it's that) to witness what happens to their tormentors, until they are satisfied and ready for 'ascension'. From here he also keeps a -narrow- eye on Mascot Mayhem, most often.

May or may not be looking over Tammy/the Orb for the sole purpose of screwing Malak over.

His personality is lazy and laid-back but he's also a big grouch. Quite cynical, considers cursing as regular vocabulary. A smartass, often too much for his own good. Easy cat jokes.

Actually no gender but he uses he/him pronouns because he's too lazy to put a fuss about it.

Gets infuriated if called a failure.

He possesses a endoskeleton built for bounce back and agility, razor sharp claws in both hands and feet that allows him to run/crawls on walls and scratch metal, and also a purring mechanism covering his head that automatically activates when he's petted here, whether he likes it or not. Definitely doesn't like this one.

He reaches and kills intruders by climbing over walls and running on them, charging the mortals at high speed once he got them in his sights (they are alerted to the sound of his clattering claws) and tackling the lights out of them, generally breaking their spine. If that wasn't enough, well those claws ain't here to look pretty, honey. This is however a last resort, as he hates getting himself dirty. He's the most tidy in the entire gang (and was quite teased for that).

He may or may not have a giant ultimate killing machine form made of scraps from the voids in case he needs to kick JoyKill's arse but that's just a concept lmao.

Before being ditched, Tabby was getting along quite well with Penny and Hangry, but really not with Lucky. After being scrapped, the JJG members went through a reset that made them forget about him, even Lucky. However when found back Lucky is the only one who can actually remember him. The other two most likely won't take too well to learn about how a member got scrapped... Especially with the complicity of Lucky. But hey, that's only hypothetical. Am I right ?

To be honest, I really like this character. I will definitely post more about him in different contexts, be it only as an excuse to draw the Joy Joy Gang. I really hope you like him too because you're sure gonna see him again.

Oh, and by the way, it seemed kinda rude to me to take someone's inspiration and not draw anything about it. So meet @kollieflower 's OC Roman The Cat !

(-I suggest you go check out their content their art style is delightful-)

Anyways that was Tabby The Cat ! Hope you enjoyed and have a good day~ =v=✧

See ya

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 12- Whatever It Takes

Summary: This is it, you’re finally going to help save the world and if all goes to plan, bring Bucky back in the process.

Warning: bit o angst

Masterlist

It’s been a solid month since Tony and Rocket have been crafting tirelessly on the construction of the giant time portal machine type deal, or whatever he’s calling it nowadays. And to your great surprise, as well as everyone else’s, the first test run with Clint was an undeniable success.

Compared to the first one with Scott, things have come a long way.

Clint was able to wander around in that alternate universe for a couple minutes without returning with so much as a single scratch. Thus boosting the teams confidence and excitement for the inevitable time heist that’s in the works. So as of now, everyone’s currently brainstorming as to how this will go about for the most successful mission possible.

“Okay, so the how works.” Begins Steve as everyone sits around the large meeting room, glass screens projecting info about the stones displayed in the background, “Now, we gotta figure out the when and where. Almost everyone in this room has had an encounter with at least one of the six Infinity Stones...”

Tony cuts in with his spout of knowledge, “Or substitute the word “encounter” for “damn near been killed” by one of the six Infinity Stones.” Damn straight, your ass got launched into a Wakandian tree last you saw those goddamn stones.

“Well I haven’t..” Interjects Scott with a puzzled look, confusion clear in his voice, “..but I don’t even know what the hell you’re all talking about.” Oh right, he missed out on all the fun while he was fucking around in the quantum realm.

Sitting on the table you shrug, “Be glad you’ve never seen them, those fucking space rocks will kick your ass if used less then kindly, but it doesn’t matter now. From my understanding we only have enough Pym Particles for one round-trip each.” You explain as they all listen intently, “And clearly these fucking stones have been in a lot of different places throughout history.”

Tony nods, “Our history. So, not a lot of convenient spots to just drop in, yeah?”

“Which means we have to pick out targets.” Adds Clint as Tony points in his direction, “Correct.”

Steve soon gains everyone’s attention once again, “So, let’s start with the Aether. Thor, what do you know?” Asks the blonde, all eyes turn towards the back corner of the room to find Thor slouched in an armchair, beer can in hand while the other one keeps partially hidden in his pajama pants.

A dark pair of sunglasses conceals whether he’s currently awake or not. “Is he asleep?” Wonders Natasha as Rodney humorously adds, “No, no. I’m pretty sure he’s dead.”

A few soft chuckles are heard as you listen intently to the god of thunder, “He’s alive, and most definitely sleeping off that last beer.” You muse as they all give a collective curious brow while you simply shrug, “I can hear his heartbeat, and it’s low enough to tell me he’s not dead.....Well, at least not yet.” You mutter, eyeing up the sleeping giant as an idea sparks into your head.

A second later you pick up a discarded empty beer can sitting right next to you on the table before throwing it at the snoozing god, the thin metal smacks against his forehead with that familiar pop of the can sound, falling to the ground with a crackly ting as Thor jolts awake. And back to the land of the living.

“Nordic Santa you’re up.” His head snaps in your direction as he gives a semi-awkward half grin. 

“Ah right, right, thank you angry one.” Points Thor with a genuine smile now as he quickly gets up before walking over to the screen depicting the red swirly like stone substance. Although soon he delves into the finding of the red mass, what it did to his former flame, that he took her to Asgard seeking help for her sickness, how he showed Jane to his mother, and then he immediately got sad and lost all motivation and train of thought on anything related to that stone.

Ah yes, personal trauma. It’ll do that to you.

Later that day when everyone was feasting on some Chinese takeout, Rocket began an in-depth explanation into where the Power Stone was found; by some guy named Quill who stole it from a planet called Morag. After some time later, Nebula revealed that the Soul Stone was retrieved from Vormir, the place where Thanos murdered her sister Gamora.

It’s been an interesting day to day the least.

Now here you are, slouched comfortably in a lounge chair you stole from the other room, flipping around a pocketknife as Natasha and Tony lay on the nearby table with Bruce sprawled out on the floor in all his Banner-Hulkness. Books scattered everywhere as the two Avengers keep comfortable on some decorative couch pillows as you listen to them brainstorm about the stones whereabouts.

Flipping the knife skillfully between your fingers an idea suddenly pops into your head, “Hey what about that time stone guy you were talking about earlier.”

Banner hums, “Doctor Strange.”

“Yeah, what kind of doctor was he?” Wonders Natasha as you mentally question the same proposition when Tony gives his quick witted answer. “Ear-nose-throat meets rabbit-from-hat.”

“Nice place in the Village, though.” Adds Bruce, Tony agreeing in an instant. “Yeah, on Sullivan Street?”

“Mmm....Bleecker Street.” Mutters Banner as Natasha interrupts, face shifting to realization. “Wait, he lived in New York?”

“No, he lived in Toronto.” Sasses Tony as Banner reveals the truth. “Uh, yeah, on Bleecker and Sullivan.”

Tony coming back with more playful sarcasm, “Have you been listening to anything?”

Suddenly it feels like a lights been switched on in your brain, “Guys.” You quickly implore as they keep silent to listen, “If you pick the right year, wouldn’t there be three stones in New York?” Their faces all collectively shift to astonished realization when Bruce quickly sits up to look at you. “Shut the front door.”

“Well at least someone is paying attention.” Quips Tony as Natasha smacks him with a book.

——

“All right.” Begins Steve as the whole team gathers in the meeting room, “We have a plan. Six stones, three teams, one shot.”

You nod, smirking with excitement, “Let’s get these fuckers and maybe end up saving the world while we’re at it.” He sends you a proud grin and within the next half an hour are the eleven of you suited up and standing in a large circle atop the glass of the giant time portal.

“Five years ago, we lost. All of us....we lost friends. We lost family. We lost a part of ourselves. Today, we have a chance to take it all back. You know your teams. You know your missions. Get the stones. Get them back. One round-trip each. No mistakes....no do-overs.”

“Most of us are going somewhere we know. That doesn’t mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives...and we’re gonna win.” Affirms Steve with a mutual nod, “Whatever it takes.” He gives one last look around the circle of familiar faces before nodding, “Good luck.”

Nudging the muscular blonde, he shares a small smile with you as you quickly return it, “You practice that last night?” Steve chuckles at your amusing comment while Rocket and Scott gush over his admittedly incredible motivational speech skills.

“Just thought the team could use the confidence boost.” Admits Steve as Bruce flicks the motherboards switches to get the time portal up and running. The machine whirs to life while everyone begins putting on their helmets.

Your slightly apprehensive gaze trails to your left where Natasha is standing, she gives a playful smirk as you force a true smile, “See you in a minute.” Chides the red head as you break out into a smirk.

“будь осторожен там Romanoff.” You add, shifting into your natural dialect that she’s all to familiar with, your actual words translating to “be careful out there” as you give her one last flash of a grin.

A hot second later, your body shrinks to the size of an atom as you feel like you’re entire body is free falling out of an airplane in some strange rainbow colored portal that shifts to shimmering diamonds and then finally a blue coral type texture as you find your teams designed route down some swirling tube of blues and bright white lights until at last you land in...

“Holy shit look at this place.” You mutter in absolute awe at the large golden pillars of Asgard, there was no fucking way you were missing out on traveling to this realm. And anyways, Steve kinda made it your task to keep the potbellied god of thunder in check as yourself and Rocket attempt to locate the Reality Stone with Lebowski as your generous tour guide.

Thor smiles fondly, proudly beaming at you with a rare form of happiness as he points towards the large cavernous halls of the royal palace, “Oh this? Yeah, it’s neat isn’t it, I grew up here....played games down this very hallway actually. Me and some friends used to spar one another as children down here with wooden sticks that looked like swor...”

“Thor.” Interrupts Rocket with an annoyed huff, “Remember why we’re actually here.”

You nod in agreement, quickly remembering the current mission, “He’s right. No time to dwell on fond memories, we need to find that stone before anyone sees us. And going by the logic of literally every time traveling movie I’ve ever seen, which admittedly isn’t a lot, but it’s enough that I know no one can see us. Especially you Thor, that would be a big problem for this timeline, so lead the way.”

“Yes, right on that, good point Y/N....okay um...” He looks around for a moment before pointing in the direction of choice, which is down a long spacious hallway, “This way, no ones gonna see us if we go by the dungeons.” Explains Thor as he quickly leads the way down the obnoxiously long hallway that thankfully is decently vacant.

After about five minutes of trekking around the castles interior, Thor guides you and Rocket down a long stairwell of dark grey stone until you reach the bottom floor. There are large basins of fire lighting the way down the lengthy hallway pass, he jogs past a couple golden tinged cells holding a few odd looking prisoners on your way out.

No doubt these fuckers look like they deserve it.

You pay them no mind as Thor hustles silently across the flooring to a door on the far end, though as you’re shuffling past another cell, your eyes land on the green and black clad slender body of a dark haired man laying atop his bed. Face focused towards the white ceiling as he tosses a cylindrical piece of metal in a repeated rhythm only done by that of an incredibly bored individual.

That must be his brother Loki, you draw into conclusion while racing out of sight of the trickster god while Rocket makes haste by your side. Kind of handsome, you think as an unknowing smile finds itself onto your face. God Y/N you truly are a desperate woman. No, just no.

Eventually, Thor leads your little team of three upstairs to some large balcony type area with a grand view of Asgard, the three of you keeping hidden behind one of the multitude of intricately decorated pillars as he eyes up a woman halfway out of a giant door while she accepts some clothing from a maid.

His bearded face lights up in joy as he points a finger towards the brunette woman, “Oh, there’s Jane.” Whispers Thor as she closes the door, the Asgardian maiden leaving and walking elsewhere down another yawning chamber.

“All right.” Starts Rocket as he stands on some ancient rock covered in unknown hieroglyphics before jumping down to face the two of you once the coast is clear, “Here’s the deal tubby. You’re gonna charm her, Y/N’s gonna keep watch, and I’m gonna poke her with this thing..” He shows some strange metal device with three silver prongs sticking out of it, “...and extract the Reality Stone, and get gone lickety-split.”

The optimism off of this creature never fails to astound you.

“Yeah, what he said.” You add with a shrug in Rocket’s direction as Thor sniffs before raising up a finger. “I’ll be right back, okay? The wine cellar is just down here...” Interjects Thor as he slowly begins walking away, clearly ready to abandon his part in the mission, “My father used to have this huge barrel of Aakonian ale. I’ll see if the scullery has a couple of to-go cups.”

“Hey. Hey!” You whisper yell, causing him to stop for the moment, “Aren’t you drunk enough already? Fuck that fancy wine we got better things to do.” You urgently vouch just as some doors loudly open nearby, immediately the three of you hide behind the stone of hieroglyphics and watch as a long haired woman leads the way, a multitude of servants in her wake as she says something about giving books to Loki from the library.

“Who’s the fancy broad?” Wonders Rocket as you raise an intrigued brow at Thor, his eyes never once leave the woman’s as he takes a steady breath, “That’s my mother.” Reveals the disheartened god, a sudden sadness lacing his very words that does not go unnoticed by you, “She dies today.”

Your breath catches in your throat at this sudden tragic news of great loss, you remember when you lost your own mother by the filthy hands of Hydra and how they helped you quickly forget about her. You didn’t have anytime to grieve or even question her sudden disappearance for that matter, “Oh, shit...that’s today.”

You share a nervous look with Rocket as Thor begins taking some deep almost panicked breaths, his emotions all rising together like a swelling storm as his face shifts to an afflicted pain, “I can’t do this. I can’t do this....” Rambles Thor with a shake of his blonde mane, eyes displaying panic, “..I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have come. It’s a bad idea!” Whisper yells Thor as he anxiously shifts from one foot to the other.

“Come here.” Beacons Rocket from his perch on the rock.

“No, no, no...” Deviates Thor as he waves his hands nervously in the air like he’s trying to flick some mud off of them, “I think I’m having a panic attack.” Worries the flushed faced god. 

“Come here. Right here.” Says Rocket as he points to the rock, an increase in irritation shifting the tone of his voice while Thor breaths heavily, clearly not on board with whatever Rocket’s going to tell him.

“No, no, no, guys I can’t...I can’t do this, I’m sorry but I’m not ready, I can’t...” Thwack, Thor yelps in surprise at your intentionally weak assault on his large bicep, “Y/N what was that for?” He half-offendedly demands, brows furrowed in confusion at the flash of anger racing across your sour glare.

“You think you’re the only one who lost people?” You snap as he lowers his head like a beaten dog, “What the fuck do you think we’re doing here? I lost the only person I ever loved, Rocket lost his whole family, gone, just like that.” You affirm with a snap of your fingers.

His face grows conflicted as you suddenly lose your heated aurora, face falling into a frown as you place a comforting hand upon his shoulder, “Thor, I know it hurts that you lost your mom...believe me I get it, but she’s gone. And there are plenty of people who are only kinda gone, and you can help them.”

Thor nods apprehensively as you share a small smile with him, “So if it’s not too much to ask, can you get your shit together for the next however long this is going to take so we can save the world?” 

Rocket chuckles before gaining the both of yours attentions. “Agreed. Now all you gotta do is make schmoopy talk to Pretty Pants and when she’s not looking, suck out the Infinity Stone and help us get our family back. Aight?”

Thor nods once more, face twisting into a saddened pain a he looks down to the floor, “Okay.” Mumbles the god of thunder weakly, face reddening as his eyes get glossy. You let him take a breath as he avoids your gaze at all costs, eyes beginning to water while he tries to play it off.

Giving his shoulder a friendly squeeze, your brows furrow in puzzlement, “Are you crying?”

He shakes his head, some tears slipping despite his verbal protest, “No.” Mutters Thor weakly as his tearful gaze finally picks up to meet you, “Yes..” Squeaks out the teary eyed god while his eyes flicker from the far wall to your face once more, “...Y/N, I feel like I’m losing it. I don’t, I don’t know what I’m doing...I just feel so...shit I don’t know anymore.” Admits the fearful Asgardian as he avoids your softening yet slightly annoyed gaze.

oh, Thor you sad motherfucker. I’ve been there.

Rolling your eyes you gently shake his shoulder for emphasis, “Listen to me you big lion, get your shit together! You can do this. You’re the god of thunder for fucks sake, you can do this Thor.” His face turns into a surprisingly more confident expression as he huffs with a self-assured nod. “I can do this.”

“Yeah...I can do this.” Repeats the Asgardian with a sniffle.

Smirking, you give his arm a friendly smack, “Good. Now let’s do this and get the fuck out of here.” You add before swiftly turning on your heel as you and Rocket lead the way to the door, reaching it, the talking raccoon tugs on your leg before you get a chance to open it. “What is it now?”

“Y/N, we lost him.”

“What?!” Realizing Thor has indeed slipped away and out of sight, you clench your fists in irritation, “Goddammit.” You seethe before looking down at Rocket, “Whatever, we’ll find marshmallow fluff later, let’s just get this stupid rock.”

——

Racing down the palaces golden hallways, your boots thud against the stony ground as Rocket runs on all fours right behind you, “I almost hope they catch you!” You shout in between the yelling of the royal guards as they hastily pursue the two of you down the hallway.

“We got the stone didn’t we!” Snaps Rocket as you pick up your pace. 

“We gotta make it back first you dumbfuck!”

He grumbles something unintelligible before you follow the beer tinged scent of Thor into another room, he’s speaking with his mother when they quickly turn around, “Oh, uh, hello...uh, queen something.” You mutter before Rocket practically smacks into the back of your legs. “I got the thing. Come on. We gotta move.”

Thor nods, speaking some last final heartfelt goodbyes to his mother before abruptly stopping the countdown to three just so he can summon his hammer. After a couple lengthy seconds, Mjolnir falls right into his strong grasp causing Thor to laugh and smile in excitement. “I’m still worthy! I’m still worthy.”

Rocket shares a look with you, “Oh, boy.” Mumbles the raccoon as you simply roll your eyes at the bearded Asgardian prince. A moment later the three of you are sucked into the time portal once again before landing on the glass of the time portal machine.

“Did we get them all?” You hear Steve ask in wonder as you hold your stomach from the jostling ride back.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” You mutter as Rodney smiles in excitement at everyone around him and the stones in their proximity. “Are you telling me this actually worked?”

Taking a deep breath to steady your turning stomach, all eyes turn to Clint as he suddenly falls to his knees, face a mask of saddened grief that sparks panic in your heart. “Clint, where’s Nat?” Questions Bruce as your face falls.

Not her, not Natasha too.

Standing solemnly on the Facility’s large dock with the teams main Avengers in various places close by, you lean against one of the thin steel beams, a deep frown on your lips while your fingers anxiously play with Bucky’s dog tags around your neck.

“Do we know if she had family?” Questions Tony to no on in particular.

Steve swallows thickly, a couple free tear stains falling down the side of his cheeks, “Yeah. Us.” Mutters the blonde gloomily as you bite your bottom lip to keep from crying again.

“What?” Wonders Thor almost in disbelief as Tony gives him a quizzical look, “Yeah, no, you guys are acting like she’s dead. Why are we acting like she’s dead? We have the stones, right? As long as we have the stones Cap, we can bring her back. Isn’t that right?” Adds Thor, glancing between all of you before facing Tony again, “So, stop this shit. We’re the Avengers. Get it together...”

“Can’t get her back.” Interrupts Clint dismally, eyes still set on the open water beyond the compound.

Thor’s brows furrow in befuddlement, “Wh-what...”

“It can’t be undone. It can’t.” Insists Clint, voice slightly wavering in despair; Thor then starts chuckling at the absurdity of the whole shitty situation before rambling about space magic and that there must be another way. Clint on the other hand quickly gets heated about this and promptly snaps at Thor about some red floaty guy he met who revealed once the Soul Stone is taken, the one sacrificed can never come back. Ever.

Soon things calmed down again, though still a rather gloomy atmosphere still lingers like a persistent hazy fog even after they all left, leaving no one but yourself and Steve on the dock. He keeps a steady gaze on the rippling water as he lets his sadness take its course, this is indeed a heavy blow to bear.

Letting out a shaky breath, you move from the leaning against the beam to instead find a spot next to him on the wooden bench. Dog tags still clutched in your fist as you steal a glance at the tearful man. You’ve admittedly never seen him so upset, well, you both may have shared a good cry when Bucky was whipped from existence five years ago. That was the first time you ever truly bonded with anyone from the team, the first time Steve and Natasha showed you their vulnerability. 

And for that, you’ve formed a stronger bond with them that you’d never thought possible. They welcomed you into the compound like an old friend, always treated you with respect and gave you room when you needed it. And even when you didn’t want to be around anyone, they still forced you into playing cards with them anyways, among other dumb games. Which annoyingly so, is what your sad little self needed back then.

 But without Natasha, without her beaming heart and fierce attitude to keep fighting through the unknown and murky waters, you’re not even sure if this would all still be conceivable. Or if you’d even still be here with all of them for that matter, you might have gone on an angry warpath just as Clint did when everyone he ever loved was snatched from him forever. 

So why, after all this time and pain, is she the one who had to go? It’s not fare. And your heart feels broken all over again; sniffling, you swallow thickly before turning your head a little in Steve’s direction, “I didn’t know her for as long as you guys did.....but she was, really the best of us..” You laugh dismally.

 Voice shaky as you hold Bucky’s tags close to your chest, “..If not better. She was the first Avenger I ever met you know, the only piece of my past that didn’t try to murder me on sight, actually. I liked her. She was who I needed to get me through my grief, among other things huh...and uh...I will miss her.....a lot.”

Nothing is heard except for the low rustling of the nearby trees as a soft wind blows into your faces, Steve clasps his hands together, turning to you, “Funnily enough, it took me some time to completely trust her, but now....there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.” Mutters Steve with the flash of a genuine smile as he thinks fondly on Natasha, who you wish more then anything could still be here to celebrate the hard work of finding those goddamn stones.

It’s not fucking fare.

Swallowing thickly, you nod in agreement as more hot tears trail down your somber face, “The world will owe her their lives and never even know it.....but I will, we all will. Her memory will live on if I can help it, we owe her that much.”

Steve slowly nods, thumbs fiddling together anxiously as he mutters a raspy, “Yeah.”

You rest a comforting hand atop his broad shoulder as he shares a mutually dismal look with you, “We’ve already lost so much already and she fought for this like no once else did, we will avenge her Steve. I don’t doubt she knows it.”

-

Tagged: @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94  @iamasimpingh0e @mjaudrey  @thescarlettvvitch

[doomstypewriter]

The submersion | Intrulogical Mermaid AU

Future intrulogical.

Follow up on this animatic. | AO3

Words: 1728.

Summary: Remus has fun in his submarine. A giant barracuda disagrees.

CW: Dark humour, skeletal remains of a rat, drowning, deep ocean (if there's anything else do tell), death, sexual innuendo.

The submersion

It was cloudy.

And cold.

But that was to be expected when one’s in the middle of the Atlantic.

“Remus Prince, you dunce, how are you dressed like that?”

Remus turned around to see Ella Da Villa, the captain of the ship he was on, and an old friend. Her short afro was stuffed inside of a beanie, she held onto her sides through her huge puffer coat.

“I know you’d just rather I take it all off, but, honey, I need to at least wear something”.

She laughed.

“What you need is to make sure you don’t get drenched or--”

“First of all, I look amazing all wet. But if that’s what you’re so worried about, hey, I took care of that” he answered pointing at his green rain boots.

The crew looked at them in amusement as they moved the equipment, preparing everything for the submersion.

Ella took off one of her gloves and smacked Remus’ head with it.

“Ow! I thought you were against violence!”

“I never said that. But I am against animal abuse, that’s why I didn’t hit you hard. Now go and put on a coat, you dumbass”.

“Sure thing mommy, you know how to be commanding” he winked.

“It’s captain for you, now go!”

His boots squeaked against the flooring of the deck as he ran to get into the guts of the ship. He managed to hear Ella swearing under her breath.

“How did he even graduate? Going out in short sleeves…”

Ella was a funny one, Remus thought. It was easy to get under her skin, she also liked to play along which made it even better.

One of the people going up the metal stairs almost tripped against him, there wasn’t that much room, after all. Remus jumped over the railing and fell onto the lower level without a scratch.

“Oh my god! Are you okay?!” said someone.

A younger guy with spectacular hair held onto his forearm to check on him. Oh, this was the newbie.

“Don’t worry, I don’t have any lungs”.

“Wha…” he looked half perplexed and half horrified.

“You know, we all get it done since we’re going to end up sleeping with the fish anyway”.

He stood up quickly and mutely apologised. Remus enjoyed the view of his ass going upstairs as fast as possible. New meat was always hilarious.

When he entered the room his cupboard was already open. He liked to leave the sliding doors that way so he could see what was inside, otherwise, he’d forget about it. In a ship, that meant ending up with all of one’s clothes on the floor, but as long as Remus could see where they were he wouldn’t misplace anything. Object permanence was a bitch.

Messy floors did have an advantage, the coat on top of the pile was good enough to satisfy Ella and easy enough to grab quickly.

The backswing of the glove against his shoulder caught him off-guard.

“Ow! What did I do now?! This coat is fine!”

“The coat is fine, yes, but the new guy is shaking like a leaf. What did you tell him? He keeps saying stuff about drowning”.

“Hey, I’d never mention drowning when I’m about to get into a submarine”.

“Yes, that’d be very poor taste, sadly, you have it worse so you must have said something terrible. I expect you to fix this, or we’ll have to arrange you drowning”.

“You know I love choking on wet things”.

“Then your last moments will be pleasant. Consider me the best friend one could have”.

The new guy was holding onto the railing of the ship, staring at the water in concentration. Probably about to throw up or something.

“Hey!”

“Ah!” he screamed.

“Do you have a name?”

“Uh… yes… um…”

“Great! I have one too, it’s Remus” he introduced himself with half a bow.

“I’m Nathan… sorry… I’m just anxious… it’s the first time I go on one of those” he gestured at the submersible held by the crane of the ship.

“First times are always awkward, don’t worry”.

Finally, Nathan let out a laugh, it was a nervous one but it would suffice.

“You know what I said earlier was a joke, right?”

“Oh, yeah, it just caught me by surprise. You’re the head biologist here, right?”

“Yup. Guess you could say I’m the dom of this study”.

“Darn it, here I was expecting to be more active”.

Remus smiled in surprise. It was always nice when people had similar humour to his.

“Oh, you’ll have to be. I expect it”.

“You wouldn’t expect we could go for some coffee after we get into…” the date proposition vanished into a look of fear at the submersible.

Remus put a hand over his shoulders. The drowning jokes would have to wait until they were emerging.

“Don’t worry, my thicc ass has been there tons of times! It’s just a lot of water”.

“While it’s true he’s been there more than you, he’s overplaying his own ass. It’s kind of droopy” a heavily accented voice said

“Who are you calling droopy?”

They turned to see a tall blond woman smiling smugly. Erika Engström, oceanographer and the operator of the submersible.

“You, obviously, do you have water in your ears?”

“Not yet, but we’ll see if…”

Nathan held his breath.

“Nah, I don’t”.

“He either thinks you’re cute or he’s afraid the captain will throw him off-board if he keeps bullying you”, Erika told Nathan.

“I wasn’t bullying anyone”.

“Sorry to break it to you, but you’re always bullying people, you don’t know how else to flirt”.

“Then I would be flirting with everyone”.

“Aren’t you?”

“Okay, yeah”.

“Come on, I have to set up things. Give me a hand, rat skull”.

“At least give me a knife or something”.

“You can chew it through”.

One last look at Nathan before following her.

“Well, I’ll leave you to stress out, if I don’t help her we’ll dro…” oh right, no drowning jokes. “We’ll…”

“Flirt with me when we’re back at the surface”.

Remus smiled.

“Will do!”

-----

The light was beginning to fade out. The flickering of the few rays coming through a swirl of silvery fish would be their last glimpses at natural lighting for a while.

It was wonderful.

How the underwater landscape changed, morphing into something out of a nightmare. Never ceases to amaze him. People would say it was all just blue getting darker and darker, and it was! But it was also a thick fog from which anything could come out. He always looked forward to seeing the weirdest fish appear.

There wasn’t much room behind the giant acrylic viewport. Despite being stuck so closely together, Remus could feel a chill as the air within got cooled by the deep water. His coat lay forgotten at the back of his chair still.

Once the lights of the submersible switched on, a delicate dance of white dust shined just like it would on a sunny day. This was no room dust. But there was just as much beauty in seeing the marine snow surrounding them. Teensy tiny pieces of dead fish falling all around, making the nicest shapes.

“It’s so quiet” Nathan observed.

“Wait until you hear a whale. The first time I did I thought my skull would pop”.

“Which one?” Erika kept her eyes on the water, but he could see the reflection of a smile curving onto the surface of the acrylic.

“Well, the small one. I know you’d hate to have to scrape my brains off your console”.

“If you had any I would”.

“There would still be plenty of blood”.

The ship carried on with the descend, soon, they’d be at twenty thousand feet. Nathan leaned in.

“Hey, what did she mean by which one?” he said in a hushed voice.

“Oh! Right”

He pulled on the string of his necklace to get it from under his shirt. Remus held it in front of Nathan’s face.

It turned, revealing the empty sockets and the front of what used to be a snout.

“I have this rat skull as a necklace! Erika teases me because that’s how she copes with the fact that she hates it!”

“Anyone would hate it. You wear that thing everywhere. It’s creepy” Erika pointed out.

“Where did you get it?” Nathan asked.

In the dim light, Remus’s smile cast shadows, giving him a grim vibe.

“I used to have a pet rat. When it died it sucked, my brother and I buried it in the backyard. It was there until three years later when we got a heavy storm. The bones peeked through the mud. So I just yanked a bit on the spine and got it. The skull was already defleshed anyway, so, aside from cleaning it a bit, I didn’t have to do any of the work. I really like this necklace. I got into marine biology because I began looking at fish skulls and I wanted to see more”.

“That’s…” Nathan began to say.

Suddenly, the submersible turned violently.

“What was that?”

“I don’t know, I couldn’t take a good look”, said Erika.

Her frown told Remus something was seriously wrong.

“Guys, we’re picking up really weird signals from here. Are you all okay?” the sound of Ella’s voice through the radio distracted him from his train of thought.

“It’s all under control, but I am going to begin ascending” Erika replied.

“We haven’t taken all the samples”, Nathan said.

“We’ll have another chance. Right now I’m worried that---”

Erika did not have time to finish talking.

Its needle-like teeth loomed over the viewport. This creature was unlike anything he’d ever seen. Part of him felt excited at how terrifying it all was. Sadly, he had the feeling they were all about to die. This fish looked like a giant barracuda and an angry one.

The creature snapped its jaw closed, cracking the viewport.

Seemingly, it didn’t find it tasty enough and it swam away even moodier than before. The very least it could have done was eat them.

If you’re going to kill them might as well finish the job.

Remus’ body floated into the dark abyss as he struggled to breathe. Covering his ears tightly, he screamed in pain. The pressure was unlike anything.

Well, it had been fun.

<< Previous | Next >>

The continuation will feature Logan and another animatic!

Taglist: @lemonyscented , @emsiemaefander , @sunflower-avo-tea , @nadiestar , @amber-da-toon , @gabseliblack , @everythingisstardust

@trash-bastard , @under-the-blue-moonlight , @willowaudreykeyes

@queerly-a-hisssstory-momster​

@theyluna-womoon , @subterfugespecialist

[need-a-fugue]

The Weight of Winter

Written for @wonderlandmind4​‘s Fall Winter Writing challenge. The prompt? “Jack Frost can fuck right off.”

Characters/Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: You find comfort in the snow, in the eerie silence of winter. But Bucky’s just not into that shit.

“For the last time,” he mutters, words meting through tightly clenched teeth as he tosses the bag into the corner and tightens his metal hand around your hip. “We are not on the run.”

A final woosh of cold air blows past you, tiny tinkles of sleet and snow pelting the back of your neck as he ushers you the rest of the way into the room and kicks the door shut behind you. “Just let me have my fun, old man,” you pout, head heavy on his shoulder, legs nearly buckling beneath you.

“I don’t understand you SHIELD agents,” he grumbles, shaking his head back and forth as he takes care to lower you gently to the edge of the bed. “Mission’s over. It’s done. We’re in a safe house – ”

“Motel,” you correct, the word firing over the top of a pained hiss as his fingers begin peeling away the sticky fabric around your wound.

Bucky rolls his eyes – “Safe being the operative word.” – and shakes his head again. “And you’re… fantasizing about being on the run?”

“First of all,” you begin, voice low and far weaker than you expect, the sound alone causing your breath to hitch with a sudden – albeit fleeting – swell of dread. No need to worry, you remind yourself yet again. Because you never need to worry when you’re with him. “There is no SHIELD anymore,” you go on, struggling to fortify the statement. “So I’m not a SHIELD agent.”

His face tightens, brows shrinking together into an anxious scowl as he watches you feign composure. “Whatever,” he spits out, his concern quickly morphing into frustration.

“And secondly,” you continue, small, crooked smile blooming across your sallow face, “safe is all well and good… but danger can be so damn much fun. And sexy.”

He trains his eyes on your blood-soaked middle, refusing to look up and meet your teasing gaze. A deep swell of anger overrides that side of him that normally sparks and flames at your odd sensibilities, your quirky sense of humor, your unflappable desire to keep from showing any pain or fear. Ordinarily, he finds it all strangely enchanting, perhaps even admirable. But not now. Not here. Not like this. “You’re still in danger of bleeding to death,” he mutters harshly under his breath. “If that does it for you…”

You flinch away from him and flop backwards, falling onto the stiff mattress with a dramatic sigh, arms and legs askew. Bucky blows an impatient breath out of his nose and crawls up the bed to finish removing your nearly shorn tac suit. “It’s barely a graze,” you breathe out, muscles inadvertently clenching as his fingers work beneath the thick, leatherlike fabric. “I’m fine.”

“Knives don’t graze, sweetheart,” he replies with a raised brow. “They cut and they stab. And what you are is cut and stabbed.”

You let out another sigh – one filled with more than a hint of defeat – and you give into the exhaustion that the day – and blood loss – has wrought, allowing your body to sink down atop the scratchy comforter. Allowing Bucky to do what he needs to do. What’s the point in playing down your injuries when he’s the one tending to them, anyway?

You turn your head, gaze traveling to the far side of the small room, to the wide picture window there. Curtains frame either side of the slightly frosted glass, leaving the stunning view on full display. A sprawling clearing right outside the motel. A dense forest of snow-capped trees, branches heavy with the weight of winter, looming just beyond. All of it beginning to dim and darken in the blueish twilight. “I trust you,” you murmur softly, barely a whisper, final word catching as he tugs away the last of the sticky, blood-soaked suit.

He lets out a short scoff, little more than an irritated huff blown sharply through his nose. And he rises and spins to retrieve the large black bag from the corner. Zip. You hear him tug it violently open, sharp clinks and scratches echoing through the otherwise silent room as he digs through the bag’s contents. You know what’s in there. You know what he’s looking for. The fully stocked first aid kit, complete with styptic and a suture set. A full bottle of vodka, because you were always either going to celebrate with swigs or choke on a scream while disinfecting.

“Don’t get the clean clothes all bloody,” you chide weakly from the bed, eyes still trained on the tranquil beauty outside. Bucky’s bag is always packed with a fresh set of civies – one for you now too, ever since that tumble you took into a scummy pond a few missions back. He’s always got them buried beneath the other essentials, packed neatly away with care. Vaguely, you recall laughing at him – long, long ago. Mocking – You’re like a damn boy scout – back before you ever realized how much you would benefit from his preparedness.

Another scoff sounds as he continues to dig around, plucking out items and either palming them easily in his large hands or dropping them to the floor with a dull thud. But you don’t turn to see what exactly it is that he’s doing. You don’t need to. Frankly, you don’t care. This isn’t the first time he’s patched you up after a rough mission. Isn’t the first time either of you have been tasked with staunching the flow of blood from the other, stitching skin and haphazardly bandaging wounds that would make local clinics and hospitals just a bit too suspicious.

He knows what he’s doing, and you trust that. You trust him. So you keep your gaze trained on that window, on the melancholy dusk beginning to gray out the bright white field, draping a shadow across the snow-heavy trees in the distance.

It had started just after you exited the expressway, giant white flakes suddenly filling the sky, dropping lazily about you as he drove. As dark red blood seeped into your palms – into his wide open palm as well – as the two of you hurried deep into what had begun to look like a true-to-life winter wonderland. The further you crept into the thickly wooded hills, tree branches already glistening pearly white above, the more the car struggled for purchase – Bucky cursing all the way, steering with just his tightly gripping metal hand, refusing to let you go with his right – on the whitened roads. And the less everything seemed to hurt.

“It’s beautiful,” you mutter blankly – not for the first time – as you continue to stare longingly out the window. Your eyelids grow heavy, once reeling brain now slowing in time with the gently falling flakes beyond.

Bucky’s head pops up, sees yours turned away, your gaze locked onto the gradually graying expanse outside the tiny, musty motel room. “It’s a snow storm,” he says after a moment, annoyance creeping back into his tone. “Shit could’ve killed us out there.”

A quick – and painful – laugh vibrates through your body, your eyes pinching shut against the ache as you swivel your head towards him. The mattress dips beside you, and when you open your eyes again, he’s there, his warm hip pressed to yours, his bloodied hand once again resting on the wound in your side. His brow is scrunched with worry and dread, and you almost let out another laugh, one fond and wistful, as you reach up and trace a finger down the length of his all-too-serious face. Almost. “You think everything’s out to kill us.”

His tight expression uncoils just a bit at hearing your voice, feeling your touch, seeing your tired eyes lock onto his. “I see what the world shows me.”

You feel the scratch of his stubble tickle your palm as you flatten it atop his cheek, let it linger there for a fleeting moment before ending with a swift pat and letting your hand fall heavily back to your side. “Well, I see snow,” you hum out, blinking your eyes shut again as your head shifts back towards the window.

His fingers – both flesh and metal – begin to press and tug at your side, wiping away some more blood before – “This is gonna hurt.” – a splash of vodka spills over your exposed skin and down into the wound. It burns, causes you to jolt and stiffen and recoil, even as his hands pin you down. “Sorry,” you hear him mutter, barely a whisper, as breath returns to your lungs in fits and starts. As Bucky’s vibranium thumb takes a break from tending the gashes in your side to instead absently stroke a tender trail along your rib.

“I know you have some lidocaine in there,” you say with a twisted smile, voice strained as the blaring pain slowly recedes into a dull ache. “Could’ve shot me up with some of that first.”

He shrugs – “Need to see where I’m injecting it.” – and pulls away the gentle caress to begin his work.

All the while – as he numbs the large wound in your side, and another smaller one above it, and then begins to stich you up, his fingers swift and well-practiced – you stare out that window across the room and urge yourself to get lost out there, out in the cold, numbing winter landscape. “Is it Siberia that made you hate the snow?” you ask after several long, silent moments.

“Yes,” he answers pointedly.

Your tone shifts, becomes a bit gloomy, voice echoing a soft sentiment buried deep in your soul as you say simply, barely a whisper, “We could be there right now. We could be anywhere.”

Bucky continues to focus on his work, his words coming out clipped. “We’re in Pennsylvania. Not Siberia.”

“But it could be anywhere,” you murmur softly, tiny smile spreading across your lips. “We could be on the run. Together. Going… somewhere. Going anywhere.”

He’s silent for a long moment, nothing but the steady in-out of his breaths mingling in with your own more strained, more shallow ones. “Stark should have the extraction team here in a couple of hours,” he says finally, his voice tight and tense.

You let out a deep sigh, your wracked body somehow – despite the dull throbbing and disconcerting numbness – managing to relax into the bed. “Can’t just let me have my fun, can you?”

“This isn’t fun,” he spits out, words commanding despite the slow, deep, oddly soothing tenor to his voice. “I don’t even want to think about us being out here without any help on the way.” A long, languid breath spills out of him and you feel the warm press of his flesh hand atop your ribs, the gentle brush of his thumb returning and setting off a tiny, itchy tendril of delight – of love – in your core. He leans down over you, presses his forehead to yours, his breath hot on your cheek as he mutters, “I just want to get you home, doll,” before dropping a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth and springing back upright to finish his work.

You watch him for a moment, as he cuts down some gauze and tenderly tapes it to your side. As he deftly maneuvers a long bandage around your torso, whispers through clenched teeth – sorry…damn… sorry, doll – when the shifting of your body causes you to grimace and quiver.

When he’s done, you return your gaze to the outside world, the nearly full moon reflecting off the snow to breathe light into a space that is otherwise total darkness. Shuffling and clanging and snapping all sound in your periphery as Bucky dumps the spent supplies back into the duffle and strips off his tac suit, the heavily buckled jacket falling to the floor with a weighty slap. The water runs in the adjacent bathroom, his hulking shadow falling out onto the floor just beneath the window, just in your line of sight, as you listen to him hurriedly wash his hands. Desperately scrubbing away the evidence of your injury… of his own agony.

“Do you think it’s snowing back at home too?” you ask once the water shuts off.

“God, I hope not,” echoes out from the open bathroom door in an exhausted tenor. He steps out into the dim light of the room and tosses a quick glance outside, no doubt checking for threats rather than taking in the wonderous scenery that you’ve been living in for the past who knows how long. He lets out a huff, tugs on a clean T-shirt, and leans over to flip off the bathroom light.

“Jack Frost might be paying a visit to the compound right now,” you say with a crooked grin, your voice thick and tired, slightly slurred. “You never know.” The weight of your lids is becoming too much to bear, no matter how you struggle to keep them afloat. You blink – once, twice – so much time in between that you miss seeing the strides that carry him across the room.

The bed dips beside you and you open your eyes one last time to see Bucky tactfully lay down beside you, curling close without disturbing your still throbbing body in the least. He leans in and drops a swift peck to the very tip of your nose, his pale blue eyes holding tight to your gaze until your lids flutter shut again and sleep finally begins to overtake you. Then he lays down his head, barely a breath away from yours on the pillow, and he mutters, just loud enough to cut into your snow-white dreams, “Jack Frost can fuck right off.”

[pi-cat000]

MSA: Take Back The Future (part 3)

Summary: Vivi and Arthur travel back in time to the beginning of Hellbent. Neither of them are okay. 

(Part 1) (Part 2)

.

Mystery, instead of answering Vivi’s questions, leaps over the seat dividing the front and back areas of the van, exiting out the back doors.

“Wait, ” Vivi yells after Mystery, “get to back here and explain what happened to my memories.”

/It is not a tale that can be simply told. Not right now when we may be in danger/

Arthur thinks kitsune turned dog sounds slightly strained but it’s hard to really tell with Mystery’s weird telepathy. When the meaning of words are projected right into your brain some of the nuance is lost.

“Who is Shiromori? Why is she attacking us?” Vivi tries, following to glare at Mystery who circles the van, barely paying attention to the two of them. “Just answer one question!”

His mechanical arm twitches of its own accord and he eyes it nervously.  To hell with it. Arthur frees his hand and begins to feel about for the quick release lever hidden under a panel on his upper arm. After the van crash and almost getting thrown to his death, the arm had been too banged up to safely remove, jamming in place.  Best to be rid of it now, before everything when to shit all over again.

The sound of his heavy metal arm hitting the ashfelt draws Vivi’s attention and she turns to give him a quizzical expression.

“Better off then on,” He explains, “Wasn’t really working that well anyway. Hopefully, that’ll get rid of the curse as well.” Honestly, this cruse is the least of his worries.

Vivi exhales and Arthur can see the stress pinching her mouth, pulling it down into an uncharacteristic frown, “If the curse is specifically attached to your arm then removing it might work. On the other hand, if it’s anything like the one that got my memories then who the hell knows what will work. I certainly don’t. Apparently, I don’t know a lot of things.”

The last sentence is louder, directed at Mystery. There is no response from the dog who is staring off into the middle distance, head to one side like he is listening intently for something.  Arthur offers Vivj an uneasy shrug. He has his own questions for Mystery regarding Vivi’s memories, his arm, and the night they both went missing. However, his most recent run-in with dead-Lewis has him quickly reordering his priorities. None of the answers are going to mean much if he’s dead. Again…

Speaking of which… On the horizon, a purple light flares, glowing brightly against the dark backdrop. Arthur’s mouth goes suddenly dry and limbs feel very cold. Yeah, that seamed about right…

/You called this spirit Lewis?/ Mystery turns his head to examine him, expression troubled. /Are you sure?/  

He gives a short nod, eyes darting from Mystery then back to the road. It looks like Mystery is planning something based on how his fur is glowing red. He’d seen a similar red glow on the night of Lewis’s disappearance and during the confrontation outside his Uncle’s workshop. How much did Mystery know about Lewis? The question sticks in his mind, painfully heavy.

“Lewis? You mean the purple fire ghost? The one that caused the van crash?” Vivi steps up next to him, eyes locked onto the truck which grows quickly larger, “How are we going to stop it from running us all over?”

It’s too late to try a drive or run away now. Even if he decides to run there is a steep rocky slope on one side and a sharp climb on the other. If he did make it down by some miracle there was just flat desert and no cover for miles. Arthur doesn’t voice this observation instead commenting in a voice several octaves higher than normal, “I don’t think you need to worry about the ghost running you over. I’m pretty sure he’s only after me. So…ah…maybe don’t stand near me?”

Why? Why was Lewis trying to hurt him? In his mind’s eye, Lewis and Mystery meld together into a nightmare inferno of fire, teeth and death.

“I don’t want you to get run over either.” Vivi’s voice sounds faint, coming to him like it has travelled a great distance. Too much fear packed into too short a timeframe is making it harder and harder to concentrate. The ice at her feet thickens into long sheets, which creep out over the road, freezing it solid. He is probably lucky his remaining arm hasn’t frozen off with how tight Vivi had been holding it. Maybe if he turns into a giant Arthur icicle and he can sit this whole thing out. The hysterical thought momentarily breaks through his mounting panic.  

/Wait./

Arthur can almost hear the crackle of fire and the hum of the truck's engine.

/ You should not be drawing on so much of this power at once! You’ll damage the seal further!/

“I’m not letting Arthur die again. Anything comes near us and I’ll make whoever it is, regret it… that includes you.”

Vivi steps out so she is positioned in the centre of the road.

/I can handle this confrontation. There are still many aspects to the situation that you remain unaware of./

“And how am I supposed to fix that if you won’t tell me anything.”

/ I swear I will explain when there is more time. I only ever wanted to protect you./

“I don’t believe you.”

Vivi snaps the final sentence and punctuates it with a sharp hand gesture aimed at the oncoming truck. Several lines of ice stretch out and down the road, racing away from Vivi to meet the oncoming vehicle. Shining an ethereal blue, the frost coats the road’s surface, smoothing it over. Arthur catches the briefest glimpse of skeletal Lewis before the truck hits the ice sheets and the wheels suddenly lose traction.  The sound of metal crunching is deafening, accompanied by the hiss of water abruptly vaporising. Heat and cold collide in a cacophony cracking ice and explosion of steam.

A flash of bright purple fire. Mystery disappears, obscured by the thick columns of steam. He finds himself being yanked to the side by Vivi just in time to watch the purple truck careen past in a shower of sparks and groaning metal. At such high speeds, it rams straight into and through the guardrails separating the road from the rocky slope. Stunned, Arthur watches it disappear over the edge. If Lewis hadn’t already been dead then Arthur might have been worried. The sound of banging and crashing, as the truck presumably roles several times, has him physically wincing. Scratch that, he was worried. Very worried. Worried enough that it overtakes his mental panic and replaces it with deep concern. How durable were ghosts? He doesn’t know and that scares him. 

“Vivi! What the hell,” He finally manages to spit out, breaking his panic-induced stupor. He tries to rush past her, intent on checking for any signs of Lewis. He promptly slips. The combination of ice and his lack of a second arm throws off his balance and he ends up falling backward. He is saved from a collision with the ground by Vivi who seemed to now have supernatural levels of balance and was unaffected by the slippery surface.

“I …wow. That was… something.” Vivi breaths, examining the road still covered in planes of ice as if not quite believing it.

“Help me to the edge,” He interrupts, trying and failing to stand straight collapsing back on her, “I need to see if he’s okay,”

“Who’s okay? The ghost?"

“Yes.”

"You want to see if the ghost is okay? You said it was trying to hurt you?”

Arthur can practically see the concern and confusion now hanging over Vivi as she looks down from where she's holding him up by his one good arm.

“It’s just…a misunderstanding or something. I…we…might know this ghost.”

“What?”

“Just help me check.” He motions with his remaining arm. Visible through the plums of steam are thicker lines of darkened smoke coming from the space where the truck had disappeared.

....

Note: I’m Sorry to everyone who’s showed interest in this AU but i’m not sure if i’ll continue this since i’ve lost motivation.  Here are some of the more coherent plot notes if people are interested in this AU. Feel free to ask questions if u have any :) . 

...

-   Shiromori shows up directly after Lewis’s crash, distracting Mystery. With all the steam obscuring their vision Arthur and Vivi don’t realise that Shiromori has arrived immediately, and there is enough time to briefly look for Lewis. 

- Lewis makes it out of the truck crash only slightly worse for wear and tries to attack Arthur. Vivi moves to defend Arthur, then Arthur has to defend Lewis and it’s all very awkward for everyone. 

- Lewis sees how scared Arthur is a reconsiders his revenge plot, hesitating long enough to get some dialogue in. 

 - Arthur finally gives Vivi a brief Lewis overview (sans the whole ‘he almost threw me off a fake cliff thing’). Vivi is suspicious and somewhat unconvinced. Lewis is slightly confused when Vivi starts referring to the alternate time line. 

- Not time for further discussion because Mystery is fighting Shiromori and, since he had warning this time, he’s winning. 

(fight scene stuff. Vivi rushes in to do something idk this part is not planned.) 

Vivi overused ice abilities. 

Lewis and Arthur have a moment alone. 

Vivi, slightly untrusting of Mystery, ends up stepping to stop the two from fighting. (Vivi ends up saving  Shiromori maybe??? a parallel  to the original timeline). A dramatic moment where Vivi rushes in ( maybe takes a blow for Shiromori idk would depend on Shiromori’s backstory) and ends up injured. 

- ??? makes an appearance, takes over Vivi instead of Mystery. 

Some background world building stuff

- Vivi’s ice powers might become unsealed and she is vulnerable to ??? (spiritual energy is damaging to humans if too much is used at once or if is not used correctly)

- Yukino family are spiritual channels making them both more powerful and more vulnerable. Mystery holds a seal to the ability and it eats up a tails worth of power to maintain. Same deal with Shiromori, Mystery holds a seal to keep her fully realised abilities in check which also eats up a lot of power.

- The seal is damaged when Mystery is hurt

- Arthur is unaffected by the ice because he’s got some odd time based supernatural power which has bonded to vivi spiritual signtaure as well. This is the reason ??? want to possess Arthur. One possible resolution was for Arthur to figure out how to rewind time to the seconds before Vivi gets possessed, giving her a chance to defeat ???. It takes a lot of power which Lewis ends up giving to him. 

[shootingcookielover]

Warnings: Uhhh Remus being Remus, I think, otherwise... Kidnapping, I suppose and... Attempted murder?

--

Prince Roman had come to face the Serpent, had come to cut the beast's head right off. And he was going to! Becaus he wasn't scared.

At all. Remus was wrong.

Remus was always wrong.

So Roman entered the caves, sword firmly grasped in his hand. When he reached the biggest cavern, he stopped. (It wasn't because he was too afraid to go further, there couldn't be any bigger caves than this one. Surely.)

He drew in a deep breath and yelled, voice barely shaking from anger, not fear: "Serpent! I've come to slay you, foul beast!"

His words echoed along the vast room around him and he felt very small all of a sudden.

He couldn't hear anything but his own echo for a bit, but when that finally died down, his heart sunk into his stomach.

Some kind of... Scratching sound was heard, but also that sound that a body makes, a body that's dragged along rough stone. (He remembered vividly that time Remus had pulled one of their servants' kids on the ground for an entire day. Roman had found it odd and a bit off-putting, but they had seemed to both enjoy themselves, so he had left them to it.)

But there was also the distinct ruffling of fabric and, on rare occasions, a blink of something yellow reflecting what little light there was.

Roman should have brought a torch, he thought, but it was too late now. He gripped his sword tighter, raising the tip against whatever may come from the darkness.

His heart dropped all the way to his feet when the serpent stood to it's full height in front of him.

Whereas before the vastness of the cave had made him feel inferior, now he felt so utterly and incredibly small, he could barely breath. He took a hesitant step back, but no more than one.

Somewhere deep in his brain there was still that thought, that stubbornness, that he wanted to prove he wasn't a coward. It kept his feet rooted to the spot, even as his sword shook with his fear.

The serpent let out an amused chuckle that sent spikes of terror and adrenaline through Roman like fireworks.

The beast shifted again, but it was too fast and the cave too dark for Roman to know what it did.

Not until giant fingers grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him off the ground with ease.

Faced with a situation like this, some fight bubbled up inside him. He thrashed weakly, quiet pleas and sometimes threats falling from his lips, but nothing he did affected the Serpent.

The fingers only gave him a bit of a shake and the sword, already held in a fumbling, weak grip, clattered to the ground, alongside his crown. The only token still connecting him to his kingdom, tumbling off into the darkness below.

Any and all fight left Roman as the beast flicked it's wrist just so that he was atop it's hand.

It had raised him towards it's face; half of it oddly human, while the other clearly wasn't.

"You've come to slay me?", The creature questioned, one hand dramatically indicating itself. "I'm almost flattered!"

Roman didn't know how to respond, couldn't, even if he had known how to. His voice seemed broken and all that fell from his lips were fragments of sentences never quite formed in his fear-addled mind.

The Serpent hummed and Roman felt his breath catch, felt his heart studder and his adrenaline spike. His mouth clicked shut and he was afraid. So, so afraid.

"Well, assuming you have given up on that, quite frankly, impossible endeavour...", The beast's eyes moved across Roman's comparatively small frame. Took in the details of his hair, left a mess by the crown he'd worn before. Took in the red sash neatly tied across his torso, the white clothing and the obviously expensive brown leather boots. "I think I'll keep you."

Finally, with the last bits of desperation and terror and utter confusion, Roman managed to ask a question. "W- what?!"

Not a long question, but a question nonetheless.

The Serpent chuckled, not answering the Prince's question, not even with one of it's own. Instead, the beast reached out with a finger of it's unoccupied hand and gently stroked Roman's head.

"You're cute."

Not even a repeat of his earlier question made it past his lips this time. All he managed were distressed gurgling sounds that were vaguely worrying, but not enough so that the Serpent noticed.

It slithered off, into the depths of it's domain, carefully clutching a tiny human in it's hand. A human that realized with sinking dread that, no, that cavern hadn't been the biggest one.

Not by a long shot.

--

His steps were soft and inaudible in the damp air of the cave. Instead of a lit torch he carried with him a lamp, not yet housing the flickering light of a flame.

He didn't intend to draw any attention to his presence, not now anyway.

He was here for one purpose and one purpose only; to get his moron of a brother out of trouble. That idiotic twin of his had somehow thought that running of to fight a gigantic Naga was a good idea.

Roman didn't even know the creature's name, for the stars' sake!

Remus stopped in his tracks to stare at the darkness in contemplation. Logan was rubbing off on him.

A giggle escaped him as that thought was accompanied by the most pleasant of visuals his mind could conjure. Oh, how he wished Logan would make more of those delightful screams he seemed to be bursting with!

A joyful skip to his walk, Remus continued down the tunnels. Knowing his brother, Roman hadn't bothered to step out of the main cave into one of the side ones.

And people thought Remus was the dumb twin.

Maybe he was, he mused, as he skipped along and kicked some water up from a nearby puddle. He was following his brother into certain death, after all.

At the mouth of the fourth cavern, Remus stopped. Perhaps to revel in the delicious thought of a cavern-monster that just waited for travellers to step past it's mouth, so it could crunch them with it's rock-column teeth before swallowing them.

Or, perhaps, because he caught sight of something. Of something familiar.

Through the thick darkness he could make out the vague shape of a crown and a sword. While he'd never been quite as good at vision-enhancing magic as his brother, when he fell to his knees next to the items, he knew they belonged to Roman.

He didn't mind the cave's dampness seeping into his pants from the ground, didn't care about the chill digging it's way into his legs, settling into his bones.

He only cared about his brother.

With shaking fingers he reached out, one carefully tracing along the edge of Roman's most priced possession - a katana that had been custom-made just for the prince.

It was sharp as ever, giving Remus a small cut along his fingertip. He didn't care about that either.

He numbly picked up his brother's crown and sword, gathered them into his trembling arms.

"Roman...?", He whispered into the cold, uncaring darkness of the cave-monster's belly.

He received no answer, of course, and he hadn't expected to. Not if he was being entirely honest, and there was rarely a time were Remus was anything but entirely honest.

His legs shook when he stood, they didn't shake anymore when he stepped out of the cave.

Warm sunlight chased the cave's chill right out of him, but there was something deeper, darker it could not even reach. Something that had settled into Remus' soul the moment he'd pieced together that he would actually not see his brother again.

Logan sat not too far from the entrance to the tunnels, a book propped up on his lap. Remus would have found the sight endearing, had he not been carrying the last remains of his brother.

The royal advisor looked up when he heard Remus' steps. With quick movements the book was packed up and Logan was on his feet, approaching the dour looking Duke.

"Is Prince Roman--"

"Dead.", Remus said, not caring that he had cut the other off. He stared down at the items in his arms. In the daylight it became even clearer that these were Roman's.

That tiny scratch in the metal right beneath the third crystal, the one Remus had made and always refused to answer Roman about. The small chunk of metal that had come off when Roman had fallen out of that tree in the courtyard, the one that looked a bit like a hunching figure.

The crystal that looked just a bit too smooth, a bit too round, a bit too different from the others.

"He's dead.", He repeated, as if needing to clarify. "Roman is dead! Killed by a snake or a cave or maybe a fallen rock!"

Remus clutched the crown and sword tighter.

A hysteric laugh bubbled forth from the prince at that.

"Could you imagine that, Logan?! The great prince Roman crushed into tiny little pieces of flesh and meat and bone and skin and brain, all scattered underneath a rock?! Inside a cave? Never to be seen again?!"

He laughed more, he felt light-headed, tears were falling from his eyes. "Buried under tons and tons of earth, never able to get a proper burial pyre!"

Logan placed a calming hand on Remus' shoulder and the Prince's laughter ceased. There was only pain in his eyes, not a trace of mirth as he looked into Logan's eyes.

"That thing killed my brother, Logan.", He mumbled, arms tightening around the sword and the crown once more, not caring that the blade cut into his arm.

"I'm going to get my revenge. I'm going to kill it, too, Logan. I'm going to cut it up into tiny little itsy-bitsy pieces while it is still alive, to hear it scream and cry and yell and beg in agony for it's worthless life, but I will not spare it. I will never spare it. Do you understand, Logan?"

The royal advisor could only nod, already he was forming plans in his head on how to best help the prince. The only prince, now.

Remus gave a mirthless smile and walked past Logan into the forest, soon disappearing from the cave's field of vision.

He left only a small trail of blood behind.

--

So uh

The fic I made to go with that piece of art up there that was pretty much just a doodle

Uhhhh yeah hope you like it. I'd like to continue it, but I know I won't have the motivation/energy to see it through to the end so. Uhm. Maybe there'll be more, but probably not.

[jae-canikeepyou]

| day-off | j.jh

pairing: jaehyun x fem!reader genre: au + idol!yn a/n: again, it’s not proof read. i don’t think i even do that anymore omg hahaha! :D ~j.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“this is.. the building, right?” mark’s eyes trailed the new developed apartment estate, looking back and forth from the hand-drawn map.

doyoung rolled his eyes in frustration, “stop taking the map, mark.” he grabbed the already crumpled paper. the map wasn’t clear; it had been an hour since they arrived at the area, however with the directions drawn out, they couldn’t find the apartment jaehyun recently moved in to.

mark’s guilty conscience started to kick in when everyone surrounding him to look to doyoung; who was now tapping his fingers chronologically onto his waist in impatience. “okay i admit i was in the wrong for losing jaehyun‘s map.. but i clearly remember it, that’s why i drew it!”

“yeah while walking- *coughs*” donghyuck teased.

“well your map probably brought us to the other side of the city! we’ve been walking non-stop!” doyoung took an umbrage to mark’s response. all kinds of profanities jumbled in his head yet he was too tired to even deliver to the young man.

“johnny, tell doyoung he’s exaggerating!” mark whined monotonously. not that he was ignored, it took awhile for the lad awhile to realize johnny was looking elsewhere with headphones on.

a truck honked its horn and as it parked by the building they stood at, then the men lifted the metal door of the compartment. piles of boxes were placed at the front. hunch caused doyoung to walk up to the men. few nods and scratches of the head made the rest of the boys to tilt in question.

immediately taeyong knew what it meant when doyoung gave the raised brow. “we have to carry these up to jaehyun’s place.” he said. “they were sent to a wrong address, but this building is definitely jae’s.”

deep sighs went on for a good minute before they obliged with his orders. they, for sure had no energy to even complain after the unplanned walkathon; thanks to mark’s careless mistake.

whilst they waited for the lift, the out-of-place instrumental echoing the lobby created an awkward air dwelling amongst them. ultimate silence and pure exhaustion were cut short when they arrived at the door. taeyong had his palms onto the unlocked door knob and to their surprise they heard you both bickering and arguing like parrots.

“get off me y/n!” jaehyun’s voice startled the rest of them. a thud was heard. “seriously, you chose him?!”

“who cares if i did?!” you butt back and taeyong pursed his lips, making everyone mirror the same expression. “he’s way more practical!”

at this point, the only thing that went through their minds was the possibility of you.. cheating. it was finally their day-off after the tour and jaehyun was kind enough to offer a sleepover at his place. little did they know that they’d encounter such private matters today; like literally they were right outside his door.

“i think we shouldn’t enter just yet.” taeil suggested as he placed down a box.

“maybe they’ll stop if we messaged one of them.” yuta started to press letters onto the screen. a hand grabbed his phone, telling him to not do it.

“we’ll wait for them to stop.” johnny removed his headphones where your argument with jaehyun was louder than the blasted music in his ears.

mark yet again whined in a whisper, “i don’t wanna eavesdrop though. we can leave the box-”

“see you’re always like this!” jaehyun yelled in a much louder tone. “can you use your brain for once?!”

their heads all shot up at the amount of volume their bud gave.

awkward.. their eyes said it all.

“i am using it! you’re just too blind to even see it!” you let out a groan. the guys heard a multiple stomps your tiny feet ever did. they had never encountered you like this before.

as you both continued the probably endless argument, jungwoo found himself sitting onto the carpeted floor of the hallway. his share of box right beside him. the rest of the followed, all hesitant to even doorbell or bothering to knock when jaehyun started to yell again.

“i don’t have to see your brain! i’ll know your hardwork if you acted!”

“well your hardworking girlfriend’s doing everything for you! you’re the reliant one!”

“reliant?! reliant?! look whose talking! are you even hearing yourself?!”

“shut up! you should hear yourself! if i died, you wouldn’t have someone to depend to!”

“i don’t care if you died!”

the door slammed open, revealing the nine boys with boxes in their hands. taeyong was clearly pissed at the behaviour. “hey jung jaehyun. what you told her is way out of line-”

“hey guys.” you both seated so comfortably onto the giant bean bags, you and jaehyun greeted simultaneously with eyes so innocent and child-like. the tone was completely different compared to what they heard just minutes before. “great i was waiting for those!” your boyfriend stood up to help his friends.

you soon did the same, grabbing the home slippers to let them wear. as you talked, your brothers, a.k.a jaehyun’s friends, were very dumbfounded to the point they all remained quiet. you waved to them several times before you snapped your fingers, jolting them back to reality. “hello? i’m not talking to the air, am i?”

jaehyun sneeked his palms to support your waist, giving you a kiss on the cheek as you headed to the kitchen. “why didn’t you ring the bell?” he asked.

sicheng gulped at a volume before speaking. “we thought you were about to end things with y/n. we didn’t want to interfere.” he walked to the sofa and made themselves home.

“ah, you heard us arguing?” the chuckle jaehyun gave was rather genuine, as if nothing happened. “sorry about that. we were playing super mario bros on nintendo wii.” he took out a dirtied ivory white controller from this hoodie pocket.

oh what the..

“bubs saw it as we unpacked his things. been working for two straight days and we decided to take a break.” you had a glass tupperware and reusable plastic cups in your hands.

“yeah you had no idea how much nostalgia hit me when i saw it.” jaehyun laughed as he gestured you to sit beside him.

“i made lasagna~” you singsonged, passing the utensils around the center table.

the boys dove into the delish meal you prepared for them. as imaginary as it sounded, you could almost feel your shoulders heightening in pride when they complimented on how good it tasted. jaehyun reminded you to make two more batches because he knew his friends— and including himself, are pretty big eaters.

the recent comeback song of your group began to play as the playlist shuffled. they all stopped eating and used their forks as mics to mimic you. it hyped up everyone when your part came; you were the rapper. you gave in and went along with them.

noticing how the food was close to being devoured, you stood up and grabbed the rest to be reheated.

“hey jaehyun, have you ever heard y/n sing before?” johnny asked the blushing boy after he took a glance of your waiting figure at the kitchen.

“nope.” he popped his lips. “hold on, just hums i guess.” he replied.

“good thing i brought this!” donghyuck whispered, rummaging his bag for an item. few sighs of expectation came out from all of them as they knew what he meant.

they sang as if they’ve had countless of beer rounds. the jolly noise was getting louder as your song played. closing the door of the oven, you brought the last batch of your lasagna. taeil told you they wanted you to sing, and with immediate hesistation, you declined.

“why not? i bet you have a beautiful voice.” taeil complimented, and you couldn’t help but blush.

the bridge of the song was about to come when yuta passed the mic to you. in all honesty this part of the whole song was completely out of your range, but you’d be lying if you didn’t attempt this with your group’s main vocalist; rina.

they thought you had a voice of an angel, though you haven’t sung in public since your debut. as you hit belting and prolonging note, the boys cheered and nudged each other, signalling any of them to record your boyfriend.

jaehyun was speechless with his lips parted.

you blushed and hid your face right after it ended, grabbing a pillow nearby and collapsing backwards. “stop cheering!”

“why aren’t you the main vocalist?!”

“i have high hopes that you’ll be having a solo in your group’s next comeback!”

“y/n you’re really good!”

the pillow you were holding against to was removed from your hands. jaehyun smiled with beetroot coloured ears. “can you sing me to sleep later?”

“no.” you butt back, embarrassed that your boyfriend’s asking will be frequent now that he knows you sing well.

jaehyun whined and put his weight onto your small frame, squishing you so you wouldn’t escape. “i’m gonna tickle you.” he warned whilst his hands grabbed you.

“i’m not ticklish.” you defended with a straight face.

“we’ll see about that.” he leaned down where his chin was visible with stubble, attempting to squish his face to yours.

“jung jaehyun! stop! your face is oily!”

“blame it on your lasagna!”

“you eat like how a baby eats!”

“but i’m your baby!”

“yah get a room!” mark yelled, disgusted at the pda you both showed. well it was only jaehyun anyway. you were the victim of a playful act of your boyfriend.

you sat up with face all red from the chin upwards. “this is how i suffer everyday ever since dating your bro.” you told the rest of them.

“jaehyun did say he’s a romantic.” johnny made a teasing expression, earning a fake gag and sour faces from the others.

“and a forward person.” taeyong chuckled with his arms crossed.

“he said he’s very affectionate.” doyoung

yuta hopped in his seat. “he loves skinship too.”

“specifically holding hands.” taeil joined the tease.

jaehyun stuttered. “i- i didn’t mean it in a way yo-you’re all thinking of.” he threw a pillow.

“or did you?” johnny teased.

you looked at your boyfriend whose lips pursed to a flat line. he was so flustered and it was really cute.

“one more word i’ll kick you out of my house.”

[psychosistr]

Talk to Me- Chapter 4

Summary: On their way home, Domino and Steelbeak take a detour through the park. The pair take their time talking, getting to know each other, and reveal old wounds that bring them closer together.

Notes: Slight trigger warning for this chapter for mentions of gun violence, police brutality, and some minor bodily horror regarding Steelbeak’s beak (but it’s nothing overly graphic).

-First Chapter-

“-and I still have all of the dresses in my closet.” Dominic said, an amused smile on his face as he reached the end of his story.

The pair of agents had finished their dinner over an hour ago and, with neither wanting to end the date quite yet, had stopped at the park on their way back home. The gates had been locked as part of the local government’s vain attempts to keep petty criminals, supervillains (particularly Bushroot and the rest of the Fearsome Four) out at night; the locks didn’t slow them down for more than two seconds before they were in. Still, the locks did serve a different kind of greater good now- they allowed Dominic and Steelbeak to have the scenic park all to themselves as they walked wherever they felt like and talked the night away.

Steelbeak laughed at the other man’s tale, shaking his head as he walked beside him. “Wow, that IS crazy. You’ll have t’ show ‘em to me sometime- bet they look real good on ya.”

“I suppose I could model one or two of them for you.” Dominic looked at the other bird expectantly. “Same question: What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever had to do on a mission?”

They’d started playing “fact trade” a while ago. Dominic remembered it from his school days and thought it would be a fun way for them to get to know each other better. The rules were simple- they would take turns asking each other questions and whoever refused to answer one would lose. Both of them were too stubborn to give up easily, so they’d been going back and forth for over half an hour already.

Steelbeak pondered the question for a moment, tapping the base of his beak before an amused smirk slipped onto his face. “Alright, so, this one time F.O.W.L. High Command’s got me stealin’ all this rubber for- and I ain’t jokin’ on this one- a giant, bouncin’, remote-controlled SUPERBALL.”

“Oh, this is already off to a great start.” Dominic nodded along as he listened.

“I know, right? Think the guys were runnin’ outta ideas.” Steelbeak chuckled before continuing. “So, like I said, I’m tryin’ t’ steal this rubber and- big shocker- Dipwing Dork keeps showin’ up t’ stop me, only he ain’t alone this time.”

“Did he have his sidekick with him?” The loon’s mind wandered briefly to the handsome, well-built pilot that seemed to tag along with Darkwing wherever he went. He’d have to see about getting him alone sometime without his annoying boss around..

“Yeah, but this time he’s got someone else, too.” Steelbeak continued. “See, it’s this weird alien- real’ stupid lookin’ with muscles ten times the size of his brain. The guy’s got crazy powers and takes out me an’ the eggmen all on his own. Second fight with the guy, I get thrown in a closet and hear ‘em arguin’: The guy’s there gettin’ trainin’ from Dorkwing on how t’ be a ‘real hero’, but he’s so annoyin’ that even DARKWING gets fed up with ‘im!” He chuckled a little, his shoulders shaking as he tried to hold in his laughter long enough to finish his story. “So, I figure, why let that much power go t’ waste? I put together a superhero costume usin’ what I got in the closet…and come out with a towel on my back, a plunger in my hand, and a friggin’ BUCKET on my head I’d pecked a couplea eye holes in!”

“A bucket?” Oh, that image would be in Dominic’s head ALL NIGHT. “And that worked?”

“It did! Told that chump I was a ‘superhero trainer extraordinaire’ named ‘Professor Steelcluck’, and he FELL FOR IT!” Steelbeak laughed, holding his side as his laughter left him wheezing. “OH man, I’m tellin’ ya, that was even better than gettin’ Darkwing an’ Gizmoduck t’ fight each other!”

The rooster’s laughter was contagious, making the darker bird laugh too. “I wish I could have been there to see it.” After they’d both settled down, Dominic looked up at the taller man. “It’s your turn.”

“Let’s seeeee…” Steelbeak hummed as he thought his question over. Then, as if the humming gave him an idea, he grinned. “Oh, that’s a good one: What kinda music do ya like?”

“I actually don’t listen to music that often.” He replied. “Sometimes I’ll put on classical music if I want something in the background or I’ll find an artist here and there whose style I enjoy- like the one on the radio earlier- but I don’t really have anything I’m particularly interested in.”

“Classical stuff, huh? I’ll have t’ remember that..” The other bird muttered to himself before holding his hands out in front of himself like he was playing a piano with a chuckle. “I ever tell ya ‘bout the time I had t’ go undercover as a concert pianist for a couple months?”

“No, you haven’t.” So his assumption from before had been correct. “I didn’t know you played.”

“Yeah, can’t do nothin’ fancy like read sheet music, but I got a pretty good ear an’ can play a few songs if I hear ‘em enough times. Spent two months travelin’ ‘round the country playin’ songs so me an’ my ‘entourage’ could break int’ all the swanky hotels, music halls, and galleries the band played at- we cleaned ‘em out an’ snuck everythin’ out in the instrument cases.” Two light fingers lifted up and tapped the side of his beak, producing a dull “thump” like an empty plastic cup. “That’s where I got this one- stands out less than my usual piece. Not as good in a fight, but it works when I gotta blend in..plus it’s heck of a lot better for preenin’ than the metal one.”

“I can imagine..” Dominic winced in sympathy at the thought of trying to preen his feathers with such sharp, jagged metal- he’d probably end up tearing skin with a beak like that. That thought actually brought to mind a question that had been on his mind for some time now and, knowing that it was technically his turn, he felt it was a perfect time to ask. “Why do you use prosthetics, anyway? Were you injured during a mission?”

“Nah, nothin’ that excitin’.” Steelbeak said while scratching at some of the feathers around the edge of his beak with one finger. “Good old fashioned case of police brutality: I was fourteen, got caught stealin’ from this high-end mall. I was faster than the security, but it was one of those places where they had cops patrollin’ the area on speed dial- couldn’t outrun the cars an’ they grabbed me when I tried t’ climb a fence. One of ‘em pinned me t’ the ground while the other one stomped on my beak..said they were gonna ‘teach me a lesson’.” He winced, rubbing a finger over the beak to comfort what was likely a phantom pain. “Hurt like heck..broke most of it off..guess I got lucky it didn’t get infected, but it sure felt like it did..” Dominic saw the feathers on the rooster’s comb fluff slightly before he shook his head. “Anyway, when I signed up with F.O.W.L. I got access t’ all those sweet free doctors an’ surgeons- they whipped up the fakes an’ gave me a new identity. Still got some of the real one underneath, though. Stings sometimes, but it don’t hurt as bad when I cover it.”

“……” Dominic debated for a moment over the request he was about to make. Would it be rude to ask? “..I want to see it.” He finally said after a minute, his curiosity winning out. “If you’re comfortable with it, of course.”

“…” Steelbeak stopped walking to look down at him. “It ain’t exactly pretty t’ look at.”

“I don’t care- I want to see it.” The loon repeated resolutely.

“Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn ya..” He reached up to the sides of his beak with both hands and started applying pressure with his fingertips. After a moment there was a popping sound and the material shifted, looking more like it was loosely resting on something rather than connected now. He took the top part of the false beak in one hand and the bottom in the other and carefully pulled it away.

Once he finally got a full look at what had been hidden under the plastic, Dominic could certainly see what Steelbeak meant: It was not a pretty sight.

A large portion of it had been broken off, leaving behind dark scars that contrasted the natural yellow color. The closest part to still being intact was a long strip along the upper-right side of the rooster’s mouth, reaching almost the same length as the prostheses. Right beside that, though, was a sharp, jagged drop that didn’t go back up until almost reaching the middle of his mouth. After that there were two small slivers of his beak centered around the middle, leading to one last piece on the left that was barely an eighth of an inch longer than the other two. And that was just the UPPER mandible- the lower one was nothing but one half-length sliver in the middle and a few scattered fragments. Then, to top it all off, both parts of his beak were fixed to a thin metallic frame outlining the normal shape of a beak with a wire-mesh connecting the natural pieces to a series of metal posts that had been drilled into the hard tissue at the base of his beak and two small metal bolts at the corners of his mouth.

Looking at it left Dominic with some harshly conflicting feelings. On one hand, while it wasn’t the most beautiful sight in the world, it was quite an interesting feat of medical and scientific engineering. On the other hand, though, it was sickening to think that two fully grown men would pin down a child and permanently disfigure him in such a horrific way.

“It really doesn’t hurt..?” Just LOOKING at it made his own pointed beak ache- the loon shuddered to think what it must actually feel like.

The taller bird gave a calm shrug, able to still speak surprisingly clearly. “Not like it used to. Smarts a bit every now an’ then, but it’s mostly just phantom pains. Talkin’ an’ other stuff don’t bother it, but if I try t’ eat without one of the fakes it feels like gettin’ kicked all over again.”

“I see..” He took one last look at the mix of broken tissue and metal before looking up into the rooster’s eyes again. “Thank you for showing me.”

“Eh, don’t mention it.” Steelbeak brought the prosthesis back up to his mouth and slipped it over the metal frame all the way up to the base, popping the corners onto the bolts with an audible click. After opening and closing his mouth a few times to check it, he looked back down at Dominic as they continued their earlier pace. “Hey, whose turn was it again?”

“Yours.” The loon replied, walking beside him at an even pace.

“Right, right..” Taking a minute to think his next question over, Steelbeak eventually came up with something and gave the loon a curious look. “Why’d ya join F.O.W.L., anyway? Sharp, good-lookin’ guy like you had t’ have options, right?”

“Not really..” Dominic looked up at the moon as they walked. “My mother lost her job right when I was about to graduate from high school. Before I knew it, I was forced to drop out and we were living on the streets. Without a diploma I couldn’t get accepted into the college I’d applied for and I had to beg for money on street corners just to get by.” He scowled a little, the memories of those days still bitter and unpleasant for him. “The recruiter for that sector, Di Amund, approached me after he saw me take down two police officers on my own- they were trying to arrest me for vagrancy and, well, you know what happens when someone tries to pin me to a wall.” He heard a hum of acknowledgement in response. “He told me that I would be paid well, get to travel the world, and even be given a place to live. I took the enrollment bonus he offered, gave it to my mother, and left for the northern academy as soon as I could.”

Their walk had led them to the lake in the middle of the park, it seemed. Once Dominic’s story concluded, Steelbeak crouched down by the bank to pick up a few stones. “Livin’ on the streets, huh? Bet that must’ve been rough.” He split them up, keeping half for himself and offering the other half to Dominic. “Livin’ like that’s gotta be hard..bet ya picked up a few things that stuck with ya, right?”

“I suppose..” Dominic took the offered rocks, picking one and tossing it across the water’s surface to get about three skips before it sank.

“Ya probably have trouble throwin’ food away when it’s stale.” Steelbeak tossed one of his own rocks, getting four skips out of it. “Not the stuff that gets moldy or goes bad like meat, or vegetables, or dairy- I bet ya know just how sick you can get offa that junk- but I bet ya probably still keep the dry stuff like chips an’ crackers after their expiration date ‘cause it don’t make sense throwin’ it away, right? Sure, they don’t taste that good anymore, but they’re still good t’ eat an’ it bugs ya wastin’ that sorta thing.”

While he was in the process of throwing another stone, Domino halted and turned his head to look at the other bird- the resulting toss only getting one skip. “How do you-?”

“I bet ya have a few shirts or pants with little holes an’ tears in ‘em stashed away in your drawers, right?” He wasn’t looking at the loon as he spoke, his eyes on the lake as he threw another stone- five skips that time. “They’re kinda beat up, but they still fit just fine, so ya keep ‘em ‘round for the days when ya know you’re not gonna go nowhere or see nobody. Y’know you could just buy more, but why waste the money when ya don’t gotta, right?” Another stone, six skips across the water. “Ya probably hate not bein’ able t’ shower right after gettin’ dirty, too, huh? Longer ya go without it, the more it bugs ya ‘cause it brings back memories of when you’d have t’ go days, probably even weeks without one.” There was a far off look in his eyes as he threw his last stone, the rock reaching almost to the other side of the water before it sank. “And ya can’t sleep without some kinda weapon nearby..but it ain’t just ‘cause of the trainin’ with F.O.W.L.- it’s ‘cause part of your brain still thinks you’re gonna get jumped, even though you’re in a locked room an’ not in an open alley somewhere, right?”

“…You’re right.” Dominic had been looking at Steelbeak the whole time he spoke. At first he’d been surprised that the other man knew some of his less obvious habits so easily, but now, after seeing the distant look in the rooster’s eyes and listening to the tone of his voice, he understood where that knowledge came from. “You used to live like that too, didn’t you?”

“Yeah..” A small, melancholy smile tugged at the lighter bird’s beak as he watched the ripples slowly roll across the lake from the stones that he’d thrown. “Used t’ live with my old man in a rinky-dink shack way out in New Duck City. Spent most of the time inside ‘cause the old man flipped his lid anytime I tried gettin’ out, for some reason. Never went out t’ eat, never went t’ the doctor, and definitely didn’t go t’ school- had t’ teach myself t’ read an’ write an’ junk ‘cause he sure as heck wasn’t gonna. Only ever got one visitor..” His attempt at a smile started to fall as the last of the ripples slowly went still. “My ma- least, I think she was my ma, she didn’t really come ‘round that much, could’ve just been some broad he liked, but we had the same eyes so I called her ma- anyway, my ma disappeared when I was about eight. Old man got way worse after that..started comin’ home with black eyes an’ bloody shirts, and even askin’ ‘bout what he did earned me a cuff upside the head. Then, one night about two years after my ma stopped comin’ around, there was all this racket outside and I kept seein’ red an’ blue lights through the curtains…got outta bed an’ went t’ see what all the noise was about..” He gave a short, strained laugh and shook his head, the lake finally still enough that both of their reflections were visible in the water’s surface again. “The old man went down swingin’- up ‘gainst ten cops with just a glock and he STILL took out half of ‘em…right before they iced ‘im. After that they started comin’ for the front door. I didn’t know nothin’ ‘bout cops back then, all I knew was they were the guys that just plugged my old man full of holes and thought they were gonna do the same t’ me…so, I ran out the back and kept on runnin’..” He took a deep breath and sighed, finally looking away from the water and up towards the sky. “Didn’t have nowhere else t’ go and no one t’ turn to, so I just kinda drifted ‘round from one alley t’ the next..went on like that for a few years, gettin’ by with what I could get for free and stealin’ what I couldn’t..”

Dominic wasn’t really sure what to say at first.

That was…a lot to unpack.

For all of his flashy style, expensive taste in clothes and cars and gifts, and his general demeanor, Dominic never would have guessed that Steelbeak dealt with that sort of thing from such a young age. Ending up on the streets in his teens had already been hard enough to survive day to day- he could only imagine how much worse it was for a child who should have been just starting middle school…

Black fingers tossed a stone across the lake, distorting the reflections again as it skipped five times. “How did you end up in F.O.W.L.?” A distraction, he eventually decided, would probably be better than sympathy in that moment.

To his relief, Dominic saw the life slowly returning to his partner’s eyes. “Now that,” Steelbeak began with a smile slowly forming on his beak once more. “Is a fun one..” He took one of the rocks the loon handed him and threw it at the lake, getting four skips. “So, I’m skulkin’ ‘round the classy part of Featherton lookin’ for chumps t’ fleece, when I see this guy goin’ off on some poor bird sellin’ hot dogs out of a cart. The guy’s a real jerk, y’know? Yellin’ at the girl, tellin’ her she don’t what she’s doin’, sayin’ she gave ‘im the wrong change- just bein’ a real tool, y’know?” He smirked, chuckling quietly. “Then I see his wallet stickin’ outta his back pocket and think to myself ‘This must be karma’s way of teachin’ ‘im not t’ be such a prick’, and who am I to argue with karma, right? So I snag his wallet when I’m walkin’ past- the moron don’t even notice ‘til I’m duckin’ ‘round the corner. He had over two hundred in there, it felt like I’d won the friggin’ lottery!” He watched as Dominic threw a stone, six skips that time. “I treat myself t’ a nice lunch in one of the lower-class joints on the other side of town, stock up on groceries, then head back t’ the half-finished construction site I’d been crashin’ in for the past couple weeks. I turn in for the night, thinkin’ I had a pretty good day…” He kneels down by the bank and finds another stone. “ ‘Course, that changed when I woke up t’ someone grabbin’ me in the middle of the night.” He found a suitable rock and threw it without standing up, only getting three skips. “It was the guy whose wallet I stole- he’d tracked me down an’ brought his buddies for backup. I see one of ‘em pullin’ out handcuffs an’ think they’re cops, so I grab the knife I keep up my sleeve and start fightin’ back. I get in a few good licks before I bolt, even slice the guy with the wallet right up over his eye.” Unable to find any more rocks, he eventually stood back up. “I almost get away, when BOOM! Some big guy in an egg-shaped helmet clothes-line’s me when I’m goin’ down the stairs. I fall down, black out, and wake up tied to a chair in a dark room. Buncha guys start askin’ me questions ‘bout who I’m workin’ for an’ I tell ‘em ‘Hey, if I had a job, ya think I’d be pinchin’ wallets and sleepin on rebar?’- I figured I was gonna die anyway, so might as well go out swingin’, y’know?” He chuckled, watching Dominic throw the last of his own stones out into the water- beating Steelbeak’s best toss and actually reaching the other side. “Nice shot. So, they keep at it for a while, even start pullin’ out guns an’ threatenin’ t’ kill me. When I don’t break down cryin’, the lights come on and this big TV comes outta nowhere- it was my first time meetin’ High Command. Turns out the chump I pickpocketed was one of their top generals and’ they were impressed ‘cause, not only did I manage t’ steal from a general AND take out a bunch of their guys on my own, but it turns out they can’t find any record of me even EXISTIN’- no birth certificate, no social, nothin’..guess my old man never wanted anyone t’ know ‘bout me, for some reason..anyway, High Command offers me a job. Same sorta thing they tell everyone they pick up off the streets- ‘come work for us, you’ll get money, a place t’ live, blah, blah, blah’. Didn’t have much t’ lose, so I signed up. Was too young for the academy, so they just had me shadow my first partner and learn the ropes from ‘im. Officially joined when I was fifteen, got full agent status a year later, and the rest is history.”

Dominic looked at the lighter bird curiously. “Wait- you were only sixteen when you became an agent?”

Steelbeak returned the questioning look with a proud smirk. “Ye-p. Youngest agent in F.O.W.L. history ever. Earned my promotion after that little ‘incident’ with my first partner: High Command figured I’d proved my loyalty and was good enough t’ start field work.”

“……” Red eyes gazed down at the slowly stilling reflections of the lake before, after deciding there was nothing else to do over there, Dominic started walking down the trail again. “I think I owe you an apology.”

Steelbeak followed after the shorter bird, looking down at him with one brow cocked curiously. “I ain’t gonna argue with ya on that one, but I gotta know- for what?”

“For..how I treated you at first.” He was reluctant to do so, but the loon decided he’d swallow his pride long enough to give the other man the apology he deserved (though he wasn’t willing to look him in the eyes just yet). “When High Command transferred me to Saint Canard, they originally told me that I was being reassigned as the apprentice for the chief officer of F.O.W.L.. I assumed someone with such a high rank would be much older than me, probably someone close to retirement looking for a protégé to pass his secrets on to…and then I read your file. The first thing I saw was your date of birth and I thought ‘Wait, we’re both 33?’. I felt so..insulted that they would want to make me an apprentice for someone who was only two months older than me- it felt like I was being demoted.” A frustrated sigh left him as he ran his fingers through his hair, pushing some of the longer strands back briefly before they fell back into place. “Luckily they changed my title to ‘partner’ by the time I arrived, but the whole thing still left a bad taste in my mouth when I was already in a bad mood…and I’m pretty sure it showed in my attitude. I didn’t realize that, despite our age, you had so many more years of experience.” Finally, he looked back up into the other’s dark eyes. “So..I’m sorry for how I treated you when we first met, you didn’t deserve all of the attitude that I gave you- only some of it.”

“Wow,” Steelbeak said with a quiet snicker. “That looked excrucriatin’.” Dominic was about to tell him that, yes, it hurt him immensely to say that out loud, but he was surprised when the other bird’s cocky smirk softened slightly and he looked away while running a hand over his comb. “But…I gotta take my share of the blame, too. I know I ain’t the easiest guy t’ work with.” He sighed and looked back down at Dominic’s inquisitive gaze. “Truth is, I didn’t expect ya t’ last this long, most partners don’t last a month with me. They usually get killed, get on my nerves so much I just let ‘em die, or I get on their nerves so much that they take the first transfer they see- one guy even took a demotion down t’ eggman in the arctic just t’ get as far away from me as possible. I’m..kinda used to them just comin’ an’ goin’ now, so I try not t’ get attached..I don’t even bother learnin’ their names most of the time.” The corner of his beak lifted up in a half smile. “Believe it or not, you’re the longest lastin’ partner I’ve ever had. I didn’t really know what t’ do with ya after the first month went by and you were still here, so I tried bein’ more social but..well…guess the damage was already done, huh?” The look in his eyes was gentle, almost pleading when he next spoke- an expression that Dominic wasn’t used to seeing on him. “Can we just, I dunno…start over? Start things from this week and pretend everything before didn’t happen?”

Pretend none of it ever happened?

The rude introductions, snide remarks, venomous words, and cold glares that made up the bulk of their first month together…The awkward trips to bars and restaurants where he’d blown Steelbeak off in favor of some good looking strangers…That horrible first dinner where Steelbeak had obviously been trying to impress him like he was another one of his usual arm-candy “dates”…The unnecessarily expensive gifts and the inevitable frustration that followed…

To pretend that none of that happened and just start over from this week- to start from that day in the break room where they’d shared a nice meal and had pleasant conversation while toying with the idea of having dinner at Steelbeak’s apartment sometime in the future- that, honestly, was one of the best suggestion he’d ever heard.

A soft smile spread across the loon’s dark beak, the smile instantly easing the other bird’s expression back into an equally soft look. “I’d like that.”

For a while, neither of them said a word, they just gazed into each other's eyes. They’d bared a lot to each other, exposed old wounds (literally, in Steelbeak’s case), and, with just a couple hours of actually talking to one another, had grown closer than they had in the months they’d worked together. In a way, it was a little silly: If they’d just talked to each other like normal people, they could have avoided so many awkward or unpleasant moments and may have even been further along than a first date by now. Well, they couldn’t go back and fix things, but they could definitely treat this as a new beginning and try not to repeat their past mistakes.

Before they’d realized it, they were at the end of the path back at the gate leading out of the park.

Dominic felt his smile fall ever so slightly. He really wasn’t in the mood to leave yet, not when things were going so well..

“Hey, stripes,” Steelbeak’s voice caught his attention and Dominic looked up at his partner curiously, seeing that the rooster’s focus was set on something on the other side of the fence. “You’re packin’ heat, right?”

“Always.” Dominic patted the side of his shirt, right over where he had his guns holstered beneath the fabric.

A smirk that promised mischief spread across the rooster’s face when he met his partner’s eyes, pointing at something on the sidewalk just outside of the park. “Ya packin’ ice, too?”

He looked at the object curiously, a matching smirk appearing on his own face when he found the object in question. Oh, this was going to be fun.

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

End Notes: This was probably my favorite chapter to write for this story. Coming up with a backstory for Steelbeak was way more fun then it probably should have been, but I couldn’t resist going all out x3

I also had a lot of fun thinking up what his beak would look like under the prosthesis and drew inspiration from the fact that I’ve had A LOT of dental work done in the past and actually have an artificial tooth with a post drilled into my upper jaw, so I thought about using something along those lines for Steelbeak but on a more extreme scale. I’m actually really satisfied with how it turned out, overall ^.^

[the-unknown-storyteller]

Smaller

(Universe by @linkeduniverse)

A/N Apologies for the delay, I didn't want to take this long, but I couldn't manage to write it until today.

Sequel to Small

Summary: Addison shows them around the small village of the Picori. Looking up towards the tree high above them, they all feel smaller than they've ever done before.

Also, the Picori's marketplace is simply irresistible.

______<<______

After a short pause where everyone just enjoys the drinks and the food, the small Picori stands up and smiles at them. They open the door of their home. “Done with your snack? Then let's go exploring.”

_______>_______

They've been walking around the village for quite some time now, meeting and visiting other Picori who are just as friendly as Addison is.

As they stroll around a rather open and deserted place next, the Links can't help but notice; while this piece of land was actually quite small when they themselves were big, it now expands beyond their field of vision. It almost feels like they've entered a new Hyrule. The occasional ladybug that passes by and the size of a tree leave in comparison to their body. It makes them realize just how tiny they are and how short their legs are at their current height.

Legend swivels his head away from a giant tulip he was looking at and towards Addison who is almost running just a bit ahead of them. Their feather swishes back and forth with the tapping of their feet.

“Not to be rude or anything, but who exactly are the Picori? Because Four kind of just dragged us here without any explanation whatsoever and then just dumped us in front of your door. Also, slow down a bit, will you?” Legend takes a few quick steps forward to where Addison is walking at still quite a quick pace.

“Ah, apologies, sorry. I'm just really excited about all this! Travellers in our town! I know that Four was here a few years back and we also caught glimpses of you and Hyrule centuries back, but having travellers arrive here just for the sake of visiting? That's something new,” the mouse-like Minish smiles at him.

"Now, to answer your question; back, way back in ancient times when one of the first heroes began their journey, one of our elders decided that it was time to help him. We've seen it time and time again how the first heroes were so incredibly close to failing," Addison gestures with their small hands, as they talk and tell their story, "because they weren't powerful enough on their own. How could they be? All they had was a normal shield, a normal sword and a piece of the triforce that hadn't even reached its full potential then. And they went to battle like that. Against an enemy that had more experience, more raw force and power. It was a truly impossible feat."

Four thinks back to the power he felt surge through him when he pulled the Four Sword. The Picori did indeed help him out, not only in the power department, no. Nights spend at a Picori's house come to mind. Memories of kind Minish like Addison, and Jin from the castle plaza, and the unknown Picori from the pond village drift through his brain. Days spent being nursed back to health. Nurtured wounds, bandaged cuts are remembered. He's truly grateful for what they've done for him. He shakes his head, gently pushing all those thoughts and memories away for now.

They stop at a market place, not far from their house. Stalls and pieces of ripped cloth are spread along and across the middle of the plaza, each offering various trinkets and treasures.

Wild and Hyrule interrupt Addison's monologue, as they suddenly split from the group. Four gives them an apologetic smile, but the Minish just waves their hand and shakes their head.

"It's okay. It's hard to resist our marketplace, they have a lot to over. While those two go over travelling equipment, I would like to show Legend something that might interest him. Come tag along," Addison says, glancing towards Legend's faded streaks of pink hair.

____

Meanwhile, Wild and Hyrule run over to a stand that presents oil lamps in seemingly infinite forms and sizes. There are round plumb ones with intricate designs cut into the metal that are impractical to hold or attach to their belts, probably meant for house decoration instead. Impossibly tall and slim ones make them wonder if a flame has even enough space inside there to live and grow strong. They look over the collection of lamps, eyes sparkling with wonder and excitement. It makes their traveller hearts sing.

Then, both of their gazes are pulled towards a model that's painted red with a simple rounded handle. It's love at first sight. For both of them, Wild and Hyrule. They exchange a few looks, silently arguing who of them should take it. Each of them insists that the other’s old lamp is about to break down and they desperately need a new one and should just take it. But no, yours is just as bad. Don't worry about it, you take it. No, no, you take it.

They peer at the lamp with sad and conflicted eyes. They really want their best friend to have it, they can make do with their old one. It's fine.

“Ugh, enough. You're taking way too long.” Legend rolls his eyes at their good-hearted souls. He and Addison just came back from a stall two places over that was selling bloo berry pastries which they got five of. Oh, how Four has missed those local specialties. One place further, there had been a Picori with a sack full of rare stones with magical properties. As Addison had predicted, Legend did indeed get very interested in those and even bought some. A few of them can dye hair permanently. Very practical. Addison and Four hide a smile.

“I'm done with your looks and nods at each other. You two look like kicked puppies whose favourite toy got ripped apart." Those said puppies turn their heads towards Legend, who now has to endure the devastation shimmering behind their eyes. Ugh, it's just a lamp. Four can't help but grin.

Legend's gaze drifts over to the table in the search of something that could solve this problem. Maybe a lamp that was similar in size and shape. The colour seems to be the most important. Theirs is one of the few that are a true vibrant red. It does have some scratch and aging marks, though. Knowing them they probably love it for exactly those imperfections. Legend sighs. At what point did he turn into their babysitter?

Not seeing anything, he lets his eyes wander some more until they stop at a particularly ugly lamp. With a twisted and bent arm, a body full of big dents and deep scratches all over, it is one of the more unappealing ones. The chipped rust red colour of it doesn't help at all. Ignoring all the cosmetic aspects of it, it seems to be functional with quite a large tank for fuel and a large glass window, protecting the flame that's going to burn inside. Legend bets his whole rupee sack that Hyrule's gonna love it.

Hyrule's and Wild's silent conversation has eventually evolved into a persistent mutter that slowly infiltrates Legend's ear drums until it reaches his brain, making it vibrate with the whispered rumbling of their voices.

"For sanity's sake, shut up!", Legend cries out, thrusting out his left hand. "There. Just take it. Problem solved. Let's get a fucking move on."

The pair stares at the ugly looking lamp, before they simultaneously break out into happy grins, more on the manic side if looked at too closely, to be honest.

"Thanks, Legend, it's perfect!", Hyrule shouts with glee, taking the sad lamp from his hands and skipping over to the Minish selling them all. Wild shoots him a grateful smile, then joins his friend to pay for their goods.

_____

"Now, as I was saying," Addison begins, reconnecting to the previous part of their exposition, "the Eldest at that time decided that the time had come for us to help and so we got together and formed what most… yum...would simply call the 'Picori Blade'...yum…"

Confused by the added sound effects, the Links look over to where Addison is walking and talking and apparently eating the remaining bloo berry pastries.

"Anyway, over the course of history we would watch over all of you and help you in small ways, like fixing your tools and clothing or making sure that you don't starve when you can't find any food on your travels." At those words Addison glances at Hyrule and Wild, who both give them a grateful yet sheepish smile.

The other two give them aghast looks, both have never run into those kinds of situations, always lucky enough to live and travel very close to villages of various sizes.

"You guys, living in the wild is really hard sometimes. Food doesn't always come flying into our open arms, only sometimes," Wild jokes, thinking back to the time a bokoblin threw a drumstick at his face. It's actually happened more than once. One time it was a pretty nice piece of steak. Hyrule nods along for the first part, but looks at him with a dumbfounded look at the second.

"Now," Addison breaks apart the confused but also tense silence that followed afterwards.

"There's one more place that I would like to show you. Follow me." The feather draws a half circle, as they turn around.

"It's my pride and joy."

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

It’s The Avengers (2)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Episode 2: The Vibes

Warnings: ...none.

Word Count: I’m supposed to be shopping for three upcoming weddings but all I feel like doing is writing and posting stuff here. Also, I’m probably sleep deprived???

A/N: But I’m happy.

MASTERLIST

E01, E02, E03, E04, E05, E06, E07, E08, E09

"'Morning Y/N!"

Wanda called out to your drowsy figure, still clad in your PJs, coming out of your room into The Dorm's lounge, followed by 'morning princess' from Sam, 'Got some good amount of rest?' from Bruce, 'please tell me it wasn't you snoring last night' from Clint, 'good morning, Y/N, would you like some coffee?' from Steve and a 'So you are Y/N!' from an overly enthusiastic Pietro.

Y/N: Woah! Had I known I was going to live with such enthusiastic early birds I would have never let Mr Stark bring me here. Not that these people are bad, I just don't wake up well to loud sounds.

*nodding your head in agreement with yourself*

Also, who calls their sleeping quarters Dorms? What are they? Eighteen?

You greeted everyone back as you made your way to the kitchen space that housed all breakfast items and snacks for the Avengers. Steve offered you coffee while Bucky was already making some tea for you and him. He knew from your previous encounter you weren't a coffee girl. You were taking out a tiny bottle of a liquid concentrate from one of the drawers when Sam came over and took Bucky's mug.

"That's my tea, Sam," his hoarse voice tried to stay calm. Sam took one good sip and put it back on the counter, "Still want it?"

Y/N: *scrunching her nose* hmm, scratch that. They're twelve.

Loki came out from his room into the hall, giving the lounge his signature smile that sent nearly all of them to turn to ice towards the frost giant. Ignoring it all, he came towards you and picked up your mug of tea. Bucky started to protest at the action when you interrupted him. "Oh, it's alright. I wanted to eat something before my tea anyways. Here, keep back the sweetener," you asked Bucky, bringing forward the tiny bottle you'd taken out earlier.

"I'll take that for my tea, thank you very much," Loki grabbed the bottle and put three drops into his tea.

Clint: It hasn't even been twenty-four hours and he's already started. *sips coffee straight from the pot in his hand*

*looks far away deep in thought before coming back* should I donate him as a sacrifice to the flat-earthers? If they ever find the edge of the world at least they'll kick him down into oblivion.

Loki: I always find joy in the simplistic things. *sips tea from the same mug*

It's fun to see tiny actions or faults irritate the small human mind, forcing them to lose their sanity little by little. That's what I plan to do to this excuse of a puny human that is Y/N.

You smiled back at Loki, surprising him a little with the genuineness of the emotion that reflected in your eyes. "Happy to help," you jested before taking out some eggs from the fridge to make yourself an omelette. "Would you like some, Loki?" You asked, making his smile falter for a bit before he looked into the camera and went back to his tea.

Y/N: I grew up with two brothers. One older and one younger. The crap they used to pull on me is nothing compared to what happened ten minutes ago. The trickster better up his game.

What no one else, except the camera was noticing was the heart eyes Pietro was having for Y/N.

Pietro: Who? Y/N? Yeah, she's cool. Don't know much about her but she seems okay. Average. Not the bad average. The good average. *crossing his arms while moving uncomfortably in the chair* She's good. She's...she's fine. *a hint of smile runs over his lips as his cheeks start to turn red*

You got ready for the day to let Wanda and Bruce give you and Pietro- the newcomers- a once over of the facility. Loki and Scott joined in as an unwelcome fifth and sixth wheel to have a bit of fun of their own.

Scott: I don't know what's happening as I woke up fifteen minutes ago but I am down for whatever it is the kids are doing. *gives two thumbs up to the camera with a wide grin*

"This is the east wing of the facility, as you know," Wanda stated with excitement as she pointed out while everyone walked behind them and Bruce, "it has our Dorms and lounge, our dining and kitchen, and study on three separate floors."

"We are now entering the north wing." Bruce took over as Wanda stopped on the way to pick up a message for her from Friday, "This one houses your training area...sorry the Avengers training area and relaxation space. I'm sorry I'm not sure if you're allowed here Y/N though I don’t think it should be a problem."

You were about to give a modest reply when Loki thought it best to interrupt. "Why not? She could really use some sort of manual labour while she's here. From external as well as...internal threats."

Bruce and Wanda looked at Loki with judgment with a hint of fear in their eyes- the fear not from him, but from themselves.

"Oh my God! You're right, Loki," you pointed out, "I think I do need some sort of training to help me put my stress and rage that I usually aim at another person to some productive use. So true about the internal threat buddy." Bruce and Wanda looked at you with admiration as they proceeded to show you more of the wing. Loki crossed his arms over his chest cocking an eyebrow at you as he watched you follow the doctor and the witch. Scott lagged behind, looking at you and Loki with suspicion in his eyes before turning to the camera and pointing in your direction with furrowed brows.

Scott: Is it just me or do I sense a little bit of a 'love' vibe between those two? Eh? Eh?

You were in the west wing now, leaving Wanda and a very reluctant Pietro behind as they'd been called back by Steve.

"This is research and development wing. We've got the best of the machines doing our work for us, thanks to Tony and Shuri," Bruce announced proudly before watching your blank faces. "Oh, Shuri is King T'Challa's sister. She's a genius."

"T'Challa as in the Black Panther?" You asked with piqued interest, Loki's ears following the change in the pitch of your voice.

Bruce affirmed.

"Cool!" You and Scott said in unison with stars in your eyes, making Loki roll his eyes hard before turning to the counter of multiple types of equipment you were checking out. Scott was at the opposite side of the room drawn in by a structure made out black metallic balls, trying his level best not to touch them.

"Do you know what that is?" Loki asked from behind you. You picked up the tablet lying in front of you as you studied the data regarding a research it displayed.

"Fascinating!" You breathed, your eyes going wide, "this is a study on the brain cell's ability to pick up messages from the...uhh...cosmos...universe, whatever you call it and trans-"

"Translate it. Yes, allow me to explain it to you in ways your little brain can understand." Loki snatched the tablet from your hand as he went on about the magic of the cosmos.

Y/N: Mansplaining! *smiles* He nearly got me there. It actually would have gotten on my nerves until he started rambling about the research through the example of his telekinetic abilities. *chuckles* His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. He didn't even realise when he broke his character.

Loki: *angry* I didn't break my character. *camera pans in* I've just never had someone hear me digress about my magical abilities like she did.

*camera pans in again* Oh, that sly fox. She's cleverer than she shows to be. But not to worry. I still have to play my final move.

Y/N: Nope. I don't think I'm clever. I'm just...observant. Why not cle- *deep inhale* I spent thirty-five minutes searching for my phone in the middle of the night yesterday with my phone's flashlight.

*camera pans in* I'm dumb as hell.

Bruce: Y/N seems like a good kid. I'm still not sure why she's living here with a crowd that composes mostly of a bunch degenerates, depressed or anxious minds. *smiles* She's so...so nice and-and *sighs* normal. *shuts his mouth as expression changes to grim* and then there's Loki. The polar opposite of this girl. Why is he living with us?

The south wing was the most extravagant thing you'd seen in your life. It was purely for the purpose of experiencing high society luxury. A dance hall, a cigarette room, a grand buffet room, an entirely different room for 'coats', and so much more. "Why do we have this here?"

"Ask Tony. I have zero ideas about this section," Bruce responded to your question, going straight out through the French door opening into the lawn ahead.  Scott, who was nibbling on some marshmallows, was about to go after the scientist when he stopped in his tracks as he saw Loki take you by the arm and disappear into the huge dining hall. He was quiet on his feet as he pressed his ear to the wall while coming near the door.

Loki took your hands in his, watching your air falter for a second.

"You seem really new to all this lady Y/N. I can only imagine how lonely you must feel within the crowd of such abnormality, wondering what purpose could you possibly have here."

Loki moved his fingers over your bare arms, chasing the goosebumps developing on your skin. "But you should know that I am here for you if you ever need me, my precious Y/N. For anything. And I do mean...anything." The whisper of his last word sent this little shiver down your spine as you looked into his green eyes seductively smiling at you.

"Loki I..." You looked at him as you took his hand in yours, "I know what you mean. And your invitation is quite tempting but," you moved closer to him, moving his single rebellious onyx strand behind his ear, "I wouldn't want you to do anything you're not sure about yourself." You reflected the similar whisper in your words, but with more concern and less seduction, taking the God of Mischief by utter surprise while Scott stood behind the wall next to you gasping and wide-eyed, smushing the marshmallows in his mouth.

Loki: *brooding until he becomes aware of the camera*

*whispers* why in Hel am I still here? *leaves the room*

Scott: HAH! I told you! *starts singing* Sexy love doo-doo-doo

You made sure you were able to catch Thor alone in the evening when he was back from his local kingdom.

"I apologise on behalf of my brother, Y/N. Is there some way you'd like to punish him?"

You had not even spoken a word to the God of thunder and he was ready with an apology and a method to punish his brother's unspoken crimes.

"Uhh...no. No. I just wanted to ask you if today's something special. Some sort of special occasion or anniversary of some event."

Y/N: I figured that the person trying to get under my skin today is practically the same person who had quite a controversial but considerable contribution in bringing down the worst villain of the universe. So, either he's diluted his IQ or he was trying to distract himself from something today. *shrugs*

"Why yes," Thor responded to your question with a sparkle in his eye, "it is a special occasion today."

An hour later, you, Thor and Scott were at Loki's door, knocking. Loki took his sweet time to open up, only to look at the three of you with questioning eyes before turning his gaze to the cupcake you held in your hand.

A string of 'happy-birthday-Loki's surrounded him making him scrunch his nose in disgust. "What is this madness?"

"This," you began as you took his hand in yours to place the cupcake dish in his palm, "is a small treat from us."

You couldn't help but smile as he looked at the dessert with questioning eyes, suspicious of what was inside it.

"It's a molten chocolate cake," Scott gushed, pointing at his own share half consumed already, "it's amazing. Y/N made these. Eat it while it's hot."

Scott went away for his second helping. "Don't push yourself too hard, my prince," you asserted to the God reading you with apprehensive eyes, "I am very easy to break."

Loki watched you go down the corridor, his eyes never leaving you till you disappeared at the turn to the lounge and kitchen.

He looked back at his brothers standing tall in the hallway smiling at him.

"So, what would you li-"

"Did you tell her?"

"...Yes."

"Why?"

"Because she specifically asked about it."

"And did you apologise on my behalf considering whatever punishment deemed necessary?"

"... Yes but I-"

The door was shut in Thor's face.

"I deserve that," Thor whispered to himself as he walked away.

Loki: *eating the molten chocolate cake* Why would you do this to a desert? It's disgusting *taking another bite and turns to the camera* I've had ten, why?

(You asked for this. Now suffer! 😂 )

E01, E02, E03, E04, E05, E06, E07, E08, E09

Taglist:

Permanent

@greenarrowhead @magiclolipopqueen @choke-me-sweet-pea @classy-swiftt @smexylemony @hazzastyles2471 @lokis-lady-death @lokixme @l0kisbitch @bambamwolf87 @tarithenurse @hiddlestonstansworld @itheoneofmanyfandomsi

The Office

@wishrains @ultraslytherwin @loki-the-fox @awkward-dr-strang3rman @royaldork @avenging-blackwidow

(If you have something specific you’d like to see in this AU please send me an ask, I’d love your inputs. If you’d like to be tagged, send an ask as well. xx)

[wolfinshipclothing]

A Brand New Day, a Whole New Life 2/?

AO3/FF

Summary: It’s been a month since Marco departure to Mewni, and he still lingers in Jackie’s head. But when she meets a new guy in the park and he invites her to a party, she thinks its finally the time to move on.And then everything goes to Hell.Now, she is trapped, she is hurt, and she might die soon… If she doesn’t escape.Without powers or skills to aid her, she will need to put her head to use and figure out a plan! The good news are she might find an ally.

Excerpt:

Silence. The voices slowly rose up, in a strange reverberating song. Even if Jackie were not mind numbingly scared, she still wouldn’t have understand any of that religious chorus. The room seemed to spin and tremble, filled with unnatural whispers. Jackie saw a faint light, just at the moment the Leader pulled out a long Staff from behind his back. It looked like a giant lamp. He moved it around like an orchestra conductor. She had the strange idea that the voices seemed to spin around that Staff. “Begin the sacrifices!” The room exploded in crying when the Leader produced a sword with his free hand and stabbed the boy. He went still on the floor, his blood spilling on the chalk circle. But the chalk was not erased; instead, it served as a pattern for the blood to flow around. One by one, all the kids felt, their corpses pilling on the floor; their blood adding to the circle. The ones who were watching the scene struggled in vain, and eventually they went silent too. Soon it was Jackie's turn.

Jackie woke up to a world of stone-cold cement and heartbreaking crying. She felt as if her brain has been put on top speed roulette wheel. She blinked repeatedly, trying to recover the capacity of rational thinking. The first thing she thought was that she had a mind clouding headache, and that she wanted to get the hell outta there and go home. The second thing she thought was that she had no idea where 'there' was.

She took a look around and noticed she was in some kind of basement. A single dying light bulb illuminated the room, touching all the bodies. Only after a moment she realized they were the other kids from the party. She tried to scream and that’s when she noticed the cloth gag in her mouth. When she tried to turn around, she realized they had tied her hands with rope. She wanted to get up but every time she tried to, another body bumped against her, probably trying the same thing, concluding in both of them falling to the hard floor.

A loud boom startled everyone. Jackie turned around on her butt to the direction of the noise: a big metal door –which appeared to be the only exit in the room, has opened, and two men in long cloaks came in. They were dragging a girl by the hair, and with a single look Jackie knew who she was. They threw Not-Sam on the floor, next to her. She was unconscious, but she still moved in dreams.

Now that she was not busy running for her life, Jackie examined the men with detail. They wore long gold and black cloaks and a golden mask that, come to think of it, seemed to represent animals. It was as if someone described, to a crazy blind artist, how animals were supposed to look and ordered him to make them into masks.

Both men leaned heavily against the wall, at each side of the iron door.

“Man, I am completely worn out,” said one of them, who wore a mask of a two-headed cat, “this urchin made me chase her for half an hour. Finally caught her in the bathroom. Meanwhile, you were who-knows-where, scratching your b-���

“Hey, I was busy,” said the other one. He was wearing an ape mask.

Cat turned his head to stare at his partner. “Oh, you were busy uh? What were you doing?”

Ape made confusing hand gestures. “I was supervising you.”

“Oh! You were supervising me!”

“Yep.”

“You were supervising me from far away, without actually looking at me.”

“…yep.”

Cat crossed his arms and looked away, like an offended child. “Well, I hope I did a stupendous job."

Ape took a moment to get a cigarette out of his cloak. He must have had a hole where his mouth was, because he didn’t have trouble smoking with the mask on.

“Oh yeah, you were amazing,” said Ape, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “you gonna be Cultist of the Month, you’ll see.”

Cat buffed, and Jackie could have swear he saw him rolling his eyes.

They were quiet after that. Jackie didn’t even bothered to scream, because they seemed impervious to the cries of the other kids. Every time one of the prisoners got up, Cat and Ape yelled at them to 'get on the floor or else!' She didn't wanted to know what 'else' was.

“Cursed teens, I hate them,” said Cat after a while, “They smell like sweat and cheap soap.”

Ape nodded. “If you think its crowded in here, don’t go to the south room. It’s busting.”

Jackie tilted her head when she heard that.

"Why do we want all these punks anyway?” asked Cat.

“For the ritual,” said Ape, “the reason why we are here. Remember?”

Cat scanned the room. “Isn't this, like, overkill? Half the town's children must be here."

“Yeah well… We’ll probably use just the ones here, and save the other in case it fails.”

Cat nodded, and went back to lean against the wall. Then he jumped, as if someone had pinched his butt. “If what fails?”

“The ritual.”

Cat got in front of his partner. “It can fail?!”

Ape scratched the side of his face… Mask. He scratched the side of his mask.

“This isn’t mathematics, you know? It’s not exact. And what if it doesn't work up at first? We have a whole room of kids to try again. And well, if everything goes to Hell we just… “ He made a weird hand motion that Jackie interpreted as 'leave' “You got it? Chill out.”

Cat nodded, and returned to his place against the wall.

So they got the rest of the party guests in another room, thought Jackie. She got an answer, but about a thousand more questions. Especially concerning that 'ritual'. She had no idea what it was, but she knew she didn't want to be here to find it out.

Before she could do anything, however, there was a noise like a supermarket speaker. A gruff voice resonated everywhere at once:

“Brothers and sisters. It is time for our reward. Bring forth the Cattle!”

Ape and Cat became soldiers upon hearing this.

“It’s Showtime,” Ape threw his cigarette on the floor.

The door opened with a blast, and more masked men came in, one after another, filling the already bursting room. They surrounded the kids, pushing and dragging them until they made a line in front of the door, of which Jackie was the lead. The men guided them through narrow hallways made of hard concrete floor and brick walls, lighted only by flickering light bulbs. Ape was at front, giving orders, and Cat was behind him with a muscular guard at his side. Behind them was Jackie, and behind her, Not-Sam, who had been forcefully awaken. The crowded corridor was full of the crying of the hostages and the angry screams of the men, giving orders of 'shut up!' and 'move faster!'

They walked for what seemed like hours, until they reached an immense circular room, lightened by dozens of torches. In the center there were five men, dressed in tunics with intricate designs that were hard to make out. They were standing in what looked like a circle full of strange drawings. On the outside of this circle, there were even more masked men, dressed in regular cloaks, all armed with swords.

“Place them in the Holy Circle. Assume your positions, everyone”, said one of the men in the center, who was wearing a mask of a laughing person. Jackie recognized him: it was the one that knocked her senseless! And the voice of the speakers. He must be the one 'running the show'.

There were screams and protests as the men dragged everyone around the circle. Jackie was lost at what to do. Scared of making a misstep, she let herself be and waited for… Anything. Any signal of what she should do. Or at least for her heart to stop fricking pounding in her chest so she could think!

A particularly loud yell was heard when a boy broke free and ran to the exit, leaving his captors behind. Jackie took that as the signal and tried to follow him, only to be held in place by someone behind her. She prayed that the boy would make it. He could escape and get help!

He made a run to the exit, only to be intercepted by two guards when he had reached the door. They lifted him by the shoulders as if he were weightless. They threw him into the ground and brutally kicked him. Jackie kept her eyes on the floor the whole time. When they were done with the boy, they threw him in the center of the circle. His face was now an unrecognizable red lump, and he was spitting blood from his mouth. Jackie almost threw up at the sight.

The men didn't' look moved with what just happened. They walked with rehearsed steps, guiding all the kids around the circle on the floor. Jackie was at the edge of her rationality. Everywhere she looked she saw an armed guard, a kid crying or being beat up; all around all she heard was the mocking laughter of their captors. She soon gave in to the panic and joined the chorus of heartbreaking screams.

“Silence!” shouted the Leader. The other four men had leaved the circle, but he stayed inside.

“Today is the day, my brothers,” he proceeded. “Today, the sacrifices we made will be returned, and we shall receive our reward!”

All of his subordinates shouted and cheered.

The leader raised his hands, in a priest like gesture. “Today, we will dominate powers that mortal men can only dream about!”

They cheered even more, getting ecstatic.

The Leader made a pause and scanned the faces of everyone in the room. “But for that to happen, more sacrifices are demanded. Not just the sacrifices made by others, but by us too. We must let go of our inhibitions, our moral chains, and reach for the future.”

He put his hand on the shoulder of the boy, who could barely raise his head.

“Fear not children,” he said, this time talking to him, and to the other kids. To Jackie. He almost sounded like a understanding father. “Know that you will be part of something greater. Blood is power, my children. And yours will be spilled for a greater purpose! You shall rejoice! Destiny waits for us all!”

The crowd erupted both in blissful screams and in deafening crying, depending on what side of the circle they were in.

The man behind Jackie moved uneasy. “Bah! That’ so fake,” Jackie recognized his voice as Cat's, “when i was a car salesman, my boss did speeches like that all the time… With less religion in them, but same style.”

Jackie wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to himself, but that sparked a tiny hope in her.

“Let me go!” she shouted, or tried to. The gag in her mouth muffling every sound she made. “Help me, please! He is insane!” Cat shook his head and tightened his grip around Jackie.

“Commence the chants!” shouted the Leader.

Silence. The voices slowly rose up, in a strange reverberating song. Even if Jackie were not mind numbingly scared, she still wouldn’t have understand any of that religious chorus. The room seemed to spin and tremble, filled with unnatural whispers. Jackie saw a faint light, just at the moment the Leader pulled out a long Staff from behind his back. It looked like a giant lamp. He moved it around like an orchestra conductor. She had the strange idea that the voices seemed to spin around that Staff.

“Begin the sacrifices!” The room exploded in crying when the Leader produced a sword with his free hand and stabbed the boy. He went still on the floor, his blood spilling on the chalk circle. But the chalk was not erased; instead, it served as a pattern for the blood to flow around.

One by one, all the kids felt, their corpses pilling on the floor; their blood adding to the circle. The ones who were watching the scene struggled in vain, and eventually they went silent too. Soon it was Jackie's turn.

“I am sorry kid,” said Cat, with a quiver in his voice that he didn’t have before. “It’s over.”

Jackie felt the tip of the blade on her lower back. She closed her eyes; a cold acceptance overcoming her fear.

“Enough!” shouted the leader.

The chants stopped. The blade receded. Both Jackie and Cat sighed, for completely different reasons. She was safe, as were the other ten kids after her, including Not-Sam. For now.

The circle on the floor, now colored with a repulsive red, has began to cast a ring of light that reached the ceiling. Just like nothing has happened, the leader emerges from the circle; his staff now shining a golden light that made Jackie felt sick.

“The time has come, brother and sisters.”

When the Leader spoke again it was not with words, but rather with static-like sound that could almost be seen, and threatened to melt your brain. The flames from the torches danced and grew in size, and finally they went off with a bang. The light of the circle casted red shadows on the faces of the kids and the men alike, while the staff’s light was reflected on the Leader’s mask. Nobody dared to speak. Then a blinding flare illuminated the room. A pillar of fire erupted in the center of the circle. It faded out quickly, and in its place appeared what took Jackie a few seconds to recognize.

It was a bathtub. A bathtub has just appeared in the middle of the room.

To make things worse, there was someone inside! His body was covered by the curtain, but his silhouette was seen taking a shower with no cares in the world. And he was singing.

“Dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen!” his voice was masculine and deep, if a little out of tone.

For a moment, Jackie wondered if maybe someone had spiked the punch, and now she was actually laying unconscious on the backyard floor, hallucinating like crazy, with the paramedics on their way.

“What the fuck…” said Cat, who was probably thinking the same thing.

The guy stopped singing. He closed the shower that somehow was still throwing water. The curtain was moved, to reveal a teenage boy with violet skin, three eyes, and big horns. And he was in his birthday suit. He screamed, as did all of the kids and men present, Jackie and Cat included.

“What in the Void’s name is going on here?!” he yelled. “Who the hell are you-“

He laid his eyes on the leader and grimaced.

“You again Sage?! That’s it! This is the last time you do this to me! You will pay! And the rest of you…“he looked around the room, his burning gaze making grown men recoil like scared bunnies; “You bought all the tickets. You gonna see what’s good!”

After that he disappeared in a flash of fire, bathtub and everything. The fire from the torches started to reignite, as if the lights were back after a blackout. A brutal silence invaded the room.

“Uh…” said indecisive one of the men in fancy tunics, “Was-was that supposed to happen?”

“Oh yes, he always take a shower at this hour,” said the leader, the so-called Sage.

The room turned into a movie theater, with the men whispering to each other, asking 'When does the show start?' Jackie, on the other hand, clung to the hope that this all was nothing but nightmare. Everyone jumped when another pillar of fire erupted, and the boy came out of the flames, now fully dressed.

“Now you will see what you get,” said the demon boy, taking a few steps towards Sage, “You think it’s funny to be summoned when you are on your own business? You think it’s-“

He stepped on blood. When he looked down, he found the lifeless gaze of the first victim. The demon boy's eyes turned into volcanoes.

“How. Dare. You.” he said with a trembling voice. When he spoke again, it was as if he were a thousand people in one.

“How dare you!" the fire from the torches exploded, as did his eyes. "Is your life so worthless that you need to-to… Kill other people in my name?!” he talked through grinned teeth; his anger was palpable around the room. “Well, you won’t do this ever again!”

The demon immolated itself, throwing fire above and around him like fireworks, turning the room into an oven. He elevates himself into the air, as if his own rage was controlling him now. His rabid screams echoed inside Jackie’s mind, inside everyone’s brain. He was tearing them apart from the inside! The men stayed in their places, shaking but paralyzed by fear. Sage however, exuded an aura of calmness that was unsettling.

“Any last words you want to babble?” shouted the demon, breaking the air with the clarity of his voice.

“A clarification, actually,” said Sage, unfazed, “You see, these sacrifices are not for you, Master Lucitor.”

With this said he raised his staff in the air and then lets it fall on the ground, inside the circle. A storm was released: thunder, lightning and howling wind. Jackie stared with horror how the electricity brought life to the still-warm blood, raising it to the ceiling in the form of tendrils. Before the demon boy realized what was happening, a thin blood thread tangled itself around his arm. He tried to pull it away, but a second one was added, and then another and another, and soon enough he was turned into a marionette. The electricity from the staff flowed through the blood tendrils, directly to his body. His howls of pain made the fire from the torches burn brighter and explode, releasing fire balls that held on to anything they could find. Including the cloaks of the men around. The victims of the fire tried to strip themselves out of their robes, roll on the floor, anything to save them from turning into ashes.

Sage and the other men in tunics yelled orders around, trying to regain control; but it was all lost when a fire ball landed on one of them, consuming him in flames before anyone could act. That was it: the status quo was broken and chaos took over.

This awoke something inside Jackie, a little thing called “logical thinking”, which has been drowning in panic as soon as three seconds ago.

She reached two conclusions: First, that somehow, the demon boy that was three meters in the air howling in pain looked familiar to her.

And second, that she needed escape. RIGHT NOW.

She used the chaos in her favor, and when Cat was distracted she elbowed him in the ribs. When he hunched over in pain, Jackie got free from his grasp. She had to thank her dad for the self-defense lessons as soon as she gets out. She saw the other kids had the same idea and were now freeing themselves from their captors and were running away while the captors chased them. It was like a perverse game of cat and mouse.

And speaking of which, Cat recovered his poise and was running to Jackie, yelling at her to 'stay quiet' She had no intention of following that order. She ran away, blindly at first, but when she saw the door she went for it. It was just like what happened at the party: she was escaping, moving like a snake, evading any person or pillar of fire that stood on her way. And just like before, she was stopped when she reached the exit.

“Gotcha!” said Cat when he laid his hands on her, “You better not-AHH!“

He squealed in pain and felt on the floor. Right in front of Jackie was Not-Sam, looking like a bloody and dirty angel.

I really need to ask this girl her name, Jackie thought.

She tilted her head to the door and Not-Sam nodded. They bashed the wooden door with all their strength until it gave in and opened up, showing a dark hallway. Jackie gets out first, but when she looked back she saw Not-Sam being held by two guards. Panic threatened to take over Jackie once again. She couldn’t leave Not-Sam there, in that literal Hell! She made a step inside, but when a guard cut her road, she was paralyzed. All the mad courage that had possessed her seemed to evaporate in a second. Her heart was telling her, 'get inside there, you can help them!'. And her brain replied 'no, you cant'.

Jackie turned around and ran. She ignored the screams of pain of the boy, the sound of blazing flames, all the literal Hell that was behind her, and she ran into the darkness.

[shinsousbedroom]

Replay

It’s a particular kind of agony that leaves Kazuya tied up naked to a chair in the middle of his living room, staring at himself playing baseball on TV while he’s sitting on a vibrator.

The agonizing part isn’t the rope or the vibes. It’s seeing his own face.

Or; Kazuya and Eijun stumble into a brand new kink in the middle of trying out another.

On AO3.

Kazuya doesn’t know how long it’s been when Eijun slips into the living room, pausing behind him with a considering hum. Eijun rakes his nails lightly across his bare shoulders, letting his fingers twine into the top of Kazuya’s hair, then jerks it back with a yearning grip.

“How’s it going, captain?” Eijun asks with a sarcasm he’s borrowed from Kazuya, eyes meeting his upside down.

The space around them is pristine and well-decorated—family photos on display, the tables and floors all dusted and clean, an outrageously nice TV mounted to the wall. There’s even a color scheme to the room, nothing like the mishmash Eijun originally wanted based on their teams’ colors. Soft, homey, and contemporary; the kind of classic place that gets featured in magazines about the lofty tastes of the rich and famous.

And then there’s Kazuya, sitting in the middle of it all, naked and tied up in pretty purple ropes to an office chair. Anomalous decor waiting patiently for Eijun’s ruin.

Kazuya can’t quite remember how they tripped into toys, then restraint, then BDSM. Something to do with him stumbling into Eijun’s poorly hidden box of dildos in university, back before they started dating. A near decade before they got married.

The neglect bit of it is relatively new, though. Kazuya has been trying very, very hard not to read into how much he likes the odd taste of an Eijun who putters around the house ignoring him, as if he could ever have zero desire to chase after Kazuya. Just the thought of it makes him desperate for Eijun’s attention and hands and dick, goddammit.

Kazuya knows he shouldn’t psychoanalyze it, some things in life don’t have reasons, but does it anyway.

But because Eijun knows he thinks like that, Eijun can’t help but undermine the actual neglect part out of concern. The minute he’s meant to check in on Kazuya’s isolation to tease him more, his earnest concern in making sure Kazuya is still enjoying himself blares out like a foghorn cutting through Kazuya’s goal of reaching his perfect, spacey sex haze.

Eijun tugs again, a mild reprimand for a wandering mind. There’s a smear of some sort of grease at the edge of Eijun’s eyebrow, but the rope catches Kazuya’s wrist when he tries to lift a hand to rub it off with his thumb. Somehow, he’s forgotten his hands are tied together at the small of his back, both too present in his own body and a world away from it. From the impish grin on his face, Eijun catches the failure.

“Is it time for you to fuck me yet?” Kazuya asks, trying to press his head further into the grip Eijun still has in his hair.

Instead of answering, Eijun lets go and kneels behind the chair, running a gentle finger over the area where the rope digs into his wrists, then kissing each fingertip. He catches a scratch of stubble on Eijun’s chin as he pulls away, crawling around the chair to sit in front of him cross-legged.

“No,” Eijun responds point blank, massaging Kazuya’s calves and checking the rope around his ankles. “And you call me impatient. Don’t I always have to wait on you to catch for me?”

“In case it’s escaped your attention, we’re not exactly playing baseball right now.”

Eijun rests his cheek against the inside of Kazuya’s thigh. His blinks are slow and lazy as he looks up with a disappointed frown, molten irises shining bright. As if he really could spend forever winding Kazuya up and dragging him back down from a high.

“That is not what I meant, Miyuki Kazuya. You’re being unreasonable.” Eijun nips at the thin skin of his knee. Kazuya barely keeps his knee from bashing into Eijun’s nose from a shock of desire. His entire body feels hypersensitive, attuned to every change in temperature and airflow while he has nothing else to do but feel. With every movement, his skin drags a stutter against the leather of the chair, sweat and lube mixed unevenly across his thighs and back, so as to catch and glide in turn.

“You’re unreasonable. You haven’t used the vibrator once, so far. It’s there, in my ass, ready for you,” Kazuya says, voice hoarse.

“So demanding,” Eijun grumbles into his skin, then picks himself up with a heave. “I know because I put it there, so I’ll use it exactly when I want to and not a second sooner.”

Eijun’s sudden distance is cold despite the heat in their house cranked up to keep them warm and drowsy. Whatever he’s been up to to keep from checking in on Kazuya too soon is working. Their last few attempts at denial had been wrecked by someone’s enthusiasm. But in front of Kazuya, it’s still too easy to see the sheen across Eijun’s brow, the way he can’t stop biting and licking his own lips. One of his heels is bouncing on the floor, the only way he can release all the energy keyed up inside of him right now.

“But you do want to.” Kazuya feels so powerful right now, pitching forward in the chair as much as the rope will let him. It’s not just the blood pounding rabbit-quick through his body that’s making him hot, but the way Eijun is struggling to maintain his cool against Kazuya’s own bratty, undermining hand. From the tempting flush of Kazuya’s cheeks to his cock filling out against his stomach, legs spread wide in invitation, getting to see his unrestrained want even as he’s tied tight just for Eijun—Kazuya must be a beautiful sight.

…So maybe Kazuya’s grasp on willpower is also nonexistent in the face of Sawamura Eijun. He literally asked for Eijun to make him wait. They are both really bad at sticking to a theme.

Eijun crosses his arms over his chest, and Kazuya loses a moment to admiring his biceps, out and armed in his casual tank top and grey sweats. “You are being way too snarky. You’re supposed to be unthinking mush for me now. Mush! If your brain is stuck running 24/7, at least set it on showing your husband gratitude. Completely unacceptable!”

He steps over to a little side table where the vibrator’s remote sits next to the TV’s. He stares at the two for a second before grabbing the latter, much to Kazuya’s relieved disappointment.

"Eijun.”

“Nope! If the silence is keying you up instead of blissing you out, you can empty your head with whatever’s on TV. Call me when you’ve learned your lesson and you’re ready to behave.” He flicks on a random channel, safe in the knowledge Kazuya hates watching TV and will only fidget more from the stimulation, then leaves before Kazuya gathers his thoughts enough to protest.

It does its job, for a while. Kazuya’s eyes go glassy at the colors and sounds, but he’s already overwhelmed by his own body when he closes his eyes to shut it out.

The commercials clear past a blur of cars, snacks, and local lawyers. And the programming starts back up again. Cutting through the silence of the room is a rowdy crowd and a set of announcers saying his name.

It’s baseball. Of course it would be goddamn baseball, in this household.

And then, with the sinking horror of watching a disaster unfold, there Kazuya is, front and center on the TV in his last game of the season.

He hates watching himself on the diamond. He can easily do it to analyze his baseball, but when he’s not focused on his form or a call or whatever the hell that throw was to third, it’s agonizing to see how obsessive the cameras are about following him between each play. He cringes at all the speculation about his future. And he sure as hell hates every time the cameras pan out to his fans holding signs asking him to marry them or—heaven forbid—something raunchier that gets blurred out when it airs.

Kazuya huffs, falling slowly out of the headspace he was just reaching, the heavy weight returning to his limbs the more his mind latches onto his own face splashed across the screen.

“And he’s out! Miyuki tags the runner in the nick of time—”

“Eijun!” he calls out, resigned at derailing the very nice night they’ve been having so far.

After a mildly concerning metallic crash, Eijun comes skidding around the corner from the kitchen. “That was fast. What’s wrong?”

Kazuya turns towards the TV with a pout.

Eijun takes a moment to parse out the fact that Kazuya’s old game is running despite it being postseason and there are plenty of other games to air with more relevancy right now, and laughs at the putout expression on Kazuya’s face. “Is that all?”

“It’s annoying.” He’s fidgety now, self-conscious in a way that’s turned his blush more towards embarrassment than lust. He can suddenly feel the rope, the bite of it distracting instead of just a soothing pressure, his chair creaking as he shifts.

Eijun leans over the back, arms smoothing down Kazuya’s chest to link together on his stomach, and presses a kiss to his hairline. The pressure of his body settles him. Eijun settles him. “You call me annoying twice a day. Get over yourself, you giant baby.” Tinny cheering hollers from the TV as someone steals a base. Above him, an impish grin lights up Eijun’s face. “What if I tell you what I see?”

Kazuya closes his eyes, relaxing into Eijun’s presence. “What do you mean?”

Eijun breaks away abruptly, Kazuya’s head dipping for a moment before he catches himself. By then, Eijun’s swung around to his front, looming over him larger than life as ever with a knee placed between Kazuya’s thighs, leaning in to cage in Kazuya’s chest and face. The chair is literally shaking from Eijun’s anticipation.

“I wanna tell you exactly what I see on screen when I see you.” Eijun’s voice dips low, mouth brushing Kazuya’s without a real kiss and building a fire back in his gut. “I’ll take you out of the rope—but I want you to stay in this chair like a good husband while I describe every detail to you and make that vibrator earn its worth. Think you can do that? Be patient a little longer? It’s always rewarding when I am for you. Let me show you now.”

Kazuya knows he could say no and Eijun wouldn’t be disappointed. If anything, he’d be ecstatic about healthy communication, it’s very important, Miyuki Kazuya! I love that you trust me like that, always, you make me so proud!

But that’s not the trust he wants to indulge in tonight. His dick is still hard and his husband’s really hot, okay? Just seeing him in all his lean muscle and eagerness is an argument that wins over Kazuya’s libido 90% of the time. It’s not a drive he wants to fight against, most days.

“Go on,” Kazuya says, surging up to steal a quick kiss.

The breaking joy on Eijun’s face already makes his impending agony worth it as he shoots off behind him to untie the rope, massaging out his arms again as he places each one onto the rests. “Stay,” he tells each hand as he carefully curls every finger around the handles.

He kneels down and flicks a glance back to the screen to catch a close up of Kazuya crouched behind home plate.

“Your thighs are so beautiful,” he says kneeling down between them, tugging the rope free. Eijun looks up, raking his nails up Kazuya’s thighs until his arms are laying down twin heavy lines of heat, pressing gingerly into the tender flesh of his waist. He leans forward so he can bat his eyelashes while his mouth is right there next to his dick, the fucker. “The way your uniform stretches across them when you’re crouched behind the plate—I don’t know how anyone can focus on the pitch when you’re right there.” Kazuya’s eyes flutter as Eijun presses a gentle kiss to the head of his cock, refusing to give him anything more than a tease. “I should tell you that more, how obsessed I am with your thighs.”

“If you love them so much, why don’t you marry them?” Kazuya bites out. It’s not the most inspired. Kazuya is distracted.

Eijun takes the question seriously, because of course he does. “I’ll marry you as many times as you’ll let me.”

“You’ll get a divorce instead if you don’t do something with that vibrator soon.”

Eijin narrows his eyes, then stomps over to the remote, swipes it off the table, and turns the vibrator on high , sending a shockwave through his body. When Kazuya’s vision clears from the flood, it’s settled down to a low, comfortable rumble, keeping him from relaxing while also making him boneless.

“You asked for mean Eijun, and mean Eijun has arrived!”

His dick is beginning to leak, especially at seeing how Eijun’s pants are tenting, too. “I’m noticing,” Kazuya says dryly.

Eijun looks down at the little remote in his hand and without a second thought, changes the pattern.

The switch drags a whine out of Kazuya, limbs spasming in response to the unexpected buzz inside of him. It’s a rhythm that steadily builds to a high intensity before dropping off abruptly, just when satisfaction might have been found. Eijun knows the way this particularly winds him up, which either bodes very, very well for Kazuya, or very, very poorly.

“It’s hard to focus on baseball, sometimes, when you radiate that stupid smug aura from striking out a batter. You make that same face in bed, y’know. In the sex chair, too,” he says, stepping forward enough to poke a divot into the chair’s leather padding by Kazuya’s shoulder. It spins lightly. Eijun swings him back around, jolting the vibrator inside of him. “But back to your thighs. They’re just right there. Constantly.”

“What do you expect, I can’t just take them off,” Kazuya says through reedy breaths.

Eijun mercilessly notches the dial up a few levels stronger.

He yelps at the wave of pressure that sweeps through his bones, only to recede with no final push towards a break. When his vision clears and he can feel the vibrator settle back onto a low hum, he glares up at Eijun’s shit-eating grin.

“Wait your turn, Miyuki Kazuya. This is still my night to monologue.” He pulls back and casually rests his arm against the back of the chair. The remote is dangling in his hand, right next to Kazuya’s face. “You could stand to be more patient, y’know.”

“That’s rich, coming from—“

Eijun grabs a fistful of hair at the back of his head and yanks hard. “What did I just tell you?”

“Tell me again,” he gasps.

“What is with this bratty behavior!” Eijun releases his grip and runs a soothing hand over Kazuya’s hair, then cups Kazuya’s jawline, moving aside to direct their attentions back to the screen.

Kazuya cringes at the camera lingering on him in the dugout, face burning. He’s just drinking an Aquarius. There are so many other people they could be showing, players actually on the field.

Eijun presses a hand to the base of Kazuya’s neck. When he swallows, Kazuya feels the hint of a promise in the pressure of each fingertip. “It’s stupid, the way you think the camera should be focused on the game. You think they’d waste time focusing on you if that wasn’t exactly what everyone watching on TV wanted to see? You’re the draw, Kazuya.

“No one else gets to think about you the way I do, though. They can look at you chugging your water or unbuckling your chest plate and fantasize, but I can watch and make a promise. Next time I see you with a water bottle, it’ll take everything I’ve got not to rip it out of your hands and feed my fingers into your mouth instead. If you think you get dirty sliding home, wait until I shove you onto the floor of the dugout. I’m gonna drag that annoying sly look off your face until you can’t even think of back talking, just stuck with overwhelming pleasure because of me.”

Eijun’s voice is raspy, crackling with fire as his nose brushes Kazuya’s ear, nibbling tiny bites to the shell between his words. “And shit, all the baseball gear? It drives me mad, how it’s your own kind of wall against anyone getting to you. You look so distant swamped in it all during a game. I wanna strip it off piece by piece and lavish each part of you below it like you deserve. I’ll start with that helmet. It’s a shame how it blocks your pretty face, but everytime it comes off, god, I wanna grab your hair and wipe every bead of sweat off your face and replace it all with come—

“That’s why I love watching your games, over and over again. Every time you show up on screen, it’s a reminder of what we get to do later.”

Eijun’s eyes flip between the screen and Kazuya, who is very, very still. And very, very quiet.

“And that’s a home run, right there! What a season for his RBI already—”

“You like me watching you like this,” Eijun says, wonder in his voice. He walks up to the TV, crossing his arms, letting a leg kick out as he tilts his head at the screen.

Kazuya drinks in the pose. The flickering lights of the screen make a hazy glow around his silhouette, the wild hair and comfy sweats, arms bare for him. He wants Eijun to turn around, to see the calculation in his head as he parses through the puzzle in front of him until he can take on the entire challenge of it with ease.

There’s something special about his observations to Kazuya, the way he pulls apart tape. Knowing the analysis doesn’t come naturally and that he learned it for the game—learned it from him. That skill was earned. And then it kickstarted a surprisingly adept analytic side of Eijun that’s opened up a world of possibility.

Like now.

Eijun spins on his heels, pacing towards Kazuya, pinching at his own lips. Eijun could stand to let Kazuya have a taste. He doesn’t care if it's of his fingers or his mouth, Kazuya is parched for anything and everything. His hisses out from between his teeth, the sweep of his eyes following Eijun’s hands, a desperate plea for Eijun to bend down just to touch.

Eijun hovers above Kazuya, refusing just that, not saying a word. His shallow breaths match Kazuya’s own, drinking his husband in. Kazuya does not reach out. It is the hardest thing he’s ever done, he swears, but he just clutches the armrests harder until his knuckles are white.

“Hey, Kazuya,” he finally says, low and gravelly. On any other night, Kazuya would shove Eijun down to his knees and feed him his cock the minute he heard that tone, balanced on the edge of breaking. He would ruin Eijun’s throat, fucking it until his voice was gone and every spoken word after served as a reminder of Eijun sucking so prettily on Kazuya’s cock.

But that’s for later. Kazuya’s being good for his husband right now.

Well, sort of.

Eijun trails a single finger down and around Kazuya’s brow, pulling down past his neck and chest, flicking his nipple on the way to his stomach. “Kazuya, if you like me watching you play baseball on TV, what do you think you’d do if I recorded you like this for me?” he says, golden eyes meeting Kazuya’s squarely. He turns off the vibrator, and the feeling of silence hollows Kazuya into a creature of pure need.

Oh, fuck.

Eijun’s pupils are blown, a maniacal grin settling onto his face at Kazuya’s frozen form. Eijun pokes Kazuya’s side and he takes a sharp breath in, having momentarily forgotten how. “I’ll sit you in front of the TV and let it play, so you can see how desperate you get for me. You can see the way your face goes soft just for me, so pliant when I touch you. You don’t believe you can be like this, can you? Always have a retort for everything, such a needling terror. But you’re so good to me, Kazuya. You open up just for me.”

And finally, finally Eijun perches a knee again on the seat between his legs, sinking his fingers into the base of Kazuya’s abs, a single brush against his cock lightning through his bones. He kneads the soft skin there, covered in wiry hair, not bothering to avoid the random touches against his cock as precome dribbles from the tip.

“I think I’d like to see you like this, too, on the screen,” he says, excitement bubbling free. “I love watching you no matter what, but I could break you down in a completely new way like this. The calls you make with your whimpers. Your form, head thrown back and gagging for me. God, and your thighs, spread out for me and not just teasing from behind the plate.” His hand moves lower, scraping a line down the inside of Kazuya’s thigh as he speaks.

“Think you'd wanna review that tape with me sometime?” He clicks a button on the remote Kazuya had forgotten about. Kazuya keels forward.

His head hits Eijun’s chest. His hands are wrapped in his tank top with a grip he can’t release. He can’t tell what the pattern or the pulse is, but whatever it is is good. There’s a clatter to the ground as Eijun drops the remote to steady his husband and maneuver him out of the chair.

Eijun reverses their places, Kazuya sitting on his lap in the chair, legs folded around Eijun’s thighs, eyes squeezing tight as he presses as much of his body into Eijun as he can. He basks in the soft cotton of his husband’s sweatpants, the ribbed lines of his tank scratching against his wired skin.

“Do you want the video to show our whole bodies in frame so you can see how you jerk with pleasure while I’m huddled between your legs and desperate to make you come?” Eijun skims a hand back to the vibrator and presses against it, then pries it out slowly, but not completely. The slide of it is agonizing. Eijun brushes it in circles, each pass knocking him higher and higher. Eijun wraps his other arm around Kazuya’s back, a firm hold keeping them close, their damp skin sliding against each other.

“Or maybe you want a closer shot, to remember the details. How slick your skin gets from the sweat and the spit. See my swollen mouth running up and down your bruising thighs, leaving my marks across your body. My fingers sinking into you, my cock splitting you wide.”

Eijun picks them both up just enough to draw down his sweats and free his dick. He slathers on a lube from the pump they keep duct taped to the back of the chair, and wraps a hand around them both. Even slicked up, his calluses scrape a fever deeper into Kazuya. “Or maybe it’s the recording more than the watching that’ll get you. You wanna put on a show for me?”

Distantly, Kazuya can hear himself keen into Eijun’s neck and spill over them, covering Eijun’s hand.

“Keep going, keep going,” Kazuya chants when Eijun falters, about to take back his hand. His voice is so weak, but it’s right in Eijun’s ear. His husband shudders—Kazuya has taken advantage of how sensitive those ears are more than a time or two—and double downs on his dirty talk and his twisting wrist.

“It would wind me up seeing you on tape when you're gone for your away games and I’m not. I could cry just thinking about how frustrated I’d feel watching you stroke yourself on camera for me where I can’t help.” Kazuya is shaking from overstimulation, world narrowed down to his dick and Eijun’s voice and hand wrapping around him. “Sinking down on a dildo when I’m not around to satisfy you, don’t even have you on the phone to help you through it. Jealous of myself holding you, a different me running my hands all over you and driving my cock into you—”

Eijun squeezes hard, coming with a groan. He lets go and grabs at Kazuya’s waist as they pant into each other. Kazuya’s fingers claw into Eijun’s shoulder and he urgently begs, “Eijun, Eijun.”

“Shit,” Eijun mutters, scrambling to pull out the vibrator, still buzzing a madness into Kazuya. Eijun’s hand is coated with come, lube and sweat still smeared thick across Kazuya’s ass. His fingers keep slipping against the vibrator, driving it back in until Kazuya’s whole body feels like static and his limbs lose their strength. It’s all he can do to keep his mind working at all, honeyed thoughts oozing through a numb haze.

Kazuya blinks and they’re on the couch. He’s laying facedown into Eijun’s chest, half on him, half under the back cushion. The vibrator is out of him, and Kazuya toys with the idea of making Eijun get him some sort of plug instead to soothe the weird emptiness.

Eh. He’d rather Eijun hold him like this, right now.

The TV is still on.

“What a comeback for the Giants,” the two announcers say, lively in their recap, “knocking the Swallows off their perch there at the end. After spending most of that game firmly in the lead, not even the catching and hitting talents of Miyuki Kazuya kept the Swallows ahead of the flock—”

The screen blinks off, and suddenly the only sound in the room is their heavy breathing.

Eijun shoves one arm beneath Kazuya and wraps the other over him, leaning him forward into his chest, “That was a surprise.”

“We might need to revisit that character sheet you made. Make a new one,” Kazuya mumbled into Eijun’s shoulder.

“Gonna have to make a new one anyway. Kuramochi ripped it up, remember?”

Kazuya snorts, recalling the horrified face Kuramochi had made when he accidentally found Eijun’s notes and research on trying to figure out how to pretend to sexually ignore his husband. For the things Eijun tries just for Kazuya, he always makes a character in his head and on an honest to god sheet of paper to play out, though half of them get tossed out pretty quickly. Honestly, it’s a miracle Eijun gets asked to do as many commercial sponsorships as he does. He’s a riot trying to act, even if he’s just acting as himself.

“I’m not the only one completely failing to play their role, here, Kazuya.”

Kazuya snorts. Somewhere between the immediate stench of sex, and whatever it is about Eijun that signals home to his animal brain, he finally realizes the house smells good. Like something’s baking.

He sniffs the air twice, trying to place it.

Eijun looks on, bashful and arrogant at once. “I made dessert.”

“That’s what kept you occupied earlier. What kind?” he asks suspiciously.

“Lemon bars. Extra sour. No sugar on top,” he said, nose wrinkling in judgement.

Kazuya lets his head slap back down into Eijun with a smirk. “I don’t think those will smear as easily across my nipples as the dark chocolate pudding did.”

Eijun pinches his waist. “That is not why I made them. These are meant to go in our mouths.”

“Technically so was the pudding. And it did. Eventually.”

Eijun sputtered and ducked his head to press his own face into the crook of Kazuya’s neck. “It’s annoying how much I love you.”

Kazuya can feel the smile pressed into his skin. “I love you, too, Eijun.”

[street-saint]

Giant Diaries, pt. 6

I can’t help but feel a selfish sense of pride as I drag Belladonna out of the market. This is certainly the most gutsy move I’ve ever pulled, and I’m more grateful that she played along than I am happy I saved her from a compromising situation. I guess that makes the whole thing a lot less noble, but I’m glad nonetheless.

We duck into an alley between structures to escape prying eyes, and I feel like I can finally take a breath. My heart pounds in my chest from the adrenaline, but I try to look calm for Belladonna’s sake.

To my surprise, she is laughing. No restraint. Big goofy smile on her face. Cheeks bright red.

At the very least she slaps her hands over her mouth when her volume increases, and I think I can see tears in her eyes.

“Well, you’re welcome I guess,” I sigh, not knowing what else to say.

Belladonna snorts, and then gasps for air. “No, I’m sorry. Thank you, I mean.” She snorts again and throws her hands back over her mouth.

I shake my head. Part of me wants to laugh with her and fully enjoy this moment, but I fear what it would look like for me to do so. I resolve to continue playing my part as the reserved, even voice.

I wait for Belladonna to calm down a bit before asking, “What were you doing in there anyway?”

“What do you mean? I was trying to get something to eat, of course.”

“And you were just counting on a Giant to offer you a free meal? In that case, maybe I should have just let you-”

“No! That’s not it at all. At least, that wasn’t my intention.” Belladonna actually does look a bit remorseful now.

“But you thought some Giant was going to offer you a meal without expecting some payment in return?”

Belladonna hangs her head down. Now I’ve thoroughly ruined her good mood. I hate myself for doing it, but I’d already committed to the tough persona. I guess I’m not sure how else to be around a Sprite.

“Look, I admit I wasn’t really thinking it all the way through. I was just hungry, okay?”

I wave my hand at her, dismissing the comment. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound like I’m upset with you. I just think you should be more careful.”

Belladonna looks back down at the ground and nods.

“In any case, it’s good that you’re okay.” I turn around to leave.

“Wait!” she calls out. I turn my head. “Where are you going?”

“There’s still daylight left, and I’ve got enough fuel to cross the desert. And since I’ve got nothing left to sell, I’m getting out of this town.”

“Oh,” says Belladonna. It’s obvious she is a little disappointed by my answer. I guess she was thinking I’d be in the city a little longer. I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t miss having her around, but the sooner I am free of the temptation, the sooner I can go back to focusing on my own life.

“Hey, if it’s any consolation, this is usually a pretty safe town for Sprites. And I do a lot of trading here, so it won’t be too long before-”

“Could you take me with you?”

I nearly choke on my own spit. “What?”

“I have to find… Well, I just can’t stay here. And if you’re going to be traveling, maybe I can just tag along?” I can see how sincere Belladonna is from her eyes. But there’s no way I could handle traveling with a Sprite in tow. Being that close...

I shake my head. “Sorry, no can do. I can’t afford to lose the extra space.” It’s not entirely untrue.

“What if you just brought me to the next town? I promise I’ll be out of your way.”

“You’re serious? I just got you to this town! You already owe me.” I realize the implications of wanting some kind of favor in return, and I quickly try to bury the statement. “Like I said, this is a pretty nice town; I’m sure you can find someone else who can help you.”

Belladonna shrugs, defeated.

I hate to leave her like this. I scratch my head. “Ugh, I dunno, I guess I could talk to some-”

I’m cut off by a voice shouting in from behind us.

“I KNEW IT!”

I turn around and see the face of a familiar looking Giant wearing a flannel shirt.

“Wick!” cries Belladonna.

“You’re both so full of crap! I thought you said you two were together!” The Giant I snagged Belladonna away from points an accusatory finger at me. Her eyes are blood red, and I can see the veins already beginning to pop from her temples. I can tell it’s already too late to try and talk things out.

“You know, eavesdropping is pretty rude.” A feeble attempt to defuse her anger.

“You take me for some kind of idiot?! You better just walk away from that Sprite. She owes me!”

“Hey! I-” Belladonna calls out from behind me, but I reach out to cut her off. I shake my head.

“Look, she doesn’t owe you anything alright? Just leave her be.” I reach a hand for my weapon. My Harpoon. It resembles a simple metal rod, slung to my back. I never thought I’d have to use it inside a city, but I prepare for what seems inevitable now.

Wick’s face continues to twist into one of red-hot fury. This is it. She’s inducing a rage. I lower my stance and prepare my defense.

“Have it your way, then!” And with that, Wick enters her rage. Her skin glows with an angry red hue. Her eyes change from crimson to a stark white. Her biceps bulge, and veins distort her skin, pulsing rapidly. A bit of spittle drips from the corner of her mouth, and I can’t help but cringe at the sight.

She charges forward. Though she started yards away, she is nearly on me in a moment.

“Belladonna! Get back!” I call out as I yank my Harpoon from its harness, twirling it my hands before bracing in a fighting stance.

I can hear Belladonna’s footsteps retreating behind me, just as Wick’s hands fly forward at my throat.

I easily parry, knocking them away with a sharp spin of the staff. This barely fazes her though, and she simply uses this momentum to spin into another lunging attack.

Her hands reach for me again and I defend with my staff. She snatches it and holds it still with a powerful grip. I do my best to hold her at bay, but with the strength of her rage, I stand no chance of overpowering her.

In an instant, I let my body go slack and drop to a crouch. Wick stumbles forward, losing her footing. I sweep at her legs with my heel and she lands with a thud face down in the dirt.

I stand over her, and with another spinning flare, jab my Harpoon down against the back of her neck. “Look, I don’t want to hu-”

Before I can get all my words out, I feel my feet leave the ground as they are swept out from under me. Wick swipes at them with her massive arm, and I curse myself for letting my guard down so arrogantly.

I hit the ground on my back hard and my brain rattles against the back of my skull. I use whatever will I can muster to launch myself quickly back to my feet before my vision even has time to clear.

I grit my teeth as Wick goes in for another attack.

“Teddy! Be careful!” I can hear Belladonna call out. I can’t even see where she is now, as I’m too focused on the brute in front of me.

I easily dodge her next attacks. She’s fast, but reckless. No finesse to her movements. This is what makes raging so ineffective; all power and no technique.

I spin away from another of Wick’s strikes, ending up behind her. I press the buttons on the grip of my Harpoon and give it a sharp twist. The weapon engages and the ends fire out in both directions, giving it another 4 feet of length.

I give the staff another spin and strike at Wick’s head, just before she can turn around to face me. With the extra range and momentum, I easily knock her off her feet and she is in the dirt once more.

This time I position myself to avoid a counter attack as I stand over my opponent. “If I so much as see you look at this Sprite again, I’ll finish the job.” I give the fallen Giant a swift kick in the legs, “Now get outta here!” In an instant, she is up and running out of the alley. She turns back just once, the rage now gone from her face, and she just sneers at me before disappearing back into the city.

I deactivate the Harpoon and the rods slide back into place, allowing me to replace it in its harness. I finally let out the breath I’d been holding in.

I once again hear Belladonna’s steps from behind me. “That was AMAZING! YOU were amazing!”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.”

“Do you… Do you think she’ll go after you again?”

“Hard to say, but at the very least, we should get the heck out of here in case she talks to the guards.”

“Does that mean… You’ll take me with you?”

I hang my head down and grit my teeth. I’m definitely kidding myself if I think I’ll be able to just leave her behind now. “Fine. Just hurry up.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

[qvicksilversass]

Nowhere to Hide - Part 2

You better Run

(Bucky Barnes x Reader) (Apocalypse/Walking Dead AU)

You and your makeshift family are getting by just fine in your isolated farmhouse, it’s deep in the countryside and well protected from the infected…until you’re betrayed and Negan decides you need to contribute.

Words: 2242 Warnings: Violence, very bad language, blood, zombies, diddy bit of fluff, nothing too graphic (I’m not that good at writing :p)

An: Sorry this was meant to be posted last night but I got carried away making gifs, might do a part 3? Was going to leave it here but can’t make up my mind. I could watch that 2nd gif all day. 😍

Tags: @lexbugz, @wellfuckbuck, @goal-mine, @officialstegosaurus, @bugalouie, @iamtheonewhocares, @itsdarkwitch, @iamwarrenspeace, @n0th0​, @sevenhelens, @ilovetaquitosmmmm, @theridiculouspanda, @bywonater,

Part 1   Part 2

Masterlist |  Requests

Negan watches you and his lips curl into a snarl, urging you to make a mistake. Blood is starting to seep through his shirt, though not enough to kill him, the knife wound is bleeding badly. The pressure of his hand against it making little difference.

You lurch for the dresser and he clutches at your ankle, yanking you back and you slam into the floor, knocking the breath out of you. Sharp pain blooms in your chest. You don’t hesitate to kick back with your other leg and your heel smacks into his nose with a nasty crack.

“Fuck!” He groans, his only unoccupied hand now holding his bleeding nose.

Dragging yourself forwards before he can grab you again, you take Lucille from against the wall.

“You’re going to leave here Negan, and never come back.” You warn holding up the bat and he sits back on his heels then, raising his hands in surrender.

“Wow, and he said the redhead would be trouble!” He roared with laughter and smacked his hands together. You do your best not to flinch. Your lips forming a thin line as you watch him.

“I said leave.”

“Now, I can’t do that sweetheart, not ‘till my men get what they were promised.” He wipes the blood from his nose on his sleeve not taking you seriously.

“You’ll get nothing from us.”

He tilts his head, an almost playful smile on his lips, “See, that’s where you’re wrong. You’re gonna give me everything.”

“Once Bucky and his men realise they’ve been tricked, they’ll come back and kick your ass.” You spat and he laughed again, wiping his face with his hand before looking back up at you, false concern lacing his voice.

“Who? Ohhh, big guy? Metal arm? Yeah, he was a prick. Emphasis on the was there darlin’.”

“You’re lying.” Your grip on the bat faltered. No, it wasn’t true. He was trying to provoke you, get you to make a mistake. Bucky was alive. He had to be.

“Ohh, was he yours?” Negan takes a step closer to you pleased to have hit a nerve, “if it helps he put up a fight. It took Lucille three tries to bring him down, him and his friends.”

You swallowed, determined not to let Negan play with you. His eyes keep drifting to the bat every few seconds, he was going to make a grab for it. You had to do something. If he got hold of it again you would be dead. He was too strong.

Your heart beat wildly in your chest, you only had this one chance, you had to take it, you had to protect Mary. Your family. You swung at him before throwing the bat and darted into to the hall, picking up your gun. You sit back against the wall, not daring to look at the infected shuffling towards you, instead pointing the gun up at Negan.

“Now just hold on there…”

“Leave or I kill you, it’s that simple Negan.”

Negan rolls his eyes and goes to grab the gun, not realising the infected has almost reached you. Seeing the sudden movement the creature lunges forward with a garbled yell, grabbing for Negan while you roll and scramble to your feet.

What’s left of its rotten jaw snaps at Negan, while it’s skeletal arms attempt to rip his throat out. Negan does his best to hold it off, his hand around its throat to keep it at arm’s length.

“Well bitch, shoot the damn thing!” He yells, throwing it against the walls.

Knowing he would follow you and leave Mary, you shoot the infected in the head, then you run for the stairs.

“Where you goin’?! Hey!” Negan starts to chase after you, then rolls his eyes and goes back for Lucille, another infected throwing itself at him from the other bedroom.

“Well, this place is going to shit!”

You ignore him and dodge the infected on the stairs, waiting until he appeared at the top to run into the kitchen, hiding in the larder. It’s facing the cellar, the door is open and you can hear at least five of those things in there. The hallway has only one exit, so you plan to wait until he walks past, shove him down into the cellar and bolt the door.

It’s a good plan. It could work. You just have to wait. Hope none of the infected notice you and give you away. Your chest heaves and head aches, hands sweating as you wait, flinching with every smack of the bat against flesh and the thump of the infected, one after another hitting the floor.

“I’m gonna find you little lady, and when I do, Lucille? She’s not gonna be happy with you.”

Negan drags the bat along the walls, he’s so close, just turning into the small hallway from the kitchen. His shadow fills the hall and drifts closer, you brace yourself.

You rush forwards, catching him off guard and shove him as hard as you can, nearly succeeding. That damn bat catching on the door, giving him leverage against you. He regains his composure and punches you to the ground.

“What do you say, Lucille? Shall we have a little fun?” he twirls the bat in his hand and you clamber to your feet. He stands over you and pushes you back down to your knees, sharp metal scratching into your scalp where he presses the bat down.

“So, darlin’, do you think you’ve given me everything?” He grins, twirling around and gesturing to your wrecked house and you glare at him.

“Ooh, she’s giving me those angry eyes again Lucille,” he bit his lip, holding your chin, “I don’t usually enjoy killing women, but you, you’ve been a giant pain in my ass.”

He swung Lucille backwards, “Now that little girl? That I won’t enjoy.”

“You won’t get that chance, you psychotic bastard!” You fumed, not caring if you missed, if he hit you anyway, you lean back to feel for your gun and blindly pulled the trigger.

Negan stumbles, his leg giving way and he drops Lucille, blood gushing out of his thigh, holding onto the wall he stares at you in disbelief.

“I’ll kill you with my bare hands!” He charges at you, jostling you backwards. Grabbing for your arms, for your neck, anything to hurt you. You block him using the moves Bucky taught you and kick his thigh. He cries out in pain and you use the momentum to turn you both around, slamming him against the doorframe of the cellar.

“Wait…” he pleaded, gesturing to Lucille, “please, let me hold her one last time?”

“Sorry Negan, maybe they’ll bury her with you.”

You swung the bat into his stomach and he stumbles backwards, falling down the stairs and towards the infected. Already in a frenzy at the smell of blood, they frantically reach for Negan, tearing at him.

“You bitch! Your brains are gonna be the first I eat!”

“Goodbye, Negan.”

You slam the door closed, putting all your weight on it until you managed to close the bolt. Ignoring Negan’s screams and pounding fists on the door, you push a chair under the handle and pick up Lucille.

Covering your mouth from the rancid smell of the dead infected, you step over them and run upstairs to your bedroom. Mary jumps up at the sound of your voice, her little face petrified when you open the door. Forcing a smile you lift her into your arms, whispering words of comfort to her and telling her to close her eyes.

Careful to shield her eyes, you held Mary tight to your chest, her small body trembling with fear. You step through what was left of the front door and into the most frightening scene you’d witnessed since the world ended.

Smoke, fire, blood, the infected, it was like walking onto a battlefield. While your friends fought off infected, they dodged bullets from Negan’s men. Fighting their way through, trying to reach the women and children being forced onto their trucks. Your crops were burnt, the stench of burning flesh from your murdered animals hung heavy in the air.

It was all gone. The life you worked so hard to make, all your hard work. It had ended in death and violence again.

One of Negan’s thugs ran past the porch, stumbling to a stop when he saw you. Fat and balding, his bloodshot eyes scan down to Lucille in your hands, then over you body covered in blood.

“What the fuck?!” He barked, loud enough to hear over the fighting and you pulled out your gun, aiming it at his forehead before he can reach for his.

“He’s dead.”

“This bitch killed Negan! Kill her!”

All of Negan’s men spun around, staring at you confused. There was a slight pause as they glanced between themselves, one by one they raised their guns at you. Shit.

“No, Wait!” A blond man with terrible scars covering the side of his face ran out from the crowd and all eyes turned to him, “she killed Negan!”

“Fuck! You know what that means!” He shouted with more enthusiasm when his men stared at him with blank expressions.

“We don’t have to do this shit anymore!”

The men dropped their weapons and let your friends go, shoving them off the trucks, talking between themselves and the blond man made his way over to you.

“He’s in our cellar…” You tensed up gripping Lucille harder and turning your body, keeping Mary away from him as much as possible. Terror finally breaking through your rage.

“You’re one badass bitch lady,” he glanced from you to Lucille and back again,“you did what I couldn’t.”

“Sorry for all the…you know…” he took the bat from your shaking hands and gestured to the remains of your home. You almost wished you still had Lucille in your hands, “we had no choice. I guess it’s no comfort…”

“Don’t ever come back here.” You growled out, both surprised at the force behind your voice. He nodded and turned back to his men while you gripped onto the rail for support.

“What about his body?”

“Just burn the motherfucker, what’s left of him.” He smirked and held his prize in the air.

“Let’s go, you’re free assholes!”

The men cheered again firing their guns into the air and Lucille was set on fire. The remnants scattering lighted ash over the grass, metal wire wilting and melting into the ground.

“Mummy?” This time you didn’t correct her, just held her in your arms a moment, kissing the top of her head softly.

“It’s over, sweetie, they’re leaving now.”

“Where’s daddy?”

“He’ll be here soon.” God, you didn’t want to lie to her, but how could you tell her?

All the noise had attracted some more infected and with your defences down, Natasha and the few men left alive set about taking care of them. You stand to the side, holding Mary in your arms as everyone comforts each other.

Wanda checks Pietro and the other children over for injuries, her arms scratched and bruised. You hear Lucy and Megan’s desperate cries as they hold their husband’s bodies, they were good people. They didn’t deserve this, none of you did. You’re still lost in a haze, not able to focus on any one thing, Negan’s voice taunting you.

“Y/N?!”

“Mary?!”

You hear the shout, it’s distant, muffled by the yells and revving of engines, but it’s unmistakable. Bucky?

“Mary!”

Your head snaps to the direction of the shouting. Bucky pushes his way through Negan’s retreating men, relief flashing over his eyes when he spots you. Steve stops behind him and their eyes darken when they see the state you’re in. Both taking in the devastation, what remained of their home that was their safe haven only hours earlier.

“What the hell happened? Y/n?” He implores you, guilt flashing over his eyes, but you can’t bring yourself to answer.

“Daddy!” Mary breaks the silence, jumping out of your arms and flinging herself into his, “mummy killed the bad man!”

“Negan, he…I had to protect her…”

You meet Bucky’s eyes for less than a second. You did what you had to do, but you were still ashamed. Images of the knife slicing through Negan’s skin, his hands on you, blood pooling on the floor underneath him, his screams when you locked the cellar door…leaving him to die. You’d have to tell Bucky, but not yet.

Bucky was alive, he came back for you. That was all that mattered for now.

You can’t hold back the tears welling up in your eyes any longer and you wipe them away. You didn’t comprehend how much you loved Bucky until you thought he was gone, him and Mary.

“Y/n.” Bucky took your hand and pulled you into their embrace. His large arm holding your waist and Mary’s arms around both your shoulders. You clung to him, burying your head in his neck inhaling his scent distancing you from the stench of blood and smoke.

“Thank you, for keeping Mary safe,” he places a tender kiss to your cheek and you turn to look at him, noticing the tears brimming in his own eyes, “there was nothing there, I should never have left you, I’m so sorry…”

“I love you, doll.” You can’t suppress your unexpected happiness and the smile that bursts onto your face hearing those words. So long you’d felt the same, kept it all inside, squished it down.

“And me?” Mary grabbed Bucky’s face and planted a kiss on his nose, breaking the moment and you both smile at her.

“Yes, and you darlin’, you’re my best girl remember?”

“I love you both-” You start to whisper, but get cut off by Clint and Nat, shouting for everyone to come together.

“We have to go. Now. There’s hundreds of them headed this way.”

An:  Is Negan dead? Where will you go? Should I do a part 3? feel like this needs more Bucky fighting zombies, maybe meet more characters? let me know what you think!

[actutrends]

Our Stone-Topped Coffee Table Hack

For everyone who has been asking for the details on our new coffee table (glimpses of it have made their way into my InstaStories over the last few months – and boy did you guys notice!), I’m finally writing up all the details.

How many words can someone possibly share about the hunt for and the creation of a living room coffee table that checks every one of their oddly specific boxes, you ask? Well, settle in. I shall regale you with a tale of woe and triumph and there’s even a random not-sure-it-even-works alien joke worked in there for good measure. Plus I’ll show you exactly how to get this exact coffee table if you want to pull this same hack at your house (it is BEGINNER LEVEL EASY).

Let’s back up for a second. You know how sometimes you dream about an item that doesn’t exist and you’re like “I like this one thing but wish it had that other top or that other wood finish.” Like you want to pull a Frankenstein combo move and merge three things together? That is exactly how my search for a living room coffee table has felt.

For ages we had a huge white padded ottoman and loved it. We literally kept it for like seven glorious years until it died a very slow death by flaking and peeling everywhere (we’d find little peels of it upstairs in our bedroom – it really got around in those final days). This is a picture from two years back:

It was perfect for small kids (no hard edges to bump into) and there was storage inside for games and blankets. A big padded ottoman is still my favorite living room tip for any family with smaller kids, but over the last few years we’ve started to really enjoy coffee tables since the kids are older. We have one at the beach house and it’s great for casually doing a puzzle or playing family games. There’s just something nice about having a centralized solid surface to you can rest things on and gather around.

And let me tell you, since upgrading from ottoman to coffee table in this living room, we have played SO MANY epic family games (Sequence or Ticket To Ride are near-nightly occurrences) and it’s really nice to use a room with a TV for way more than watching TV. Highly recommend it if your kids are old enough that the change would make sense for you.

But anyway, back my over-a-year-long coffee table hunt. I know. That sounds very high maintenance. I’m learning that I am, in fact, extremely needy when it comes to coffee tables. I’m ok with this fact. I’ve been called worse 😉

You might remember that last fall we bought a cheap secondhand coffee table for $35, just because the flaking ottoman NEEDED TO GO and I had been searching for a coffee table that I really loved for a while and couldn’t find one. So I basically was like: we are being crazy by holding out for this perfect thing, when all we need is something that’s cheap and fine in the meantime – so we can get that peeling beat up ottoman that literally drops “dandruff” all over our house outta here.

You know that saying: don’t let perfect be the enemy of good? We were literally living with terrible (the flakes everywhere were as maddening as inexplicably finding glitter everywhere), and for the cost of one meal at Panera we got a secondhand table that made zero mess and worked fine. We never should have waited that long. It was a huge step up. It wasn’t the perfect size or material that I wanted – but it was such a relief. No more shavings everywhere, plus it gave me a gift: the giant release of urgency to find that oddly elusive perfect coffee table.

Well, we got that “just for now” coffee table last fall. As in, over a year ago. And ever since I’ve looked pretty much everywhere, but this room is sort of an odd layout, so a rectangular coffee table is just too narrow. Even a very large round one feels too small in the room because it doesn’t connect the accent chairs as nicely as a larger square one does – which makes it feel like a legitimate connected conversation area. So after hours and hours of searching and scrolling… and even doing some in-person exercises, like trying a few different combos just to be sure (like a round coffee table two white leather poufs, etc) I was 100% certain I wanted a large square one. Like around 3′ wide by 3′ long. Big and solid.

Easy to find right? Well, to make a short story long (my specialty! Ha!), it wasn’t. Because I also wanted it to be a similar wood tone to the side chairs and the side table that we already had in there (the darker old “placeholder” table didn’t tie into anything and I didn’t love that – and I felt like metal legs would’t be as warm looking as wood ones with our old secondhand rug).

I also wanted it to have an extremely durable, water-ring-safe top so the kids could draw with markers or play spirited board games without worrying about the finish. Which led me to the following thought… “that sounds a lot like our kitchen island – which is polished quartz.”

Polished quartz is super durable, the shiny finish always looks gleaming and lovely, and there’s no worry about juice or wine stains like you have with marble. The kids do very messy art projects on the kitchen island, and everything wipes right off. It has just been wonderful for our family. But who the heck makes a giant square quartz coffee table with a wood base in the exact size that I wanted?

Nobody, that’s who.

So I was like… what if I make one…? Not exactly make it from scratch, but I bet I can find a nice solid square wood coffee table that I love (not necessarily the right wood tone, but that can be changed) and then stain it the color I want. And then what if I just go to a stone yard and buy a cheap remnant piece of quartz (we made our living room fireplace surround with marble remnants and it was so much easier and more affordable than I expected). And you guys… this idea that felt kinda hair-brained at first. Well, it worked like a charm.

It really was as simple as ordering this unfinished wood coffee table (I loved the shape of it and the x-details on the side of it – plus the fact that it was unfinished meant I didn’t have to do any stripping or sanding to get it back to a raw wood finish because it literally came that way). I ordered it on Amazon, it came within a few days, and I took it out of the box and assembled it.

After I wiped it down with a damp cloth to make sure no dust or weird dirt was on it, I stained it Provincial by Minwax (which is also what I stained our accent chairs a while back – it’s a great wood tone). I applied two coats of that in the garage, where it could air out – followed by two clear coats of Polycrylic matte sealer – make sure you get the blue labeled one that’s water based because the oil based one tends to get really yellowed over time).

Then we took a trip to the stone yard and I basically was like “TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER! AND BY LEADER I MEAN CHEAPEST REMNANT PIECES!”

To anyone who doesn’t know about local stone yards and their remnant pieces, they’re basically the excess parts of the slabs that kitchen or bathroom clients don’t use (the stone yard cuts the counters for them, and some extra pieces of the original large slab are leftover). Since they’re smaller pieces for smaller jobs that typically wouldn’t work for a big kitchen island or a long span of cabinets, they’re traditionally marked at least half off. Our local place charges around $40 a square foot for quartz remnants, instead of the regular price which is usually around $90. For any locals wondering, we use Capitol Granite, who also made our kitchen island.

So for this huge block of quartz to top the table that is around 3′ wide by 3′ long, we paid around $370 ($40 x 9 square feet). Yes, that is NOT CHEAP. I had some second thoughts about if I was being extremely irrational and overthinking this far too much. So I did what any person who is teetering between “this is too much” and “but it’s exactly what I want” does, and I looked around for similar options to see if I really was getting the best deal, or paying through the nose. This gut check can be hugely helpful and illuminating either way it ends up going. And suddenly I felt much much better, because similarly sized stone-topped tables were upwards of $800 and in many instances they were $1,000 plus!

Even the ready-made ones that I found in those higher price points didn’t have all the features I was looking for (ex: wood legs, the right 3′ x 3′ dimension, good reviews, a quartz top that wouldn’t stain like marble, etc). Take this $1249.00 one for example. Suddenly the cost for my own quartz remnant ($370) added to the cost of the base that I bought (it was $149 thanks to the markdown they were running that day) didn’t sound that crazy. Especially for exactly what I wanted.

So yes, this coffee table was $519. Not the most expensive thing in our house, but definitely more than I thought I’d pay for a coffee table over a year ago when I started my search if I’m being honest. I don’t know what I expected, maybe under $300? But I can tell you that it completely meets all of my hopes & dreams for a coffee table, which I have since learned is surprisingly hard to do, so I can’t even be mad about that extra $219. Especially after the realization that I’d never end up with exactly what I wanted unless I made it myself. AND DANGIT THAT’S PRICELESS. Well, not priceless, but well worth the effort.

I love that it feels like something we’ll have forever and I really like how it ties into the marble on the fireplace and looks great with the kitchen counters too. Seeing the gleaming coffee table top between the shiny kitchen island and the stone fireplace surround is just lovely. In fact our son very enthusiastically proclaimed that he liked that the top of the coffee table is a giant coaster so they don’t have to use coasters on it. I laughed SO HARD (we have stone coasters in the same color/pattern – you can see one on the end table below). The table really is a giant coaster, so he’s onto something.

Oh and as for making a solid table even more solid, we added these satin brass corner brackets around the edges, because they blend in and stabilize it even more. See, when you put your feet up on a table over and over again, it can start to rock and not stay super square, and when it starts to rock back and forth, you have to worry about it loosening and continuing to rock more and more. And in an extreme situation it could eventually collapse. These hold it square. No rocking = no getting rickety or unsteady. Such an easy way to add even more strength and it only took a few minutes to screw them in (we predrilled small holes so they went in smoothly).

This thing is SOLID. As in, the kids can’t move it. Not an inch. Which is kind of nice because they used to push the ottoman all over the place – and it would do that annoying thing to us where it slipped out from under our feet sometimes when we both had our feet up on it. This stays put. We also used a few dabs of adhesive to attach the quartz to the tabletop, just because we worried that it might shift somehow over time. Although once we got it home we were like… this is so heavy it probably won’t ever move. But it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Oh and one more tip: order the coffee table first & assemble it so you can measure the exact size of the top. Sometimes every single table varies slightly, and you want to get a remnant piece of quartz that’s around 1.5″ wider and 1.5″ longer than your tabletop so it has a 3/4″ overhang on all sides, which looks really proportional and doesn’t read like an afterthought.

So that’s it! The story of Frankenstein-ing a few things together to get exactly what I had been hoping to find. Life will not end if your coffee table doesn’t do everything you want it to, or fit into the room as well as you’d like, or if it gets drink rings, or if you buy a $35 craigslist stand in and it stays there for a year or even ten years. But if you have a picture in your mind of something that you think would be amazing for your family, it’s nice to consider that you don’t only have what’s available at a store to choose from – you can always try to hack or combo-move a few things to hopefully end up with something you love that’ll last a nice long time.

Speaking of the long haul, our $35 “placeholder” coffee table that used to be in our living room ended up being the perfect shape and size for the beach house living room! So it’s happily living there now (and we have big plans to alter the top to work really nicely in that room – more on that here).

I love that our “just for now” secondhand find has worked out to be a long term solution for another space. And the coffee table that was in the beach house living room before is living it up in our son’s room as an often used play table (picture it covered in Pokemon cards & blocks to his little heart’s content). In summary: the sisterhood of the traveling coffee tables is real, and I’m gonna need Alexis Bledel and Blake Lively to take this to the big screen.

P.S. Want to read about other things we’ve built or hacked? We have a whole category of posts about furniture upgrades & building stuff.

*This post contains affiliate links*

More posts from Young House Love

The post Our Stone-Topped Coffee Table Hack appeared first on Actu Trends.