#but it’s so tiring putting all this work in to be alright but eventually defaulting back into depression.

[cashew-milkk]

at times i feel like i’m finally alright, the light of the sun shining through clouds, the calmness around me, the singing of the birds, but then the loneliness catches up to me and i am washed over by sadness once again.

[logically-asexual]

thinking about the five stages of grief and Logan's arc of unnacceptance

yes. what you just read. i don't think that's what is going to happen in the show, but i think it's a story that would be really cool and work very well with what Thomas has been going through ever since he gave up on being an engineer.

like, think about it.

he doesn't have to become an angry resentful Dark Side, he doesn't have to make the choice himself to leave them out of spite, he doesn't have to change his role to something else. in my head is more like a natural aspect of life and growing up, to simply not identify with a part of you anymore, so it just simply won't take a main role in any of your life decisions anymore.

Thomas doesn't want to keep going to school, he doesn't want a desk job, he doesn't want to pretend to be serious to his acquaintances, he doesn't want to stick to deadlines or schedules, just working when he feels like it and resting when he needs it. Thomas grew out of all that because that's just who he is as a person, as an adult, and that's alright. but it would be a bumpy road until he and every Side of himself makes peace with it.

does Thomas himself know that this is what is on it's way to happening? does Logan know? unclear, maybe they get a vague sense of it, by the rejection every other part of Thomas is showing toward Logan. they will all have to accept eventually, which leads me to the five stages of grief:

Denial: most clear in Moving On. Logan still hopes that one day Thomas will go back to acedemia, even if he doesn't, that he takes a course or two to keep giving Logan a reason to be needed. Logan clings to the idea that he was needed and important in the past, therefore he could be wanted again in the future.

Anger: Learning New Things About Ourselves. he's tired of Thomas insisting on this lifestyle that he doesn't consider serious. he coincedes in the end that what can be taken seriously is subjective, but what is Logan left with then? will he change to find a way that better fits Thomas to be "serious" and to make his job more "stable"? or will Thomas turn to another Side for the new meanings of these concepts?

Bargaining: Putting Others First. he literally asks himself in what way can I participate in the conversation without being intrusive, so that they don't push me away? how can i make myself better? how can i be "cool" for them so they want to keep me around?

and we're left with only two, which are Depression, and Acceptance.

and i mean, that "i will spare you my company" at the end of the last episode was already a sign to that. Logan would feel defeated, there's nothing he can do. this was what was supposed to happen and it's been happening for years already. it hurts him, but he just doesn't have a place on Thomas' decision making by default. Virgil, Patton and Roman are there by default, they're the main parts of Thomas, you can see them in every word he says and almost every decision he makes. but the others are not there always, other, less important, Sides are just in the backseat, waiting for a moment to show up.

that's what Logan's fate is, and what he (and Thomas) will have to accept. other people would identify with a Side like that, they have their own ideals about being functional and serious, but Thomas doesn't, and they would have to stop pretending that he does. Logan can show up in specific moments, like Remus does, but not as part of Thomas' core. and he will be okay with it, eventually.

[the-himawari]

A3! Mizuno Kaya - Translation [SSR] The Company President of April 1st (3/3)

*Please read disclaimer on blog; default name set as Izumi

---

Sakuya: It’s the General Affairs department! Please excuse us!

Izumi: !

Tsuzuru: Got the stepladder… Here. Go ahead, Sakuya.

Sakuya: Yes!

Izumi: (Woah, he climbed right up the stepladder and he’s replacing the fluorescent bulb that went out…!)

Sakuya: Change complete!

Tsumugi: Thank you.

Azuma: Fufu, as usual, I feel healed by Saku’s cute, smiling face. It’s so relaxing when the General Affairs department comes by.

Tsumugi: I know what you mean. They’re refreshing and pleasant, just like a spring breeze, right?

Itaru: Here’s the list of today’s visitors.

Chikage: I’ve also inputted the data, so please check it over.

Citron: I’ve sorted all sorts of documents and organized them all beautifully!

Tsuzuru: I ordered the additional equipment as well.

Sakuya: And I tidied up the file room.

Homare: Ahh, you have my gratitude.

Guy: Thanks to the capable General Affairs department, the Secretarial department also has an easier time with our work and it’s a great help.

Izumi: (That's what you expect from professionals who improve the work efficiency of the employees.)

Chikage: By the way, is Mr. Sleepy-head here actually helpful to the Secretarial department?

Izumi: (Mr. Sleepy-head?)

Hisoka: I’m working properly even if you don’t tell me to.

Chikage: You haven’t been dozing off, have you?

Homare: Hisoka-kun works properly as long as you give him marshmallows.

Chikage: What about the trouble you’re causing your coworkers?

Hisoka: It's none of your business, Chikage.

Tsumugi: Hisoka-kun and Chikage-san from General Affairs are from the same hometown.

Izumi: I see, that’s how it is.

Tasuku: Hasn't this guy been playing games during work again?

Itaru: Haven't you been doing muscle training during work again?

Izumi: Umm…

Guy: The Secretarial and General Affairs departments also have modest conflicts in some cases.

Citron: Now, now, don’t fight, everyone! We’ll calm everyone with one of our General Affair’s specialty Manzai acts! Let’s do this, Tsuzuru!

Tsuzuru: Hold on, Citron-san! …Good grief.

Citron: Hello~, it’s Citron & Tsuzuru’s CITRUN! I’m thinking of making a bento for lunch tomorrow.

Tsuzuru: Oh, that sounds nice. What are you gonna put inside?

Citron: A vegetable terrine, lobster bisque, tilefish poêle, red wine braised beef tail…

Tsuzuru: Um, what kind of bento is that! Isn’t that a full course meal!

Citron: …Flavoured onigiri.

Tsuzuru: ONIGIRI!?

Izumi: Ahahaha.

Tsumugi: Fufufu! The General Affair’s specialty Manzai shows are really funny.

Guy: Indeed.

Izumi: (…Wait, huh? Speaking of which, from a while ago, the President’s been…)

Mizuno: …

Izumi: (EH!? It looks like he’s hiding with only his head peeking out from behind his desk…) P-president Mizuno…?

Mizuno: …!

Citron: Ohh, President?

Tsuzuru: I knew it was a bad idea to show President Mizuno our Manzai… Sorry for always showing you something so boring.

Mizuno: THAT’S NOT IT!!!

Izumi: …!

Mizuno: TSUZURU-KUN’S MANZAI IS WORLD CLASS!! So much so I’d like to push it with all my might with the company…!

Tsuzuru: You don’t have to go that far. But I appreciate it.

Izumi: (Ehhh… The two of them have a really friendly air around them…)

Tsuzuru: Ahh, sorry for surprising you. Actually, Mizuno and I are childhood friends.

Izumi: Oh, I see!

Tsuzuru: That being said, I should keep my manners properly in check while at the company. Sorry for acting so over-familiar with you, President Mizuno.

Mizuno: N-no way! Please don’t worry about it! You don’t have to use formal speech either! Even if you call me President, compared to Tsuzuru-kun’s magnificent humanity, I’m just…!

Izumi: (President Mizuno looks all flustered…)

Tsuzuru: I’ll work hard so I can be even more helpful to you, Mizuno.

Mizuno: Thank you. I will do my best too. Tachibana-san, my apologies for the late introduction. These guys are the members of the General Affairs department.

Sakuya: It’s very nice to meet you!

Izumi: I’m Tachibana Izumi. Same here, nice to meet you!

Citron: Ohh, the rumoured new hire. I’m Citron! I want to get along! You’re definitely, definitely welcome at the General Affairs section~!

Chikage: The General Affairs department is fun and noisy too.

Itaru: We hold game tournaments sometimes, you know? Wanna be our player 7, Tachibana-san?

Tsuzuru: We’d be really happy if you joined us.

Sakuya: Welcome! Let’s do our best together as colleagues at MIZUNO Enterprise! If there’s anything you don’t know, please ask me anything, any time!

Izumi: Thank you so much!

Itaru: Now then, I guess we should head out… Oh, hm?

Masumi: …

Izumi: ?

Itaru: Masumi? Oiii, Masumiii.

Masumi: I’ve found… my soulmate.

Mizuno: Soulmate?

Tsumugi: Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure Masumi-kun’s been staring at her the whole time since he entered the President’s office…

Masumi: I joined this company in order to look for my destined partner. And now, I’ve finally found them. You’re my…

Izumi: Ehh, ehh?

Masumi: I love you. Marry me.

Izumi: EHHHH!?

Masumi: Join the General Affairs department. I want to be with you. I’ll file paperwork and order various things with you. Then we’ll go on outings, listen to music together, and we’ll think about the things we’ll need for our married life. The two of us will spend lots of time doing different things together…

Itaru: LOL, that had nothing to do with General Affairs halfway through.

Citron: Is this love at first sight!?

Sakuya: Masumi-kun, calm down!

Tsuzuru: What are you doing in front of the President…! I’m so sorry! Come on, let’s go!

Chikage: Then please excuse us.

*door closes*

Izumi: T-that surprised me…

Tsumugi: Ahaha…

Mizuno: I was shocked too… But Usui-kun is a very outstanding person.

Guy: Alright, we will be on our way as well.

Azuma: Right.

Tsumugi: Let’s make today a great day too.

Mizuno: Yes, thank you very much.

*door closes*

Mizuno: So, I’ve shown you all the departments within the company; what do you think?

Izumi: I thought that it’s really amazing. Everyone is so professional… Honestly, I’m not confident I’ll be as helpful to the company as they are.

Mizuno:  What’s important isn’t to be useful to the company, but that you, Tachibana-san, yourself, are able to have fun working without any worries. As you’ve seen today, every department plays an important role within the company—. But everyone wasn’t able to work so competently from the very beginning. Even so, you will eventually find a role that suits your aptitude, and you’ll be able to work comfortably. In other words, no matter which department you’re assigned to, I’m sure you will find a role that will make the best use of your own unique strengths! So let’s find that role together.

Izumi: President Mizuno… (Once again, I’m glad that I got to join this company…!) Yes…!

-pause-

Mizuno: —san, Director-san… Director-san?

Izumi: Hm… (This is the MANKAI Dorm…?) Hah, President Mizuno…!?

Mizuno: P-president…?

Izumi: (Huh… Oh, that was a dream just now.) (I had a meeting with Mizuno-san scheduled today, but I was reading documents until late last night so it looks like I nodded off.)

Mizuno: I’m sorry for disturbing you. The manager let me inside.

Izumi: Oh, that’s what happened. I’m sorry for showing you my embarrassing appearance.

Mizuno: Oh, no. You must be tired… I apologize for taking up your time while you’re busy.

Izumi: You see… The truth is, I had a dream where Mizuno-san was the President of a company

Mizuno: EHH!? No way, I’m still just an inexperienced intern…! It’d be unthinkable to succeed my father…!

Izumi: Still, in my dream, you filled the role wonderfully.

Mizuno: T-thank you very much. That’s too kind. Imagining myself as a President is an exaggeration… But in the future, 100 years from now, I want to become a splendid, capable person who can pour all my efforts into entertainment. So that’s why I will continue to improve myself from now on as well.

Izumi: (Mizuno-san… He really does have a President's capability...!)

---

1. So it's come to my attention that a lot of people have never heard of a sleeve protector. It's like this (but the one Tsuzuru is wearing is made of cloth, not plastic):

Workers and students wear them in various different contexts to keep their sleeves clean (i.e. when doing handiwork, when you're writing so the ink doesn't smudge on your sleeve, etc.) 2. So you're telling me Mizuno was watching Tsuzuru like this... I--

previous |

[itsallmightbitch]

Covert Ops For Dummies

Possibly Part 1? Depends on the interest in a Part 2. I curse my best friend for a thousand years for making me watch this show and basically facilitating a brand spanking new addiction. I fucking love this skinny scarecrow man.

Pairing: All Might/Toshinori Yagi x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Nothing really. Smut abounds. Toshi is insecure as fuck about his body. That’s about it.

Word Count: 8000+ (I um... I might have gotten carried away...)

Summary: You and All Might go undercover, only to wind up stuck in a coat closet for most of the mission. Toshinori is insecure and you’re horny as all get out (and determined to make him see what you do when you look at him).

*gif isn’t mine but is oddly appropriate for this story?!?!???!!

-

Covert ops with a man who quite frankly defied the laws of stealth, was going exactly the way you’d thought it would. Go you. You were practically fucking psychic.

 Not that you were subtly bragging to yourself about being right but… well.

 You were.

 When you’d been paired with him by an oddly amused Aizawa earlier, you hadn’t thought much of it. You spent most of your time together anyway, so why not work while you were at it? It was a simple job. Get in, get out. Bust down some doors, take some names, kick some ass-

 “What the fuck do you mean, undercover!? How is this-” you gestured frantically at All Might, perched precariously on a nearby desk- “In any way, going to go under anything!?”

 The man in question laughed and the desk creaked worryingly as it shook along with him.

 “You worry too much! I can be stealthy when I want to be, kid!” his voice boomed and the glass of the window rattled in it’s frame from the sheer strength of it.

 You levelled a look at him, unsure if he was joking or not.

 Standing across from you both, arms crossed and a sleeping bag bunched around his waist- was the mastermind of this future fuck up.

 “You two won’t need to be stealthy,” Aizawa explained, his tired eyes sparkling with amusement at your absolutely horrified expression. Neither you nor All Might were built for sneaking through windows after all. “We know it’s not exactly your… strong point,” he said, clearing his throat and then and there, in that little classroom in UA, you learned that Shouta Aizawa actually did have a goddamn sense of humour.

 Go figure that it was at your expense.

 “You two get to be the diversion.”

 Your eyes went wide and one twitched.

 “Oh God, how is that better!?”

Everything had gone about as well as could be expected with Mr. Save the Day on your team. Although you, very begrudgingly, had to hand it to him. He did know how to keep a crowd’s attention when he needed to- and if it had been mildly arousing watching him make your suspects cower in fear at the same time then well, that was your business.

 All Might and the absolutely appalling mass of muscles that made up his left arm, shifted a little and jostled you into a nearby pile of coats. This resulted in a mouthful of faux fur and a coat hanger in your spleen. Your feet dangled off of the ground, your body suspended against the wall by the sheer size of him.

 You grunted in pain, indignant, then elbowed him hard in retaliation.

 “Sorry!” he said and now your elbow was aching as well as your spleen. It was like hitting a boulder.

 On top of the lack of room to breathe, the heat was almost unbearable. He was like a walking, talking space heater and normally you wouldn’t mind. Really. But being crammed into such tight quarters with zero warning was already making your head spin and the heat wasn’t helping matters.

 Your mind drifted without your permission.

 It wasn’t the way you’d ever imagined being pinned down by him but- oh, for fuck sake don’t think about that now.

 You willed yourself to behave, groaning out loud.

 He took your noise of frustration in a different way.

 “I know it’s not an ideal situation but I’m sure we can turn this around,” he beamed at you optimistically but since you couldn’t move your arms particularly well, you couldn’t flip him off. He ignored your lack of response and sullen silence, instead craning his neck forward towards the door. He had to shimmy a little and brought you along with him- stuck to his side as you were.

 Your wings sagged uselessly behind you, squished into a corner that they had no business being in.

 Toshinori squinted out of the spaces between the slats on the wooden door as if he could bend light itself and see around fucking corners. You bit your tongue.

 Knowing him, he probably could.

 He shifted again, without much thought. You, on the other hand, almost died. Thick fingers brushed over your thigh as he moved his hand and all of the blood in your body rushed in two different directions. One half reddened your cheeks and the other half slammed home between your legs and throbbed deliciously.

 Jesus. If either of you shifted in just the right way-

 He must have realized because his fingers snapped away as he made a fist suddenly, eyes darting everywhere but at your face. You felt his breath stutter in his chest and he cleared his throat and moved his hand as far away as he could in such tight quarters.You didn’t know whether to curse him for being such a gentleman or not.

 “It’s a little cramped in here, huh?”

 “You know, I hadn’t noticed.”

 Yes. When in doubt, default to sarcasm. That always ended well. But he was unaffected and just fucking chuckled instead, all throaty and low so that he didn’t alert any of the guards outside.

 Your ovaries screeched. One fainted.

 Half the words you’d been about to say turned into pathetic sounds instead so you simply swallowed them back again.

 You needed to put a bit of distance between you before you simply climbed around him and wrapped your legs around his waist for a place to sit. Hissing, you shifted from side to side, wings twitching helplessly in the cramped space. If you could roll your shoulders in just the right way-

 “Are you alright?” he whispered, looking alarmed at your sudden frantic movements. You grunted out a yes as you tried to find a way to move your arms properly. He didn’t seem convinced.

 “I’m trying to put my wings away before we both suffocate.”

 “Oh.”

 It took a bit of concentration to ignore the feeling of being practically plastered to his side, but eventually, your wings disappeared with a little whoosh of air and you dropped slightly further towards the ground without their friction on the walls holding you up.

 The relief was real. At least two of your limbs could now breathe again- even if the rest were still stuck in this closet. The extra wiggle room was a gift from God as you inhaled actual air. As a bonus, you could now finally turn your scathing gaze on Toshinori.

 Bright blue met your eyes and he blinked owlishly back at your expectant ones.

 “Is that better?”

 “Toshi,” you said, as patiently as possible even though he was being terribly dense. “You could help, you know.”

 He paused for a moment- then wiggled as far away as he could. Which by your estimation was about three millimetres. You couldn’t even face palm as your hands were still stuck to your sides.

 “Jesus- Shrink down, you big oaf! Your muscles are taking up precious oxygen!”

 This closet was definitely not built to contain over five hundred pounds of thick ass muscle. His head was even brushing the ceiling. Eyes comically wide, he looked down at himself like he was actually surprised that it hadn’t crossed his mind to do so already.

 He was so not adorable. Not even a little bit.

 “Oh right.”

 Suddenly you had a face full of smoke instead of muscle and you dropped to the floor without warning. You almost fell against the door but you caught yourself at the last second with your hand on the wall beside it.

 Your body sighed in relief at the sudden space and you inhaled dramatically, stretching your arms out, grateful for the blood flow to your extremities. At least now you wouldn’t lose a hand.

 A short, wheezy cough from the other side of the closet had you wafting the smoke away, frantically trying to send it towards the little vent instead of the door. The last thing you needed was someone thinking the place was on fire.

 After so many months of trailing around after All Might, it was now far less jarring to see him going from one extreme to the other. From the hulking, muscular hero you’d been plastered against moments before, to the walking scarecrow who was now silhouetted in a cloud of smoke.

 So when the room finally cleared and left just Toshinori in all of his skinny, hapless glory, you didn’t even think twice about it. You were far more concerned with your ability to finally move your arms again.

 The non-reaction was a vast improvement from the stream of expletives you’d let out the first time you’d seen the transformation. It barely even registered as a difference these days. He was still Toshinori. A little clueless, always earnestly sweet and unfairly invading all of your sexual fantasies.

 The norm.

 But still, even now, those sharp eyes of his watched your expression closely.

 For what, you weren’t entirely sure but he mustn’t have found whatever he was searching for because he suddenly laughed, rubbing the back of his neck with one big hand.

 “Sorry kid. Must be getting forgetful in my old age,” he said and flashed you a sheepish grin. His hero outfit hung on him, at least seven times too big for his skinny frame and it would have looked comical on anyone else. Not him though. The damn thing still suited him.

 You ignored the traitorous, evil thundering of your heart in your chest.

 Fuck.

 How could he be so impossibly sexy without even realizing it? You swiftly turned away to stare out of the slats like he had done earlier, pretending not to smile. Maybe he did realize it but just had no idea of the effect it had on you. It didn’t even make sense, when you actually sat down and thought about it. Which you had done, many, many times.

 He was older than you.

 An out and out good guy with a saviour complex.

 Skinny, almost worryingly thin- in this form anyway.

 On paper, he wasn’t your type. Not even a little bit. But fuck if he didn’t elicit a sinful ache between your legs whenever he was around. He made you disgustingly flustered, even if he was doing something as simple as handing you a stack of papers to grade.

 And now you were stuck in the worlds smallest coat closet with him.

 If Aizawa was wrong about this fundraiser then you were going to choke him to death with his own scarf.

 You could feel Toshinori’s presence behind you, as he silently tried to adjust his uniform to make it fit a little better.

 Until you’d followed him up the stairs earlier, it hadn’t been going as badly as you’d thought. He was a decent actor, given the circumstances and it might have had something to do with keeping up a ruse as big as his for so long.

 You’d been given the low down that morning. Big shot money man- who had built his fortune on the back of the Number One hero’s smiling face. It wasn’t the sort of thing that either of you would usually deal with but… this one seemed to have a personal ring to it. Cue his hero outfit and a fuck ton of screaming fans.

 All Might’s fans of course- not yours.

 You’d pulled up at the front gates of the lavish eight bedroom house, just outside the suburbs- and watched with absolute glee as Lanius Snow (con man, ringleader and all around asshole) looked like he was about to have a heart attack out of sheer fright.

 But Toshi played dumb as instructed, the atmosphere had relaxed- and all the attention had turned to the guest of honour and away from any potential heroes who may or may not have been sneaking around upstairs. Even the security that had been dotted around were fawning over All Might like school children, asking for autographs and pictures and all around ignoring their posts.

 You may or may not have nudged a few of the more eager ladies out of the way once or twice as well.

 Totally not your fault in a bustling crowd like that.

 All Might had taken the attention in his stride. You had slunk behind him after the first ten minutes, happy to be out of sight and out of mind.

 The evening had progressed and you knew that Snow was becoming more and more agitated by the second, talking frantically into an earpiece whenever he thought he was out of sight. None of the guards had earpieces and it was clear that the security down in the main hall was only the tip of the iceberg.

 Then everything had escalated when All Might had insisted on being his usual heroic self and had point blank refused to leave the hard work to just Eraserhead. Even when you reminded him that the police were on standby around the corner, it hadn’t deterred him in the slightest.

 “Toshi! We’re supposed to be distracting the guests! Eraserhead told us heroics weren’t necessary, remember!?”

 You had tugged at his suit in vain as he’d marched up the stairs, checking for guards as covertly as a seven foot mountain of a man could.

 “But you also heard Snow earlier,” he’d murmured. “Extra security? Drones? Eraserhead didn’t mention any of that in the briefing earlier. Which means he might be in over his head. It won’t hurt to check on him.”

 And so he’d surged onward with you trailing unhappily behind him, unable to stop him and bound to have his back.

 You hadn’t even been able to contemplate what was happening when a hand had yanked you sideways moments later and you were suddenly in the dark, pressed against All Might like you were about to become very familiar with him.

 A flutter of excitement in your stomach had made you clench your thighs together, thinking that maybe, just maybe, ‘checking on Aizawa’ had just been code for ‘fucking you in a closet’. You wished. As much as you might have enjoyed it, Toshinori was nothing if not a gentleman. He never would have dreamed of doing something so crass.

 The big guy got flustered if you just touched his arm. He’d probably flat out faint if you offered to suck his dick.

 Another security detail walked past, laughing between themselves and in the narrow sliver of space you could see out of, a glint of metal told you that these men were all heavily armed.

 Charity fundraiser your ass.

 “It’s a fundraiser for children with disabilities. The people who organised it have promised a ‘once in a lifetime opportunity’ for these children to meet All Might if enough money is raised,” Aizawa had explained, his voice it’s usual monotone but his eyes flashing with unusual emotion.

 You had turned to Toshinori curiously, head cocked and eyebrows raised at his sour expression.

 “Let me guess. You’ve never even heard of such a thing?”

 He shook his head and you fumed, fists clenching.

 “Bastards.”

 “Tonight is supposed to be for those kids and we’re stuck in a closet being useless. They’re using your big, dumb, friendly face to fill their own pockets and I’m not even allowed to punch the mastermind in the dick,” you grunted, pushing away from the wall, suddenly angry at how useless you were currently being.

And at the gall these people had.

 Taking the God damn Symbol of Peace and twisting it into something vile for their own gain. You wondered how long it had been going on. Weeks? Months? By the look of this lavish house, you’d bet years. So many children’s dreams crushed because they thought that they hadn’t won some phoney competition. Parents wondering if perhaps they had only donated more, given more that they didn’t even have to give...

 In your sudden angry outburst, you didn’t watch your steps and stumbled over a pair of shoes that you’d kicked out of the way earlier. Toshinori’s big, warm hand on your arm steadied you. Your fingers wrapped around his skinny wrist and you breathed out, using your grip on him to pull yourself closer.

 For a guy who looked like a strong wind would blow him over- he was certainly sturdy. He barely moved, despite your tugging.

 “I know,” he said solemnly and his voice was hard in a way that he just couldn’t achieve when he was All Might. “I detest the thought of the hero I try to be, being used as a front for crime. The thought of disappointing those children-”

 He looked away from you then, past your shoulder to the door. You squeezed his wrist, warm skin under your palm making your heart stutter in your chest. 

“So, I couldn’t just sit still and smile for those people down there… I had to do something proactive. Do you understand, kid?” he asked and tilted his head to the side, looking almost imploring. He needed you to understand why he’d pushed on when you told him to stop. Just like he always did.

 You supposed you understood, just a little.

 You nodded, lips twitching.

 “Then…” he said, a sly grin stretching over his face. “Does that mean you’re not angry at my ‘big, dumb, friendly face’?”

 Biting back a laugh, you let go of his wrist and pushed his head to the side playfully. All seven feet of him swayed gently when you did, like bamboo in the wind, as he rolled on the balls of his feet. You must have been a little too close for comfort because you caught the tinge of pink in his cheeks even in the dim light coming from the door.

 “I suppose you are a hard man to stay angry with,” you teased and patted his gaunt cheek affectionately. Standing on your tiptoes, you brought your face closer to his, ignoring your usual carefully observed boundaries. “But don’t think you can get away with pulling me into closets in the future, Toshi. You have to at least take a girl to dinner first.”

 You made sure he saw when your gaze dropped to his lips and you noted his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed- hard.

 Bringing your gaze back up, you didn’t even have time to wonder where your sudden bravery had come from because your eyes locked with his shockingly blue ones- the same eyes that often invaded your fantasies at night.

 Something heated and electric shocked your system and all of your inhibitions flew out of the window, waving their panties as they went.

 Your head swam, excitement causing a rush of adrenaline.

 “So-sorry! I-I didn’t mean to imply anything!” he almost squeaked, his voice reaching an octave you didn’t think it even could and you smiled up at his red face with a wolfish grin. His body was rigid, like you were about to murder him and it did something funny to your stomach thinking about just how adorably nervous he was from just a little flirting.

 It often confused you.

 Men and women fell at his feet all the time. All he had to do was step outside and he had phone numbers and offers of ‘coffee’ coming out of his ears. Usually, he took it all in his stride. A few winks here and there, oozing confidence and a hearty laugh while giving them a gentle brush off. It was like night and day compared to the man in front of you.

 As of right now, he was rubbing his arm and trying his damnedest to keep his eyes on his feet.

 Now, you were no fool and you certainly weren’t a liar. Especially not to yourself.

 You couldn’t deny that when he was all buff and muscular, he could make your pussy throb with pleasure with just a look. He didn’t even have to be in the same bloody room as you. All you had to do was happen across a picture of him and you could be ready to go in under fifteen seconds- ten on a particularly good day.

 Not that you’d ever tell him that. With his stupid grin and the way he looked like he could snap you in half with his hands. The way he towered over you and the way you just knew that he was packing some serious heat.

 Oof.

 You pulled in a shaky breath, swallowing back the drool that threatened to spill over.

 Thank fuck it was dark in here.

 Yet, with all that being said, there was something about him when he was just his regular, skinny self. All sharp angles and rough edges- with his hair a constant mess no matter what he did to it. Toshinori with his sad smile and electric eyes, shoulders sloped under the weight of the whole fucking world. You wanted to share some of that burden sometimes. Make him smile again, like he should be able to.

 If you wanted to do that by riding him into the ground then so be it. Who were you to question your own methods?

 His hands would still look phenomenal wrapped around your thighs, you decided. He still towered over you and damn, you couldn’t decide which version you liked more sometimes.

Choices, choices. You were practically like a kid in a candy store.

 “Maybe I like it when you imply things,” you said, voice nothing more than a purr. Jesus, where had that come from? Oh well. You were on a roll now. Might as well see where this took you-

 “You don’t have to do that, you know,” he said suddenly, expression stormy and his sad voice like a shock to your system.

 Your brain screeched to a halt, brakes on as you tried and failed to fit his tone into the situation you’d thought was building.

 “Um, do what?” you asked stupidly.

 Toshi’s expression hardened, his eyes not meeting yours any more and trained instead on a loose thread that he was tugging out of his pants. The soft frown turned into a scowl and he looked as though he wanted to simply barge past you and back into the hallway- anything to get out of the situation.

 But guards were still patrolling and you certainly didn’t want to be caught trespassing so it was a no go.

 You hadn’t thought that he would be bothered by your flirtatious banter- and you’d felt braver here in the dim light when it was just the two of you. Had you spooked him that much?

 It wasn’t like you hadn’t flirted with him before. In fact, it was pretty much becoming your favourite past time. Stroking a hand over his muscular arm. Standing way, way too close to him. Touching him in public where you knew he wouldn’t be able to escape and would have to stand there, red faced and blushing like crazy.

 “Pretend,” he murmured sullenly, fidgeting harder as he fought the urge to flee from the situation.

 His expression was almost pained, like this was genuinely hurting him. You, on the other hand, still didn’t have a clue what was going on. What were you pretending about? Your brain, which had been switched to ‘horny’ mode for the last few minutes, tried furiously to gain some traction.

 “Toshi, I don’t understand. Pretend to what? Explain it to me like I’m an idiot.”

 He scratched his forearm roughly, shrinking in on himself as much as a seven foot tall man could. You had a horrible, sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. He took a long, shaky breath. In. Then out. Like he was readying himself for a battle that you didn’t even know was coming.

 “You don’t have to pretend that you- ya know… find me attractive. Like… like this,” he said, his voice trailing off until it was so soft that anyone else might have struggled to hear him. Hell, even you had trouble- with only the sound of your thundering heart in your ears and of the world crashing down around you.

 Your throat went unbelievably dry and you gaped helplessly. How did you even respond to something like that? It took a long moment of uneasy silence before you managed to find your voice again.

 “But Toshi… I flirt with you all the time,” you managed to say, your brow creased. If it was possible, he shrank away even more, like you were shouting and not whispering. He hid his eyes behind his hair, either too cowardly or too embarrassed to meet your gaze and then shrugged, not answering.

 But his body language told you everything you needed to know.

 “You flirt with All Might,” he whispered.

 Oh. Oh!

 Holy fucking shit, you’d never realized it before. Not to be self deprecating but you were one dumb motherfucker. You’d always had so much fun making him blush when he was All Might. Breaking down that hero visage to remind yourself that he was still him under all that bravado. You’d never felt the need to do it when he was smaller.

 When he was Toshinori… everything he did made your idiot heart skip a beat.

 “Toshi… Look, I’m not going to lie to you, okay?” you said and then waited until he looked up before continuing, refusing to have this conversation with the top of his stupid head. “I find you really, really attractive when you’re All Might. I can’t deny it.”

 You gave a dumb, embarrassed laugh because hell, you’d never thought you’d be admitting your attraction somewhere like this.

 That seemed to be what he’d been waiting for, though.

 He openly flinched, head twisting to one side as if you’d punched him. His jaw set, teeth gritted and that sad expression made your stomach twist painfully. Was this what he’d been afraid of the whole time? Why he always searched your expression every time he changed from one form to the other?

 “I can change back, if you like,” he offered, in quite possibly the saddest voice ever. You went pale- practically felt the blood leaving your face. What had this man even been through that he thought no-one would want him the way he was? That they would only want the muscle bound hero that smiled all the time? You could have kicked yourself for feeding the dark part of him that thought like that.

 Did he honestly think that you would only shower him with affection when he changed back? That he was only worth something when he had fucking muscles?

 A cluster of emotions welled up inside you without warning and with a huff, you promptly slapped him upside the head.

 Hard.

 “Ow!” he yelped, forgetting himself and where he was for a moment. “What was that for!?”

 Suddenly, he was the confused one- staring down the barrel of your anger with wide eyes.

 “Because you’re being an idiot, Toshinori!” you hissed softly. “Yeah, I want to fuck you when you’re all big and muscular. Just like every other person on the planet who has eyes.” The use of the words ‘I want to fuck you’ seemed to catch his attention more than the rest of the sentence but you let his blush and tense posture slide because he was only human, after all. “It just so happens that I also want to fuck you when you’re- well.”

You gestured to him from head to toe. 

“You. You moron.”

 Red faced and annoyed, you crossed your arms over your chest and chewed on your bottom lip. How could you possibly make it any clearer to him?

 The silence was thick in the little coat closet, your words still ringing in the air.

 “Um… really? You’re not just saying that?” he asked, his voice still small but with something hopeful tucked away in the back. Your anger softened.

 “You’re more to me than just your body, Toshi” you said after a long moment. “I like you.”

 “But that first time, when I changed- I thought-” he argued, like he was trying to convince you that you didn’t actually find him attractive.

 “That first time, was the only time I’ve ever reacted. And I reacted because I was surprised. You almost gave me a heart attack,” you shook your head, a smile pulling at your lips. “I don’t flirt much with you when you’re like this because I’m not vying for your time like I have to when you’re All Might. It’s just you and me… like this. And I like it that way. I don’t need to make you blush to get your attention,” you shrugged, slinking closer to him.

 He shut his dumb mouth then and while he was still a little skittish, he didn’t take a step back when you invaded his personal space. Instead, he let you snake your way close enough to him so you could lay a hand on his chest- eyes trailing over his sharp features and resting on those big sad eyes.

 “I wasn’t turned on when I was pressed against All Might,” you murmured and he sucked in an uneven breath, his fingers twitching at his sides and his lanky body curving towards yours. Without much thought behind the process of what you were doing, you laced your fingers through his and tugged his hand to your body.

 The first shock of him touching you was electric and you shivered- guiding his hand down, over your breasts and then across your stomach until you met the waistband of your pants. Nuzzling his jaw, you smiled when he returned the gesture and rubbed his cheek across the top of your head. 

His breathing was fast, heavy and you might have worried about him over exerting himself but he seemed fine for now, so you let him enjoy the moment.

You could take a wild guess and say this was the most action he’d had for a while. Not that you were faring any better. Your brain still hadn’t caught up with whatever the fuck your hands were doing.

 Fingers still tangled with his, both of your breaths caught when you slid his palm underneath the denim and then down further- under the elastic of your panties. You let him go on his own then, having given him enough encouragement by now. Besides, you were busy trying not to pass out, lightheaded and giddy as you were.

 He made a strangled noise, twisting his head down so that his forehead was pressed against yours and he could look at your face like you were personally gifting him the crown jewels.

 He murmured your name, questioningly.

 “Touch me?” you replied, trying to keep the desperation out of your voice because the hand that you’d often fantasized about was now cupped over your aching pussy, pressing lightly like he was afraid that he was going too far- even though you’d given him the clearest ‘GO’ sign you possibly could. “Please.”

 “Okay,” he said, voice wracked with arousal and despite the bagginess of his clothes, when you chanced a glance downwards you could see his erection outlined- eagerly way ahead of his brain. “Okay,” he choked out again, nerves making his whole body tremble.

 One long, rough finger, finally slipped between the lips of your pussy and you drew in a sharp breath. Your hands came up to grip his biceps and the sinful groan he let out caused another rush of arousal to seep out of you. He found you soaking and hot and without needing prompted further, he added another finger to rest inside- barely nudging your clit but causing enough friction to make you whine needily.

 “That’s what you do to me. Not your muscles. Not your quirk,” you said, breathless, as his other arm snaked around your back. His fingers splayed wide between your shoulder blades. “Not your fame. Just you.”

 “Fuck,” he moaned pathetically and without warning, he was moving. Your pants were off and your back was against the wall, legs wrapped around his slim hips before you had a moment to draw in breath. He pushed upwards and pressed his middle finger all the way inside you. You almost saw stars, shivering weakly against him and you opened your legs further to give him more space. With the added fact that you’d never heard him swear before, you were practically melting in his arms- your nails biting little crescents into his skin through the material of his suit.

 Your hips bucked, wanting more and so you voiced your desire softly.

 “More Toshi,” you urged, breath coming in pants. He nodded. He pulled his finger out and you felt another teasing your entrance before he pushed back in, stretching wider the second time. Then again. And again. And-

 “Hnng,” you managed.

 You muffled the next pleased sound that escaped you against his neck, then pressed a kiss to the curve that led to his shoulder.

 Honestly, you should have been ashamed at the state you were in with just a few tentative pumps of his fingers but that combined with his proximity and your long time crush was almost too much. His cheeks were still pink, his mouth open as he rocked his palm against you and you found yourself on the brink of an orgasm far too quickly.

 You nuzzled him, your nose brushing against his and his hot breath ghosting over your lips. The noises you were making were obscene, coupled with the soft wet sounds of his fingers sliding inside of you on repeat.

 He sought out your gaze and held it, his hand bunching up your shirt at the back as he slipped it under. The skin on skin contact was divine.

 The heel of his palm pressed upwards, sliding against your clit and you jerked hard in his embrace, inhaling a harsh breath as your fingers tightened their grip on him.

 He stopped all motion immediately and you pulled back from where you’d been laying sloppy, open mouthed kisses on his jaw.

 “Toshi?” you said, blearily, wondering why the pleasure had come to such an abrupt halt.

 “Did I hurt you?” he asked, concern in his voice.

 “What? No!” You shook your head from side to side almost comically. “No, no, no. Keep going,” you urged and he nodded, swallowing thickly. The delicious motions of his hand continued then, rocking back and forward over your swollen clit and dipping his fingers deep inside- hitting places your smaller hands could never dream of reaching.

 “So good,” you purred, nearly delirious with lust. You dipped your hand down and palmed his cock through his pants and he grunted obscenely in your ear, breath scorching. His thighs twitched as you traced the length of him- impressive and hard under your fingers. “I always knew you’d be packing,” you laughed, drunk on the atmosphere in your own personal bubble.

 You felt him smile, felt his shoulders shake lightly and your heart soared.

 There he was.

 “Kiss me?” you asked, all wanton and breathy. Here you were already hitting third base and you hadn’t even kissed him yet. He obliged, albeit tentatively at first. His lips found yours, warm and surprisingly soft. You tangled a hand in his hair, keeping his mouth on yours and rocking your hips lazily in pursuit of your orgasm.

 He bucked helplessly against your hand when you squeezed and when he groaned into your mouth, it gave you the perfect opening to slip your tongue in to meet his.

 You kissed him long and deep, until he hit a sweet spot and you had to pull away to breathe hard. You were so close. So, so close…

 “I’m gonna come,” you said, before cupping his face so you could simply revel in his expression as you did.

 “You are?” he asked, gaze lingering on your well kissed lips as he tried to keep the surprise out of his voice. Oh, you would definitely have to do something about all that self doubt in the near future- but as of right now you just flashed him a wicked smile and clenched your muscles around his fingers.

 All the while, the knot of tension in your stomach balled tighter and tighter.

 “Oh yeah, Toshi,” was the only response you could actually form because he suddenly sped up his movements, rocking his hand back and forth until you were just- right- there.

 The cry of his name was choked in your throat and your legs trembled with the effort of staying around his hips- although he had the foresight to wrap his free hand around one of your thighs to keep you up. Your muscles fluttered frantically around his fingers and through the wild haze of your orgasm you could only anticipate what it would feel like with his cock inside you instead.

 The thought sent another spasm through you and you shook softly, holding onto him for dear life.

 There was a long moment where the only sound in the room was of you trying to get your breathing back to normal.

 Gently, Toshi pulled his hand away- leaving you feeling dreadfully empty, his nose tracing your cheek as you leaned into him. Your hand fisted in the front of his shirt and honestly, all you wanted to do was curl up against him for the next twenty four hours and reassure him that you’d just had the time of your life.

 But, you were still in a closet and he was still hard, so instead, you tugged his hand to your mouth and wrapped your lips around the fingers that had just been inside you.

 Keeping your eyes locked with his, you silently revelled in the sheer embarrassed arousal on his face. You ran your tongue between his fingers, and his eyes grew heavy, lips parted and his breath hitching.

Reaching between you, despite the awkward angle, you found his cock straining eagerly against his outfit. The moment you ran your fingertips along the length of him and stopped at his head, he growled low and long in his chest and buried his face into the curve of your neck. 

The fingers of his free hand dug into your ass as he held you aloft- backing away a little to give you more room while you refused to release his other hand from your mouth.

You sighed around his fingers, already imagining that they were his cock instead and he must have been imagining it too- either that or he was far more pent up than he’d ever let you know. You only had to suck softly and palm his cock a few more times before he was shuddering against you, panting and groaning as he came.

 You finally let him go with a wet pop, letting him shake and spasm in your arms while you laid soft, unassuming kisses to the side of his head and muttered sweet things in his ear. His breath was hot against your neck as he slowly regained his senses- to a certain extent anyway. 

Not enough to break away from you just yet.

 “Sorry,” he managed, his voice hoarse. You shook your head, thumb tracing circles in the baggy fabric that separated you.

 “For what?”

 “Made a mess,” he said, giving a breathy, shy laugh that was music to your ears. You pressed a kiss to his palm, then brought his hand to rest over your cheek. You leaned into the warmth of it, enjoying the sweet way he was staring at you It was a far cry from the terrified expression he’d worn earlier.

 “Next time you can come inside me. Then you won’t have to worry about the dry cleaning.”

 He almost collapsed against you, trembling as he hid his blush against your neck.

 “You have to stop saying things like that kid. This old man might just keel over if you do.”

 There was nothing but warm affection in his voice when he said that and for once, you realized he wasn’t being hard on himself. Just playful. With you of all people. Granted, you had just made him come in his pants after he’d given you a spectacular hand job. 

You’d expect a little of his confidence to return in the afterglow- even if you knew you still had a long way to go before he was back to himself.

 “Hmm, you’d better not. I expect at least a thousand more orgasms like that before you get a break,” you said, resting your arms around his neck to play with his hair. Almost as though he was testing your boundaries (ha, they were long gone) he tentatively nuzzled and nipped a few light kisses along your jaw, his hands settling on your waist. It was nice, being this close to him without him stammering and making excuses to bolt.

 “Only a thousand?”

 “My bad. A million?”

 He was just about to steal another kiss from you when-

 “Are you two quite finished in there?”

 Like deer caught in headlights, both of your heads swivelled around towards the door- wide eyed and suddenly flushed with acute embarrassment as the realization dawned on you.

 Was that-?

 “I have to let the police up here eventually and I doubt either of you would enjoy being caught in a closet doing… whatever it is you’ve been doing. I could hazard a guess if you like, though,” Aizawa’s dry voice drifted through the slats in the door. “I could hear you both down the hall.”

 Before you could stop yourself, nervous giggles erupted from your throat.

 You muffled them in Toshi’s neck while he gaped stupidly in the direction of the door, and swiftly forgot what words were and how to use them. It took him a moment to find his voice again.

 “Shit,” he finally muttered but he made no move to release your legs from his waist- frozen to the spot and possibly about to die from all the blood rushing to his face.

 You got your shit together fairly quickly though.

 “Give us a moment, please Eraserhead,” you called out, still grinning like an idiot despite being caught doing something so out of character. For both of you. “Tell them it’s still dangerous up here or something.”

 “Shall I say there’s a banshee?”

“Just do it, you jerk,” you grumbled and you heard Aizawa grunt something in agreement before his footsteps faded down the hallway. Had you really both been that loud? Just how long had Shouta been standing guard exactly? You’d almost call him sweet if you weren’t so mortified. You could only guess how Toshinori felt.

 “Hey, lover boy. Come back to me,” you patted his cheek and brought his attention back you swiftly. His eyes found yours and you practically melted, forgetting what you were going to say and tugging him in for another kiss.

 He murmured your name against your lips after a few seconds, breathless and warm.

 “How can you be so calm?” he asked, cupping your cheek and looking at you in confusion.

 “I’m still on an orgasm high, I guess,” you answered honestly. It would hit you properly later you were sure, but right now Toshi was still achingly close between your legs and you were still giddy from coming so you could hardly feel much of anything other than satisfaction.

 “Oh,” he laughed shyly, finally lowering you back to your feet at long last. Your legs felt like jelly and you held onto him for support.

 You felt his eyes on you the entire time you were shakily pulling on your underwear and then your pants and you might have felt a little bit of a confidence boost at the hushed noise of loss he made when you were fully covered up again. You couldn’t resist the sudden urge to slide yourself against him- sighing contentedly when his arms came up to wrap around you.

 “Want me to stand in front of you until we can leave?” you asked, amused, kissing his Adam’s apple and he swore again, seemingly only just remembering that he’d come in his pants like a teenager.

 “I don’t think it’s too bad… I think my underwear got the worst of it.”

 You cocked your head to the side, finally looking up from where you’d been finding new places to kiss on his neck.

 “You wear underwear with your hero outfit?”

 “You… don’t?” he asked, clearly confused.

 Waggling your eyebrows at him, you flashed him a sinfully cheeky grin.

 “That’s something for you to think about the next time you see me in it, isn’t it?”

 He groaned loudly, tugging you closer and laying a kiss to the top of your head. The affection wasn’t at all unwelcome. How long had you been wanting this exactly? It felt like forever. You revelled in the sudden change in him, despite still being his skinny self. His shoulders weren’t as sloped now and his expression was almost playful.

 You couldn’t wait to see what he would look like when you got him into a bed- could barely focus on anything other than the thought of stripping him bare and riding him long and slow until he knew, for sure, that you wanted him just the way he was.

 You opened your mouth to tell him as much.

 “If you two don’t come out of there now, I’m coming in.”

 That was Aizawa’s teacher voice and you both sprang apart, muttering apologies through the wood. With a cough, you were suddenly half propelled out of the opening door by hard muscle- All Might behind you now instead of Toshinori- and came face to face with Aizawa.

 “Eraserhead,” you said meekly, your bravado suddenly wilting under his unamused stare. All Might ducked under the door frame behind you, his face beet red and looking everywhere but at the irritated pro hero. It was almost comical but you swallowed the nervous laugh that threatened to bubble up.

 As subtly as you could, you shifted in front of him- just in case his underwear hadn’t been as effective as he was hoping.

 “How… um, how much did you he-”

 “Everything from ‘Ow, what was that for’,” he answered before you could finish. Ah yes, when you’d slapped the back of Toshi’s head and he’d forgotten himself. Your eye twitched and All Might made a choked noise that sounded like he’d started to think of something to say . You opened your mouth to speak, but Aizawa brought a hand up and cut you off abruptly. “It might be none of my business but, how long has this been going on?”

 You cocked your head to the side. Not the question you’d been expecting admittedly but…

 “Just ah, it’s just been the closet. So far,” you tacked on quickly when you felt All Might tense slightly. He relaxed though, his fingers brushing yours behind your back. You could practically feel his eyes on you, curious and warm. You resisted the urge to grin like an idiot and wink at him.

 Aizawa grunted out a noise of... approval?

 “Good. Just making sure. Go home, both of you. We’re basically wrapped up for the night.”

 With that, he nodded and turned on his heels to walk away- leaving you both to stare after him. You only found your voice when he reached to top of the stairs and before he could disappear out of sight, you managed, “Wait! You’re not mad that we got distracted?”

 Aizawa paused, an unsettling and unfamiliar grin spreading across his face.

 “Hizashi owes me a rather large sum of money, thanks to you. What’s there to be mad at?” he said, in an oddly upbeat voice. He continued on his journey, disappearing from view as you gaped at his back.  But he had one more thing to throw back over his shoulder. “Oh and you might want to wrap a towel around your waist if you’re going to use the front door, All Might. There are eagle eyed reporters everywhere.”

 Well.

 Fuck.

[multi-fandom-peep]

Names are Overrated

Been debating whether or not posting it here, but I'mma do it.

Be warned, this is pretty long, so read at your own risk.

And yes, that's the title of the fic.

"Do you want a nickname?" "A what?" "Nickname." "Why?" "It's easier to say." "Uh, okay then." "Thanks." "You're welcome..?"

"Hey! You haven't told me what it is yet!"

And just like that, Sweet had a nickname. Sweetie. It was a good one.

It seemed odd that it wasn't thought of before, but the heroes had been activated calling each other their full names. They just never thought of calling each other anything else. It was surprising that Careful had actually asked for permission to use the nickname.

Well, a nickname. Sweet had no idea what it was until he used it the next day.

In front of everyone else.

Needless to say, it took a bit of explaining. Especially since Sweet herself didn’t know what the nickname was either. Happy thought they’d started dating, and it took Sweet five minutes to convince him otherwise.

They all liked the nickname though, so that worked out.

Little by little, everyone got used to it. They all started calling her Sweetie, and Sweet started reacting to the name more and more.

Until it was used in public.

Everyone kind of defaulted to using Sweet’s real name when in public, so nobody but the heroes and Doctor knew it.

So when Happy slipped up and called her Sweetie in the middle of a crowded supermarket…

It was a mess. +-----------------------+ “They said WHAT?”

The two of them eventually brought the news home. Doctor was more surprised than they were when they told him everyone thought they were dating.

Soon after, Smart walked in holding their TV remote. “Yeah. Look.” He pointed the remote to the TV where the news channel was displaying a picture of Happy & Sweet walking next to each other.

“...sight of the two superheroes walking next to each other didn’t seem new for anybody, but the public was shocked when Happy called Sweet “Sweetie”, leading to many believing that they’re dating. Although neither of them have announced a relationship, it’s what many people believe to be the outcome.”

The show cut to a clip of Happy repeating the nickname yet again.

“They didn’t even ask for permission to show that!” Sweet yelled at the TV. Although, it was kind of pointless, since the news never asked for permission anyway.

“So everyone thinks you’re dating?” Smart asked, the amusement clear in his voice. Sweet sighed in response. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” Careless asked from his spot on the floor in front of the TV. “I don’t think there is anything you can do,” Doctor interjected. “The people of this planet are stubborn. There’s not much you can do to convince them.”

So, they reluctantly left it at that.

That is until… the next time. +-----------------------+ They were in a library when it happened, so the reaction wasn’t as big as it could’ve been.

Sweet was tutoring Careless. Although he was good at math and science, everything else could definitely use work.

So there they were. Pouring over a history textbook.

“So when was it formed?” “19952.” “No, that was when it was destroyed, remember?” “Oh. So it was… 19920?” “Yup. I think that covers everything for this chapter. Ready to move on?” “Yeah. Thanks again for doing this, Sweetie.”

Sweet visibly stiffened. Careless noticed the motion in the middle of flipping a page. “Did I say something wrong?” Sweet shook her head silently, hoping that nobody noticed.

Luck was not on her side that day, as there was an audible gasp that rang out throughout the library. She stood up with an almost panicked look. “I think we should get going.”

Careless seemed to just realize what he did and packed up the notebooks they’d brought. Sweet picked up the textbooks and took to the shelves to try to put them back. She could normally pinpoint where she got the books from, but it took her five minutes to get everything back into place while avoiding everyone else.

There were already camera flashes by the time they were completely ready to leave the library.

“Looks like we’re flying back then.” +-----------------------+ Sweet slammed the door open. The people in the living room, which happened to be almost everyone, jumped at the noise.

"It happened again." "What?" "Careless accidentally used my nickname in public, and now everyone probably thinks I'm cheating on Happy with Careless.”

Sure enough, the next news report was displaying exactly that.

Careless scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Sorry.” Sweet’s expression softened. “It’s not your fault,” She said tiredly.

“Hey, where’s Happy?” Careless asked. “Shoot. We have to tell him.” Sweet sighed and pulled out her phone. “Don’t bother.” She looked at Smart. “He left it here.” He handed her Happy’s phone, and she stared at it for a moment. She didn’t know how else to contact him.

“Hey, Happy.” The two of them looked at Careless. “Are you doing anything important right now?” The barely identifiable noise of Happy’s voice spoke back. “Can you come back? Oh, uh… I forgot why, but I’m pretty sure it was important. Alright, see you.”

Careless noticed Sweet and Smart staring at him. “What?” “How did you contact him?” “Our communicators, remember?” +-----------------------+ “Hey, I’m back. Does this important thing have anything to do with why everyone keeps saying ‘Sorry for your loss’ to me?”

Happy opened the door to find Sweet, Smart, and Careless waiting for him.

“So you know how everyone thought we were dating because you called me Sweetie in public?” “Yeah?” “Careless did the same thing.” “I… don’t get it.” “Since everyone thinks we’re dating and they heard Careless use the same nickname, people have assumed I’m cheating on you.”

The confusion on his face didn’t clear off, despite him understanding what happened.

“Why do we still protect these people?” “Doctor lives here.” “Good point.” +-----------------------+ “I think we should split up.”

Smart gave an over dramatic gasp. “You want us to… part ways?”

Sweet rolled her eyes. They were out picking up groceries since the last time she tried got interrupted, and she basically couldn’t be seen in public with Happy or Careless. Splitting up would get them everything they needed faster.

“Smart, we’re just-” She stopped herself. This could be fun. “Yes, I’m afraid we must.” Smart gave an even more dramatic gasp, a playful smirk slowly manifesting.

“How could you?” “It’s just not working out.” “But… I thought we were-” “What? Soulmates? Family? Face it. It’ll never work. You need to stop.” “Fine… Your wish is my command.”

Unfortunately, Sweet couldn’t hold her character any longer. She started laughing, and Smart soon joined in.

“Okay, okay. That was fun, but I still think we should split up. Some of these things are on opposite ends of the block.” +-----------------------+ “We’re back! We actually managed to get everything this time.” “I still don’t get why we had to carry everything. We have powers.” “We can’t always rely on powers. You of all people should know that.”

Doctor walked out of his lab holding his laptop as the door shut behind them. He turned it around to show the two its screen. “Do you two know this happened?”

Sweet almost dropped what she was carrying. The screen was displaying the act they had done earlier.

“We were recorded?”

Smart set his load of groceries on the floor and took the laptop from Doctor. “I can’t believe it...” Sweet nodded.

“I look amazing in this!”

She elbowed him. “Not the point here!” She took the laptop from him and paused the video. “Where did you even find this?” She asked, as she handed it back to Doctor. “It’s all over the internet,” He answered. Smart took another look at the screen and wondered out loud, “Why hasn’t this appeared on the news? They were so eager to show it the last two times.” “Don’t remind me,” Sweet muttered. “Oh, I know,” Happy responded. “I met Peach earlier today. She said she was tired of poking into our lives, so she wouldn’t be doing any more reports on it.” “Unfortunately, that’s not going to stop the rest of the planet from…” Sweet sighed. “On the plus side, the hype about dating is starting to calm down.” Smart pat the top of Sweet’s helmet and left before she could murder him. “Let’s hope it does,” She said to herself.

The universe, however, wasn’t done with Sweet, as there was one hero it hadn’t paired her with yet. +-----------------------+ “I don’t like this.” “I know you don’t.” “Then why are you making me do this?” “You haven’t been outside in days. You need to go out once in a while.” “I do go outside.” “Yeah, only at night.”

Sweet turned to him and spread her arms at the scene around them.

“Come on! This is the best trail on the planet!” “This is the only trail on the planet.”

She shot an annoyed look at Careful before turning back around.

And promptly tripped.

“I’m fine!” She said before Careful had a chance to open his mouth. She quickly healed the scratch she found on her knee and kept walking, a bit faster than before.

“You know, you wouldn’t keep tripping if you looked where you were going.”

Sweet muttered something inaudible before taking a deep breath.

“Yeah, I will. It’s just that- I took you here because I thought you’d like it, but you don’t.” “I do like this place. It’s just-” Careful blinked at a camera flash. “The other people.” “Yeah. A public place probably wasn’t the best idea.” “Still, thanks for taking me here.”

There was an odd gap at the end of his sentence. It took Sweet a couple seconds to realize Careful had probably stopped himself from saying her name, or more likely her nickname.

Sweet smiled at him, and to her surprise, found him smiling back.

By the time they started heading back, there was a considerable crowd around them. Although, they all seemed to be keeping their distance.

“Do you think the crowd is misinterpreting this?” “Like the nicknames? That was a month ago. I doubt it. They’re probably just excited about you.” “Probably…” +-----------------------+ “I can’t believe this.”

Just as Careful had suspected, everyone misinterpreted their interaction. Except instead of it just being a rumor, the public had taken a different route.

Everybody was arguing about who exactly Sweet was with. They had “evidence” of her being with each of the other heroes, and most arguments were fueled by past interactions.

Sweet groaned as yet another camera pointed at her through the window. She peered outside to see that literally nothing had changed in the past two hours. There was still a giant crowd trying to get more proof of her relationships.

When evening came, the crowd seemed to finally disperse, although there were a couple people still looking. The heroes (and Doctor) were discussing what to do about the mess.

“That’s never going to work,” Smart shut down Happy’s latest idea. Happy made a pouting face in his direction, but stopped. “I still don’t get why we can’t just tell them the truth,” Careless said. “It won't work,” Sweet rolled her eyes, as this was the third time he asked, but explained anyway. “Nobody is going to believe us. They’ll all either think we’re lying or that there’s still a possibility in the future.” “Is there?” Careless didn’t look like he was implying anything. He actually looked worried. “As far as I can tell, no. I don’t think any of us are going to be ready for that any time soon,” Sweet assured him. “So if all of my 27 (“You counted?”) plans won’t work, what are we going to do?” Happy asked. Nobody had an answer to him. It seemed like nothing would make the public back off. “Unfortunately,” Doctor started. “Just telling the truth is the best thing we’ve got. Not many people might believe us, but we’ve got to try.”

All around the table, there were noises of reluctant agreement.

“All that’s left now is to organize the announcement so that enough people will hear it.” Smart elbowed Careful, who was just barely listening. “Leave it to us.” +-----------------------+ “Hello everyone. Thank you for coming.”

Sweet was holding the microphone with both hands. Her brothers were lined up behind her for moral support, although none of them were really paying attention.

Her entire posture was tense. Sweet wasn’t exactly used to hundreds of eyes on her, even in battle. Despite being an extrovert, she was not a public speaker.

A quick glance behind her gave her enough courage to keep talking.

“You all came to hear our announcement, so uh… I guess I should say that.”

She cringed at herself.

“Many of you are wondering if I am… dating. One of the other heroes.”

A pause, as the audience had started cheering.

“I- I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m not dating anyone right now.”

Some of the crowd started booing, which got the attention of the four heroes, previously lingering in the background. They took their positions at Sweet’s sides. There was something intimidating about the way they stood. The crowd immediately shut down.

“Thanks guys. As of now, I’m, well, single. All this dating stuff is a very big misunderstanding. Starting with Happy, that- that was just a nickname. Same goes to Careless. Sweetie is my nickname, nothing else, please don’t confuse it with- anything.”

She could see realization start to dawn on some of the audience’s faces. Most of them were still confused, but at least she was getting through to them.

Her brothers were giving encouraging looks. Happy and Smart on her left, and Careless and Careful on her right.

“As you could probably guess, the interaction I had with Smart at the market was just play. Please don’t post recordings of us without our permission. It’s just wrong. And last but not least, Careful. I was just trying to get him outside."

Sweet paused to take a breath. She'd done what she came here to do, but she also wanted to teach the planet a lesson.

"Everyone, our lives are our lives. You have no right to poke around in them. We all have our secrets, and we need privacy. I understand that we are superheroes, public figures. But we're still people. We have our own things going on. Things that will be kept secret if we want it to. Our privacy belongs to us."

She gave a few moments to let her message sink in. All around the audience, people were thinking about what she said. There were people who looked guilty, having done what she just asked them not to. There were also disappointed ones. They were excited to see the announcement. They were the ones hoping it would be about her relationship.

“That just about wraps up the announcement. Thanks everyone for coming, and have a good day.”

The five of them automatically waved before leaving. +-----------------------+ When they got back, finally away from the public eye, they dropped all formal attitudes. Immediately after landing, Happy pulled Sweet into a hug.

“You did it!” He said excitedly. “It wasn’t that hard with you guys there,” Sweet replied, petting Careless, who had decided to join the hug for the heck of it.

"So that's it, right?" He asked. "Nobody is going to confuse any of us with dating anymore?"

"Hopefully." Sweet glanced back to the city in the distance. "Thanks for being there for me, guys." She couldn't help but smile at them. "Of course!" Happy jumped in. "You're our s- friend!" "You can count on us," Smart joined. "We'll be with you for anything!" Careless added. Careful didn't say anything, but nodded along with the rest of them.

Sweet smiled at them. She stood there for a couple seconds before pulling them all into a hug.

This was the best way to end the day.

"Were you about to say sister?" "No!" "Aww!" "I was not!" +-----------------------+ Despite the mess Sweet’s nickname had caused, she still liked it. It was a form of affection. Her family still used it, and she loved it.

However, that didn’t apply to anyone else. Sweet had no idea how much of a family thing she thought her nickname was.

It felt so wrong when anyone else said it.

So, so wrong.

But she told everyone it was a nickname. She couldn’t just go around telling everyone that only her family could use it.

So, she lived with it. She lived… with…

Every stranger who passed her on the streets called her Sweetie. She was starting to reach her limits. If one more person called her-

“Hey, Sweetie. How are you doing?”

…

Sweet was going to murder that guy.

+Beep+

I kind of projected my stutter onto Sweet, but okay. Also I spent way too long playing with the colours.

I hope you liked it!

[mattieshew]

RusCan Week Day 2: Tourist/Domestic

Word Count: 1,216 (although Word, AO3, and my writing program are giving me different numbers and I'm not about to count the words by hand so this could be slightly off)

Summary: Matthew finally gets to meet his online boyfriend, but it ends up going very differently from what he had expected.

Matthew sat fidgeting in his chair, alternating between staring down the hallway and down at his third cup of coffee, because he couldn’t sit still and for whatever reason kept defaulting to going to the coffee stand across the way, and although it seemed like a good idea at the time he was starting to regret it now because it’s only made it harder to just relax and wait.

And he’d run his phone battery down half an hour ago, too, so he couldn’t distract himself with that. And he’d neglected to bring a book or any other sort of entertainment because he hadn’t thought it would take this long, and he refused to pay for the overpriced crossword books in the airport shops (although he was starting to reconsider that decision). At this point Matthew was pretty sure the only thing he could do to make this any worse would be to get himself kicked out of the airport.

Thankfully though, his battery had lasted long enough to receive the text from Ivan saying he would be landing any minute now, so he “wouldn’t have much longer to wait.”

“‘Any minute now’ my ass,” he muttered, before downing what was left in his cup and rising to go throw it away. On the way back to his seat he caved and stopped in the shop to the left of the coffee stand, buying a puzzle book and a pack of pens. Matthew usually considered himself to be a fairly patient person—after all, he’d grown up with Alfred without ripping his head off. But he’d never had a situation as exciting as this one probably ever in his life, and he’d been waiting for the past year to meet his boyfriend and wasn’t wanting to wait any longer.

While he was sitting there working on his puzzles, his mind started to wander. He’d thought about meeting his boyfriend a thousand times, and now that it was actually happening he wondered how it would go. Who would see the other first? Or would they see each other at the same time? Would it be like in the movies, where they run at each other and one scoops the other up and swings him around? Oh, he hoped so, he’d love to finally know what it feels like to have Ivan’s arms around him.

In the end it was Ivan who noticed him first, because Matthew was too busy with his puzzles and his thoughts to notice Ivan finally coming down the hallway and walking over to him, until he was standing right in front of him and Matthew had to crane his neck up just to see his face. Christ, he hadn’t realized Ivan was this tall.

Wait, holy shit that’s— “Ivan!” he yelled and leapt out of his seat to throw his arms around the other. Ivan laughed and hugged him back, and they stood there holding onto each other for a few moments until they realized they were standing in the middle of a public airport and people were starting to stare.

Matthew reluctantly let go but was delighted when Ivan moved his hands down to grasp his. He then looked up at Ivan—God, he really is a giant—and smiled, swinging their hands. He knew they had to leave the airport, but he didn’t want to let go of Ivan. Unfortunately, Ivan then made that decision for him, as he let go of Matthew a moment later so he could reach down to pick up his bags.

“Do you need any help with those?” he asked, mostly out of courtesy. Ivan could probably lift him over his head, judging by the size of his arms alone. He hadn’t realized how hard it is to tell how big someone is through a computer screen.

“No, I’ll be fine. How do we get out of here?” Ivan said, looking around, and Matthew grabbed his arm softly and started walking toward the exit.

It was a quiet walk to Matthew’s car, mostly because he didn’t know what to talk about, and judging by Ivan’s silence he figured he was in much the same situation. He loved that Ivan was here with him now, but he wasn’t really sure what to do other than just sit and enjoy the other’s presence.

When they got to the car Matthew unlocked it and popped the trunk, and he helped Ivan put his bags in even though he insisted Matthew didn’t have to. Then they got in the car and started the long drive back to Matthew’s house.

After a few minutes on the road Matthew looked over at Ivan, and he looked back and smiled. He could tell it was forced though, and Matthew frowned and looked back at the road.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Ivan chuckled lightly and turned to look out the windshield, and Matthew heard what sounded like him resting his head on the window. “Yes, just tired.”

Of course, Matthew thought. He’s just spent all day on a plane, of course he’s got jet lag.

“When we get home, you can take a nap if you’d like,” Matthew offered, and reached out his hand for Ivan to hold. Ivan thanked him, and after a moment he grabbed Matthew’s outstretched hand and squeezed it.

Another ten or so minutes passed before Matthew glanced over to see Ivan asleep, and the rest of the ride home was spent in silence. Not that he was complaining, Matthew thought Ivan was just as pretty asleep as he was awake, and he knew he needed the rest.

He honestly just found the whole situation kind of amusing. He’s spent the past year waiting to meet his boyfriend in person, imagining all the exciting things they’d get to do now that they’re really together, but instead Ivan’s asleep and they’ll probably end up spending the rest of the day napping together.

When they finally pulled into Matthew’s driveway, he got Ivan’s bags out of the trunk of his car and brought them to his room before he went to wake Ivan.

“Hey, big guy,” Ivan snorted at the name, and Matthew stifled a laugh in return. “how about we go lay down in bed? It’ll be way more comfortable than sleeping in a car.” Ivan nodded, and he followed Matthew into the house and then to his bedroom, where he saw his bags by the door.

“You brought my stuff inside?” He asked as they laid down in Matthew’s bed, and he hummed in confirmation.

“Yeah, I thought you’d want to just come in and go back to sleep.”

Ivan nodded, and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend as he moved over to lay next to him. “Thank you.”

Matthew hummed again and curled up in Ivan’s arms as they finally got settled. He was starting to feel tired as well, and figured the coffee was starting to wear off.

Eventually Ivan started to snore softly—cute, he thought—and smiled to himself. This might not have been how he planned his first day with Ivan going, but this was probably better than anything he could have imagined. And as he finally started to drift off, he thought about how happy he was that Ivan was finally here with him.

[presumenothing]

fmab (+03) fic masterlist

because even i’m starting to lose track of what i’ve posted so far. all writing is eventually crossposted to ao3, individual tumblr posts linked below the cut because it’s lengthy as hell 

(this is like 85% post-promised day fic with the occasional canon-divergence au for flavour, ft lots of resembool kids, riza, and roy. basically gen with near-zero ship content because that’s how i roll)

update: total wordcount has now broken 20k 25k 30k 35k 40k 45k(!!!!) 

update 2: now with crumbs of 03 content because yeehaw

april

“Actually, Winry – can you do something for me?” 

“Lieutenant. Would you ever consider learning alchemy?”

“I guess I just – want to figure out who I am. Me, not the Fullmetal Alchemist.”

Besides, the scars on his palms have been – pardon his language – hurting like a bitch ever since he woke to this gloomy weather this morning.

Ishval had given him plenty of practice at that soldier’s art of taking even the lightest of naps whenever circumstances permitted.

[au] Ed has never had reason to hate how swiftly his mind works, not until now.

It’s just simple clerical error that leads to Edward Elric retaining his title and pay as a State Alchemist, even after the Promised Day. No, really.

may

He’s just tired, not about to collapse.

These days Ed’s journals are actual proper travelogues, no coded shit or anything.

[au] It doesn’t even start until after they arrive in Resembool. 

(can’t have been the more socially-adjusted brother, obviously.)

[au] “I don’t,” Ed bites out, “know any damn alchemists.”

Maes raises an eyebrow and sloshes his near-empty cup pointedly. 

august

[wip] “Is this about Al, or you?”

“–of course I know these aren’t the most efficient routes!”

Ed seriously considers dyeing his hair more than once, in the After.

Winry only needs a glimpse of red to know what it must be.

Rush Valley talks. Winry listens.

Much as Al loves his brother to itty-bitty-and-very-shouty pieces,

The first time someone mistakes Al for the Fullmetal Alchemist, 

+ The thing is, Al gets it.  

“Brother told me that you told him about Ishval,” Alphonse says.

It’s an honest observation – as honest as he can ever get, at least –

[au] In another world, she is never named the Hawk’s Eye.

“Somehow I doubt your place is much better, sir.”

would it be the most impossible thing to have happened to the Elrics?

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell us,” Ed growls,

a minimum age limit on all candidates for the State Alchemist exam.

“There’s gotta be a shark somewhere around.”

The Elrics make transmuting without circles look easy.

The problem, if Riza is to put it into words,

Al completely botches the first dozen or so transmutations

(Ed? Talking about automail? Over food?)

[au] in the end it’s Al who really takes after their father.

“Fullmetal realising his celebrity status? Woe betide us,”

The tea is actually well-made, first of all, not burnt 

“Not like– I mean, personal about me, not you!” 

[au] “Huh,” Al says.

Still less work than getting entropy-murdered by Olivier, he decides.

[au] It’s not every dead person that he sees.

[au] They weren’t even meant to stop in Resembool.

Jean just wants to make one thing – okay, a few things – very clear.

Ed knows this firsthand from too much Winry exposure.

The lump on the couch lets out a string of wholly intelligible noises.

september

“Take me out to dinner,” Riza says.

“We’re not even in Amestris, though.”

[au] Riza had been angry too, when she had let herself be, but hers is a cold ire, locked beneath glaciers and the burn of frostbite. Wrath makes no such pretences.

[outline] But in the case of Fullmetal – more specifically in the case of Fullmetal and Youswell – Roy mostly wishes he could unknow things.

[au] Roy forces enough air into his lungs to get the words out. “You’re dead.”

[outline…?] winry’s gonna like this, al says.

Alphonse flaps a hand. “Oh, because it’s complete bullshit.”

“Y’know, you really aren’t that tall, Brother.”

getting to finally keep a cat hadn’t been very high on his list of priorities.

[au] “Edward. Get out of here, take Envy with you.”

[wtnv au] “Welcome to Resembool.” 

october

just because you’re immortal doesn’t mean you can’t die from food poisoning, young man.

[au snippet] It’s sort of a belief, in the eastern parts of Amestris,

[03] Al’s hug is the first real thing he’s felt in years.

[03] Never thought you were, Ed retorts lightly, and lets Alfons turn away with a huff.

“When you said to come visit you in Rush Valley this is not what I was expecting!”

(and jeez, only Ed would manage to make it necessary to keep a kit on hand for actual minor-to-major catastrophes during a semi-honeymoon trip)

november

[03] Except the sight of his brother only serves to make everything worse, for once.

[au] The worst thing about this is that it’s not even equivalent. 

[au] “You wanna know why? The real reason, not the quantum bullshit I fed Mustang.” (+ more in the tag)

[snippet] And just for that I won’t be leaving Wrath any.

“I shall finally exact the decisive vengeance that I have always dreamed of,” Scar booms right back before Armstrong can even ask, 

Al knows from the moment he wakes up that it’s going to be a good day.

[snippets] The real disaster comes when Ed learns how to weaponise his height.

[03 au] The man in the brown overcoat. That’s all anyone ever seems able to recall of Edward.

[au] They say the Elric house is haunted. Of course. Empty houses are always haunted.

Of course, this assumes that said person is an alchemist of some ability, and that said life has been one of some loss and strife. 

“Are you alright? Nod for yes, swear at me for no.”

from the intervening pause he surmises Riza is jotting something down on the notepad she keeps by the phone.

She’s been looking forward to the day when her hair finally gets long enough to – well, no longer be short.

“Remind me of this the next time I decide to trust Ling any further than I can throw him.” ( + xing tag)

december

Ed’s almost twenty when he realises that Hawkeye must’ve been around his age when she was deployed to Ishval.

[au] At least this far out from Amestris Ed could mostly brush the first one off as an interplanetary translation fuckup.

bonus textposts and assorted nonsense

the Better Alchemist™️

on the topic of ed’s scrawl

al, defender of cat

*csi miami theme but with cats*

on the topic of flat affect + 200000% turbo by default

on the topic of pain tolerance + further thoughts

ed @ mustang’s problem solving skills

ok but about liore…

terrible TERRIBLE ideas (three of them)

putting the SHORT in SHORT-TEMPERED

clap reflex

you’re retired, ed, r e t i r e d

and by “ambidextrous” i mean “confused”

protip: you can’t

YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAH (aka csi miami theme, riza redux)

feral ducklings, the continuation(??)

does THIS count as elric telepathy

honestly, y’all

too much fire?? sounds fake

on the topic of academia

sometimes the stars align

on the topic of riza hawkeye

terrible idea, berthold version

immortal troubles

THE CHURCH OF EDWARD ELRIC

PRIDE (& WRATH): one, two, three (4koma)

objectively the worst post-cos timeline

serious stuff: fma drama cd, daughter of dusk

asks: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 aka izumi pwns roy, 9 aka not coffeeshop au, 10 aka legalities, 11 aka autograph woes

[potatotrash0]

Your DR magic AU, hand it over 🤲

Okay I have two other anons and I’m just gonna split the character ideas among the three asks. I don’t quite have a plot thought out, and most of these characters’ concepts have only existed in my head up until now...bare with me skdjksjfkd

Mm I talked about them briefly in Prom’s ask? But here’s a more in-depth thing of the THH fighting styles.

Makoto is a mage-type. (I used fighter, support, and mage to describe the various adventurer types it’s temporary just roll with it) Again, he can’t really hold magic for very long? He’s got a large mana reserve but it’s hard to activate and harder to control, so he’s currently working on mastering the little bullets. In the future, I imagine large barrages of bullets would sort of circle around him like they would in the barrel of a gun.

He probably got in accidentally? I’m not entirely sure about this, but I think there’s an entrance exam for Reserve Courses and he was probably forced in on Komaru’s behalf for some reason.

He was basically running the entire time until the very end when he panicked and suddenly the entire field was wiped clean from him waving his arm. HPA saw that, decided that he was worth training, and put him into the Main Course. He doesn’t feel very good about getting in that way, but HPA isn’t exactly empathetic like he is. Again this is like one of three ways I think he could’ve gotten in with the rest of the cast because I’m indecisive skdjsjf

Kyoko is another mage-type, in general the Main Gangs of each game have various themes. THH’s trio has a magic theme, they all use magic. She doesn’t use a weapon, though I’m thinking her gloves act as a limiter of sorts?

As a general rule, more mana means less control, and being half-demon gives her a lot of it. Her gloves help her regulate her mana output so that she doesn’t use too much of it when attacking and tire herself out. Later in the timeline, I imagine there might be a scene where she takes them off and fights off some enemies to buy the rest of the class time to escape something? She would get trapped in the process, but I think this would happen after she’s worked with Makoto for a while and she would trust him enough to believe he would come back for her if she didn’t return.

Oh this isn’t related to her fighting style but on the topic of her being half-demon, that’s mainly because I thought it was boring for everyone to be human and I’m a big sucker for fantasy species so yeah. She’s a cambion.

She has purple-tinted skin, horns that curl up and are fairly close to her head, a thin pointed tail, pointed ears, her pupils are slitted, she’s got carnivore-style teeth, her nails are longer and sharper by default. Whenever she uses the full extent of her magic, her scleras turn dark purple and her irises turn white. Oh yeah her scars came from an accident she had when she was young where her magic got out of control and burned her hands. Her mom’s the demon by the way, for no particular reason, I just thought that the Kirigiris would stay human in this and I don’t know anything about her mom’s side of the family.

I just realized I never said Makoto’s race skdjks he’s human!! He and Komaru just happen to be a special case and have a lot of mana. Most other humans in this AU aren’t so lucky. (cough hinata cough cough)

Byakuya, again, uses magic. He’s the only one who uses a weapon in the Trio, he uses a staff specially made by the Togami family. He also knows how to use a sword and a bow.

I haven’t put too much thought into him, but I know for a fact that his adventuring outfit would have a big sweeping cape later in the timeline. In the beginning though, he just has a stupid expensive suit. The cape comes in later as he, Kyoko, and Makoto start to group up more and more.

I’ve decided that adventurers in this AU group up just as often as they go solo, and while Byakuya would initially be solo, he would deem Makoto and Kyoko strong enough to work with whenever they’re taking on a difficult job.

Groups would change to have matching designs the longer they’re partnered up, and capes/cloaks happen to be the THH Trio’s Thing, as in all three of them would have a cape/cloak of some sort. Byakuya because he’s pretentious, Makoto because he thinks it looks cool, and Kyoko because she uses the cloak for practical reasons like storing things and keeping a low profile when needed. Oh and Byakuya’s bloodline is of royal elven descent, their business is selling spellbooks, runestones, potions, reagents, any magical item you could think of.

Sayaka is a half-siren mage! She mostly uses charm and illusionary magic, as well as healing so that she can support her allies. Later on, she might learn water magic so she can actually deal damage as well. I haven’t decided on her weapon of choice, perhaps she uses a lyre or casts spells from a book. I’m also debating having her learn hand-to-hand combat instead of water magic?

I just like the idea of someone coming up and trying to challenge her, thinking they’ll beat her easily, and barely getting a hit in before she kicks their legs out from under them and tosses them over her shoulder like they weigh nothing. She deserves to take out people twice her size and be menacing, as a treat for the amount of disrespect she gets in the fandom. And I want her to take Leon down a peg because he definitely acts a little like a cocky frat boy sometimes.

Speaking of Leon, we’ve got our first fighter-type!!! I could have him use a baseball bat but that’s boring so I’m thinking he might utilize items as well as a weapon? Bombs or grenades that look like a baseball and explode on impact, baseballs that ignite when thrown and act as fire balls. Alas, I don’t think about him much so this is all just me throwing ideas to see what sticks.

Whatever the case, the main thing I know would happen is that he frequently gets help from Kazuichi and Miu because he just cannot for the life of him stop breaking his equipment. He’s reckless and rushes into battle and now that he doesn’t have Kanon to stop him from setting stuff on fire all the time, he gets detention a lot. (And no she isn’t into him like in canon, I refuse to acknowledge that she ever was.)

Chihiro......they can’t fight djfjsjfjjf. They specialize in making tech and weapons, and in the beginning, would mainly use robots that they programmed to support their allies. Though, they do end up training with Mondo, Sakura, and Aoi to help them become better at combat, and eventually they join everyone else on the front lines as a ranged fighter/support type.

Also, the robots would kinda follow them around like pets. Cute little guys that can also shoot lasers. The robots are powered by mana crystals and each one has a different personality and magic type! Sometimes they follow around different people, the electric one took a liking to Mondo and you’ll see it floating around while he works out. They’re buds.

On the topic of Mondo, he’s another fighter-type! He’s more hand-to-hand combat. A controlled berserker, if you will. Probably started out fighting guys in his hometown and progressed to clearing out monsters when Daiya got concerned about his temper? Perhaps. Maybe. I do not think about Daiya I apologize.

Oh wait hold on. I’m looking at his character art and he’s got a hammer.........it’s decided he uses a warhammer, the biggest one they’ve got, and it’s probably a mana-based weapon. Specifically electric. He and that lil robot wipe the battlefield with their opponents >:D

Taka is probably a fighter-type? I can’t for the life of me find where I read this, but apparently he’s really good at self-defense so I imagine he does hand-to-hand combat as well as sword-fighting for the Noble Paladin Aesthetic.

Hifumi was originally a mage-type, but upon second thought, I’m making him a support-type who uses items and potions and stuff! I like the idea of him making fun little bottles and potions themed after his favorite animes and mangas..........he also definitely helped everyone design their adventurer outfits. He’s the only reason that Makoto’s outfit isn’t boring as hell.

Celeste is, of course, a mage-type. She’s Miss Lolita of course I have to make her an ethereal magic user alright also I love her and I love mages let me have this skfjdkjf. As for her weapon, my first thought was her having playing cards that she throws HxH style?

Or she could summon goons to fight for her, playing into the whole loyal servant dream she has. They would be vaguely themed after the cards, so there would be a jack, king, queen, and joker, all of different magic types depending on the suit of the card she throws. Electric for a spade, fire for a heart, ice for a diamond, something along those lines.

I’m also considering having her little...finger armor thing? I’m thinking of having that cross into her magic, where she attacks with claw-like things formed out of mana. Of course she could also just. Use the cards to cast spells directly skdjksjfkhf

Sakura is definitely a fighter-type. Again, hand-to-hand style, but I imagine she’s more controlled and strategic than Mondo. I can’t see her using a weapon, so I guess she’s like one of the only characters to fight exclusively with fists.

Mukuro’s a ranged fighter-type, but she can also do melee. She uses magic-based guns, ones that shoot mana infused bullets. They have a variety of effects depending on the type of bullet and magic. (I’m not a gun person so take this with a grain of salt.)

Bullets that break apart might be laced with electric magic so that they can shock a target from several points, or fire magic if she’s aiming to start a fire quickly. Exploding bullets are usually used with fire magic, but she might switch to ice if she wants to create a barrage of ice shards for...some reason, I don’t know. There’s more combinations I could probably make, but I’m. Not here to spend an hour researching guns. Not right now at least, who knows what I’ll want info on in the future.

Mmmmmm I’m starting to lose patience here so forgive me for the shorter explanations. I might throw in a fun fact about them for ✨ flavor ✨

Junko’s a fighter/mage-type! She uses a scythe and laces the blade with magic. She could combine it with fire magic to create a flaming scythe and go nuts with it, or she could just channel general mana and slam the blade into the ground to create a big crack in the ground.

There’s about an 80% chance she gets several weapons later in the timeline. Her scythe, a spear, possibly a gun. Monokuma probably exists, I like to think Junko ran into a smarter monster and tamed it and kept it as a slightly feral pet.

Also, yes, she’s still a big adrenaline junkie who gets off on despair. If you see her fighting things she knows are out of her league, mind your business.....actually, call someone to help before she gets herself killed. Please.

I haven’t decided what Aoi will be just yet? I’m veering towards fighter/mage-type, she could use water magic and maybe a leg-based fighting style. Possibly judo or taekwondo. I.....do not have any ideas for her. However I do know that she and Sakura would have a bunch of combo moves together dkfjkejfkdjjd

Toko is a mage-type! She probably uses a book to cast spells from. Or just uses her hands. She would fight ranged, I don’t think she’d want to be up in the action. Too much stress for her, y’know? I

As for Syo, she fight differently than Toko! She technically uses dual swords, but the swords can also connect to create a giant pair of scissors. Again, this is just sort of a fun character thing, but she gets to hate Byakuya in this AU. They have arguments and get on each other’s nerves a lot, but I think the rest of the class usually separates them before anything serious happens.

At some point after Toko befriends Komaru, I like to think that Syo gets a proper fight scene with Byakuya where she rips into him. I don’t think Toko would want to hurt anyone though, even him, so Syo would probably leave him with a few minor cuts at most.

Afterwards, I think Byakuya would quiet down with the insults with Naegi and Kyoko’s requests. (Well. Naegi asked him to try and be nicer because he was worried that they might fight again. Kyoko just bluntly told him that he needed to stop being a jerk and start considering everyone else’s feelings.)

Skfksjfkdh ah. I also like to think Komaru and Toko were initially partnered up by HPA for a job. They were assigned to deal with a couple of school kids wreaking havoc on a nearby city with some monsters they semi-tamed?

But after finishing the job, they decided to partner up permanently on their own. They probably have a few combo moves that Komaru came up with, Toko tweaked them to make them actually possible with their skill set and weapons.

Hiro is...possibly a mage/support-type? He’s probably a bit cowardly and freaks out when on the front lines, but he can use a crystal ball to attack from afar. I’m also considering giving him tarot cards so that he can toss them and attack from several points at once?

Or the ball could shatter at some point during the story and he could just roll with it and spread the shards out during battle to attack from several points at once. They could also be used to create a magic cage of sorts, like electric fence but only electricity.

Okay that’s everybody oh my god. I have plenty more stuff about this au, this isn’t even half of it trust me lmao. I’m sorry about this being so long I didn’t realize it’d be this wordy!!!!!

[thechildoflightning]

Vergilius

Title: Vergilius

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: none

~~~

Summary: Vergilius. Vergil. Virgil. Different spellings for the same Roman poet.

For some reason no one talks about the fact that Virgil's name does in fact fit the dark sides naming pattern.

-

Or: Logan and Virgil have a discuss about the name 'Virgil' and what it means.

Warnings: none

[ao3 link]

~~~

Vergilius

It’s after a meeting with Thomas- who is once again panicking over the simplest of decision making, though to be fair, a large part of that is Virgil’s responsibility as well- when Logan corners him.

Virgil recognizes the situation for what it is right away. Logan gets this shine to his eyes, not quite a twinkle, more of a glimmer. Virgil knows what that look means. Logan is curious and he wants answers and he won’t leave until he gets them. 

It's one of Logan’s best traits, his determination and dedication. It’s also one of his worsts.

“Why Virgil?” Logan asks, once he’s fully entered the room and checks that they are alone. (Logan’s not subtle to begin with, and it’s Virgil's job to notice the things others don't, he’s not going to pass over Logan’s sweep of the room for what it is. Logan’s making sure that they are truly alone).

“What?” Virgil replies, “Logan I have no clue what you’re talking about. I’ve literally done nothing.” A brief course of panic. “Wait, why- Logan is something wrong?”

“No, no, no,” Logan confirms, and Virgil relaxes. He lets his muscles and fists untense from where they were coiled and ready to strike as if he had the physical ability to fight every single problem away. 

“Not ‘why, comma, Virgil,’” Logan clarifies, “why Virgil.” Or attempts to clarify, because Virgil is now even more lost than before. 

“Why the name Virgil?” Logan asks, “Why not change it completely.”

Virgil blinks at Logan. Once. Twice. 

“What?” Virgil asks, completely thrown off balance and one word rebuttal coming off slightly harsher than he intended. He trusts Logan- he does- but vulnerability has never been his strong suit and his name- well… but Virgil’s working on it. He is. He’s trying. 

(Why does he feel like trying is never good enough).

“I don’t understand why you would keep it. I thought you would have changed it,” Logan remarks, oblivious too or plain ignoring Virgil’s inner turmoil.

Logan’s dismissal of his name stings more than Virgil’s ready to admit, and he realizes he has to do something fast. Because Virgil is his name, of course it is, and he’s not getting rid of it. But Logan- are the other light sides mad at him for keeping his name? Do they think it ties him to the dark sides that much more?

(Virgil’s so tired of being a dark side. So tired of everything he does being marked bad. He’s still having to relearn that he is not fundamentally a bad person after all these years).

“Logan,” Virgil says weakly, not sure how to build his defense on this particular subject, “Logan it’s my name.”

“I know,” Logan agrees, “and I would have thought that you don’t like it. You have already taken small measures to change it. I thought it was strange you stopped at that. Do you not wish to change your name? Am I mistaken?”

“I-” Virgil stutters, trying to gather his thoughts on the matter. Because Logan’s right. Virgil doesn’t like his name, doesn’t like how it rolls off the tongue. Too many syllables, too much weight, too much history. 

Virgil is a small change. But it’s so so so much better. 

Virgil is Virgil. 

“I- I mean- yeah- I don’t like my original name. But Virgil- Virgil is better.”

Logan considers him for a moment, watching Virgil with a steady gaze before giving a slight nod.

“Alright,” he agrees, “as long as it works for you.”

Virgil nods, and thinks that’s it. 

But Logan hovers in the rooming, leaning forward slightly. Virgil can practically see his mind racing. It’s obvious he has something to say. 

Virgil raises an eyebrow. 

“Yes Logan?”

“May I ask two questions?” Logan asks, “the second might be uncomfortable or invasive. You may refuse to answer at any time, even if you give me consent to ask it now.”

Virgil mulls over the words and reminds himself that this is Logan. He would never hurt Virgil intentionally. Unintentionally- sure, but it’s happened in the past. It could certainly happen here. 

But Virgil’s willing to take that risk. 

He nods. 

“I don’t understand why Virgil is acceptable to you,” Logan prefaces, “Virgil is nothing but a shortened version of Vergilius, and both names along with Vergil- spelled with an ‘e’- are all alternate titles for the same historical poet. They seem so completely connected together that I don’t understand how you could find one comforting and the other repulsive.”

Which is fair. Like Logan said, Virgil is one of many spellings, but all the spellings refer to the same name. It’s like when people sometimes spell Kaitlyn with a “c” or a “i” instead of “y”. Alternate spelling, sure, but the same name. 

That’s all Virgil has done, switching from Vergelius to plain old Virgil. 

“So,” Logan continues, “My question for you is wherein lies that difference? What allows you to be comfortable with Virgil but not Vergilius?”

Virgil has an answer. He’s thought about this for quite some time himself, even if he had never expected anyone to ask him about. But Virgil represents anxiety, and he double, even triple checked his own name, his own reasoning to determine that he was completely satisfied with it. 

Now how to explain it in words?

“We all started with names,” Virgil says slowly, “Intentionally or not, Thomas assigned us names that fit us when we were formed. Right?”

“Yes- well not exactly,” Logan responds.  Virgil raises his eyebrows at him. “The names Thomas gave us represented how Thomas perceived us when we formed, not necessarily are true authentic selves.”

Virgil gives a small nod of acknowledgement. 

“Fair enough,” he allows. “So- Logan, a question for you. Why were you named Logan?”

“Logan. Logos. Logic,” Logan reciters, “the principle of reason and judgement.”

“Right,” Virgil agrees, because his has always been one of the easiest to make sense of. “And I’m Virgil. Again with the Greek and Roman origins. Potentially coming from the term ‘vigil,’ to keep watch. As anxiety that’s my job. Then the connection to the poet- which sure that takes us closer to Roman’s territory but the few times Roman and me have actually gotten along is when we’ve mixed his creativity and the way I feel emotions- specifically surrounding anxiety and fear- to create art.”

“Yes,” Logan agrees. 

Virgil nods and considers how to continue. He knows what he wants to say but he has to think about it for a moment and calculate the proper way to present his feelings to Logan. Logan wants facts, knowledge, logic. That isn’t Virgil’s default and it takes him a minute to speak Logan's language. 

“Your name fits your role. My name fits mine. It’s not a name I chose, but I feel that it fits me well. It- my name allows me to be more than anxiety. Anxiety has always restricted me, made me be one thing. Virgil gives me the freedom to choose and be myself while still providing comfortable familiarity. I don’t have to limit myself to a simplified emotion. I can just be… Virgil.”

Logan studies him for a moment, eyes sweeping across his body as if searching for a lie. 

“Okay,” he eventually says, “I can understand that. But then why not keep Vergilius?”

Virgil gives a weak smile. 

“I thought that would have been obvious.”

Logan frowns. 

“Your name doesn’t make you a dark side.”

“But it matches the undeniable pattern,” Virgil points out. 

Logan hums but doesn’t protest. It’s not like he could. Virgil’s right. 

Roman. Patton. Logan. 

Remus. Janus. Vergilius. 

“It hurts,” Virgil admits finally. And it’s hard to admit but he’s trying to be vulnerable, trying to open up and he’s going to give Logan the benefit of the doubt. (Even so his heart beats louder and his breath grows slightly shorter and his fingers and toes curl tight and tense up). “It hurts to know that somewhere in Thomas’s subconscious, he sees us as good and bad.”

Logan's frown grows deepens. 

“That’s an over simplification of the complex roles each of us carry out.”

“I know,” Virgil says. He didn’t once upon a time. He used to truly believe that there was good and bad and that he was bad, that he hurt Thomas no matter what even when he tried his hardest to be good. But those days are mostly behind him. Mostly. He still had some bad days. “I know that Logan. But Thomas hasn’t always seen it that way.”

“Do you think Thomas sees you that way now?”

A few weeks ago Virgil would have said yes- that Thomas only thought he hurt them and would be glad to get rid of Virgil and the pain he brought with him. 

Now though…

Thomas told him that he was wanted, that he was needed, that he was loved. 

What a strange concept. 

“I-“ Virgil hesitates, “I think Thomas is learning to see shades of gray.”

Logan nods. 

“And you are of course aware that Thomas was raised religious.”

Virgil snorts. 

“No shit Logan, it wasn’t like I was there for all of it or anything.”

“You weren’t?” Logan friend, eyebrows knitting in, “I was certain you had formed by then, am I-“ Logan pauses, clears his throat and adjusts his glasses, “right. Sarcasm.”

Virgil quirks a smile and gives a small nod.

“Got it in one teach.”

Logan straightens his posture, hands coming to rest in front of him and head up. Virgil recognizes it as Logan’s “I’m about to give you a shit ton of info posture.”

“Okay then. Well then you are aware that Thomas was raised with the awareness that things were either good or bad. Thomas was raised with extremes. And as he grew, he eventually started to learn about shades of gray. But as a very young kid it’s hard to see things as nuanced and detailed as they actually are. Add religious teachings that emphasize that good and bad are opposite absolutes and it makes sense that a young Thomas’s brain divided us that way. But that does not mean we still are that way.”

Virgil is- quite honestly Virgil is touched. He’s used to putting up strong walls, ready to fight back against whatever tries to hurt him. He’s still getting used to the idea that people actually want to interact with him and being validated so strongly by Logan almost makes him glow. 

“I know,” Virgil says softly, “I know. The world isn’t black.” Vergilius. “Or white.” Something entirely new. “It’s grey.” Virgil. “And I- I’m not exactly sure where I fall now. I’m not- I’m not a dark side, but I don’t think I’m a light side either. I’ve uh- kinda created my own little space.”

Logan looks at Virgil with his piercing gaze. 

“Ah. I understand now. Thank you Virgil.”

And for some reason, Virgil thinks Logan really understands it. His name, and so much more.

(There’s so much more than light or dark).

“Yeah sure. Anytime.”

Logan gives him a final nod and turns to exit, leaving Virgil to his thoughts. 

Just before Logan passes out through the doorway, he turns around. 

“Virgil?”

“Yes.”

“You have a nice name. It is- admirable that you chose to keep parts of it and alter the rest to best define you.”

Warmth. warmth everyone, sleeping across his body and into his heart, through his entire being. 

“Thank you,” he manages. 

And then Logan is gone.

If this is what being accepted is like- well, he might want to get used to it.

~~~

Taglist Below

-message me to be added or removed-

@mewithanie @eddies-spaghetti @lemonyellowlogic @savioursailor @goldteethandacurseforthistown @gattonero17

[yuvon-writes-letters]

Hey guys :)

Maybe I'm going chronological for one time, so I can sort my thoughts easier.

Yeah, Goldie's much mire active than I would've thought, too. But they did all those things to keep me alive and kind of save, since we still don't know who they are exactly working against. (I mean, we don't know who Goldie exactly is either, but you get my point)

Honestly, I am pretty sure the TSB timeline is continuing, at least if my theory that Goldie just set me back in an alternate timeline is true. In this case I feel sorry for TSB, though..Extremely sorry. He still was 'my' Jake back then, even though he acted weird in the end (maybe was manipulated by entities). I mean, if what he wrote was true he went with authorities. And in the end..this could've been his downfall.

And yeah, maybe I'm not exactly safe, but I just have to go back. If I go, and if I lose my job, I have some things to sort out. And Jake luckily agreed with me that clearing up my desk isn't the worst thing I can do before leaving. We're still thinking about a location, which I could luckily deside myself. Max agreed on that. Even though he still has some doubts. (I mean, of course...His cousin opened the door with bruises all over her face.) He did promise to not ask any questions until I feel ready, though. That gives myself and Jake some time to figure that out.

And also, Jake is right! We have three Jakes and three smart people. YUVON. And of course Goldie, like you said Yu :) And some information about the previous timeline. (And that was it with being chronological)

So yeah, like I said, Max and I'll go. And I also think we can be pretty certain now that the message came from Goldie not the MWAF (which is relieving). I saw the messages and they didn't make Jake the bad guy. I honestly just don't think I can quote them yet. (They're too good, but I probably start daydreaming if I do) But they talk about Jake being an important part of my life and my heart and Max protecting me when he cannot. My dear cousin jumped to conclusions when he saw my bruised face. About Max' phone...I'll probably throw it in a river or something if he brings it with him. I told him not to, also because of Jake (he's not only worried about the MWAF apparently...He didn't exactly say it out loud, but I think it's pretty obvious) but he loves this device.

And I emphasize with you about the being kidnapped thing, you'll manage it, I know it :) And if I need to jump dimensions and box some sense into your Crow-Crew xD

No but for real, you can do that. I know it :)

Jake, find a good point in time to talk to her. But do it :)

Otherwise, I still think the 'underlying desire' theory is a possibility! But, like always in the moment, we could be wrong.

As for my stasis, I really do not wish to talk to more people who think I've been kidnapped. And I am a bit scared that could somehow lead to either them or me being in more danger again. But for now we have to wait.

I for now will pack some important things and paper & pens xD I don't want to leave y'all behind :P

Liska🐾🔥

[A screenshot is glued to the back of the letter and the quick sentence "Jake wants to talk to Jake" is written above]

Hello Jake, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am not quite sure in which way Liska will handle giving you my message, but she promised me to not read it for now.

I don't know whether she told you before or not, but as far as I am concerned she realised I am not only worried about the MWAF chasing her.

With me breaking out of this stasis I am sure that my followers aren't that far behind. And I know you can't do anything from where you are, but cross checking way to protect her doesn't seem to bad to me. Especially since we are similar but still fairly different from each other. At least it seems like that from what I have read.

For my part, I recently improved and updated Nym-OS which allows me access to Liskas whereabouts. If Yuvon should read this, she knows and agrees to it.

Still I am yet stuck on one little detail: I am trying to help Nym-OS in counterattacking. So, even though I am sure you already knoe this yourself, Nym-OS gets the ability to access location of the people attacking Liskas phone. I am almost done with that, so we are able to see a bit easier if and where people are that could be a danger.

Do you have any other ideas for ways I could help? Or even improve what I am doing momentarily. I wouldn't normally ask this since I know and trust my skills, but I think that this is fairly different from a 'normal situation'.

~ Jake

Lis,

Um. I don't know if you've seen the newest person to send in a letter, but we now have an issue.

Jessy, if you're reading this, I was sort of trying to avoid talking about this right away but I'm sort of trapped in a weird place, and Jake's here too because I'm a dumbass. I did not, so you know, let him read your letter or my reply. I figured you wouldn't want that. Sorry for dancing around the issue earlier :/ But at least you can get a good sample of the complete insanity we go through on the regular now!

Yeah... you're getting thrown into the deep end right now, aren't you. Sorry. There's no way to ease into this. You should probably either stop reading these entirely or start reading the letters from the beginning, so this will all at least make some sense. The first letter should start with the words "To whoever reads this," just so you know you get the right one.

Back to you, Lis. Yeah, I feel pretty bad for TSB Jake too. I honestly can't imagine being in his position right now.

Alright. So, you can choose the place. Great! There's way less chance of you being caught that way...

Tragedies just seem to be happening to all us Duskwood detectives, recently, don't they? Rai is chronically overworked and barely has time to sleep, I'm stuck in this hellhole and I've been forgotten by most everyone, you were shot, and poor Matt died and... well.

I never knew him, but I feel really bad for him :(

You could give Max half the truth. Tell him you have a stalker, and he's starting to get physical. Jake has been trying to help you get away from the asshole. It's not even a lie, just... not the full truth. Because. You know. The whole truth is completely fucking insane.

Writing to Jessy just put into perspective how insane everything is, I think. Gimme a sec.

Oh, fuck. My Jessy just texted me. Great timing.

Jeez that whole thing with me leaving myself out was just a joke XD If I knew you and Jake would take it so seriously, I'd never have said anything. I'll steer clear from now on.

Yeah, okay, definitely Goldie. That makes way more sense. I don't think you have to be quite so drastic as destroying the phone. Just get him to leave it at home for the trip.

Ahaha, thanks. I don't think that's necessary, though. Actually, seeing future!Jessy's perspective has caused a bit of a paradigm shift. I think I might need to reconsider what all to tell and not to tell the Crow Crew. I just sort of default to keeping things secret, now, but you've seen how well that worked for me with you and Rai, and with Jake.

Again, you probably should wait for them to contact you first, but you WILL need to talk to them when that happens. What you say to them and what you don't is up to you.

Pack a couple different pens XD We're all a bit long-winded.

That's all from me :)

(The handwriting changes to Jake's.) Hallo, Lis.

Yuvon refuses to tell me what precisely she means about Jessica. Was she somehow contacted by an alternate version of Jessica? If so, how?

I am glad it was Goldie who contacted Max. Yuvon's suggestion for an excuse seems a good one, as there are far less things to remember that way. You simply need to oversimplify everything.

I do not, unfortunately, entirely believe that Yuvon was joking when she made that comment, based on previous comments and her ongoing guilt. I can't understand sometimes why she feels the need to lie so much. It is difficult for me to read people, much less her.

I will speak to her eventually. Early tomorrow, perhaps, if nothing else rears its head. Yuvon looks tired, and I am also admittedly not at my peak. I sincerely hope she does not wake up as early as she does every single day. It may get somewhat taxing, what with the lack of coffee here.

I think that is all from me to you, Lis. If you would kindly find a way to send the next section to my counterpart without looking at it, it would be greatly appreciated.

Thank you :)

—Jake and Yuvon

Jake,

It is a pleasure to meet you as well, despite the unusual circumstances.

That our pursuers may be freed from the stasis is a logical conclusion. Seeing as the last known location I had on them in my universe was approximately five hundred miles from Duskwood, they will likely be some of the first to free themselves from the stasis. I do not believe I need to warn you that time is of the essence.

It seems as if I am a small distance ahead of you in the development of countermeasures, perhaps because I have had more linear time to develop them. If you are where I think you are at in the development, you likely have or will soon hit a bug you cannot pin down that makes the pinpointing mechanism simply refuse to work at all. Presuming your and my version of NYM-0S are similar enough, the issue should lie in the public bool set in line 132 of the third part of the targeting script, the script that decides what constitutes a target; you have it defaulted to "false" where it should default to "true".

As for additional countermeasures: I was attempting to work on a rudimentary automated system of pattern detection when I was brought here. Essentially, its function would be such that it would be able to triangulate using the locator features already installed to find a rough estimate of where their headquarters might be. However, I have not found any way thus far to eliminate outliers, and as such the feature is currently next to useless. I am no longer able to work on the code, but perhaps you will have more luck than I did.

That is all I can think of for the moment on that subject. However, I have an odd theory on what may be part of the reason we vary so. If you have a moment to spare, please answer me this:

When I was very young, back when Mother was still around, she took me to a doctor for odd behaviors. This included not looking people in the eyes, but there was a list. I was given a diagnosis; if you had the same experience, you should likely know which one.

Did you have this experience? If so, please prove it by stating what the diagnosis was.

Do not worry if you do not know what I am talking about; I would rather you did not guess. Simply state that you don't know. It will confirm my theory.

Good luck with your pursuers.

—Jake

(The letter tucks itself in the paper clip with the others.)

[m00nlitknight]

emergency contact.

fandom: IT (2017) -- in a more modern setting pairing:  henry bowers / reader ( gender neutral ) word count:   2.4k+ warnings:  hospitals.  foot & shoulder injuries.  past relationships.  henry being a bit of an asshole but also just grumpy cos he was awoken. taglist:  @rvf3 extra:  based a lot off of a dialogue prompt i fount while perusing pinterest!  sorry my updates have been so bad lately but i hope you like this ♡  thank you for reading!  +  masterlist.

Responsibility.  Gained through years of maturing with the understanding that sacrifices must be made.  Giving up things one is used to doing to in turn be given an inkling of consideration for worthiness and respect in the eyes of the world.

To you, it meant having to give up the adrenaline-rush of teenagerdom that came in the form of a backwards sleep schedule in comparison to those around you for being able to work.  A sacrifice which you were more than willing to take, mainly for being able to reap the monetary rewards.

So you did what you’d grown used to, a dull routine you’d come to dub ‘the baby steps into adulthood,’ which began with going to bed at a reasonable hour.  You settled in, read until your eyelids became too heavy to bear, and dozed off with the stars as your voyeur.  It was a peaceful slumber, until your phone - at full volume - rang into the still and night-stale air.

You awoke with a start, jolting with tenseness before sighing and relaxing.  Your hand, groggy and zombie-like, padded around your bedside table for the cellphone, eyes still mashed into the pillow to try and soften the attack of the senses that came in the form of a shrill and default ringtone.

Finally, by the third ring, you managed to grip it and drag it to your ear.  “Hello?”  your voice was thick and gravel-like, coming out in a deep murmur you were hardly able to register yourself.

“Hello, are we reaching,” the voice on the other side came out clear and feminine, despite the underlying tiredness that went under your own radar.  She paused momentarily, before saying your name with a questioning tone.

“Yes…?  Who is this?”  whether it be the professionalism shown by the woman or the alarm of being awoken in the dead of night by someone who knew your name.

“Fantastic, this is Derry Home Hospital and we’re reaching you on account of Henry Bowers signing you as his emergency contact.”

“Huh?”

“Would...would you like me to repeat that?”

“No -- no, I’ll be down there as quickly as possible, thank you for calling.”

“Alright, thank you for your cooperation, and see you soon,” with that the woman was gone, leaving you to quickly ruminate over what the hell Henry had done.

Your history with him wasn’t exactly tidy, having gone through an on-again off-again relationship throughout highschool, mostly being left by him due to your ‘overly emotional’ nature.  However, these were mostly after arguments and fights initiated by him for petty reasons.  Eventually, after you’d graduated and found yourself on that mid-June morning, all contact with him had been reduced to some times you’d saw him in public.  You’d cast a gaze his way, then quickly do anything and everything in your power to either appear busy or disappear completely.

Groaning, you dragged yourself from bed, and did your best to work with getting ready in a timely fashion.  Truth be told, you honestly did not want to come face-to-face with the guy you’d been successfully avoiding for the past month.  But, when fate came ringing on your phone, what were you able to do?  Sighing through your nose, in the haze of a rude awakening, you pulled on the most comfortable but presentable clothing you could find, inclusive of a flannel, tank top, and pair of sweatpants.  Considering the shape these people had seen in the past, they could bear to see your tired eyes and laziness.

Before heading out the door, you briefly brushed your teeth, grabbed a water bottle, your keys, and wallet containing identification.  Though you hadn’t glanced at any clocks, you could deduce that it was the early morning, just before the sun was getting ready to come over the horizon.  Dark and starless.

The drive wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but you couldn’t really call it a tranquil drive, either.  What had Henry wound up doing?  Why was he in the hospital?  Was he gravely injured?  Where the fuck were his friends?  Even if it had felt like a wash of panic was coming over you, it was undeniably far less intense then the first two times you’d been called as his emergency contact.  Whatever the reason, he kept putting you down, practically claiming you as the most important and safest person in his life.

Fellow headlights were few and far between on the road, streetlights illuminating further then what your own car was doing for you.  Eventually, the fluorescent lighting of the hospital came into view, attracting you like an unfortunate moth to it.

Pulling into a space, you sighed in preparation of the worst.  The last two times you’d been there for him, he had been drugged up and nearly impossible to understand.  No matter what he looked like, you just hoped that he was going to be a tolerable presence.  With that thought, you headed into the main doors to reception.

“Hello,” you greeted, timid and taking a brief moment to hear your voice bounce against the walls and let your voice register.  “I, uh, was called as an emergency contact for my friend?”

“Oh, yes, are you here for Mr. Bowers?”  as she spoke, you registered her voice to be that of the nurse on the other side.

“Yeah! Yeah, that’s me.”

“His room number is number forty-four, I’ll show you to it,” she said, getting up and showing you down the pristine and sterile hallways.  On the way there, you take note of the few turns and landmarks that may need to navigate later.  She stepped into another room, one meant to house multiple patients, but with all but one bed empty.  “Here you are, another nurse will be seeing you shortly for his discharge.”

You padded further into the room, getting a good look at your peer laying on the bed, appearing to be fast asleep.  “Henry?”  You called out to him, the volume a bit of a strain against the tiredness practically coating your entire mind.

He awoke with a jolt, head jerking over to you with a scowl before softening slightly.  “Oh. S’just you,”  through the initial distaste you could feel a faint sense of relief from him.

“Yeah, just me,”  you took a seat at his bedside.  “What’d you do?”

“Right out the gate with the questions, huh?”

“Yep.  Now what’d you do, Hen?”

“Broke my foot ‘n dislocated a shoulder.  It was a fuckin’ blur how it all happened, so I don’t really remember all the fine details….my friends left me here, though.”

“Don’t they always,” you mumbled, taking a second to glance down at your phone and allowed your thoughts to flow into your focus. 4:22 a.m.  It was likely you wouldn’t be able to get back to bed.  Should you call in, allow yourself to take a day off?  Or should you rely on the power of caffeine and power through it?

“What happened t’us?”  his voice cut through the ebb and flow of the silence, the sound alone startling you into the present.

“Huh?”

“It’s like we saw each other every day then jus’ -- stopped,” his brows knit together as you looked to him, confusion blooming on each of your features, but with different origins.

“I don’t...I don’t know?”

“Neither do I...I miss it.  I miss you ‘n the way or you made me feel,” his face contorted further, like he was trying to solve a complicated math problem.  You shifted in your seat awkwardly and casted your gaze anywhere but him once again.

“I...I guess we just sorta fell off, Hen--”

“Don’t use that fuckin’ nickname with me,” he snapped, looking to you with a sudden harsh tone.  “S’been, what?  Two months since you spoke to me, four since y’last took the time to look at me?”

You sank into the depths of your seat when his ire-filled gaze turned to you.  Whatever words you had to say to him had long since died within your throat, not that any of them came with any type of maliciousness.  If you were able to be honest with yourself, you were somewhat surprised he hadn’t taken a more direct action to garner your attention in the months prior, and had instead taken the route to laying whatever you two had to an incomplete, and admittedly unsatisfactory, end.

“I’m sorry,” you were hardly able to muster, instead taking to fiddling with the long sleeves of the flannel you had.  Was there always an accent of red on the otherwise grayscale plaid color scheme?

He scoffed, rotating his uninjured shoulder and shifting in his bed.  “All y’can say is a ‘sorry’?  Shit, dude, I’d’a thought’cha to have more fight in ya.”

In the back of your mind, the snark of you had recalled the time to account for the lack of so-called fight within.

You sighed outwardly, once again, and dragged a hand down your face.  “Do you have anywhere to stay tonight, Henry?”

“Psh, old man’ll kill me if I barge in at fuck-all hours like this.”  No work today afterall.

“You wanna stay at my place?  You can take my bed.”

“Really?  Y’think I’m finally good enough to take a place in your bed, princess?”

“Careful,” you snap back, voice having taken on a sudden warning to its tone. “You sound like Hockstetter.  Don’t let his weird shit get to your head, Henry.”

“Oh, so you suddenly give a fuck about me ‘n who influences me, huh?  Fuck you think you are, my parent?”

“No, I just--”  You were cut off by a nurse stepping into the room.

“Mr. Bowers?”  He started, looking between the two of you with an air of caution.  “You’re free to go, just stop by the desk on your way out.  Would you like help getting into your wheelchair?”

“No,” he nearly barked back and shifted to move from the bed.

“Thank you,” you said quickly, getting up to help your friend from the bed when the nurse awkwardly shuffled from the room.  You didn’t scold your friend, even if how Henry had treated the nurse didn’t sit particularly well with you, the thought of another argument seemed to be on the horizon if you did.

He practically flung himself into the wheelchair with a grunt, pointing impatiently at the boot at the foot of his bed. “Don’t forget about my boot.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you had said, voice truly devoid of any emotion whilst you grabbed your things to make a quick departure.  The quicker you could get home, the quicker you’d be able to fall back into sleep.

The discharging process proved itself less strenuous then you feared, only really consisting of yourself zoning out and Henry writing down his address - albeit, with the caveat of anything especially legible due to his dominant hand being injured.  At his prompting, and being drug involuntarily into reality once again, you wheeled him to your car and watched him struggle into the passenger seat.  You knew better then to offer help when he only wanted to keep up his ‘tough man’ act.  Silently, you put the wheelchair away and rushed back to your car.

It felt like the times when you were in a relationship with him all over again, something that settled uncomfortably onto your shoulders once you sat down in the driver’s seat and buckled your seatbelt.  “Buckle in,” you said, while starting to back out.

“Fuck off,” he snapped back.  You started driving in silence once again.

Both hands on the wheel.  The radio was drowned out by the engine.  You could nearly call it romantic had it been any situation when the two of you were infatuated with one another.  Running away and eloping under the moonlight, like you’d babbled about a few nights at the peak of your heart swelling for him.  Meaningless and empty words and fantasies of helping him from the predicament that was Derry.  It wrenched your heart, really, when you first met him.  Just a broken guy who maybe you could help out in some ways.  Maybe it was selfish of you.  Whatever.

The air felt stale and uncomfortable on the drive back, and it felt like an eternity before you pulled back into your driveway.  You glanced at the clock in your car. 5:00 a.m.  The sun was beginning to awaken, dusk starting to take ahold of the sky.

“How the hell am I gonna get you inside,” you murmured when you looked over to Henry, who stared blankly back at you.

“I’unno how well crutches would work since my shoulder ‘n all...Jus’ fuckin’ uh...help me to the door ‘n we’ll figure it out from there?  Y’still got that office chair, right?”

You nodded, opening the door and getting out.  You strolled up the pathway to your own door before going back to help the boy out of the car.  It was entirely too awkward, the way he threw an arm around you and leaned nearly all his weight on you.  The way you put an arm around your waist.  It brought back the past in the oddest way possible.  God, you wanted this to be over more than anything.

Many grunts and swears and a chair ride through hardwood floored rooms later, Henry laid in your bed and the front door went back to its closed and locked default.  If you had the energy in you, you would’ve sneered at the very idea of Henry fucking Bowers in your bed sullying your newly washed sheets.  Though, you could only stare for a few moments before beginning to gather things to sleep on your couch.

“Why?”  you asked as he stared at the ceiling.

“Why what?”

“Why do you keep putting me down as your emergency contact?  Don’t your friends know how to do that shit?”

“They’re scared.”

“Of what?”

“Bein’ fuckin’ adults’r somethin’, you done with the damn questions?”

“Yep.  See’ya, sleep well.”

You shuffled from the room, setting the couch up and staring at the ceiling to mirror his position.  The morning shaped itself to be odd.  While you dozed back off, you remembered the feeling of how it managed to turn out; it was uncomfortable.  You didn’t hate it, you didn’t like it, but you surely didn’t love it.  Henry bowers coming back into your life already felt odd, obviously, but he felt like just another part of high school you were supposed to leave behind.  Did you really want to leave him completely behind?

[bekahdoesnerdshit]

cog! indifference because I feel like that’s not a very cog thing she tends to feel. also: disgust! enthusiasm! raini: panic! mischief! ............ lust??? for auriga: frustration... excitement... boredom! ayen: anxiety, confusion!

Already answered disgust and enthusiasm for Cog, and mischief for Raini! Great minds, great minds, the group chat shares one braincell, etc. etc. 

Cog

Indifference: I think Cog struggles to process and express a lot of negative emotions, because she’s made such a conscious choice to repress put them out of her mind in pursuit of positivity. But she can get angry! She can get snippy because she’s stressed and hasn’t slept enough! But even then, even though the emotion is negative, at least she’s feeling and doing something. She’s taking a stand! She’s acting in defense of something she believes in! Indifference, though? It’s passive, it’s an inaction, it’s giving up. She has a bleeding heart, she isn’t capable of just turning that off and deciding she doesn’t care. If Cog gets to the point of indifference, it’s because she’s physically and emotionally exhausted. There’s too many morally gray choices she’s being forced to make, and there’s never a “right” answer, and everything she does hurts someone who doesn’t deserve it. Cog’s indifference is head down, shoulders hunched, tired eyes and still, folded hands. It’s pulling back from the conversation around her and letting the rest of the party decide the right course of action instead of weighing in and trying to steer them toward a more morally upstanding decision. She’s tired, and there’s no time to rest, and there’s no objective “good” to push toward. What does it matter what decision they make in the face of that? 

Raini

Panic: Flighty! If I had to pick one word- which I do not because as yesterday’s ask proved I have never in my life heard of “brevity”- panicked Raini is flighty. Whether that just means skittish in the moment, moving quickly from spot to spot as things Spook her, or if that means leaving the situation entirely with a Dimension Door or Teleport, she is not going to stay in one place very long at all. Her movements when she talks get a lot more jerky and abrupt, and she loses most of her intentionally cultivated air of aloofness evaporates. I don’t think it comes to this very often! I think it takes a lot to rattle Raini to the point of panic. But, you know, again. Sometimes you kill the goddess of magic, or whatever. Sometimes you’re staring down the barrel of an attack you know you won’t survive, and you have enough time to whip around to face your party with wide eyes before the blade of a sword that’s nearly as long as you are tall sinks home in your stomach, and you have just a second to panic because. What if this is the end? Are the others going to try to help you? Why would they? They don’t have to! I think, of just about every emotion, panic is the one Raini hates the most. You’re helpless, it means you’ve lost your head, and you’re just grossly out of control of the situation. Pass! Hard fucking pass!!! Lust: You just want to know how she acts when Ecstasy is visiting and that’s Fair but you have to own it.  Raini who’s trying to Get some is honestly like. Essentially unrecognizable. Y’all know that “oh, with the horns!! you’re so funny!” text post? But like, for real. And maybe 40% sarcastic? She’s SO more touchy than she usually is, especially on the bicep or upper thigh if they’re sitting down. Lots of lip biting, lots of stolen glances through eyelashes, and honestly? I think she’s very much the type of person to just circle while she flirts. We’re playing coy a little, but we’re also moving a little closer on each pass, so read into that what you will. Also! It’s definitely a competition to her, in a weird way? Like she’s super pale, so any amount of blushing shows up super clearly, but she will Not acknowledge it because that is losing. Somehow. Even though we all know how the night ends anyway. And while there are no losers when it comes to having sex with someone who is very hot very sensual very sexy, Raini does Not generally get to maintain her pride to the extent she would like to those nights. Is that too much information? Maybe so! But you asked, So! (Also again I Know this is non-verbal BUT such a big part of Raini flirting is banter. What’s the point of spending time on someone who already can’t keep up with you outside the bedroom?)

Auriga

Frustration: I think, in an incredibly ambitious and unprecedented move, I have finally created a character who is a wellspring of patience. He’s an elf, a cleric, a ruler, and a middle child. Technically. He has a fuse, because everybody does, but it’s probably literally about a mile long. But like, as a result? When it’s done, he’s done. He finally gets fed up trying to explain something to someone? Well, that’s it. His expression is still placid and pleasant, because he was Raised Well, but he’s written them off entirely. Too stupid to make understand, to slow to bother with. He’s had too much of a frustrating situation? It’s hopeless. There’s nothing to be done about it. Someone else is going to have to take care of it. He pulls back entirely behind manners and decorum, smiles politely but coldly, and excuses himself from the situation as soon as is respectable. Excitement: Aww this was so sweet to think about. Generally, Auriga is a pretty reserved person! The centuries of High Expectations (and a seven charisma) will do that to you! Can’t put your foot in your mouth if you don’t open it in the first place! But when he’s excited, he lights up. You get a real, not practiced smile, and soft touches on your forearm or shoulder. Still respectable!! But small, fleeting moments of intimacy, urging the other person to be as excited as he is about what is, in fairness, probably some pretty lame shit. I think he’s also very likely to default to drawing pictures to explain whatever he’s talking about so that the other person can see exactly what he means. Someone who engages and asks the right questions can absolutely get him to talk for hours about a given topic, when before that they may have heard barely a handful of words from him. Boredom: I’m making this character choice now and I may come to regret it when we start to actually play but I don’t care: Auriga’s default when he’s bored is to start to doze off. Like, has he had a lot of practice sitting in council meetings for long hours, debating circles around the same topic without making much, if any, progress? Sure! But that’s, bless him, something he finds interesting. Somehow. If it’s something he has absolutely zero interest in though (like, for example, a stuffy, boring play he’s obligated to attend out of professional courtesy? hypothetically) I think he’ll try to focus for a while? Because he was raised right, he has manners. But eventually his chin finds its way to his palm, and his eyes start to droop, and idk if mechanically elves can sleep and just don’t or if he’s just trancing in the middle of a public place (which I guess would be less conspicuous, technically?) but our boy is No Longer Paying Attention. 

Ayen

Anxiety: Anxious Ayen is fidgety. Bounce the leg! Continually summon and dismiss various small hexblade weapons! Open your hand, close it around the handle of a dagger. Open it agin and let the dagger disappear in a puff of smoke, close it again around a weird crooked sickle. Open your hand and let the sickle disappear, close it again around-- And so on, and so forth. I think she gets worked up really easily when she’s anxious, gets kinda jumpy, and is definitely ready to shoot off at a moment’s notice to go do whatever there is to do that will get rid of or distract from her anxiety.  (Also I know the original prompt was ‘non-verbal’ but it’s important to me that you know that she for sure talks to herself when she’s anxious, like. “Okay Ayen, you got this. We have no clue what the Fuck is going on, but we’re gonna pull it together and take it the fuck out. Alright? Alright.”) Confusion: Ayen is that classmate you sit next to in like some fuckoff high level math class, and the professor is talking and you realize you have No idea what they’re talking about? And you look over at Ayen to see if she can clarify anything, and she’s already writing “bro idfk” on the corner of her notes for you to read. If Ayen’s confused she’s gonna default to thinking it’s funny, because like. Can’t look stupid if you’ve decided the stuff you don’t understand is stupid first! So she’ll laugh, and shrug real big, and make a show of not caring what’s going on, because that saves face. That’s dumbshit nerd stuff, she is Way too cool for that.

[ashleyswrittenwords]

How To Be A Queen [Part 9]

Summary: Princess Zelda is at a loss. Her handed royal responsibilities have begun to weigh heavily on her and she is eventually backed into a corner. Live a life she loathes or run away from everything she’s ever known? Navigating life is hard, and Link forces her to learn that she doesn’t have to do it alone.

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Part 1

How To Be A Queen

I woke up to an intense light in my eyes. I tried squeezing them shut and burying my nose into the warm coat in a lame attempt to will myself back into a state of sleepiness. The fur ticked my nose and I sat up to stifle a sneeze. The air was crisp and dry, making my throat scratchy. I pulled the coat up with me, making sure it was tight around my shoulders before placing my feet on the floorboards. A chill seeped into my socks; it was a strange feeling. I tucked my chin into the fur and peeked out of the window.

Light bounced off a fresh snow. It looked perfect. I looked across the way at a man who was knocking ice sickles off a building's gutters. The sign let me know it was an inn. He smiled below where I was and I noticed Anju running over with barely anything to protect her from the weather. She handed him something and they laughed together. I smiled unconsciously as she ran back into her parent's house with a flustered expression.

I still struggled with the laces of my bodice and scorned myself. I had every opportunity to have Impa teach me just the day before. Someone bounded up the stairs and harshly whispered in the hallway, there were whispers back and I decided to open the door, "Anju?"

It was like I was catching children stealing food from the kitchen.

Anju stood by the stairs while, from what I assumed were her parents, stood right across the hall. They looked at me with wide eyes and Anju stared at her parents accusatorily. I looked between them, trying to decide if I should close the door. "I'm so sorry. My parents are being creepy," Anju again gave emphasis towards the couple. They looked meekly at me and I offered an awkward smile.

"We were just wondering if she'd like to join us for breakfast, Anju! No need for theatrics," her father started. I noticed where she got her observant eyes.

Anju shook her head, "No, we're going to the Foresters."

Anju's mother noticeably pouted and I smiled, "I don't think I've properly introduced myself. My name is Zelda. Thank you so much for allowing me into your home." I swallowed; my throat was drier than I thought. Regardless I reached out my hand. Anju's mother seemed to hesitate, but her Father took my hand with earnest. He had a strong grip, "Nonsense. We're honored to have you, Princess. I am Rourke Harper and this is my wife Sharla. I am sure you've met my daughter."

I reciprocated his broad smile, "Ah, Zelda. I insist, Mister and Misses Harper. Anju and I have been acquainted for the last couple years, I've been very blessed with her assistance." In my tiredness, I defaulted back to my sharper accent without completely noticing. Sharla looked stunned for a moment before grabbing my hand.

"Well, Zelda, you must stay here for the duration that you are here just for putting up with our Anju for so long."

Anju huffed, "Mum!"

"I truly appreciate it. Anju mentioned you were the tailor around here?" I asked, Mrs. Harper stood proudly. "That is I. I've been studying royal tailoring for years."

My cheeks warmed, "Could I be so bold to ask you to teach me how to lace bodices?"

Once that was said and done, the Harpers wouldn't allow me to venture out without a cup of tea. I happily obliged, they were a delight to talk to and it was still fairly early in the morning – not yet the seventh hour. We discussed what I knew of tailoring and I was surprised to know she had already knew of the stitching of my gown. Apparently Anju had a relative who worked for Mrs. Bea, who in turn was a rather impressive woman in the world of tailoring.

"How is she?" Sharla had asked.

My tongue spoke faster than my mind, "Barely tolerable."

Then, there was a bout of gossiping that I pleasantly was able to take part in. We spoke about midwinter and the festivities in Hateno. Like Kakariko, they extended for days. Approximately two weeks. The first start was when the Solstice Ball occurred at the castle. From what the Harpers recount, midwinter is a small part of the agenda of the castle whereas everywhere else the villages are isolated from the busy life of Castletown. For generations, the majority of villages dealt with the time of crop hibernation with festivities. It brought values back towards family and the goddesses. Sharla reached out and pleaded to dress me for the upcoming festival. "It'll be fantastic! Gorgeous!"

Finally, Anju and I left with warm bellies. I wore Link's coat. I kept my thoughts from having to part with the extra layer once we got there. It was all too upsetting for whatever reason. The snow crunched under my feet and people were just rousing awake.

"I'm sorry my mother's overbearingness," Anju kicked at a ball of ice. I glanced at the ribbons and moon-shaped flags that hung around. "It's alright. They seem charming. I rather liked them."

"Really? You have weird taste."

I snorted, "I'd much prefer your mother over Mrs. Bea."

Anju laughed at my displeased tone, "Will you really be here for the festival? Not that I'm telling you to leave, my mother would kick me. How long are you planning to stay?"

I shrugged, lolling my head to the side to grin at her, "As long as you'll let me. Besides, I'm sure Link would like some time with his family. It's difficult to recall the last time he's been on leave."

"Last spring."

"Oh, Anju, I am the worst."

"Shush, you're overthinking it. He goes home more than most."

His house came upon us quickly and we shrugged our coats off when we entered. The sent of pan-fried meat hit my nose and my stomach growled in response. A fire blazed in the corner. I smiled at Aryll who leapt from her seat, "We were just talking about you!"

"Me?" I asked. I hugged her and peered over her shoulder at her brother, who leaned against the counter. He looked back. His hair was tussled, not unlike the night before, and he looked positively tired. Goddesses, he made nonchalant look sexy.

I blamed my heated cheeks on the receding cold and looked away sharply.

"Are you getting sick?" Aryll sounded concerned,

"No. I don't think so."

"Oh, dear. Did I forget to give you extra blankets?" Anju frowned.

"It's alright! I managed, I'm completely fine," I tried to look confident and already mourned the coat's absence. That stupid coat.

Link's aunt turned to us from the stove, "Come get something to eat, you two. We're making extras. If you don't grab it now, Link will probably eat it."

I laughed and grabbed the plate that Aryll handed to me. I enjoyed the openness of the house. The kitchen wasn't walled off from the rest, instead it was an open space where dining and living area split the room. I helped myself to the eggs, bacon, and sausage. It had been a while since I was able to eat like this.

"How did you sleep?" Link asked as I sat at the table. His voice was scratchy.

"I slept well!" I said, taking a sip of tea that was offered, "A little cold, but we can't help that."

Anju shot me an apologetic look. I almost felt bad for saying it.

"How about you?"

"Oh, he's super hung over," Aryll blared out, setting her own plate down across from us. Link winced at her comment, "Can you be any louder?"

"Yes, You know that."

"Unfortunately," he turned to me while stealing a piece of bacon from his sister, "Have you seen my coat by the way?"

"You need to stop hanging out with those boys, Link," Anju spoke up, "They make you drink too much."

"Is Kafei much better?"

Anju looked flustered, "Whatever. You missed him yesterday and he's mad at you."

Link scoffed, "He'll come around eventually. I can't avoid him."

He looked back at me expectantly. It made a little bit of sense now. "You don't remember giving it to me last night? It's on the coat rack now."

Link looked at me for a beat longer before turning away with a shy smile, "No, actually."

That makes a lot of sense.

The situation from the night before wasn't elaborated on. Anju and Aryll shared resolves from across the table, making me wonder what their unsaid exchange was about. It would be a lie if I said I was completely in the dark about it. The rest of breakfast was largely uneventful. Aryll invited me out to ice skating in the evening and Malon had come by with my original coat. After that, we went off to shop.

"Link, you don't have to come along," Malon said, noticing the dark bags under his eyes. She looked gorgeous again today. Her skirts matched the deep auburn of her hair and even through the layers of fabric you could tell she had curves. Link said something as a reply, but I wasn't paying much attention. I looked down at myself and thought I had the same appearance as a box.

I noticed Link and I trailed behind.

"How have they been?" He was smiling at his sister who had already pointed out the Harpers tailoring shop. Anju groaned in opposition, but it looked like the group was steering that way anyway.

"I love them," I said, without really thinking. "I-I mean, I've never had friends like this. Maybe it's too soon to call them friends, but I like their company very much." I spoke the latter part quickly in an attempt to save face. My face flushed.

"I think they regard you as a friend already. Aryll has never been a stranger to anyone, but she's sure taken a liking for you."

I smiled widely and my heart warmed to the statement. "Thank you."

Link stopped and patted his pockets as if forgetting something. "I actually," he stopped, pulling a pouch out, "have a bastard to meet, so I'll have to leave you."

I took it. The weight told me it was coins and I blinked. I don't remember ever actually spending money before. Link looked across the way at the inn and I noticed a man peeking out of the window. He looked… angry? The man didn't shy away despite the staring contest now going on.

"I suppose I'll leave you to it, then," I realized something, "Oh, Link before you go I wanted to ask you something."

He turned back and waited without a question. A weird feeling of being back at the castle and his stoic expression. Why did he make me feel like that? I pulled at my fingers. "Would you mind if we stayed for a few more days?"

Link didn't say anything, just smiled. A cart rolled passed us. Then, he laughed. It was low, as if supposed to be private.

"What?" I said, embarrassed.

"Nothing, it's just," he chuckled again.

"What?" I kicked snow in his direction.

"Of course I wouldn't mind," he stuffed his hands in his coat pockets, "So, after the festival?"

"Yes. I don't believe I'll be giving a speech then," I laughed lightly. I really wanted to go. I glanced back at where our group left us. Link's eyes told me he understood.

"You absolute bastard!" A voice rang out behind Link who stiffened and cursed under his breath. "First you don't tell me you're coming home, then you go out drinking with the bloody Ratliff brothers? Of all people in this town, it had to be my sworn enemies."

The same man I saw this morning bounded down the inn steps.

"-and the worst of all you stand outside my business and flirt with a random girl. When you know I'm there too!"

Link tried reasoning, "Kafei, listen, I'm sorry."

"Oh, so now you're sorry!" He threw his hands up in the air. I took that as my cue to leave, slipping into the tailoring shop to find the girls peaking out the window at the showdown happening. I found Aryll thumbing through a rack of sample gowns with Mrs. Harper, who waved me in with a smile.

"I don't think purple is my color, Sharla. I wore it last Spring and I felt like a little girl," Aryll said without bothering to look up. She moved on to the next, "I think green is my color this season."

"Darling, you look stunning in every color," Sharla replied with a smile.

"I'll have to buy every dress if you keep that up, Mrs. Harper."

They laughed together and I looked through a pile of fabric that Sharla Harper had directed me to. She was very adamant to make a dress for me despite the short period of time we had. It was flattering but I also felt guilty. Malon strode over with some ribbons in her hands and asked my opinion.

"I like the red one, but the white also seems pretty," she said, weighing her options.

"The red compliments your eyes," I thought for a moment, "but the white contrasts your skin beautifully." Malon smiled brightly, "I will need to get them both, then!"

She hung around with me and felt the fabric, "I like the pink." She was referring to a light blush pink satin fabric I had been looking at. It reflected the light, causing a subtle shine and I hummed in agreement, "It does look rather pretty."

"It would look stunning on you."

I looked up at her in surprise and blinked, not really knowing what to say. "Thank you! Although, I do think it would look better on you. It would complement the ribbons beautifully." She sounded so genuine.

"Oh, no," she started, swatting the comment away, "I suppose it would look nice with the red. However, I really think you would catch any man's eye in a nice gown in that color."

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out, instead I smiled out of a lack of words.

Malon pursed her lips and glanced around the room nonchalantly, "Or maybe one pair of eyes."

I put down the fabric and pushed a strand of hair from my eyes. A flush crept up my neck. "Whatever are you talking about, Malon?"

"Oh, come on girl! I could see what was going on between you and Link today," her smile was sly and suggestive.

"I don't – That's preposterous. There's nothing between us," I sputtered and laughed nervously, shaking my head. Malon still didn't know what my title was – if I even had one in the first place. And she certainly didn't know who Link was to me. I covered my mouth, hoping to distract her from the redness of my face.

Who was Link to me?

Again, I shook my head and repeated what I said before with assurance, "There's nothing between us."

"Zelda," her tone was hard and I was forced to face her. "I've known Link for most of his life. He's never looked at someone like he's looked at you."

I tried to wipe my clammy hands on my skirt without her noticing. Why was I so nervous? My heart pounded heavily in my chest. I told myself that her assumptions were based on things she didn't know. "I'm not too sure."

"Do you not feel that way towards him?" She looked expectant, but gentle. I peered around the room and heard the rest of our group pursuing the back room. It was as if Malon planned out this conversation.

Our first night under the stars when he talked about his sister. The way his smile reached his eyes when he told me about her. When we started our mornings with silence that felt so comfortable I thought I had known him for all my life. Link caused so much happiness for me and I doubted he knew the extent of it. I had met many men who wanted to be in my life and wanted something in return. Link was, well, different. He was exciting and never asked anything of me. But there was another side of me that knew there was an unspoken dynamic that set us apart. We came from completely different worlds. I would always be reminded of that. I felt cornered, so I swallowed my pride and told her the truth.

"I don't know."

Malon looked at me for a long moment, softening her features. I've never been good at hiding my emotions. My voice was thick and I was sure my thoughts reflected on my face.

"Are you okay?" She touched my shoulder with her hand and squeezed.

"If I'm honest with you, Malon. I've never felt so unsure and it frightens me."

Mrs. Harper walked in with two bunches of fabric and didn't bother to look up. She spoke, "Did you find a fabric you liked, love?"

Malon took a step back and I coughed, hoping to clear my voice from emotion. "Yes, actually!" I took the bolt of cloth from the shelf and held it up.

"You have a good eye, I do believe I got that from a Zora trader," she smiled brightly at me and took the roll from me. The next hour was filled with measuring and planning. I insisted on a simple gown and Anju's mother reluctantly agreed under the conditions that'd she'd embellish anywhere else. Overall, I left the modest tailor shop with a smile, but not without a bit of heartache.

[devilgoat]

The Saw is Family

((We’ll see if this stays up? Anyways so I decided to combine both parts together, so here’s the entire fic in its 18k+ word glory because I hate myself but also Love Bubba Sawyer with my entire being. Find other works under my “devilgoat writing” tag! Do you like my work? Then maybe consider following the link in my bio and buying me a Ko-Fi!))

You can find Part 2, “Blue Rare” under “the saw is family”/ “devilgoat writing” tag

Leatherface | Bubba Sawyer x Gender Neutral Reader 

Sweat. That is what hot Texas summers consisted of. Sweat, heat, and rot. Sweat on your face, dripping down your back, and soaking through your shirt. Sweat, heat, barren landscape, rotting road kill. Road-tripping across Texas in summer was unpleasant, to say the least. What made it more unpleasant was the annoying company stuffed inside this tiny little car along with you. 

Summer break had begun for your university and it was time to head home. Unfortunately, home was 8 hours away and the road there led through the most boring, barren landscape you could imagine. Dry, crumpling hills made of rocks and dust littered the scenery on either side of you. And honestly, you would have preferred to be out there in the hot sun than the sweltering, stuffy car that had become a cage for you. You had needed a ride back to your hometown, and with no money, no car, and your family too busy with work and other things to come get you; your only option was Lana. See, Lana didn’t have a car either, but she did have a boyfriend, Sam. And Sam had a car. Turns out, both you and Lana were from the same town, and if it weren’t for that little piece of trivia, you wouldn’t have been caught dead in this car with the two of them.

To say that you weren’t friends with them would be an understatement. Sam was famous around your university, but not for the best reasons. Known to lie, cheat, and steal to get ahead, he was also known for sneaking into the university’s library to fuck his current hot date of the week on the second floor. During finals. In the middle of the day. He wasn’t very likable. Sam had also apparently never grown out of his high school bully persona because he continued his harassment and bullying far into his academic career. He took pleasure in it. His current paramour just happened to be Lana. And you knew if summer break had started just a week earlier or later, you wouldn’t have had this ride to begin with. And Lana? Well, she was something else. Known to acerbic, arrogant, and also just plain unhelpful during group projects, she had once forced her former roommate to move out because she wanted the whole room to herself. She drove the other girl partly insane over the course of weeks by cutting out her hair while she was asleep and then telling her that the stress of school was killing her. So yeah, it was fair to say that she wasn’t well liked. The only reason you knew this was because you were acquaintances with the poor girl she had roomed with, and she was just too tired with dealing with it to report her suspicions to the bureaucratic student affairs board. It was definitely not the place you had preferred to be in. But Lana had a ride and you both knew that you were from the same place. And now you were here. Your sweat had soaked through the entire front of your shirt. To be honest, you weren’t particularly excited to go back home, but you had nowhere else to go. Sam was driving, Lana in the passenger seat, and you in the back, stuffed with all the luggage. It was cramped and uncomfortable, and you weren’t even through the first three hours of driving. “Ahhh shit,” Sam muttered. Oh no. “What is it?” Lana asked. “We’re almost out of gas,” He sighed and lifted one of his hands off the wheel and ran it through his hair. “I thought you said you filled it before we left?” “Yeah I did! I did...say that.” He was silent for a moment but turned to Lana, not caring about the empty road ahead. “Awww come on it’s alright. I’m sure there’s a gas station somewhere close by. There has to be!” Lana pouted in her seat. Sam reached over and grabbed her chin, while making cooing sounds. “Awww are you mad at me?” His voice was thick with patronization and it made you sick. Lana laughed and slapped his hand away. “You better hope there is or you won’t be getting any tonight.” “Hey uhh,” you interjected for the first time. “I’m still here.” “Oh right, you.” Lana laughed and gave you the gift of faux embarrassment. She turned in her seat to face you and gave you a wry smile. “Sorry, I just get carried away sometimes.” You have a polite, curt smile and turned to look out the window. You knew she enjoyed watching you squirm. It was entertainment for her too. She and Sam were perfect for one another. You felt the sneaking sense of dread settle in the depths of your stomach. Now your worries were less about surviving this trip and more about finishing it at all. Without any gas, the three of you would be screwed out in the middle of nowhere.

“You know,” Lana began, “Sam and I were going to stay at his place for the summer. His family owns this great house by the lake. But when I heard you needed some help I thought, why not? I haven’t been to town for a really long time.” You wondered if she hated her family or if her family hated her.

More dry rolling hills and nothingness. And then suddenly, like a mirage, a black dot appeared on the horizon. It wavered and sputtered in the heat, until it slowly grew and solidified on the side of the road. A hitchhiker? Yes, you were closer now and you could clearly see the hitchhiker off in the distance. You straightened up in your seat and stared him down. “Hey look at that guy!” Lana exclaimed. She pointed at the man in the distance and squinted her eyes. “He looks...weird.” A bit closer to him now and you could see what she meant. His movements were erratic, and you could barely see the manic smile across his face. He had his thumb out, asking for a ride, and it felt...wrong somehow. His shoulders were shaking with what appeared to be laughter. A chill ran down your spine as you felt the car begin to slow. “Wait!” You shouted at Sam. “You’re not actually stopping are you?” “Ahhh what’s the harm?” he responded. What’s the harm? Really? The car stopped right alongside the hitchhiker, and you were able to see clear as day how off-putting he was. He had a large red birthmark on his right cheek. It looked like blood. A camera hung around his neck along with a small pouch made out of some unknown animal. Lana rolled down her window slightly in order to hear him. He spoke quickly, as if he were in a rush or high. “Hey, man, mind if I catch a ride?” “A ride where?” Lana asked. “To my house! It’s just up the road there!” “Well why don’t you keep walking?” Lana sneered at him and Sam followed suit. The hitchhiker hesitated to answer the question. His face twisted in confusion and eventually defaulted into the same, off-putting smile. “Come on! Just give me a ride! I’ll make it worth your while!” To your absolute horror, he turned to face you in the back seat. His smiles grew wider as he noticed you for the first time. “Oh yeah,” he muttered. “I’ll make it worth your while.” You shifted in your seat and turned away from him. You could feel his eyes boring into you, prying you open and digging his hands inside. It was silent for too long as the hitchhiker waited for a response. He took in a breath to speak once more when Sam broke through the silence. “Yeah, umm...” he began. “The thing is, friend, we’re in a bit of a rush and running out of gas and we’d just like to get home.” The hitchhiker seemed to perk up at the mention of gas. His back straightened, and he tried to hide the glee on his face, and failed miserably. “Oh I uhh, I know a place! Yeah! Right up there! By my house! I can take you there if you want, just give me a ride!” Lana and Sam exchanged a knowing look, one that you had no part in. Lana turned to the hitchhiker and exaggerated her thinking process, letting out “hmm”s and “uhh”s and pressed a finger to her chin, her eyes rolled upwards in “thought”. “Hmm,” she “pondered”. “Nah! Good luck and don’t die!” Lana burst out laughing as soon as the engine revved. Sam slammed his foot against the pedal and you lurched backwards with the speed the car propelled itself away with. The tires squealed and kicked up dust. Once you regained your balance, you turned around in your seat to watch the hitchhiker fade away behind you, shrouded in dust. ——— “God, he was such a creep, wasn’t he?” Lana had a look of plain disgust and mockery as she asked this. She turned from Sam who nodded and laughed and turned you. She expected an answer. “Yeah I guess,” you said, forcing a fake smile. You agreed sure, the guy was a bit weird, but did he really deserve to be shit on like that? You tried not to dwell on it. You were long gone now, and the car was getting dangerously low on gas. Everyone was searching the shimmering horizon for some sign of civilization. You turned to your right and saw a dead armadillo on the side of the road. Your heart felt a pang of grief over the rotting carcass. It was a cruel world, you knew that, but you still felt like an innocent animal would be exempt from it. Just a few moments after seeing the poor armadillo, you spied a building between two rolling hills and a cluster of sad trees. A thin road stretched and winded towards a large sign that read “GAS” in thick, red letters. “Wait!” You shouted. “Down that road there!” Both Sam and Lana were shocked out of their concentration by the sound of your voice. Your frantic pointing gave the hidden road away and Sam jerked the steering wheel in order to make the curve in time. Both you and Lana held on as best you could, and your chest strained against your seatbelt. “Ow, fuck!” Lana yelled. She righted herself and smacked Sam on the arm. “You asshole!” Sam burst out laughing. He always worked best when he was able to get a rise out of someone. The car rocked over the unpaved, bumpy road. It took all you could not to bang your head against the ceiling. Lana was a bit less lucky. She hit her head quite hard against the window and cried out in pain. Sam ignored her. “Slow down, asshole!” She yelled. “Do you want to get gas or not, huh?” A few more hours. Just a few more hours and you would be home and you wouldn’t need to deal with this anymore. You didn’t want to be around when their relationship exploded. And it would undoubtedly explode any minute now. The car bumped and rocked up to the gas station, and came to a stop by one of the old, rusted pumps. “Last Chance Gas” was up in large red letters above the entrance to the small station. It was dirty and seemingly abandoned. Sam stepped out of the car and called out. “Hello! Anyone in there?” He quickly ducked his head in the car window. “Lana, come with me.” In response, Lana pouted and angrily shook her head, her arms crossed against her chest. Sam sighed and called out once more. You could tell he was getting exasperated. Right as he was about to call out again, undoubtedly louder this time, a man emerged from the station’s front door. You felt like if the gas station were a person, it would look exactly like him. He was older, worn out, his clothes were slightly grimy, and his hair was greasy, or at least what was left of it. You rolled down your window in order to hear what he and Sam were saying. “Hey, man, were almost out of gas here and we’ve got somewhere to be. Fill her up will ya?” Even when asking a stranger for their service, he couldn’t help but sound like an absolute douche. “Well, sorry about that, son,” the man said, “We’re all out of gas.” “You-you’re out? Of gas? You’re a gas station!” “I’m well aware of that, son, but we won’t be getting another shipment until the end of the day.” Sam groaned in response. The man brought up a placating hand. “Now, you’re allowed to wait here until then, if you like.” “No!” Sam almost shouted. He took a breath and calmed himself down. “Listen, is there another gas station around here? We need to be moving.” “Read the sign.” The man pointed up to the red letters behind him. “Alright then fuck this,” Sam said. He made his way back around to the driver’s side. “I’ll take my chances.” Before the man could get another word in, Sam was revving up the car and continued down the road ahead of you. “Wait, Sam,” Lana began, “Let’s just wait! If they say it’s gonna be in at the end of the day then let’s just stop here.” “I am not going to be sitting in this damn hot fucking car for who knows how long. We’ll just keep going. There’s GOT to be someplace ahead. It’s just a marketing tactic with that whole “last chance” bullshit.” Both you and Lana knew you wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise. Sam got what he wanted when he wanted. And you in particular did not want to find out what happened if he didn’t. And he was probably right. There had to be a place somewhere ahead. You settled into your seat in a puddle of your own sweat. You were just thankful that the window allowed just enough of a breeze in to keep you going. You could feel the car start to sputter and slow as the needle drew closer and closer to the E on the dial. Sam’s knuckles were growing white against the wheel as his nervousness grew. You were wary of his eventual explosion, and there didn’t seem to be any salvation in sight. The sun was an unrelenting presence that was slowing siphoning away your energy, and soon enough you were in a daze. Your eyelids were growing heavy from the sun, the heat, and the road. Before you knew it, your body was asleep and finally able to let go of the tension set in your muscles. It would have been peaceful, if you were not robbed of it just moments later. “Look!” You heard. Your sleep-addled mind couldn’t process what was going on at first, but once your eyelids forced themselves open, you started to wrap your head around it. Lana was pointing towards the side of the road, trying to get Sam’s attention. The sun was in your eyes, so it took a moment to see what she was seeing. Amongst the trees and dusty hills was a very narrow road. And past the tree line and into the depths of the forest, you could see the roof of a very large house. “Maybe they’ll have some gas?” Lana hoped. She looked over at Sam and begged him with her eyes to pull over. He let out a strong and obvious sigh, but did not say a word. The wheel spun and the car turned onto the gravel road. Trees immediately flanked either side of the car and you could barely see past them, even in the sunlight. The rooftop grew larger and larger in front of all of you. It grew and grew like a menacing giant, ready to eat the three of you whole. The eye-like windows glared at you as they came into view. The poor house was incredibly run down. It seemed to slump into itself, sad of its own existence. The white paint was chipping off the exterior, which made the cracks look like veins spreading across its hide. The house was a creature, alone in the forest. What concerned you was that you didn’t know if it was alive or not. The car came to slow stop in front of it as it rolled over overgrown grass. Sam turned the engine off and stuffed the keys into his pocket. “Alright,” he said. “I’m gonna go check and see if they have any gas to spare. They must have some kind of generator or something way out here. I’ll be back.” Sam made no effort to invite you or Lana, so you made yourself comfortable. Or as comfortable as you could possibly be in the sweltering heat. Sam was halfway to the front door when Lana was suddenly spurred into motion. She climbed out of the car and ran after Sam. “Wait!” She called. “I’ll come too.” And like that you were left alone in the car.

Climbing over a small set of stairs, they stood by the door and knocked and called for several minutes. You were resigned to the house’s clear abandonment, but Sam thought he heard something. You could hear it faintly as well. He pulled the screen door open and stepped inside, with Lana glued to his side. You watched them enter the house’s maw. They disappeared into the darkness behind the screen door and you waited. You waited and waited and waited until you felt an unreasonable amount of time pass. They shouldn’t have been gone for this long. If they hadn’t found anyone, they would have come back out by now. If they had, they would have brought them out to the front with gas. Maybe it really was empty and they decided to take some “time together”. You groaned to yourself at their obnoxious behavior. Could they really not wait until they were back home to have their foray? Here you were, in the back of a suffocating hot car, waiting while these two jerks finished pounding one out. As time went on, you were a bit surprised with their stamina and the fact they had been at it for so long. Finally, enough was enough. They had been gone for so long that you didn’t care what you walked in on, as long you got kick them out and get you all going again. You threw the door open and slammed it behind you, hoping it would signal to them that you were on your way. With your feet in the grass, you realized how unkempt it really was. You saw small bugs jump off of the tips of grass and run off further into the vegetation. There was no way this house was inhabited. There was no sign out here that anyone had lived here for years. You climbed up the short, creaky steps onto the porch. You entered a bit of shade and felt an immediate relief. You allowed yourself to rest in the partial darkness for a few moments before you braced yourself. The screen door was in front of you, beckoning to you. You pushed it open and entered an even hotter, note sweltering environment. The house was tight and closed in. Dust had collected on a lot of the surfaces inside. It was dark, with only the natural light that flowed through the cracks in the closed windows allowed you to see inside. “Lana? Sam?” Your voice spread into each nook and cranny of the house. “Hey, you guys, come on!” No response. The floorboards creaked underneath you as you walked down the small hallway in front of you. The stairs before you called to you, but it would be better to check the first floor before anything else. A large steel door was at the end of the tight hallway. It seemed out of place in this home. It looked like it would be more at home in a slaughterhouse than here. You tried to open it, but it only jingled against its lock. You left it alone for now and turned left towards another part of the house. You called out once more to your traveling companions, but still there was no answer. You figured you would be hearing some type of moaning by now, but the house was passive in unsettled quiet. And then you heard it. A small squeal in a back room that was unmistakable for Lana. You followed the sound as best you could. You turned a corner and your feet stepped on something strange. It was soft and fluffy, but a hard piece lay in the middle. Your foot rolled over the object as it clattered away. You looked down. You were stepping on feathers. Piles and piles of loose feathers and…bone. The object that rolled away was a thin, bare bone. And there were more of them. Everywhere. Bones on top of more bones scattered and dumped without a care. Your body froze in place. You felt yourself begin to sweat, but the droplets came out cold and quick down your back. Your muscles tensed, but your eyes desired to explore the room around you. You didn’t want to look, oh no please don’t look, but they moved around anyways. They moved up from the floor of feathers and bones, up to the table full of rusty tools and even more bones, to the pieces of furniture that decelerated the edges and sides of the rooms made of...bones. Human...bones. Human skulls, femurs, and ribs were tied with chicken wire against the frames of shoddily crafted chairs and benches. There was no denying their human origin. The noise. The noise came again from the room to your right. The same small squeal. You knew both Lana and Sam were twisted, but they couldn’t be this twisted, could they? Could they really be here, amongst these rotting horrors and… You shook the thought out and followed the noise. You had to pull them out of there quickly. “Hey guys, quit it, let’s go!” You turned the corner and stopped dead in your tracks. Lana was there. And Sam too. Or at least parts of him. What was left of his body rested on an old, bloodstained table. His limbs were in a bucket in the corner. And his head, well...you couldn’t find it. But it was definitely him. The body had the same clothes, and despite missing its extremities, it still held an energy of callousness and arrogance. A large, bloody chainsaw sat next to his remains. And Lana. She was still alive. At least you thought. She was strung up, facing Sam. You ran to her, jumping over bits of bone and flesh, but when you touched her she screamed. You saw how she was being held up. A long, rusted hook had pierced her back, and every movement on her caused her to cry out in excruciating pain. Your heart began to race. What could you do? What happened? Who did this? It was all happening too fast. You couldn’t think straight. It was all wrong. Every movement you tried to get her off the hook only made her claw out in pain. And then you heard a sound behind you. It sounded like a large hunk of metal sliding up against itself. The screeching metal clawed itself open like a demon out of hell. The door. The door was opening and it was behind you and that meant whatever was opening it was behind you too. The hairs on the back of your neck would have stood on end if not for the layers of sweat pressing them down. Critical thinking was gone now, what was left was simply survival instinct. Your eyes darted from side to side, searching for a space to hide. There were layers of tanned hide — animal? Human? — draped over several chairs next to a table, with piles of animal parts on the seat. You crawled underneath the table and pulled the chairs in front of you to hide yourself as best you could. You were breathing heavily from panic, and after you realized this, you slapped a hand to cover your mouth. You pressed your eyes closed for a moment. You were a coward. A goddamn coward. Sure, Lana wasn’t a friend, but you could hear her desperate cries as she pleaded for you to save her. But you couldn’t. You just couldn’t. Your muscles had seized from fear, and when you tried to move them, they began to shake uncontrollably. Thump, thump, thump. Footsteps came closer. You could hear them clear as day behind Lana’s cries. And behind the steps you could hear a sound like a squealing pig. Whoever had done this was in the room. Your entire body tensed when you saw movement pass in front of the chairs. Dark pant legs approached Lana and the hooks. You could see the end of her legs frantically kicking. You tried not to imagine what that was doing to the hook in her back. She cried out for help. She called for you by name. Part of you hoped she hadn’t given you away, and you immediately felt bad for hoping that. The legs moved away from her and then to the large, bloodstained table in the middle of the room. You heard the sick thunk of Sam’s torso hitting the floor. Whoever was doing this was planning on doing the same to Lana that they had done to Sam. You wanted to stop it, but you couldn’t. Cold blood and sweat flowed through your body, and no matter how much you wanted you could not move yourself. You couldn’t stop it. You listened to the sound of Lana being placed on the table, and then you listened to the disgusting slam of a heavy object against what you figured was her head. Her strained cries turned into a gurgle. The gurgle turned into a choke. The choke turned into silence. Your eyes were wild and bulged out of their sockets. They stared into the coarse hairs of one of the hides in front of you. You heard silence in the room, and you could not see the pair of legs form before. You didn’t know how you would get home or when, but you knew you had to get out of here now now now. You moved your body in this cramped space as slowly as you could. A crunch. A bone snapped beneath you. The snap reverberated through your entire body and then the whole house. Or at least it felt like it. But you were safe. Nothing moved except for you. Then another snap. An even louder snap this time and you knew you had done it. The pair of legs appeared from around the corner. You held still as it came closer to you. You wished it away. You wished so hard that the sting of tears pricked the corners of your eyes. You were going to fucking die. The pair of legs and the figure it was attached to grabbed the chairs in front of you in a sudden fury. The creaky wood was whipped away from your shelter and you let out a scream you could not control. You pushed yourself backwards, squishing bones and feathers underneath you. Thick, pudgy hands gripped the lip of the table in front of you and lifted. The table wasn’t bare. It was stacked and piled with animal parts and skins and that must have weighed it down by a lot. Which meant that the being currently lifting it clear off the floor and tossing it aside had an enormous amount of strength. The pig squealing began again, and you realized it was emanating from the figure in front of you. You were blind with fear, and you couldn’t see much of them before you started to flee. Your legs tensed underneath you as they tried to propel you forward, but you weren’t fast enough. Thick, hairy arms wrapped around your body and lifted you up clear off the ground. The person holding you was big in every since of the word. You panicked and began to squirm in the vice you were in. You kicked at their chubby stomach and strong legs. You pushed against them and you were able to hook your feet against them and push away. Their grip weakened and you fell out of their arms. You landed hard on the floor, and the tough bones that littered it banged against your muscles as you hit them. You twisted yourself around and crawled away as best you could, but the door was nowhere near. You backed yourself into a literal corner and felt yourself press against the wall behind you. The figure was standing above you now. And they were bigger than you had thought. Their body heaved with the previous exertion and each step made a heavy thump as they moved their weight around. You grabbed a bone by your side and held it up. It was old and brittle, useless in a fight but it was all you had. Your need to fight hadn’t left just yet. You held it up between you and the large beast.   “Stay back!” You screamed. Your heart was blasting against your rib cage. You were able to see the full frame of the man in front of you. You stared up towards his face. A face that seemed…wrong, and loose somehow. The apron over his shirt and tie was stained with what was obviously blood and gore. The man took a few steps closer once more. You jabbed out with the bone and he flinched slightly. He was right above you, his body heaving and bursting with strength. The man kneeled in front of you. You jabbed out again, but the man squealed and flung out a big, meaty hand. He smacked the bone out of your hands and it flew clear across the room. Completely defenseless, you pressed yourself as hard as you could into the wall, hoping in some way that you could meld into it and disappear. But you were not that fortunate. You were face to face with the man. He lowered himself to your eye level, and kept coming closer and closer until he was mere inches away. His body and shape seemed to swallow the room around him until all you could see was him and his face. And that’s when it hit you. In another split second, your eyes took in the thick twine that pieced the mask together. The mask made of something slightly translucent. It was poorly stitched together, with flaps covering the ears underneath completely. Greasy black hair erupted from the top of the mask in tangled curls. It took longer to realize that it didn’t belong to the man himself. You could see into his eyes. Holes had been cut away from the mask’s eyes and mouth, allowing you to see the true skin underneath. He noticed you holding your breath, and stopped moving. You looked into his dark eyes. The sun that broke through into the room reflected off of them, and unlocked the honeyed brown kept in their depths. Crooked teeth exposed themselves from behind his chapped lips. The light pierced through the translucent skin he had wrapped around his own. Skin around his own he was wearing skin wearing someone else’s skin on his face. You wanted to scream. You tried to scream as hard as you could, but nothing came out. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye. You could feel your body shutting down. Its natural instinct to flee and fight was beginning to wear off and all that was left was limp flesh. And he kept staring at you. The man wearing a mask of leathery skin tilted his head from side to side. His tongue slipped out and ran over his teeth. He let out a small, pig-like squeal. The strangeness of him knocked some voice into you. “I’m so sorry,” you began, your voice a hoarse whisper. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see anything. Please just let me go. I shouldn’t have come here. Please!” The man tilted his head once more. Your chances were slim, but you would do anything to get out of here. Pride meant nothing to you. “I’m so so sorry. I shouldn’t have been in here. You don’t have to hurt me. Please don’t hurt me.” One of his hands rose before your eyes. You turned your face away in fear of being struck. A hand so large and thick would do terrible damage to you, and your braced yourself from the pain. But instead of a slap or the feeling of the intimidatingly thick fingers wrapped around your throat, you felt a calloused hand brush against your cheek. It was rough, and almost hesitant to touch you. You let out a pained sound as you felt him touch you. To your surprise, he immediately pulled away. Your eyes flashed opened and you heard him let out a small whimper. You saw him immediately grow self conscious of his movements. He held his hands in front of him and shuffled in place. His head ducked slightly and that’s when you realized he was just as scared of you as you were of him. You were an intruder, a stranger who had burst into his home along with Lana and Sam. They had broken in, made loud sounds, and he felt as if his shelter was being invaded. He was defending himself. He was defending himself against you. You had hidden yourself in his house and had even threatened him. Yeah, he had killed two of your “friends”, but maybe in his mind, this was a natural reaction. He kept his head down and started his pig-like squealing once more. “Hey, hey, hey,” oh god you couldn’t believe you were actually trying to comfort him. “It’s okay! It’s okay.” He watched you from the corner of his eye; his head still to the side and tucked low to show his submission. He turned his head to look away from you and stood up. You pulled your feet close to your chest and pressed yourself farther into the wall. The man walked over to the corner of the room and picked something up. He came back to you, knelt, and then presented one of Sam’s arms as an offering. A scraggly sound of fear escaped your throat and you turned away to fully face the corner. Another tear escaped you. The man whimpered and made a sound that almost sounded apologetic. He went to put the arm back where he had first put it. You sensed him return. You felt his heat radiating from his body. You smelled his sweat and his scent filling the room. You heard a soft sound escape his lips. You slowly turned to face him once more. He held his hand out to you. His eyes glowed in amber against the sun. You dared to reach a hand out, palm up, to accept his gift. Very slowly and gently, the man placed a small bird skull into the palm of your hand. You had no idea what kind of bird it was, but it was still greasy after it rotted the rest of its flesh away. “Thank you,” you whimpered. He nodded to you and made an effort to smile behind his mask and crooked teeth. From what you gathered, he could not speak. The best he could manage was small babbling sounds and a pig-like squeal that sounded frighteningly real. You wondered if he was alone here. If you were alone here with him. Your questions were immediately answered. You heard the screen door of the porch swing open and slam against the inside of the house. “Bubba!” You heard someone yell. In that moment, the man’s body seemed to change. His gentle submissiveness was exchanged for manic fear. His back straightened and he sat up. He looked from side to side, as if wondering what to do. Had someone else invaded the home? Would he kill them too? And then his eyes landed on you. Nervous sounds began to spill out of him and he held out a hand as if to say, “Wait there”. He grabbed the toppled-over stacks of animal hide and draped them over you. He covered your entire body until all you could see and smell were the tanned skins around you. You heard the voice get closer. “Bubba! What the hell is that car doing outside?” The voice sounded vaguely familiar. It was scratchy and dug itself under your skin. The voice was inside the room now. “What the fuck is this, huh? What the goddamn hell did you do?” The man with the skin mask began to babble incoherently, like a child. He was panicked and scared. And it scared you. If the man who had just chopped up your acquaintances was scared of this voice, how bad would this one be? This voice, like an old man... The gas station attendant. The old, wispy haired man. He knew the man in the house somehow. Why? Didn’t he see the bodies in the room? Wasn’t he scared? You heard the older man grab something heavy off of a table. “You goddamn bastard! Look at the fucking mess that you made!” You heard clambering and various objects being thrown to the ground. Their voices moved around the room as the older man chased the other, and you heard a hard thump as he hit the masked man with something. The leathered-faced man began to cry, deep painful sobs. The older man had hit him. For some reason, you felt you heart throb in your chest. “You got all of them, didn’t you?” The man made desperate sounds of his agreement. Yes, yes, they were all gone, nothing to see here. “Well, good! Now get this mess cleaned the fuck up!” The voice disappeared, and angry footsteps followed as the older man stamped down the hall and entered another part of the house. Suddenly, there was silence. Except for the man’s crying. He was sobbing, and you could almost hear the thick drops of tears land onto the creaky hardwood floor. You didn’t dare to move. You heard the man begin to move around the room, sniffling the entire time he did so. You heard the dripping of blood as he moved the bodies of Lana and Sam away. He righted the table and chairs close to you, and after a too-long silence, he carefully pried the tanned hides away from your face. The room was still a mess, but nowhere near as bad as before. The man pressed a finger to his lips and croaked out what could have been a shushing sound. He waved his hands, gesturing you to come closer. Tears streaked the cheeks behind his mask and left a trail of wet cleanliness behind his grime. You couldn’t go with him, could you? A man who killed your friends—alright well, tolerated acquaintances—was going to take you who knows where? But you found yourself more scared of the other man than this one. At least this one didn’t kill you right away. You scooted yourself closer to the man, and he picked you up and threw your body over his shoulder. You struggled to right yourself so you weren’t hanging upside down. But he shook your body and loosened your grip until you were hanging again. You allowed this to happen, but you wondered how you were going to get out of this room unnoticed. Then, the man approached Lana’s body. The front of her head was smashed in and you could see bits of brain and bone mixed into a pudding inside her skull. You almost threw up at the sight of it. Flies were already buzzing around her. The man grabbed her, or what was left of her, and threw her over his other shoulder. You realized what he was doing. He was disguising you as another corpse. If this was your only way out, then so be it. You played dead. You let your arms flap and swing down under you. All you could see was the floor and the bits of brain that fell out of Lana’s skull as you left the room. The old man’s voice rang out again, “Don’t get all that fucking shit over my floors!” And as quickly as it had come, it was gone, muffled in another room as he spoke to someone else you could not make out. It had somehow worked. He didn’t notice that he hadn’t seen your body before, possibly because he didn’t care, and left the rest of the dirty work to be handled away from him. The man carrying you turned and headed up the narrow stairs you had seen near the entrance. Fuck, the entrance. It was right there, so close you could almost taste it, but you felt the grip on you to be too strong to even try it. At the top of the steps, the man turned down a small hallway. He opened a door and entered a little room. He made a small grunt as he shook you off his shoulder and you landed on an old, creaky bed in the corner of the room. You righted yourself quickly and pressed yourself against the corner. The man pressed a finger to his lips and signaled that you should not move. You wouldn’t—you couldn’t—as you watched him exit the room with Lana’s body. The last thing you saw of her was the gaping hole in her head. The door gently closed behind him, and you were alone. You looked around frantically, looking for some way to get away. The room was generously decorated with more animal and human bones. Strings of femurs and ribs dangled from their nailed purchase in the ceilings. And like a bolt of lightning you remembered the small bird skull that you held in your hand. You slowly opened the desperate grip and stared down at it. You hadn’t realized that you still had it. You had held onto it out of fear, and its greasy texture coated the inside of your palm. You kept it in your hand as you looked around the unfamiliar environment. There was a large window to your right. You peeled yourself off the bed and took the few steps towards it. Thin, lace-like drapes allowed most of the amber sunset light blaze through the paint-chipped frames. You were on the second floor, that was obvious, and underneath you were scraggly dried branches of juvenile trees and the sharp, thorny brambles of bushes. You tried to dig your fingers underneath the window frame in an effort to pry it open, but the swollen wood couldn’t budge in this heat. You grunted and strained behind your full strength, but you couldn’t get it open. A faint jingling came from outside the bedroom door. You whipped yourself around, your eyes already searching for a new way of escape. The door swung open, and the man came in and closed it right behind him. The jingling came from a strange bracelet on his left wrist, and you wondered who had given it to him. The man was slightly hunched over, and his movements were wary. He shuffled towards you. He could not look you in the eye, rather, he came to you like a meek, punished puppy. Your heart could not help but to ache for him. The man was large, easily a full head and a half taller than you, but in this cowardly state, he only managed to be at eye level. Your body was frozen in place in front of the window. The man got so close that you were practically hugging the wall. His face inched closer to you and sniffed at the air around you. He finally managed to work up the courage to look you in the eye. He wearily brought a finger to his lips, and then pointed out towards the door. You could still hear the muffled voices from downstairs. He whined again, desperate to have you understand. Don’t make a noise, he meant to say, or they’ll hear you. You nodded slowly, and your teeth chattered with fear and dying adrenaline. His hands came up too quickly for you to react to. Their rough, working man’s palms rubbed against your flesh and squeezed. He pulled you over to the bed and had you sit down on the edge of it. He turned from side to side, frantic, as if he were trying to compute something within his mind. As if he were struggling to find the book inside that would translate his own communication to yours. His hands came up, palms forward. Wait here, it said, please wait here. He searched for some kind of understanding in your eyes. You nodded, and to your surprise, he seemed to beam at this. A large, crooked smile stretched from behind his mask. He squealed and reached for you. You flinched and backed yourself farther into the bed. The man stopped dead in his tracks. The smile disappeared, and his head sagged. He realized his excitement had scared you. In apology, he took the jumbled up blanket that hung off the foot of the bed and gently offered it up to you. He whimpered and lowered his gaze. You took the blanket from him and wrapped it around yourself. Despite the harsh heat still present in the stuffy house, you found yourself incredibly cold. Or maybe just in need of a little comfort. The man gave his wait motion once more, and then left the room. You felt as if you could breath again. The hanging bones and rotting flesh didn’t give the most pleasant smell, but you were alive. Lana and Sam weren’t, but you were. The small bird skull hidden in your grip was your trophy; it was the symbol of your survival. But as you thought about it, did you truly deserve to survive? Your mind tried to rationalize things. They were assholes, you thought. They were huge assholes that never have or would have done a good thing in their life. But even if that were true, you were at least partly responsible for their death. They had been giving you a ride. If you weren’t around, they could’ve gone off someplace else and never gotten stuck in road kill county. It was your fault. You couldn’t save Lana, the fear had taken over. You were a coward. You had done nothing. No, but you had tried. You had never seen a dead body before, what could you have done? You tried your best to excuse and reason with yourself. Your mind spiraled and repeated for the next hour. You were immobilized by your thoughts and by the sounds of voices emanating from downstairs. It was a repetitive cycle of guilt and rationalization, and you had no way of getting out of it or this room. The sunlight was slowly fading from the window, and as the last light turned orange and pink and purple, the man entered the room once more. He was hunched over, submissive, and had lowered himself from full height in order not to scare you. He was aware of his intimidating stature. However, his size was probably the least scary thing about him. He was hiding from behind his mask of leathered skin, but not in the way you first thought. He was not trying to hide his identity, no. What is more obvious than a large man in a mask made out of faces? Very few things, you would say. But he was trying to hide himself from the outside world either way. The mask was a part of him, a different face that he could show the world that despite its origin was more of a part of him than its original owner. He held a large plate in one hand, and a cup in another. As he crept closer, you were able to see more of what was on it. It was packed with mac and cheese, greens, and mashed potatoes. Your mouth drooled at just the sight of it. You hadn’t realized how desperately hungry you were. You were running on fumes since this morning, and your stomach twisted and flipped at the possibility of food inside of it. But the man was carrying it. How safe could it really be?   You wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself as he stood at the edge of the bed. With his head bowed, he offered up the food to you. It took a moment of him holding it to realize that he wanted you to take it. “Th-thank you.” You took the plate and cup out of his hand and placed the former on your lap. The man shifted from foot to foot and slipped a fork out from his apron pocket. He continued to shift from foot to foot as he waited for you to take your first bite. You stared at your food and debated. Was it truly safe? Could it be poisoned? Did you really have a choice? You raised your fork and began to pick at your meal. You looked up at the masked man, and his eyes shone bright with anticipation. You brought a forkful of mac and cheese to your mouth and ate it. Your taste buds exploded and your mouth coated itself with saliva. It was the best mac and cheese you had ever tasted in your life. Without pause, you began to take more and more food in your mouth. You didn’t know if you were that hungry or if it was just that good, but you did not hesitate with eating the rest of your plate. The man stared at you the entire time, his shifting growing quicker as he saw your enthusiasm. When you were done, you chugged down the rest of the old, slightly dusty cup and took a deep breath. You looked up at the man and managed a smile. “Thank you. That was–that was really good.” The man let out a cheerful squeal and took the plate and cup from you. As he reached down, you saw the large, purple bruises that plagued his forearms. Your heart dropped. Acting on instinct, you reached out and touched him. Your fingers grazed the dark discoloration on his hairy arms. He let out a high-pitched squeal and tugged himself away. He took a few steps back, as if you were the true danger here in this room. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You said. You brought up your hands to show that you meant no harm. “You’re hurt! May I see?” The man’s chest rose and fell with quick, nervous breathes. He set the plate and cup down on a small table nearby. Like a meek little puppy, the man reluctantly approached. With each step he took, his height and presence shrunk, until he was quite literally on your knees in front of you. He weakly held up his arm to you. His head had fallen to his chest and you could feel the apprehension wafting out of him in waves. You were careful not to put too much pressure on his arms in order not to hurt him. The bruises were quickly turning into huge welts. His forearms were filled with them, and you had the suspicion that the bruises crawled up onto his shoulders behind the short sleeves of his dress shirt. “Did the other man do this to you?” He nodded weakly. He made no effort to take his arm from you. He had been beaten into outright submission. If you could have afforded the tears, you would’ve cried. “Bubba?” The man’s head whipped up. “That’s your name, right? Bubba? That’s what that other guy called you.” The man, or rather, Bubba, gave a quick nod. His name on your lips and in the air made his heart beat faster. “Bubba—“ He cocked his head. “Does he do this to you a lot?” He gave another curt nod. He stood up in a sudden motion and sat himself on the bed. The sudden drop of his weight on the spring mattress almost sent you flying. Bubba put his head in his hands and his fingers pressed deeply into the skin of his mask. You reached out to touch him. To comfort him. Were you really doing this? Were you really going to comfort the man that you saw kill two human beings. A man that wore human skin on his face? As the thoughts raced around in your mind, you felt your own hand touch his shoulder before you could even think of it. He flinched at the touch, obviously not used to the end of a hand that was not striking him. You pulled away; scared that too much would warrant an angry or violent reaction out of him. “Did you...” your voice came out scraggly and hoarse so you cleared it. “Did you cook the food you gave me?” Bubba was sniveling and sniffling. He expertly hooked his fingers under the stitched skin to wipe away his tears, as if he had done it countless times before. It took a few moments before he nodded, and his sappy, teary eyes refused to make contact with yours. “Bubba–“ his back straightened. “That food was really amazing! You sure do know how to cook!” His hands crept up to his face, and through his fingers and mask, you could see the reddening in his face as he began to blush. “I mean it! You should be proud of yourself!” Bubba finally faced you, and his cracked lips pulled over crooked teeth to give you the biggest smile you had ever seen on a person. His thick, pudgy hands slapped his thighs in excitement. He began to bounce on the bed, his heavy weight sending shockwaves through it, and almost knocking you off. You couldn’t help but to laugh. His pure, unbridled joy was something difficult to come by, and it seeped into your bones and muscles and filled your belly full of laughter. Your happiness only caused him to get more excited, and he found himself further onto the bed, his legs crossed in front of him across from you. You tried to quiet yourself as to not draw attention to the others downstairs, but once you started laughing you couldn’t stop. This man in front of you, this murderer, had all the excitement and joy of a small child and the energies of it wafted through the air and settled on your skin. You didn’t know what had gotten into you. Was it Stockholm Syndrome? You couldn’t have fallen into it this quickly could you? It was so easy to condemn him for what he had done to people you couldn’t even stand—but still, they were people—when he wasn’t around, but now, with him in his pure joy, in his uncharacteristic innocence, he couldn’t help but forgive him. He didn’t kill you for one thing, but it was like he was a different person. The squealing, ferocious man that you had seen downstairs had morphed into this battered, giggling mess. It was wrong for the three of you to have come into the house, you knew that now. He was scared. Bubba was a frightened boy that lashed out and hurt and hurt because he didn’t understand. And maybe he didn’t understand death or killing but he did understand kindness and joy. And he understood fear. It seemed like he lived in fear every day. Bubba began to settle down, but his body continued to bounce, causing the bedsprings to creak. Your heart was thumping, but for the first time today it wasn’t from fear. The two of you were mushed onto this small, creaky bed in a room full of rot and hidden treasures, and in that moment, it became a sanctuary. Finally calm, you stuck out a hand to touch the beaten arm again. Bubba watched, his gaze quickly shifting from your hand to your eyes. He let you touch him and you saw the hairs on his arm stand up. You smiled and let out a small sigh. “Yeah, Bubba,” his name felt like sweet honey on your tongue, “Thank you. For giving me food. What I wouldn’t do for a bit of steak right now, though.” Like a shock running through your fingertips, you felt the presence in his body begin to shift. He sat up straight, his eyes boring into you. Without warning, he began to shake his head furiously from side to side. His sounds started at a whimper and crescendoed into a constant, loud squealing. He launched himself across the bed and grabbed you by the arms. The momentum and force behind his weight and body caused you to fall backwards, and suddenly he was on top of you. His eyes were wild with panic and his voice and squeals trembled with pain. He shook you, hard. His head wouldn’t stop shaking and his voice cried out as if he were trying to say words that he wasn’t capable of forming. You were a stone statue on the bed, unable to move from both fright and the weight that he put on you. You couldn’t look away from his eyes and see how scared they looked. Bubba let go of you and began to beat at his head, his flat palms slapping against either side of him. He was punishing himself for lord knows what, and you knew he wasn’t being gentle with himself. Your hands flew out and tried to grab his wrists and stop him, but he was too strong. He was crying again, and terrible sobs ripped through the room as he continued to hurt himself. You panicked. You didn’t know what you could do. So your next instinct was to slip your hands around his head and block his hands from hitting himself. The thick palms slapped against your hands, and the pain rang out of your fingers. You grimaced but kept your hands to block him. “It’s okay, Bubba! No meat! No meat!” He tried to hit himself once more when it clicked that your hands were around him, and he was hurting you and not himself. He stopped almost immediately. The room went quiet. Bubba’s lip quivered as he slowly removed your hands from the sides of his head. Your skin was growing a dark shade of red, and he brought your hands close in order to observe. His head tilted and he let out a small whimper. His eyes tore themselves away and returned to you. A small rumble that slowly morphed into a whimper escaped his throat. Bubba’s giant hands wrapped around yours, and he whined and whined like a desperate puppy once he realized he hurt you. His head peeled up after a moment, and his hand shot out to your side. You flinched at the sudden movement. He noticed this and went slow as he picked up the small bird skull he had given you earlier. He took one of your hands and placed the skull in your palm. His fingers curled yours and pressed your hand close to your chest. It was yours now. It was his apology. You gave him a slight nod but you couldn’t afford a smile. He knew he had done something wrong and he might have punished himself more if he knew you wouldn’t stop him. The poor boy was distraught. His eyes were red from tears and his entire body shivered despite the heat. The last rays of light traveled through the nearby window. You could feel your exhaustion growing as the day that could have been your last began to end. You heard the stomping of feet outside coming up the stairs. They stopped outside the room and an angry fist slammed against the old, wooden door. “Bubba! Shut your fucking yapping! Your brother and I are trying to have a fucking conversation!” It was the old man again, undoubtedly angry. A brother? Bubba has a brother? Was that the other voice? You couldn’t dwell on the thought for long, because Bubba’s large, shivering frame flinched and cowered at the voice. He pulled himself back onto the bed and pressed his body against you. You could feel every ounce of his weight as he leaned on you, and before you could stop him, he was burying his face against your side in fear. His hands gripped your shirt and you could feel the wetness of his tears drying against it. You felt the rumble in his chest as he whimpered in fright. Your hand fell against his back, and before you knew what you were doing, you were rubbing and comforting him. Almost immediately, the shivering stopped. A low hum in his body, like a purr, flowed through him and his head fell from your side to your lap. You froze at the sudden change in demeanor. Bubba was quick to change from anger to fear, or maybe it was all fear in different flavors. The thick, curly hair that did not belong to him shook with tears on your lap. Your hand continued to rub him. “Shhhh,” you hushed. “It’s okay, Bubba. It’s okay.” His body began to grow still on you. His fingers kept their strong hook on your clothing, but you managed to lean back against the pillow and wall and rest your head. Exhaustion clawed at your heart and eyes as your breathing began to slow, and the heat in the air and from Bubba’s body provided a blanket around you that you could not leave even if you wanted to. Surprisingly, you did not. Darkness fell over the light clinking of bones that hung from the ceiling. Sleep overtook you, and you were gone.

––––––––

You felt your heart before anything else. You felt the quickening thumping in your chest as your body began to wake around you. Your eyes fluttered open as you took in the peach glow of the morning sun. It was that sort of morning light you saw when you were young and woke up early, even before your parents, and watched cartoons with a blanket wrapped around you for protection. You felt warm as another blanket cloaked you now, although it was much heavier than you thought it would be. You turned to the side and were met with the crude, stitched-together mess of translucent skin and matted hair. Your heart began to speed up, but it slowed as your eyes drifted to the peaceful, closed eyes of the man behind the mask. The gentle curve of his long eyelashes twitched in his sleep, and his chapped lips lay partly open as he breathed in and out. His large hairy arm rested on top of you, the weight of it a comfort in the dawn. Your heart slowed on instinct. For some reason, you felt safe in Bubba’s arms. You were shocked, sure, to find yourself in this situation, but it felt… Right? Was it okay to feel right with this man? Was it okay to find yourself sleeping next to someone who had bashed a person’s skull in and sawed off their limbs to a stump? Maybe not, but it was what you felt. You felt some sort protectiveness over him. Despite his large body, he was frail. Like an abandoned puppy, lost in the rain, you wanted to scoop him in and place him in your warm care. You closed your eyes once more and shifted your body towards him. You were going to embrace him both physically and figuratively. He was only defending himself after all, and you enjoyed a man who would defend what was his with all he had. You turned your back to him and settled into the softness of his chest and tummy. You fit into him like the last piece in a thousand-piece puzzle, with just as much relief and satisfaction. A light noise passed his lips from the movement, and you grew still in order not to wake him. You slowly drifted into sleep. Your eyelids grew heavy with the sweet lull of unconsciousness. Your gentle rock into sleep was disturbed once more when you felt Bubba shift a bit behind you. You kept your eyes closed in case he was just readjusting himself, but the slight movement happened again. And again. You realized his hips were moving, bucking into you. In the swirl of your half-asleep mind, you barely noticed the hardened bulge in the center of his mass, pressed up against you. It was as if your body was asleep when your mind was not, and each of your movements was like moving through a slog of honey. Each touch against you left a buzz that flowed through your skin and deep into your bones. The hardened prod against your rear and thighs pressed gently against you, and you could feel the warmth of Bubba’s member against you. The arm around you gripped you harder, and Bubba pulled you in against each rut against you. He was slowly going faster, and his movements caused you to let out a throaty moan. Your mouth slammed shut as soon as you heard it, as the moan came out from pure instinct and stimulation. You were embarrassed by how easily he made you moan, but if it happened and felt this good, then why deny it? Bubba’s morning wood pressed against you once more before his arm removed itself from around your torso. He was much more awake than you were. His hand slipped down between the two of your bodies and to the front of his pants. You heard the light unzipping of his pants and then the warmth of his heat pressed against you. Your arms reached out above you and stretched the sleepiness from your muscles in beautiful satisfaction. Your back pressed up against him, and the softest of sounds escaped your lips once more. And to your surprise, Bubba responded with a sound of his own. The sound alone could have sent you over the brink. It was a huff that ended in a higher pitch, like a soft whine of desperation and need that sent wild thoughts through your mind of how badly he needed you. You felt his member already leaking against you, as it left warm, wet patches on the back of your pants. On instinct and pleasure, you ground your ass against him, just to get more of a feel of him against you. He was large, you could tell that much, but you were worried about turning around in case it would make him stop. Bubba’s arm wrapped itself around you again, and his face neared the back of your neck. You could feel his breath on you, and the slight chill of it made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. He whimpered again, as if pleading for you to take him. It seemed like this was his first time in this sort of situation, as his hips seemed to buck erratically and with slight hesitance. His belly pressed against you. He stopped for a moment and waited for you to show expressive interest. Now fully awake, you reached down to bring down the hem of your pants. The heat in your crotch was as hot or even hotter than the heat the rising sun that was blazing through the room. And then you felt it, you felt Bubba. He was incredibly, unfairly thick, almost like your forearm. He wasn’t the longest, but what he was packing made you tremble. You felt the eager tip of his cock press against the soft mounds of your ass. His entire body began to shake and shiver and you were convinced that he was going to cum right then and there if it weren’t for the loud footsteps and banging on the door that brought the both of you out of it. “Bubba!” The voice yelled, “It’s time to get breakfast ready!” Bubba’s breath was raspy against your neck, and you immediately pulled up your pants. They still didn’t know you were here, and if you weren’t careful, they would soon find out. And who knows what they would do to you. Bubba tucked himself into his pants before you could see him and—and wow, you actually wanted to see him. You felt a chamber in your core unlock as desire began to take over. This large, masked, strange man had torn a hole in your heart and had settled inside. He was so comfortable there that you had almost…almost… Bubba got up out his creaky bed. He whimpered as his legs dragged behind him. Before he opened the door, he looked back and made a motion for you to stay put, not like you had much of an option. He left and closed the door behind himself. And now you were alone. Alone with your thoughts. What were you doing? You were here, in a house where people had been killed, and you had just, you know, done things with the man who did it. It was wrong. It was sickeningly, disgustingly, intoxicatingly wrong. You had to admit to yourself that the fact that you knew what Bubba was capable of, that this soft puppy of a man was capable of such horrifying acts—but not with you—that it was…attractive. He could hurt someone for you. He could maybe even kill for you, and you knew his curiosity and obsession with you was growing. The simple fact that he was willing to hide you here from the man who hit him said enough. You didn’t owe him anything, but you wanted to give him everything. But your curiosity was getting the better of you. You heard the muffled voices and clattering of pots and pans from downstairs. You swung your feet over the bed and carefully distributed your weight as to not make the boards creak. With careful steps along the dresser and table, where the wood had settled the best, you carefully made your way to the door. You listened for a moment, and after you heard nothing, you cracked the door open and peaked outside. This was your first view of the hallway right side up. The walls were adorned with dark-green, peeling wallpaper that must have been set 20 years past. You saw the doors to a few more rooms and then the stairs leading down. Movement caught your eye as a dark shadow moved past the open crack of the door. Your heart froze in your chest as a man walked past you with no knowledge you were actually there. He turned the corner to go down the stairs, and in the brief moment before you hid behind the door, you saw his face. The face with a large, red birthmark the color of blood dripping down the side of his face.  The hitchhiker. It was the man on the road from yesterday who had tried to get you to come to his…house. You recoiled from the opening and brought your hands up to your face. You were always going to end up here, somehow. You were going to end up in this house, in this room, in this heat. But you realized just how lucky you were that you didn’t die like the rest of them. You were lucky that Bubba didn’t hurt you at all. You were here and that mattered for something didn’t it? And you were here with Bubba, which wasn’t so bad either. You heard the voices return and come up the stairs, and your undying curiosity brought you back to the crack in the door. You saw the hitchhiker again, and then Bubba behind him. You gathered that the hitchhiker was a bit nicer than the older man, as when he put his hand on Bubba’s back, the latter didn’t immediately flinch or cringe away from the touch. The older man yelled from the bottom of the stairs. “Now be careful with Grandpa, boys!” Grandpa? Bubba and the hitchhiker went into a room directly across from the top of the stairs. They had disappeared for only a moment when they reappeared once more. Between the two of them, they carried an old wooden chair, and in that chair was a corpse. Your breath caught in your throat and you heart froze in your chest. The corpse was that of an old man. Bald, sheet white, and sunken in, its head lulled from side to side as the two men carried it down the stairs. But it wasn’t a corpse at all. For the briefest moment, the old man regained its control over its head and turned to you. The sunken, hollow eyes made contact with yours before it lost its strength and dropped once more. You heard the thumps and coordination of their feet as they got to the bottom, along with the yelling from the older man. You took a deep breath and exited the room. You needed to see more. You needed to see more of Bubba. You took careful steps along the hallway until you reached the top of the stairs. You took a few steps down and sat. Your hands wrapped around the white bannisters whose paint had chipped and the wooden frame underneath peaked through. You could hear the voices much clearer now. They were below and around a corner. “Nubbins!” The older man cried out. “Go help your brother with the food!” When was this man not yelling? But also, was that the hitchhiker’s name? Strange. You had thought you misheard until you heard him respond. “Yeah, yeah, hold your fucking horses, Drayton.” Nubbins and Drayton. This was Bubba’s family. You heard even more clambering in the kitchen until it began to quiet. The scrape of old chairs against the wood floor signaled that they were sitting to eat. The thought of food made a pang of hunger hit your stomach. A moment of silence to say grace, and then the dining room erupted in noise once more. The all spoke loudly to each other, except for Bubba of course. They asked to be passed the bacon, eggs, ham, and even ribs. They had plenty of food, and you were curious at how they got them. But also, why did Bubba not want you to eat the meat if they were having so much of it now? You wanted to see more of the privacy of their meal, and you slowly slid off the step and lowered yourself down a bit more. You were now able to see farther into the dining room. It was adorned similarly to the rest of the house, with bones tied to and holding the majority of furniture together. You could see part of Bubba, or at least you thought it was him. He wore a mask, but a different one from before. It had short, grey hair, and a hole on the forehead similar to the one you met him in.  The skin sagged and lay wrinkled as it wrapped around Bubba’s face. He served food around the table, and babbled incoherent gibberish in a high-pitched voice. He seemed erratic and nervous as he tried to handle everything around the table. You wished you could run down the stairs and hug him tightly. But you knew that you would be in danger as soon as Nubbins or Drayton knew of your existence. Through a mouth full of food, Drayton muttered, “You did it again, Bubba! Great fucking breakfast. Who knew you could make such great shit out of such little meat, eh? Sometimes God simply provides.” “Hey!” Nubbins yelled, “I’m the one that sent them here!” “You didn’t send shit! You couldn’t even get into their fucking car! You didn’t do anything to provide for this family, you chickenshit! Bubba here, Bubba made something for us. He took care of those fucking kids and used their best bits and gave us this. Do you know how to do that? Do ya?” The voices quickly reduced to a jumble of screaming and yelling. Bubba bumbling and whimpering only added to the chorus. But you weren’t paying attention to that. Their bits? Their best bits? What did he mean? Their luggage? It wouldn’t serve any sort of use. And– No, their bits. Their meat. This grand breakfast the day after you saw them chopped up amongst the bones. They were eating them. And Bubba had cooked them up. That was why he didn’t want you to eat it. If you could, you would have bolted out of here this instant. In fact, what was stopping you?  You stood up, not caring if the stairs underneath emitted any sound. Your legs tensed and you held your breath. Just as you were about to run for your life, you heard a clattering crash and slam. “Bubba!” A whimper. Then a hard smack of a sound. Bubba started to sob. “Bubba you useless, goddamn child! Look what your bumbling ass did with all this! You clean this shit up right now or I swear your ass is gonna red till next Sunday!” Bubba was bumbling and sobbing in his nonsense language, and you could imagine him putting up his hands in his defense. No, you couldn’t leave. Not while Bubba was still like this: alone and afraid, beaten and abused. You were one of the few to show him kindness, and you didn’t want to think about the heartbreak leaving him would do. Every cell in your body was telling you to go, especially now that you knew their eating habits, but you couldn’t leave Bubba. Your feet slowly crept back up the steps, and before you knew it, you were back in Bubba’s room. The bird skull was still waiting for you on the bed. You picked it up and held it close to your chest. You waited for what seemed like forever until you heard the faint jingle of Bubba’s bracelet as he came to the door. He opened it quietly, as if to not disturb you, as if this was no longer his room but yours and he was intruding. You watched him practically crawl to you like a punished dog, not quite knowing what he had done wrong. He carried a plate in his hand piled high with food. The old lady mask was gone and he had returned to his usual one. You felt your heart throb in your chest. The corners of your eyes stung with the beginnings of tears as you watched this (somewhat) innocent man reduced to the small, quivering mess before you. Bubba offered the food to you, bringing it up with his head bowed. The food was quickly in your hands but you did not devour it. You placed it aside and whispered: “Oh, Bubba... are you okay? I heard. I heard everything.” He looked up at you in shock. He knew that you knew and the shame was plain on his face. He whimpered and went on his knees. His hand clasped together in a plea, in forgiveness. “No!” Your voice shook and trembled in its strength. Bubba’s body grew into stone at your feet. “There is nothing to forgive. It’s okay.” Your arms opened and welcomed him into your warmth. The hard stone around his body crumbled away and he embraced you. His head collapsed on your shoulder, and the tears from his eyes soaked your dirty shirt. “I know what you do. And while I don’t quite…understand, I won’t leave alone here. Not with him. You’re safe with me.” Bubba’s body began to rise to his full height, but he never let go of you. He picked you up and his arms grew into a strong vice of a hug that you did not want to leave. Your feet dangled off the ground, and you felt every ounce of strength that Bubba was careful not to use too much against you. He was a specimen of natural strength, and you were well aware of what his arms were capable of. They were capable of crushing, maiming, killing, slaughtering, loving. Bubba set you down onto the bed once more and his gentle hand waivered above you. You could see how desperately he wanted to touch you, how his thick, calloused hands wanted to stroke your face, but could not dare to do. So you solved the problem for him. You grabbed his hand and place it against your cheek. His strong palms pressed against your skin and slowly trailed down to your jaw and then your neck. He watched his face as he did so. You watched the glowing, honeyed brown eyes as they reflected the light of the morning. You watched as he slowly and carefully inspected every inch and detail of your skin. You tried to gather as much information that was buried behind the mask, but all you could see was wonder. Bubba’s hand lowered down to your neck. You had watched that hand smash a girl’s head in, and now it was delicately tracing the tendons and veins of your throat. His fingertips grazed your collarbone and you knew he would keep going lower and lower unless you stopped him. But you didn’t. You wanted to see more of the pure joy and wonder in his eyes. His mouth let out small sounds of satisfaction whenever he hit a certain curve or angle of your skin. A soft whimper as he traced the small indent of your clavicle, and then a squeak as he grazed the flat surface of your sternum. A low growl escaped from his throat, and as suddenly as his touch was on you, it was gone. He slunk away from you, and it was plain just how scared he was to touch you any more. You realized he had never had this before. He never had someone to touch that wanted to be touch. And your heart ached for him. Bubba recoiled from you and picked up the food once more. He tried to offer it once more, but you weren’t interested in that. Bubba did not think he was worthy of you or your touch, but you wanted to show him that he was. You took the plate of food from him, and stood up. He took a few steps back and began to cower, worried that you were going to reject him and his food and get violent in some way. You set the plate down carefully on the table and approached Bubba like he was a scared, stray dog. You were slow and careful with each step, and after a few moments he stopped backing away. Bubba let out a constant stream of whimpers and cries as you closed in on him. You hushed him. “Bubba, shhh shhh, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” His hands came up to protect himself, but they faltered at your hush. Backed against the wall, he seemed so defenseless. And now you knew that he could never hurt you. With your hands raised in front of you, you let him know that you were going to touch him. Your palms pressed against his broad, heaving chest, and he immediately began to calm. He was panting from fear, but with each moment of contact, he began to go at ease. Bubba’s lip quivered and he whimpered as your hands explored his chest. You were a bit scared to touch his face, or “face” rather, but you stomached it to put your hands on either side of it. “I’m here, Bubba. It’s okay.” His dark eyes softened and locked onto yours. His hands came up and held yours to his face, and he applied a comforting pressure to them. After a moment, he let go, and you did as well. Your hands wandered down to chest once more, but this time, your hand wrapped around his patterned tie and tugged lightly. Bubba whimpered once more, but he quickly quieted when he pressed his lips against yours. You felt the surprisingly soft lips quivering against your own before they pressed harder into you. Your eyes widened from surprise, but softened as you felt more of his body around you. Your grip on Bubba’s tie grew stronger and pulled him in deeper. Your mouth parted, and your tongue slipped past his sharp, crooked teeth and slid across his hot, thick tongue. You felt the vibration of his whimpers echoing against your mouth, and you wanted to hear more of it. His sweet, desperate sounds sent chills down your body. His hands had crept up to continue exploring your body as he was before. His hands landed on your hips and squeezed before he continued upwards. Your tongue intertwined with his and you felt burning desire flow through you. You tugged on the tie again and began to lead Bubba back to the bed. You were careful as tried not to hurt the dark bruises throughout his body. “I’ll take care of you, Bubba.” He whined like a lovesick puppy. You turned him around, still with your grip around his tie, and sat him down onto the bed. He whimpered and cried out as you broke away from his lips. “Lie down.” You ordered. He immediately obeyed. As he rested on his back on the old, creaky bed, you saw the bulge in his pants as clear as day. You could tell just from the sight of it just how big he was. Bubba continued to look up at you. His tongue licked his lips. He was already addicted to you. He would do anything you asked of him. He was completely submissive. You slowly crept up onto the bed, and crawled over his body. You planted yourself firmly on his lap, his bulge pressing upwards against you. You leaned down to kiss him once more, before your hand righted around his tie and your hips began to grind. And then Bubba went wild. He began to squeal and babble much louder than he had before as his hips began to buck on their own and you began to bounce on him. His hands began to tug and pull at your clothing, as he tried his best to tear it off. “Bubba,” you said sternly, “Put your hands above your head and keep them there.” He immediately obeyed once more. His hands went above his head and gripped the bed’s headboard. You knew the strength in those arms, arms that could easily lift you up and take you exactly how he wanted to, but he had relinquished control to you, and you would not squander that gift. Bubba quieted and waited for you to move. You could feel his throbbing heat pulsating against your groin and you grew hungrier by the second. You took a moment to take off your shirt, and you saw Bubba reach out to touch you. You wagged your finger and he put his hands away once more. Bubba was panting desperately like an animal in heat. His mouth hung completely open, and his tongue lolled out of the corner of his mouth. You could practically see his hot breath huffing out of him. You were convinced that he would explode any second, as he seemed to grow and grow underneath you. The next thing to go was your pants. You quickly unbuttoned and threw them off onto the floor. Now completely bare, you could feel the throbbing heat in Bubba’s pants that was only separated by a few layers of fabric. Bubba’s ragged breath came out as constant noise, and you loved it. You ground your hips against his for a few moments as you felt his erection grow to its full size. The fabric of his pants could barely contain it. Finally, you scooted down in order to free him. As soon as you unzipped his pants, his thick, veiny cock sprung out from its cage. Your breath caught in your throat as you took the view in. To say he was thick was an understatement. Bubba was easily as thick as your wrist, and strong, pulsing veins added ridges to his member. He wasn’t the longest you had experienced, but it was his girth that shocked you. You knew it was going to ruin you and you were eager for it. His menacing cock jumped and twitched as he could feel your eyes on him. You raised yourself up, and ever so carefully; you grazed your aroused crotch against Bubba’s burning cock. He howled in pleasure and bucked up to reach you, but the momentary friction was gone as you continued to move yourself upwards. You didn’t stop until your groin was right above Bubba’s mouth. You could see his white-knuckled grip on the wooden headboard as he used every ounce of his willpower not to touch you. “You’re a big boy, Bubba. So you’re going to have to get me ready.” A moment later and you placed your entrance to his mouth, and he began to work. His thick, warm tongue slithered out past his lips and traced circles around your entrance. Your voice choked in your throat as you felt the warm tongue lap at you. Your legs trembled around Bubba’s head. You rested yourself fully on his face, and his tongue began to explore your depths.  You felt your entrance part as his tongue ventured inside, leaving a slimy hot trail of saliva across every inch.   Through gasps and moans, you were able to let out a few words. “You can touch me now.” Bubba did not need to hear anything more before his hands removed themselves from the headboard and wrapped their thickness against your thighs and pulled you down completely onto his face. It was like he was trying to devour you from the inside out. His tongue, lips, and even teeth worked in conjunction to prepare you. Your eyes slowly wandered to the headboard, and you saw the faint splintering of the wood around the indents of his grip. His noises never stopped. They vibrated and reverberated against your entrance. His hips bucked in a futile attempt at friction in the air. You were worried that you were suffocating him underneath your meat, but every attempt to pull away only strengthened his grip around you. His thick, slobbery tongue penetrated you as deep as it could, but it was not enough. You called Bubba’s name and he worked himself harder. “Good, Bubba. That’s my boy.” You pulled at the hair of his mask and bucked your hips, gliding up against Bubba’s noise and face with your protrusion. You decided you were ready, or rather, you couldn’t wait any longer. You tapped Bubba on the shoulder to get his attention. “Take me, Bubba. Fill me up.” He let out a hog-like squeal underneath you and pulled you off of his face. Bubba sat up and guided the weight of your body without a problem as he settled your entrance on the head of his cock. Just the head would be difficult enough to put inside, but you calmed yourself and slowly wriggled to ease it in. Bubba had other plans. He grabbed you by the hips, and pushed you down as hard as he could. White-hot burning pain exploded around you as you felt his thick cock travel to the depths of your body. Each vein was large enough to feel against your walls, and the gentle curve upwards guided the fat head to your special spot deep within. You cried out in pain for only a moment before Bubba covered your mouth with his thick palm. He looked up at you in wonder, and you watched a thick strand of drool ran down the corner of his mouth. His dark, hungry eyes were vacant with lust, and he only took a moment to buck into you. You could feel every single inch of him inside you. You felt his thick girth stretch you to your absolute limit. Your head of nerves gently stroked against Bubba’s belly. You needed something to grab onto, and on instinct you reached for his tie once more. You wrapped it around your hand several times before you tightened it against his throat. His squeal died down from the pressure on his airway, and his lips parted in order to breathe. His hips began to buck faster. Despite the pain you were in, you were leading him in your joined pleasure.

“Faster, Bubba. Go faster.” His hips continued to buck up into you, and you let out breathy moans along with his whimpers. Bubba’s arms wrapped around you, and firmly hugged you to his chest. His hips bucked faster, and more and more of his cock tugged the flesh in and out of you. Bubba’s eyes never left your face. He watched as every one of his movements displayed itself on your visage. Each thrust into you hit just the right spot, and forced deep moans out from your mouth. Your sensitive stretch of nerves rubbed against Bubba’s pelvis and stomach, and the unending stimulation caused you to tuck your head in the crook of his shoulder. His head pressed against your own in his own display of kindness and affection. But not too long after, his rut into you began to escalate. His hips became faster and his cock fucked you harder. There was no hiding your noises now, it was all too late. Bubba’s squealing joined your moans as you held on for dear life. You were bouncing on his cock, and his entire length would slip out of you before sliding itself back in once more. Your entrance was aching but that only added to your desire. Bubba lifted you slightly and you wrapped your legs around his waist. Suddenly, you were on your back, and his weight was above you. He slowed down considerable to try not to hurt you, but a quick tightening of his tie, like a leash, hurried him once more. “Faster, Bubba, Faster. Bury yourself inside.” His hips were slamming into you at a manic pace. You could feel the base of his cock slam against your entrance with each quick push upwards. Bubba released a constant stream of needy sounds, and they only stopped once his lips landed on your neck. His sharp teeth bit and rugged at your glowing skin. With each bite he slid his fat tongue across your neck to accent each one. His tongue lapped at you and explored every inch of you. He pumped away below, but above, he kissed and sucked and licked, his mouth a roaming band of sensations. With one last twirl of his tongue, his mouth latched onto you completely. You could feel his teeth scrape and lips suction, and you already knew he was leaving deep hickeys on your skin. His animalistic grunt vibrated against your throat. Your mind had begun to meld into only blind pleasure. Along with his cock, his lips, his teeth, and his tongue, the front of you rubbed against his round belly. He was all around you and every inch provided you with pleasure. Your grip around his tie began to tighten as you felt your orgasm coming to a peak. Unexpectedly, Bubba’s hand moved from your thigh to the front of your groin. His agile hand worked you from what he knew from his own self-pleasure. He rubbed and tugged, and quickly switched from using just his thumb to his the palm of his hand and back again. It was all too much. Too much too much. Your legs quivered and your entire body shook as you came. The tie tightened itself around his throat until he could not breath. Your head rocked back as you let your orgasm take you as far as it could. Bubba continued to pump away at you, and your walls began to close around his cock like a vice. His thrusts began to quicken, and he remained deep within you. He still could not breathe, and it wasn’t until a squeak managed to escape his lips that you loosened the grip around his throat. He fucked away, until he began to squeal and pant wildly.  Bubba’s hip stuttered for just a moment before he let out a harsh grunt, left your neck, and stared into your eyes as he came. He pumped you full of his cum, his hips continuously going until all of his seed was spent. You felt each hot spurt hitting your walls and filling up your guts with each thrust. And then, he jammed the rest of his cock inside, sealing your entrance with all of his hot juices inside. He kept you plugged for as long as he could bear to before the overstimulation caused him discomfort. You felt his warmth in the depths of your belly. Very slowly, Bubba pulled his thick monster of a cock out of you. His giant head made a pop as he exited you, and your gaping hole began to ooze the fruit of his labor. You felt every string and drop as it emptied out of you. You took a moment to take a few breaths and thought it was over. It wasn’t. Bubba’s cock did not waver after its orgasm, and instead stood strong beneath you. He had lived without a kind, living touch for so long, and he was going to get as much as he could out of you. Your grip around his tie was gone, but you were able to peak at the bright red marks along his neck that your control had caused. He immediately began to line up the gorgeous head of his cock against your entrance once more. He had stretched you to your limit, and your muscles did not provide any sort of obstacle to his member. You felt his warmth slip inside of you, slick on his hot cum. Bubba plugged you once more, and his cock filled you to the brim. You were still sensitive from your orgasm just moments before, but the deliciously painful stretch of your muscles distracted you from it. You were completely focused on Bubba above you. You focused on his soft eyes as he traced the features on your face. You focused on the feeling of the hot air around you. You focused on the thump of your heart in your chest. Bubba’s thrusts were slow at first as he tried to create a tempo, but once he did so, he began to thrust into you as quickly as possible. He humped away like a mad dog, his thick, burning cock pressing into your guts and smearing the remnants of his last orgasm against your walls. Your muscles were growing weak. He pumped away at you, his eyes bored into you as they watched his every movement that caused you to moan. His hands squeezed every bit of flesh that they could find. Before long, he let out another squeal and came into you once more. Even more cum came out of him than the first round. Each thrust caused more of his juices to implant themselves inside you, and he buried his cock deeply within. He had a thing for keeping his cum inside you, which was plain to see, and you were into it just as much. He filled your insides quickly, and you swore that you could feel the slight distention caused by both his fluids and his cock. You let out a long, guttural moan as he slowly pulled himself out. You felt his cum slowly drip and ooze out of you, and you were so tempted to use your fingers to spread it around your entrance. Bubba beat you to it. His fingers rubbed along your entrance in long strides, which coated his fingers in his own cum. He whimpered, and ducked his head down between your legs. His hot, wet tongue lapped at your entrance. It twirled and stroked up each drop of his cum that left your body. Occasionally, he dipped his tongue inside to coerce more of himself out of you. The sensation of his wetness sliding across your used up entrance caused your breathing to falter. You listened to him slurp up his cum, and his gentle touch sent gentle waves of pleasure through you body. You hand thrust out and held the back of Bubba’s head to your crotch.

“More, Bubba.” You were addicted to his heat and his tongue and you were not going to let go. He began to slid his flat thickness across your entrance and up over the rest of your groin. His tongue flicked and twirled at the tip, and you heard him gulp down his warm fluids. You looked down and saw his thick, white cum coat his tongue as he pulled it into his mouth, and you felt your body shake once more. You came again and pulled his face back into you, burying him into your scent. He cleaned up the remains of your orgasm and sighed in contentment. Bubba pulled away much too soon, as you could stay there with his head between your legs for hours. But alas, he pulled away, the both of you satisfied. Bubba repositioned himself and rested his head on your chest. The two of you stayed there for what felt like an eternal paradise. His heavy weight on you was a comforting presence, and the slow rhythm of your joined breathing sent your heart into peace. All was still, quiet, and perfect. Until your voice broke through the silence. “Run away with me, Bubba.” Bubba’s head perked up from your chest. He looked at you and tilted his head in confusion. You repeated yourself. “Run away with me. You don’t have to stay here. You don’t have to be with them. Come with me. Please?” Bubba sat up and stared at you with the same quizzical expression. You sat up next to him and place your hands on either side of his face. “You won’t be hurt anymore. You won’t have to be scared. And you’ll be with me! Please? Please, Bubba?” He stared at you for much too long. His eyes flicked from side to side until ultimately, he shook his head no. You felt your heart throb in your chest as it sunk into a pit. A sob got stuck in your throat. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. You went to hold him, but he caught you by the arms. He shook his head. “Why? Why won’t you come with me?” Your voice began to crack from the sobs you were desperately trying to hold at bay. Bubba turned to the side, to the distant sound of voices, and pointed. He jabbed a finger in the air, and then slowly brought the flat of his palm to his chest. Family. “No, no, no! That’s not an excuse for how they treat you! You don’t deserve that!” Your mind became clouded with emotions. Sadness, pain, anger mixed into a volatile cocktail. “Fine! Fine, then. Stay here.” You started to dress yourself. While you picked up your clothes from the floor, Bubba tried to grab you. You shook him away as tears streamed down your face. “I’m out of here, Bubba. I’m going. I’m running and I’ll keep running. Join me or not, I don’t care.” You managed to get your shirt and pants on in a hurry, and you stood up in indignation. “But I’m going to have a little chat with them first.” Bubba began to squeal in a panic. No, the squeals said, they’ll hurt you, they’ll kill you, you must stay hidden. Before he could grab you and hold you back, you were out the door and heading down the stairs. About halfway down, you realized what you were doing. What were you thinking? They were the dangerous ones. They were the ones Bubba was afraid of, especially Drayton. And here you were, with a death wish. But it was too late now. “Hey!” Your voice rang out like a loud bell through the home. It pierced their usual sounds and instilled silence over the house. You turned the corner to find Drayton and Nubbins together talking. Their confusion was probably the only reason you were alive right now. You had the element of surprise. “You goddamn bastard!” You pointed at Drayton and closed the few feet between you to be able to jab at his chest with your finger. Your words spewed our with hatred anger in quick succession. “You fucking asshole how dare you hurt Bubba like that I should fucking gut you–” You didn’t know where you were going with this, but Nubbins stopped you before you could go any further. He grabbed you by the arms and held you back. His thin frame held a surprising strength and in a moment you were immobilized. You continued to shout obscenities at Drayton, and they only got louder once he took a step closer to you. He opened his mouth to order Nubbins to do something to you, hurt you most likely, but he didn’t get a chance to say it. Bubba thundered into the room, came up from behind Nubbins, and grabbed him by the neck. He grunted like a madman. It was with such a fury that you had never heard from him before. Nubbins let go of you out of shock. He was quickly tossed aside, and fell on a chair decorated with bones of previous meals. He landed in a clatter and the room was in an uproar. You were screaming at Drayton who was screaming at Nubbins who was screaming at Bubba who was howling and grunting like a maniac. Bubba took you into his arms and shielded you from his family. His giant frame protected you from all of them, and when they saw this, the two quieted. “What the hell is going on here?” Drayton asked Bubba. “Have you been hiding someone in your room? Part of those college kids?” “It is! It is!” Nubbins shouted. “I remember!” His mouth stretched into a toothy grin. Bubba gave a quick nod, but didn’t look at Drayton or Nubbins. Bubba stood between you and his bully, and his eyes were glued to the ground. “What the fuck were you thinking? Get rid of it now!” Bubba let out a defiant huff and shook his head no. You knew in that moment that neither of them were going to touch you. “Bubba! Do as I say!” Bubba shook his head even harder now. His entire body was trembling. He was afraid. You reached out and touched his arm to let him know you were still there. Even without looking at you, his body strengthened and he straightened himself up to his full height. “I’m thinking maybe Bubba has got a crush!” Nubbins laughed. “Good for him!” He laughed harder and turned to Drayton. “Aww come on, let the boy have something good for once!” “Something good? He’s got one of these fucking little shits as a pet!” “Hey!” You yelled out. “I’m no one’s pet! I could leave if I wanted to! I could...I could! But I’m here for Bubba.” “Come on, Drayton,” Nubbins whined. “It’s someone new to play with. It’s someone I can photograph. For free!” Drayton obviously wasn’t expecting this sort of resistance. You never thought you would feel this way, but you were actually grateful for Nubbins presence. “Bubba—“ Drayton began, but Bubba’s incoherent babbling cut him off. It seemed like Drayton was more used to it, and could decipher a bit here and there, or at least get the notion that you were Bubba’s and here to stay. Here to stay huh? You didn’t know if you wanted to stay. But you couldn’t leave Bubba here alone. Now, you had the chance to protect him. And maybe a chance to convince him to one day leave with you. You could see the invisible hackles begin to soften on Drayton’s back. He watched Bubba and his desperate attempt to save you, to protect you. There was at least one semblance of a conscience in him. “Well, I guess it’s not too much of a bother.” Nubbins managed to get up from his place on the floor and howled with a cheer. He stepped over to Bubba and gave him a playful slap on the back. Bubba looked at him from behind his mask and smiled his little scraggly-toothed grin that you could just die for. Nubbins turned to you, still under Bubba’s watchful eye, and held out a hand. It looked like he was coursing with energy as he shuffled from foot to foot, and gave a nervous laugh. “Welcome to the family, I guess!” You hesitated for a moment. You tuned to Bubba and once you received sign of his approval, you took Nubbin’s hyperactive hand and gave it a good, stern shake. You and Bubba turned to Drayton, who stood with a clear look of disapproval. He sighed. “Bubba’s gonna grow bored of you, and once he does, I’ll end up cleaning the mess.” He shook his head and walked out of the room. You knew he was trying to scare you. A minuscule part of you worried that he might be right. But even though you had only known Bubba for a short time, you knew he would never hurt you. He would protect you. He would fight for you. He would kill for you. He would die for you. Bubba was your loyal pet. And you would protect him just as he would with you. Nubbins slowly crept out of the room, and the two of you were finally alone again. “I’m sorry, Bubba. I know, it was dangerous. I just—I just don’t want them to hurt you anymore. I’m going to protect you from now on, okay? I’ll always be here for you.” Bubba whimpered and tilted his head to one side. He wondered how he could deserve this kindness. But you knew he did. He leaned down and held his hand to the back of your head. Held in place, he kissed you fiercely, his lips soft and strong against you. Bubba pulled away too soon, although every kiss would end too soon with him. He dug something out of his apron pocket and handed it to you. The small bird skull rested in the giant palm of his hand. It looked so delicate and frail. His hand was large, meaty, brutal, and yet, he held this skull with the utmost care. You took it from him and thanked him. The hot sun had fully entered the sky, and sweat began to seep from your pores. Rot grew both inside and outside of the Sawyer house, but within you, love blossomed.

[kariachi]

Oh, look, some fic about Osmosians and kinda architecture? Not really?

~~

“There’s already a whole underground city here, why do you need another one?”

“It’s not a city it’s a pack den and we need it for the pack. Communal space, ya know?”

“And you can’t just find a place in Undertown for that?” The Osmosians all looked at the Tennysons and Rook like they were morons. Argit tutted.

“No!”

~~

At twenty-two, a few years in true adulthood after officially being denoted the highest ranked Ossy around- much to his own horror and Michael’s eternal annoyance- Kevin decided Bellwood needed a proper denning system.

One hadn’t been necessary before, because the Osmosian population had been rather small. The four families had all had their own dens carefully laid out in the earth and it hadn’t really been worth the effort to connect and combine them into a proper system. But things had changed over the years. The youngest generation was now mostly adults, with the exception of Alan’s younger siblings, and Earth’s opening up to open intergalactic travel and trade combined with their own mostly-positive reputations meant a decent number of other Osmosians were emigrating in.

A not-so-surprising number of them were hoping to court Kevin or Alan, or had brought along younger siblings and cousins in hopes of getting them Alan’s younger siblings.

But higher numbers meant more dens meant they needed to set up a good, proper denning system for the region. Someplace for people to eat, work, socialize, nest.

It was a requirement for a proper territory.

~~

Den planning, as the non-Ossys quickly learned, wasn’t easy, especially in urban areas. You needed to find suitable sunning spots, then locate somewhere close enough to regular travel to put the communal enter of the system, that had to go in an area that could be dug deep enough for nesting chambers, and they were going to have to be able to connect to all the other dens already dotted around Bellwood and Undertown-

In the end Kevin had taken advantage of the wealth he and Rook’s taedanite car gave him to make some key purchases and collapsed a fair portion of the mines under the region to give them space to work with.

~~

“It just seems like overkill to me.”

“That’s because you’re not an Ossy. Now we can clean it up and dig out some proper living and working space.”

“And you couldn’t have done that without collapsing like five miles of perfectly serviceable tunnel?�� Snorting, Kevin looked up from the plans and diagrams that were quickly consuming a good portion of his life and grinned at Gwen with a mouth full of pizza.

“How about this, you go ask the others if they intend to nest in a mineshaft, then get back to me.” She just sighed and shook her head.

“I am never going to understand you people.”

“And honestly, that’s the way we like it.”

~~

Not that that was all that needed worrying about, but it was a good portion. Thankfully fans and such made ventilation easier than it had been back in the old days, before The Hunting, but there were also arguments on just how ‘modern’ to make the system, and how far it should range. More specifically how far up and how.

There’d been a lot of arguing about it, with points of view ranging from ‘fuck it, stay underground’ to ‘throw up a few trees and it’ll be fine’ to ‘just have an exit in Undertown and let their buildings pick up the vertical slack’, which just brought around arguments as to whether that was rude towards the citizens of Undertown or not. After all they and Bellwood were the pack’s neighbors. Which had of course led to more arguing and it took a solid week before Kevin put his foot down and started ordering trees.

The reasoning being that the two people calling for proper, good-sized trees were Argit and Pierce, and even if- through some horribly unlikely twist of fate- no other Erinaens moved themselves out to share territory with a burgeoning Osmosian pack with a necromancer in it, they would still need space to climb and such. Plus, eventually they were going to breed, either with other members of the pack or some random shmuck, so it was best to have some growth started for them to raise litters in. It was only two of them now, but with Argit alone it could be over twenty in about as many years, and Ossy/Erinaen cross-heritage like Pierce’s made for some odd numbers when breeding time came.

And, well, breeding time was half the reason they were digging this shit out.

~~

“Okay, so,” Manny said, looking over the plans with the same gravitas as the Emperor reading trade agreements, “how big are we making the nesting cavern?” Over at the counter, elbows deep in dough, Kevin groaned.

“I don’t even know, man. I wanna say go with the standard and we can add more as the pack grows, but I don’t want it to be too big or everyone’s gonna get antsy.” Manny muttered something under his breath and began scratching out math problems on a corner of the plans.

“So, we’ve got a standard to fit thirty nests-”

“When we don’t even have thirty people.”

“So we should do like, half the standard size? Or do we plan ahead? We can always expand right?”

“In theory.” Kevin sighed. “I don’t know, man, my brain stopped working two days ago, why do you think I’m defaulting to making bread?” Snorting laughter, Manny reached out to pat his shoulder.

“You do that, princey.” Kevin swatted blindly at him. “The rest of us’ll keep things on track for a few days, a’right?”

“Alright,” Kevin replied, heaving a sigh and turning to give Manny a tired grin. “Just, once the workspace is finished, work on connecting the clan dens. I’ll be back to work in time to start on the central denning area.”

“And that gives us half an eternity still to figure out what we’re doing with the nesting cavern.”

“Yeah. Eventually we’ll get that far down and just…” Kevin sighed again. “We’ll figure something out.”

~~

They ended up going with a nesting cavern set to fit twenty nests comfortably, placed so there was space to expand later. Running water was also installed after a lot of arguing that ended with Mike and Helen threatening to leave and start their own rival pack, as well as electricity for the communal kitchens. Those and the ventilation fans were all that got electricity though. Kevin worried about he and Mike’s addiction issues and so had vetoed suggestions for electric lights and hook-ups throughout the system in favor of keeping plugs for the dining cavern and using traditional richellu as a primary light source, alongside some bioluminescent fungi from Niza’ro. Between the two it gave the tunnels and caverns plenty of light, some natural pest control, and adorable communal pets. Their spider-ish shape meant Gwen had sworn never to enter the den system, but that was the price one paid for community health apparently.

Besides, she’d change her mind once they’re were chicks running around.

~~

“The Fane clan sent vuldro.”

“Well, it’s not like they have anything else to send.”

“Alan, we have no place to put ponds for them.”

“Well you may wanna find one or Mike’s going to throw a fit.”

~~

It actually turned out pretty, with a pond full of carefully netted crop plants forming a semi-circle around the main entrance just outside the city. There was a nice pile of sunning rocks and a sandpit not far away, easy access to both Bellwood and Undertown both over-land and through the tunnels systems, and a variety of trees pretty much all over the place, in various stages of growth. Construction had already started in the largest one by the time the dens themselves were ready for guests.

Inside the dens were about as pretty, in their own way. They were dark to eyes not made for the dim light, but the green and blue glows of the fungus- carefully planted in little enclaves in the walls- as well as the pale light of the richellu darting around gave it an almost ethereal feel, like something out of The Dark Crystal or something. The walls, ceilings, and floors were coated in a layer of stone in various colors, mostly greys with black in the kitchens. It would’ve been cold, had there not been rugs on the floors, and the tunnels not dug deep enough to be stuck at a pleasant enough ambient temperature.

But the most striking detail as one passed through the ‘upper’ caverns and down down down into the depths of the den system was the metals and gems in the walls. Not naturally occurring, no, but clearly a case of raw ore and stone being absorbed in the same way the typical stone of the walls was and mixed with it to create an effect like the earth was rich with colorful, multitextured minerals. There was not a one of these patches that was smooth.

It was amazing.

“Dude,” Ben said, running his hand over some ruby. “Dude.” Kevin stood back, a toothy grin on his face and a smirk in his eyes.

“Best den system in the quadrant.”

“Definitely,” Ben replied as if he’d ever seen the inside of a den system. “Okay, I can see why now you all wanted to get this put together.” Leaning against one wall, Kevin stretched out with a content sound.

“Benji, you have no idea.”

[per-ineptia-ad-astra]

starhearth: episode two

First Month of Spring, Days 5-7

With a new morning dawning it’s time to really start getting this colony underway. Our motley little crew are still flush with the spirit of pioneering (very Star Trek of them) and have supplies to last a while, but they won’t be satisfied with sleeping on the ground and eating plates of berries around a campfire forever. They’ll be needing beds, and a roof over their heads, and more food, preferably before all those plates of berries run out.

[ID: A screenshot showing a small patch of trees by a lake with a square boundary marked, within which are a few cages.]

First off, Uhura is assigned a little patch of territory near the stockpile to do her trapping in. This will at least supply us with a considerable amount of dried jerky, which will keep the crew from starving if all else fails.  Then it’s time to consider our first building.

Stonehearth comes with a few pre-made building templates, but by and large you’re expected to design your own; once designed and placed in the world, your hearthlings will construct them from your stockpiled materials. I’m not exactly what you might call good at designing buildings, but fortunately hearthlings aren’t too picky about architecture and even I can manage to stick a few walls and a roof together. This first building is basically just one big room with a couple of smaller rooms attached, which is meant to eventually serve as a kind of tavern/dining hall, but more immediately will give everyone a place to sleep and eat inside until we can build some individual houses.

The finished schematic (such as it is) calls for a bit more wood than we currently have, but there are some trees in the way of where I want to put it anyway so that works out alright. A few people are sent to cut down those trees; in the meantime, Kirk studiously patrols around the camp, while McCoy crafts himself a Herbalist’s Workbench, which he’ll need to craft other things.

Once the trees are down, the building is placed in a spot close to the lake, next to a young chestnut tree. The chestnut tree isn’t strictly necessary. It just seemed nice.

Time to start building! It’s going to take rather a while, though, because Trappers, Herbalists and Footmen can’t build, so it’s just Scotty and Sulu working on it for now. And with Scotty initially busy making the doors and windows, it’s left to Sulu alone to begin laying the flooring. Unfortunately, he’s chosen to do this while drunk.

[ID: A screenshot showing a close-up on Sulu’s character bar, with a small icon on the side showing a mug of beer, with an accompanying description window which reads: “Light-headed: Having a merry time! Maybe a bit too much...Oh, well. Courage is increased. Diligence, Willpower, Speed and Stamina are slightly decreased. Crafting takes longer and has less chances of producing high quality items. This hearthling is less menacing to enemies. This hearthling will want to engage in conversations and sleep a lot more than usual.”]

Kids! Don’t try this at home. Combining carpentry and alcohol rarely ends well.

Then he falls asleep on the spot. Oh well, that might be for the best. At least now he won’t wind up nailing his own hand to the floor.

[ID: A screenshot showing Sulu, laying fast asleep on a partly finished floor with a couple of Z’s coming from him.]

Having finished his workbench, McCoy goes to gather some herbs and edible mushrooms, starting a makeshift garden next to the stockpile. Meanwhile, Scotty has finished building all the furniture for the tavern, which has raised him up to Level 2. With that done he can start helping Sulu build the actual structure.

The next day brings us a couple pieces of welcome news. The first is that a passing explorer has happened by and they’ve got an offer for us.

[ID: A screenshot of a message box titled ‘An Explorer Approaches Your Town.’ Below that, the text reads, “Hello Enterprise! I am an explorer from far to the east who deals in various amounts of trade and collection. Recently I found 2 Autonomous Cricket Golem just sitting next to the road. I’m not sure who left them there, but they’re quite helpful at cleaning up! I don’t have much use for them myself, but a nearby village said they are in need of 5 Wooden Window Frame. I will be relaxing nearby for 5 days...would you be interested in a trade at that time?”]

This is a stroke of luck, especially so early on. Cricket golems will haul items, meaning hearthlings have to spend less time doing it, which is especially helpful given that hearthlings kind of suck at cleaning up after themselves and tend to drop things all over the place. Also, they’re super cute. We definitely want these, and Scotty can easily crank out those window frames in time, so the offer is quickly accepted.

The other good news is our Daily Update. The Daily Update checks your town’s total net worth and your total amount of provisions, and if both are high enough, a new villager will come to stay. And today, we’ve got enough!

[ID: A screenshot showing a message box titled ‘Daily Update.’ The box reads “Immigration Report: Day 7 of Bittermun, 1000. Enterprise population: 5. Next hearthling requirements...” Below this are two icons, both with a green checkmark on them, one a basket containing a pumpkin and one a chest containing some gold. The icon is labeled ‘Food 117/50’ and the second is labeled ‘Net Worth 545/275’. Below that the text reads, “A new settler would like to join your town!”]

New villagers will have randomly generated names, appearances, stats and traits, and while you can freely change their names at any time, the only way to get new stats and traits is to save immediately beforehand and then reload until you get one you want. Which I...may have done. A few times.

In the end (I’m gonna decline to comment on exactly how long this took) we’ve got a newcomer with 4 mind, 6 body, and 3 spirit, with two traits: Animal Companion (this time, the animal is a fox) and Storm Chaser (which...I’m not actually sure what that one does, but my best guess is that it gives them a happiness boost in stormy weather).

By default in Stonehearth you’re not able to change the appearance of any hearthlings aside from your starting five. In the interests of having everyone look somewhat remotely recognizable as themselves, I employed a mod that lets you change the appearance of new villagers. The downside to this is that the town quickly wound up becoming remarkably homogeneous, but, well, that’s TOS for you.

At any rate, our new villager has the stats to be a good combat unit, and we’ll need an archer eventually, so I decided to make this one Chekov. Because...firing phasers is kind of like firing arrows...look, just go with me on this.

[ID: A screenshot showing a hearthling with brown hair and brown eyes standing next to a fox. Below him the description box reads “Pavel Chekov—Worker.”]

For the moment, however, we need more hands to build the tavern more than we need an archer, so Chekov won’t be taking up his job for a while yet. While he gets to work helping Scotty and Sulu, McCoy harvests some nearby berry bushes and makes some healing potions—more because he needs the experience than because we need healing potions, but hey, they might come in handy.

With the additional help the floor of the tavern is soon finished, and work begins on putting the walls up. But it’ll still be a while before it’s done and in the meantime, sleeping on the ground is making everyone grumpy, so Scotty’s made some extremely basic beds, which are put out near the fire. Before all the beds are even placed, Sulu and McCoy have passed out in a couple of them.

[ID: A screenshot near the campfire, showing two beds placed in a row, with the outlines of three beds still to be placed. McCoy and Sulu are each sleeping in a bed while Scotty sits nearby eating some berries.]

Apparently it’s been a tiring day.