#death spells arm stripe shirt

[tyforthevnm]

Death Spells at Glasgow Broadcast, UK on August 9, 2016 | Tash Bandicoot | x, x, x

[callmeblake]

Death Spells at Broadcast, Glasgow on August 9th, 2016

From music existence

Photo Credit: Tash Bandicoot

[redfoxwritesstuff]

For Eternity, Chapter 7

Alastor x Angel!Wife Oc (Isabel) Rated: Adult - this fic contains content inappropriate for minors. Chapter Warnings: blood, talk of murder, talk of stillbirth and maternal death.

@impulsivethoughtsat2am Was darling enough to beta <3 Many thanks, Dearheart.

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord. And my friend runs a Hazbin Fic Community

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“Let’s go home,” Alastor’s voice came to her, sounding like he was speaking to her from one of his broadcasts. If she didn’t open her eyes, she could pretend she was sitting on her couch, listening to her husband wrap up a broadcast, saying goodnight for now. 

“Alastor?” Slowly, she opened her eyes.

The world that came into focus was dark, with sparks dancing around cut cables. She couldn’t see much beyond the small circle of dim light that she sat in wrapped in Angel Dust’s arms.

“What happened?” She whispered, “Where’s Vox?” 

“Ran off with his tail between his legs,” Alastor wore a soft smile as he held out a red clawed hand for her, offering to help her to her feet. 

“And his screen busted,” Angel Dust added with a snicker. 

“Alastor? Is- is it really you?” Her eyes traced his face, looking for some sign of the man she knew within these strange and haunting features. 

His soft brown hair was gone, though his black tipped crimson bob looked just as prone to falling out of place. No longer did he look at her with warm brown eyes. Now it was a soft pink irises on a backdrop of red where the whites of his eyes should have been. Fire burned in his eyes as he held his hand out to her. 

She watched his eyes flicker over her features, taking her in just as she was with him. Part of her wondered what he was thinking. 

Did he hate what he was seeing? 

Did she hate what she was seeing?

She didn’t think so. He was handsome in a chilling way. Even without his red coat, he was so very red, as if someone had dipped all of his imposing frame in a vat of red dye… or blood. His button-down shirt was as red as his hair and, likewise, accented with black down in a single stripe down his chest.

Though she tried to steady her hand, her fingers trembled as she reached out for his hand. For a moment, she remembered days ago, placing her hand in Vox’s in a moment of trust that spelled her downfall, and she froze. 

“It’s alright, Isa.” his voice was smooth and so right, even when everything else was wrong. “You’re safe now. I’m here now.” 

His palm was wet under her fingertips, and she jerked back at the feeling, looking at her fingers with wide eyes. Red stained her fingers tips, causing her stomach to churn. The black of his palm had hidden the blood that coated the skin.

This was hell. Her Alastor would never take the life of another while they were alive, but now, in death, in the deep darkness of hell, could she blame him? He had killed to save her. 

“It’s okay. Their deaths are not permanent.” Angel Dust rubbed a set of hands down her arms. “They’ll respawn in a bit somewhere and be right as rain.” 

Taking a breath to steal herself, she put her fingers back in his palm, allowing his hand to wrap around hers and pull her to her feet. Was it really killing if death wasn’t permanent? For better or worse, she had thrown herself into the horrors of hell to find him, her Alastor, and she wasn’t sure it would be fair to be scandalized by what he did to save her because of it. 

“Well, aren’t you just as beautiful as the day we wed,” Alastor’s smile grew soft as he pulled her to her feet. 

Isabel tried to look around, but the shadows were unnaturally deep, keeping her from seeing almost anything. “Why is it so dark?”

Sparks lit up pools of liquid, but beyond that, there was nothing she could see. 

Angel Dust rested a hand on her shoulder as he spoke, “Trust me toots, you don’t want to see.” 

“What does that mean?” She whipped her head between the two tall men. It was death. How bad could it be? “What happened?” 

Alastor’s smile widened, sharp yellow teeth on full display. “I simply took care of some riffraff. Reminded the Vees that I’m not to be played with. Nothing more to worry your pretty little head over. Now, shall we leave this place?” 

“What about Angel Dust?” Isabel pulled her hand from Alastor’s, causing his smile to twitch as she turned her attention to the pink man. “Will you be coming with us?” 

“Naw, I gotta stay here,” Angel Dust cut her off before her protests could pick up speed. “If I leave with you, it’ll give Val even more reason to think I was involved. I’ll be home later on.” 

“Home?” 

“We kinda live together in a way.” Angel Dust shrugged. 

“Regrettably.” Alastor rolled his eyes as Isabel looked again between the two men towering over her. 

When she stepped into Ange Dust, wrapping her arms around him tightly, it caught him off guard. His four hands hovered away from her body as he glanced over her head at Alastor, not wanting to face the wrath of the much more powerful man. 

“Thank you,” she spoke softly into the plush fluff of his chest as he struggled to wrap his mind around the fact that, after everything he had done, after he had touched her and exposed her, she wanted to hug him. A pure angel, one of Heaven’s chosen Winners, wanted to wrap him in their arms. “Thank you for bringing me my Alastor.” 

“Sure thing, Birdie.” Angel Dust relaxed after a nod from Alastor, hugging her to him for a moment. “I’m sorry,”

She squeezed him tighter for a moment before letting her arms go slack and stepping back, a warm smile on her face that made Angel Dust wonder if that was the very warmth of Heaven’s Gates, “You were only doing what you had to do. I forgive you.”

“Let’s go, Dearest,” Alastor took her hand in his and tugged her to his side where shadows were coming alive around him. “Close your eyes, hold on to me.” 

The sensation of movement with nothing solid under her feet was nauseating. As soon as her feet touched solid ground, again they were on nothing at all as Alastor pulled them from shadow to shadow, jumping through the city until he finally let them materialize under an archway. The rough sidewalk under her feet lead up to an imposing building. 

“Now, we simply must do something about your attire- not that you don’t look splendid wearing my coat. I’m simply feeling rather underdressed myself.” 

Alastor snapped his fingers with a flourish and a whirlwind of black and green sparks and smoke surround her.

 Simple black ankle boots replaced the slinky white silk stockings and lacy panties she had worn. His coat fluttered around her with the power that wrapped around, birthing a dip hem dress with a sweeping neckline that felt far too fancy for modern times. The thick skirt gathered around her legs in a way that reminded her of the fancier way people had dressed in the past, before casual became the norm. 

It felt good to have her body covered. It felt even better that it was the thicker fabrics she had favored both in life and in death. It’d been longer than she wanted to think about since she had worn something she liked and not the thin airy fabrics that caught Adam’s attention. 

Alastor stepped up to her, unbuttoning his coat and slipping it free from her shoulders. He folded it over his arm, a move that she had seen him do countless times before in life. After wiping the drying blood on his coat, he held his hand out to her again.

“Ma chérie,” He twirled her when she put her hand in his, trying to ignore the flaking feeling of drying blood under her fingers. “Now you’re dressed fit to be seen. Shall we go in?” 

“Alastor?” she looked from him to the large building that looked a lot like a hotel.

“Yes?” 

“Are there, are there people in there?” 

Alastor glanced up at the building that served as his home and domain. “Yes, that is typically how hotels function.”

“Can we talk first? Just us?” Isabel stumbled, not sure what exactly she wanted but knowing they needed to talk, just them, before people.

“Theres a rather modest garden behind the building. Shall we go for a stroll around back?” Alastor offered, unfolding his coat and slipping it onto his shoulders. 

With his coat once again in place, he took her arm and lead her around the large building. The sounds of their heels on the stone pavers with gunfire and explosions in the distance broke the near silence. 

“Charlie brought your gift,” Alastor opened the conversation, knowing well that unless she had made some fundamental growth after death, she would stew in her own anxiety instead of making that first step. “And your message.” 

“Oh,” her heart fluttered, much as it had in another lifetime when they had walked arm in arm through a park and she had realized she had fallen in love with him. 

“You shouldn’t have,” he continued. “I wasn’t worth waiting for. For pining for. You could have begun your afterlife decades ago. You should have moved on from the memory of me, of what we had.” 

“Did you?” she was afraid to ask. “Move on, that is? If you have, if there’s someone else, I understand.”

“There was never another who had even a fleeting hope of holding a candle to you. There was no one after you. There never will be anyone else.” 

“Then why should I have moved on if you didn’t?” 

He laughed, a sound that she had always found sweet. “I had no heavenly hope. You didn’t deserve to be alone for eternity. For me, the loneliness is but a fitting punishment.”

“Why?” there was no way around asking the one question that had plagued her for decades. “Why did you have no hope for heaven? What did you do so wrong that resulted in you being sent here?” 

Alastor was silent for a few moments, leading them to a bench. He directed her to sit. Once she settled on the seat, dress smoothed out under her, he knelt at her feet. Again, she could close her eyes and picture a similar moment they had shared in life. 

His hands, large, dark and clawed, wrapped around her calfs. He massaged the soft skin, running his palm up and over her knees, reveling in the feel of her under his touch. There was nothing sexual about the touch. She knew that even as it had her heart beating in her chest just a little faster. 

After spending decades thinking he would never feel her skin under his hands again, her very presence intoxicated him. Yet that terrified him. He hadn’t even known she was there, and he had almost lost her. 

As soon as he knew how she had gotten to Hell, he needed to find a way to send her back. It wasn’t safe for her in hell. More than that, though, she didn’t deserve to be in hell. She didn’t deserve to be with him. He didn’t deserve to have her spend her eternity at his side. 

But Satan help him, he wanted it. How cruel hell was!

“How did you die? When did you die?” 

“I lived near fifteen years without you by my side. Fifteen long years, until a gunshot to the head put me down like a mangy dog. I’ve been here in the decades sense, making a life for myself.” 

“Alone?” 

“Every night,” He smiled up at her, fingertips caressing her thighs. 

“Why here?” she asked the question he had hoped to distract her from. 

“Do you wish for me to confess to you my sins?” he asked, head hanging in a rare display of shame, not for what he had done but for having to tell her. 

“I just want to understand,” She caressed his head, discovering small, prong like antlers standing between erect tufts of hair she realized were ears. 

“I will tell you,” he sighed deeply, slowly looking up at her again, “after we will have one night together and then we find a way to send you back up there.” 

“I don’t-”

He cut her off. “It’s not safe for you here. You don’t deserve hell. I’ll tell you but you’ll go back where no one can hurt you again just to get to me. Isa, I am here for the sin of murder.”

“Alastor, you-” 

“Let me speak. Perhaps after, you’ll be eager to return to Heaven’s gates and I’ll not have to fear another hurting you.” When she fell silent again, he continued. “My first was my father. After, it was someone once a year or so, not often at all. I’d see someone doing something I felt was unforgivable and served justice myself. It was a minor hobby at best.

And then we lost our child. The doctors, they had been far more worried about trying to save the child as your blood poured out of you. I can still see it, even now, if I close my eyes. Red had always been a lovely color on you, but I had hated the color in that moment. 

Your life slipped away while they didn’t do enough.” 

“Alastor?” Isabel was trembling on the bench, trying to wrap her mind around what her husband was telling her, why he had become a distorted monster in hell instead of a partner for her in heaven. 

He smoothed his hands over her thighs, a soft smile on his face as he took a deep breath. She caressed his head with shaking fingers as she waited, fearing there was more. 

“I killed them in the year after I buried you. Each and every doctor that failed to put enough effort into saving your life fell by my blade. It soothed my heart, knowing that they no longer lived after they had taken my reason for living from me. 

After that- with no one left. Mother was gone, you and our child were gone. There was no reason to hold back. So, I didn’t.”

“How many?” Her lips were numb as she spoke. 

“I was burying my 139th victim when a hunter must have mistaken me for a deer, or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing, what I was doing, putting an end to me and sending me here.” 

Tag List: @preciousbabypeter, @catticora, @alastor-simp, @alastorthirsty, @bafaunfu

[derangedwritings]

Cherry Reyes

Chapter One: Do

TW/CW: Mention of blood, SA, bullying, God, pet death, disappearance, alcohol, weed, clubs, parties, fear, toxic friends

This story takes place in a small town called Bluefields. Bluefields is one of those towns that everyone practically knows everyone. It's one of those towns that are not truly a big bustling city, but also not a rural farm town. It is a blend of both. Downtown Bluefields has all the tall skyscrapers, rich people, and active nightlife. Outside of downtown, there's only small businesses and modern housing.

On the outskirts of downtown Bluefields, there's a quaint flower shop. The wide windows allow outsiders to window shop the rainbow assortments of whatever flowers are in season. The LED lighting spell "Petals" in pink cursive.

Inside the shop, the walls are lined with different colored roses, lilys, daffodils, magnolias, tulips, and more. It smells of dirt and flowers in the warm shop.

Behind the wooden counter stands a short but curvey woman with a round face and thick glasses. Her bright flower print shirt and blue jeans are stained with dirt and clay, the beige apron seemingly useless to prevent staining.

She is glaring at the slightly taller boy sitting on the counter. His pastel blue and white striped sweater is way too big for him, and it pools around his hips and falls off his shoulder. He kicks his feet back and forth in boredom. His wide hazelnut colored doe eyes peek from behind his fluffy brown curtain bangs as he stares off into oblivion.

He picks out a rose from a pre-made bouquet sitting on the counter and fiddles with the blood colored petals.

"Riko!" The woman shouts, startling the lanky boy.

The boy, Riko, jumps and glares at the older woman.

"There was no need to shout," he pouts while crossing his arms.

"I said your name like fifteen times! You were spacing out again, get off my counter."

With a huff, Riko jumps off the counter.

Now, on level ground, he was only two inches taller than the woman that was four years his elder.

"Reina," Riko addresses the woman, "There's nothing interesting happening in the real world."

Reina sighs before perking up.

"Actually, little brother, there is some news. There's a new mechanic down at the car shop."

"What about the Ownels?" Riko inquired.

Mr. and Mrs. Ownel had built the old motor garage long before Reina was born and had managed it ever since. They never had any kids, at least not to public knowledge, and they had never hired anyone else to work for them in the past. Mr. Ownel held the motto: 'If you want something done right, do it yourself' to a perfect standard. He worked on every single car by himself, and his wife managed the store. They were an old, happy couple. Everyone knows them, they know everyone.

"Getting old, I guess. They still work there, but a mysterious young man just started to appear and work on cars... What if it's that boy who disappeared when you were halfway through the tenth grade?" Reina teased her brother. She always brought up the boy who disappeared whenever she saw the chance.

That boy, known only by his last name, Reyes, and his family had moved in right before middle school. Riko never ever found out what Reyes' first name was. They were polite, kept to themselves, and bothered nobody, so nobody bothered them.

Reyes was handsome but also was very quiet in school. He was spectacular at soccer and basketball, so many of the guys wanted to befriend him, and girls wanted to be with him. He was the 'cool, dark, and mysterious' guy from every romantic novel.

He was polite, spoke when spoken to, and always cleaned up after himself. Often, when trying to strike up a conversation, he would give one or two word answers. People stopped trying to converse with him after he bluntly rejected a girl and wouldn't explain other than the words "it's obvious."

Everyone except a short little Riko. Riko was very popular for his kind and outgoing personality. People seemed to always smile around him, no room for dark emotions when you're next to the literal embodiment of sunshine. Teachers liked him, students liked him, and everyone knew him as stubborn and strong-willed.

Riko noticed that Reyes seemed happy when staring at the bright yellow dandelions on the soccer fields, so Riko took a yellow daffodil from his parents' shop. Riko carefully transported the fragile flower all the way to school and kept it safe until the end of school. Then, right before soccer practice started, Riko called for Reyes.

Reyes was confused at first, but when Riko presented the flower and said, "Friends?" Reyes grinned, took the flower, and responded, "Sure."

From that point on, their relationship was not friends, but also not not friends. They greeted each other in the halls, but they never exchanged phone numbers or hung out after school.

That dynamic continued into high school. However, Riko had grown to be more popular and friendly, while Reyes had only receded into himself more. Reyes became taller and worked out, which made him look more unapproachable, and people avoided him like the plague. Especially when he was writing, Reyes was always rude when someone tried to speak to him when he was writing in his journal.

Whenever Riko asked Reyes a question or asked for advice, people often looked like Riko had gone insane. Then they'd look like Riko had performed a miracle when Reyes gave more than a singular word as an answer.

Then there was the winter formal during Riko's sophomore year, when Reyes and Riko-

"-Riko! Riko Cherry! Earth to Riko!" Reina waved her hand in front of the younger boy's face. "You spaced out again."

"Oh, sorry." Riko said shyly as he rubbed his sweater paw on the back of his neck, a nervous habit.

"It's fine, you have work in thirty minutes," Reina reminded Riko, "go upstairs and get ready."

Riko nodded and went to the door behind the counter. He unlocked the door and headed upstairs to the three bedroom apartment above Petals, which his family of four shares.

Riko went to his bedroom, which looked like a four year old girl had designed it.

The walls were painted pastel blue with white clouds matched the duvet, and the faint pink carpet matched the light pink dressers littered with dozens of candles, skin products, and hair care products. His bed had a duvet with about a hundred pillows of various sizes and textures. There was barely any free mattress space with Riko's army battalion of stuffed animals on his bed and all over his room. The soft fairy lights hung from the ceiling, casting a soft yellow glow in the room.

Riko opened his closet door and grabbed his ironed work uniform. He worked at a cafe and coffee shop that was a ten minute walk from Petals, called Bean Cafe. Riko wanted a break from the family store, and it was close to Bluefields University, where Riko majored in plant biology.

A floor-length mirror hung on his closet door, and Riko loved to take pictures of his outfits to post on his social media.

Riko stared at himself as he put on the button-up long sleeve shirt, tucked into black slacks. He looked at the moles on his face, one on his left jaw, one on the right of his nose, and one last mole right under the front of his left eye brow. They were prominent amongst the light dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks.

Riko was very skinny and lanky, which was more prominent in fitted clothes. He liked to wear oversized sweaters to hide his small stature. He has always been this way, small and skinny with a round baby face.

He was often picked on for being short and small in high school. Even with his popularity, he was still picked on by the sportsmen.

It was fine in freshman and sophomore year when Riko had Reyes to-

"RIKO! You're going to be late." Reina was muffled by Riko's bedroom door.

Riko hurried through his routine and practically ran out the door, not noticing a man shroud in black that he almost ran into.

Riko was out of breath when he swiped his employee card and clocked into work on time.

"Did you run here?" A male voice laughed at him.

"I did, in fact, run here. Tyler." Riko gave a pointed look to the tall man.

Tyler had been Riko's best friend since kindergarten. Tyler had offered Riko his yellow crayon when Riko's had been broken by a bully. They have been inseparable ever since.

Tyler was not the most interesting person. He was a great person, just not very interesting sometimes. Tyler is the heir to the multi-million dollar health care company, Onyx Feather, which is the most interesting part of him. He came from money, but he's generous and kind, very straight and narrow. He's always had straight As without cheating, he's kind, strong, polite, respectful, just a true gentleman. In all twenty years of knowing Tyler, Riko had never found a single flaw in the seemingly perfect Tyler. Tyler was organized, stable, and very careful.

Riko jumped as the mop of curly blonde hair paired with piercing blue eyes was suddenly in front of him.

"Then don't wait until last second to leave your house." Tyler said simply as he clocked in.

The pair worked in sync. Even during rush hour, the pair never got overwhelmed. They even had time to playfully flirt with their patrons and each other. Riko did not mean any of his words, Tyler may have meant a few of his statements towards Riko.

The cafe had emptied out, and while Riko was cleaning the counter, the familiar chim of the door opening grabbed his attention.

"Hello and welcome to-Oh hey Han." Riko greeted one of his friends.

"Hi Riks! Jiaung sent me for drinks." Han cheerily smiled.

Riko mustered up a small smile as he went to ring up the americanos for his friends. It came out of his paycheck, but it was worth it to keep his friends happy.

Riko packaged up the to-go drinks and handed them to Han.

"I'm sorry, Riko." Han said as he handed him a twenty dollar bill.

"Why are you trying to pay? It's for friends." Riko tilted his head to the right.

"Just take it." Han insisted before leaving.

Riko turned to the register and put the bill away before facing a frowning Tyler.

"What?" Riko asked innocently.

"You need new friends." Tyler said bluntly.

Riko was too stunned to speak, blinking stupidly at his friend.

"C'mon, you can't be that oblivious. They're using you for free drinks that they say they'll pay back but never do."

"But Han-" Riko tried.

"That's the first time since the end of sophomore year they've given you any money. You know damn well they can pay for everything they make you pay for." Tyler spoke pointedly.

"They're my friends, just like you are." Riko weakly defended as the cafe door opened again and Han popped his head in.

"Riks! Crystal Club! Ten P.M! Table seven! Jiaung says she'll leave you if you don't show! Bye!" And there went the brown haired boy.

"You see? They're going to use you as their waiter and make you buy them drinks until you inevitably get left behind." Tyler exclaimed. This was not the first time they've talked about this, and it won't be the last.

"They're my only friends. So what if I pay for them and help them out? Friendship is not expecting anything back! You and them are my only friends in this town!" Riko exclaimed and Tyler sighed.

"Fine, but the only one I approve of is Han." Tyler had given up the argument. Riko was too stubborn for his words. Han was the only nice one out of the group, although there was obviously something more to the asshole character he puts on. It shows in the little things he does. From helping Riko to apologizing to Riko for the others. There's something underneath his exterior that Riko really wanted to reveal, and Riko would feel bad if he left Han with the others.

The rest of the shift went smoothly.

Riko clocked out and waved to Tyler, who was closing the cafe.

Riko made his way to Downtown Bluefields and entered the Crystal Club. It was crowded and reeked of alcohol and sweat.

Riko hated parties and clubs with every single fiber of his being. Especially after Reyes went missing and no one could defend Riko from one of the jocks who had forced-

"Riko! Over here! You're just in time to get another round of shots for us!" The sickly shrill of Jiaung's voice.

Riko sighed and made his way to the crowded bar, head already aching from the bass of the club.

The bartender gave Riko a sad smile as Riko paid. Riko never learned his name, but he's usually the one who gets to watch Riko be used as a stepping stool. The shots were poured, and Riko carefully made his way back to the table his friends sat.

Taking the only open seat next to Han, who patted Riko's thigh in thanks, he took a look at each of his friends.

Jiaung was wearing a short blue sequice dress that left nothing to the imagination. She was always bossy, snobbish, whiney, and rude, but she allowed Riko into her clique. The only reason she gets away with her actions is because she's so pretty. One bat of her eyelashes has men falling to be her carpet.

Jennifer, or Jennie. She was wearing a black cocktail dress and bleach blonde hair in curls around her shoulder. She was always loud, bad mouth, addicted to one drug or another, and always trying to get into everyone else's pants but her own. However, she came from money, so no one cared.

Kila was wearing all leather. Jacket, pants, and boots. Everything was shiny. She loudly chewed her gum while glaring at Riko. She was just plain rude and bossy. She'd hit you if you didn't do what she told you. Riko has had enough of her beatings to have learned those lessons.

Lukas sat next to Kila. His shirt was off, showing his abs and a peak of his boxers above his jeans. He was a dunce. A typical bro. The only things he thinks about are parties, alcohol, and sex.

Then there's Han. Han was kind where the others were not. He wore a black jean jacket with matching black jeans and a white t shirt. His studs reflected the colorful club lights as he animatedly talked about a girl he met earlier. Han tends to put on a bad boy facade, but after spending enough years with him, Riko had noticed that, unlike Lukas, Han had something else going on in his mind.

Riko watched as Han's silver hair moved as he talked, one strand suddenly out of place.

Without thinking, Riko reached over and put the strand back into place.

Han froze the second. Riko touched him but did not move away. If anything, he leaned into Riko's touch a bit.

"Sorry, it was out of place." Riko hid his face in his hands, not having changed from his work uniform he did not have his usual sweater paws to hide behind.

"I-It's fine," Han stuttered as he blushed.

"That was gay," Lukas pointed out.

"What? Fixing someone's hair? If anything, it's hot when someone does it." Jennifer said dreamily.

"Not if it's a guy fixing another guy's hair. That's gay. Riko, are you gay?" Lukas sounded disgusted by the thought of anyone being gay.

"What? No! Of course not!" Riko lied through his teeth. He hated lying, but he hated being alone more.

While watching Lukas, Riko hadn't noticed the sliver haird boy next to him deflate ever so slightly.

"Good, we can't have any of those filthy sinners in this group." Kila exclaimed.

'Ironic. She's drinking and probably high, yet I'm a sinner for liking another man.' Riko thought with an internal eye roll.

"Whatever. Now that everyone is here. Let's play dares!" Jiaung suggested, and the rest of the group cheered, aside from Riko.

"New rule for tonight. All dares will be done outside this club. I'm feeling risky!" Jiaung's words made Riko's stomach drop.

Riko hadn't been paying attention to what any else's dares were. He only tuned back in when they said his name.

"Riko! I have a good one! Go to Ownel's garage and take a picture with a car from the 1950s. Tonight." Kila suggested with a smirk.

"But the garage is closed at this hour! That would be trespassing. You know the Ownels don't take breaking and entering lightly!" Han defended before Riko could.

"God, why such a buzzkill? That's the point! To break and enter the garage. It isn't even your dare. Are you so gay for Riko? Might as well kiss him!" Lukas taunted, Han's jaw tightened as he was about to retort, but Riko spoke up.

"Fine, I'll do it." Riko hadn't thought about his words before he said them. Han looked at him concerned, but before he could say anything, Riko just shook his head.

The rest of the group squealed excitedly.

"It's almost two a.m. It's the perfect time! Go on!" Jiaung practically pushed Riko out of his chair.

Riko stood up, and so did Han. Han excused himself to the bathroom before following Riko through the front door, into the narrow alleyway.

Out on the cold, empty streets, Han stopped Riko.

"You don't have to do this, I can photoshop you!" Han suggested.

"They'll know it's photoshop, they use it on every single one of their pictures." Riko deadpanned, before continuing, "besides, why do you care?" Riko crossed his arms and leaned against the brick wall behind him.

Han made a sound in this throat before clearing it.

"I care about you. A lot, Riks. I don't want you to get hurt or arrested for their stupidity." Han sounded genuinely concerned. Riko saw something behind Han's breaking facade.

"Their guard dog died months ago." Riko responded, trying to see how to break his facade even more.

"God only knows what security they have now!" Han exclaimed, taking a step closer.

"I don't care," Riko lied, "if I get hurt, so be it. It doesn't matter anyway." Riko sighed.

Han slammed his hands on either side of Riko's head, trapping the smaller boy against the wall. Han's eyes burned with something.

"I don't want you hurt, can't you see? Can't you see that it hurts me when you're hurt?" Han desperately tried to plead with Riko.

Riko was speechless for a second, not used to seeing Han with anything but a smile and a laugh adorned on his face. He could stand up to a guy twice his size without a care in the world. He could go in a pit of hungry lions with nothing but ham for clothes and still not be afraid. Han was fearless, so why did he look so scared?

"But why do you care?" Riko almost didn't recognize his voice with how small it had gotten from Han's intense glare.

Riko almost didn't recognize the second he felt warm, soft lips touch his own. Han was kissing him.

When Han pulled back, he pressed his forehead against Riko's.

"Can you see now?" He panted.

"You're drunk. You didn't mean it." Riko mumbled.

Han slammed his hand against the wall, making Riko flinch.

"Damn it. Don't you know drunk words are sober thoughts? Riko, please come home with me." Han once again pleaded.

"Han..." Riko sighed as Han kissed him again, this time pressing his whole body against Riko.

"Han, let me go!" Riko pulled away.

"Not until you see that I love you, Riko Cherry." Han had his hands wrapped around Riko's wrists as Riko tried to push him away.

"You're drunk! Talk to me when you're sober! Please just let me go!" It was Riko's turn to plead. Han was much stronger than Riko. If he wanted to do something, Riko wouldn't be able to stop him.

"Riko Cherry, please come home with me tonight." Han pressed on, still using Riko's full name.

"Han, let me go! Please! I don't want you to make a drunken mistake!" Riko exclaimed, almost in tears.

This wasn't the kind Han he knew. The Han he knew would never try to force someone to go home with him.

Images flashed through Riko's mind.

Sophomore year.

Jersey number twenty-seven.

Jiaung's party.

The taste of alcohol and the smell of weed on the jock's tongue as it forced its way into Riko's mouth.

Being held down by jersey numbers two and fourteen.

Riko begging.

Them laughing.

Pain.

"Riko baby, come back to me!" Han's voice cut through Riko's thoughts.

Concern flooded Han's eyes as his hands went to cradle Riko's face.

Taking his opportunity, Riko pushed Han away and sprinted.

Han stood in shock, and before he could chase after Riko, Riko was gone.

Riko approached the closed gates surrounding the Owenel shop. At this point, he was hoping that he'd get caught, just to stay away from Han.

Riko couldn't believe Han would try something like that. Even if it was his dare and it was all a lie, it was too far.

Climbing the fence, Riko landed safely on the other side.

He made his way through the parking lot and passed cars waiting to get work done. He approached the main building, the smell of rubber tires getting stronger, the more steps he took.

Standing in front of the giant window displaying a 1955 Corvette, Riko took out his phone to snap a selfie.

Before he could, Riko heard a dog barking. His heart sinking.

'Did they get another dog?' Riko thought as he went to run, but a beam of light had already found his face. He was caught.

"Mon, hush. Who's there?" The deep baritone voice shook Riko.

It was so familiar. The silhouette, the voice..

It can't be!

Can it?

"Reyes?!"

[the-whumpening]

The Backstory Arc, Part 3

Prev | Masterpost | Next

More context crumbs: A couple weeks after Part 2, the party is gearing up for their next mission. They've secured passage on a ship to head across the map to the far north, where they intend to search for Krumgus' missing parents. Ash and Uma have parted ways, and Evius has entrusted his parents with his son. (I hope Evius doesn't seem like a tool; he's just had to make a lot of tough decisions, and some of that nuance is lost once the story is written down.)

CW: violence (i'd call it mild), mind control magic, blood

As they board the ship, Evius removes his disguise ring, and something catches Ash’s eye. He stops Evius in his tracks, gingerly lifting his arm by the wrist to inspect the new black lines on his skin.

"Do you . . . do you have stripes now, Evvy?" A tiny flicker of panic pops in his brain. "Mine aren’t contagious, are they? I knew I should've covered my sneeze like Kane said . . . "

Evius tenses for a moment at the unexpected touch, chuckling as he relaxes once more. "It's nothing like that, darling. It's a magic tattoo I purchased when we first got into town. They're a bit rare, so it took some time to get made. It's supposed to help protect me from harm a little." He pulls the front of his shirt down just enough to reveal the image of an eye over his heart, from which erupted a web of black lines.

"So it's like . . . magic armor? How do you know if it works? Have you tried it out yet?" As he inspects the eye on Evius' chest, he’s split between curiosity about new, fancy magic and concern for Evvy's safety—and, perhaps, a twinge of yearning at Evius’ exposed skin.

Knitting his brows together, Evius crosses his arms in thought. "You know, that's a very good point, Ash.” He smirks, bumping Ash up the deck with his hip. “My, you're sure coming into those smarts. I hadn’t actually given that much thought yet. I'd hate to hop into a life or death situation without knowing it works. Maybe . . . ” His pointy grin grows into a conspiratorial gleam. “You could help me find out?"

A streak of feral energy ripples through Ash; it’s been so long since he’s had a chance to roughhouse with anyone. And, being in the city, he and Evius haven’t even had a play-hunt in months. "Does that mean we can spar?" His fangs glimmer with saliva at the thought of a good fight. However, he blinks away some of the crazy and composes himself. "There would have to be ground rules, of course. I don't want you getting hurt . . . or to have an unfair advantage." He pouts, knowing Evius' magic is immensely stronger than his own meager spells.

"Oh, don't worry—I'm rather limited here on the ship,” Evius assures him, though Ash remains doubtful. “I can't use anything seriously destructive. No Eldritch Blasts or Firebolts. Tell you what, I'll even hold off on Rays of Frost out of an abundance of caution. However, all my other spells are on the table, deal?" As he lays out his offer, he coils his tail around Ash and winks.

Ash thinks for a second, ignoring the goosebumps rising up his spine. "No flying, either,” he sulks. “It's not fair if you're not on the ground. Same rules as always?”

Evius kicks off his shoes and drops his bag before taking off towards the rear of the ship, tearing his shirt over his head and yelling back towards the half-tiger, "You're on, big man!"

Ash carefully unclasps his cloak and sets it down with the rest of his stuff before rushing after Evius. But, seeing Evius’ slender frame chase away from him, his gut twists anxiously. Is this a bad idea?

At the back of the ship, the two clear some space among barrels and crates of supplies. An awkward energy hangs in the air. Ash doesn't want to be the one to strike first—how could he? This is Evius, after all. As much as he's dying to fight, he and Evius have never had a genuine sparring match like this; he’s always held back. He knows Evius is strong and capable, but . . . he can’t imagine hurting someone he cares about like that.

"It's a lot like dancing, isn't it?" Evius offers with a wry smile upon seeing Ash’s hesitance. He produces a dagger from his hip, juggles it with a flourish, and throws it at Ash.

The knife zips through the air and slices Ash's shoulder before sticking into a crate behind him.

"I'm always the one to lead."

"Shit!" Ash double-takes between the blood dribbling from the slice in his arm and Evius' smirk. "Okay, I guess it's my turn then," he chuckles, a small flush of embarrassment coloring his face.

He rushes toward Evius, aiming to just get one not-too-painful hit in. His fist whiffs past Evius on his first attempt, confused as Evius nimbly swerves out of the way. But as they circle, he tries again—success!

His shoulder collides with Evius' torso, briefly lifting him off the ground. The tiefling slithers out of his grip though, leaving the two still facing off, equally matched.

"You're quicker than I remember," Ash huffs, a little out of breath.

Evius coughs, winded a little from the collision, but otherwise fine. "That all you got, kitty cat? I've taken worse hits from Nalia. Or is it that you can't bring yourself to hurt me?" He taunts, lacing his words with Vicious Mockery.

He lunges forward to slice at Ash with his second dagger, but he is thrown off by Ash's befuddled expression and loses his balance—missing his target and falling prone.

Ash offers a hand to him, pulling him easily to his feet.

"Of course I don't want to hurt you, dummy!" He takes a step back, his brow crinkling in confusion from the spell. He can feel the surge of his rage just starting to bubble up, but he tamps it down for now. Gotta stay cool. Can't get too out of control.

Planting his feet, he gestures for Evius to try again to hit him. It's only fair to let him try again.

"Come on. I can do this all day!"

After dusting himself off and recovering from his embarrassment, Evius chuckles and flicks him on the nose. "You're awfully cute when you're being chivalrous, but don't forget the point of this exercise."

He backflips away from Ash and, as he lands in a nimble crouch, his eyes flash with indigo light. "Come at me with all you've got."

The suggestion crawls through Ash's mind, latching on firmly. Initially, he's a bit confused: With all I've got? What does that mean? But, almost against his will, his muscles flex and bulge, readying for an attack.

"All I've got, Evvy?"

Ash charges, swiping Evius in the ribs with the staff of his spear. He snarls in Evius' face, leaning in nose-to-nose. He's quickly losing his composure, and he can feel the rage almost surfacing.

Evius stumbles back and grunts with the impact of the spear. Through the haze of his foggy mind, Ash can see the panic beginning to rise in Evius. Still, he can’t press the energy down any further—sooner rather than later, it’s going to spill over.

Shouting another spell in Infernal, Evius spins away from Ash, and a silvery mist surrounds him. When the mist dissipates, he is no longer in front of Ash, but up in the rigging, leaning against the wooden mast with his arms folded.

"Hey!” Ash snarls. “I said no flying!" A trail of lightning wraps around Evius' waist, yanking him down to the deck, coming to a stop arms’ length from Ash.

At that, the kettle boils over, and Ash begins to rage. It's not a purely anger-driven rage, but an explosion of emotions he's been stuffing away for who knows how long—anger, fear, frustration, desperation—

"You want all I've got? I'll show you all I've got!" he roars.

Pulled from his perch, Evius is startled but quickly regains his composure. He lands cat-like on the deck and responds, "That wasn't flying, my sweet boy. That was teleporting. Technically within the rules, but I should think you are beyond semantics at the moment."

With a roar, Ash snatches Evius off the ground, a firm grip holding his legs while his chest dangles on Ash's back. Spying a nearby crate, Ash reels back and slams Evius onto it.

Looming over him, the sound of his own pulse thumps in Ash’s ears, but the smell of blood and sweat scintillates his feral brain.

Using Ash’s momentum against him, Evius kicks out and shoves Ash away. He leaps to his feet, crouching with his dagger brandished before him.

Ash deftly recovers, tumbling backwards and landing in a similar prowling lunge.

He pounces forward, his hulking frame smashing into Evius. With one hand, he slams the hand holding the dagger into the deck, forcing him to drop the knife. With the other, he engulfs Evius' throat.

Completely out of control now, he squeezes the sides of his throat, his claws starting to dig in. Whatever reservations he once had about hurting Evius, he can’t remember them now.

Evius grips Ash's wrist with his free hand and croaks out through gritted teeth, "That's really all you've got?"

A growl ripples through Ash's body and slithers out of his gnashed teeth. He presses harder, his claws now firmly sinking into the tender copper skin of Evius' neck.

"You haven't seen anything yet," he hisses.

Beneath him, Evius’ lips grow pale. His sputtering breaths come more and more frantically, until Ash can barely hear them at all. His eyelids flutter over his now-dulling golden eyes, his wispy white lashes beading with panicked tears.

His hand drops. With his little remaining breath, he weakly calls out, “Ash . . . “

As the spell loosens its grip on Ash's mind, the fog of rage also lifts. He can think clearly again, and that allows him to clearly process what's in front of him. His hand, fiercely crushing Evius' throat, and Evius with a glassy-eyed plea beneath him.

As if touching an electric current, Ash jolts backwards, snatching his hands away from Evius' neck. He sits back on the deck, his face contorted in horror. Hot tears stream unrelentingly down his face, and he covers his mouth in anguish.

"Did I—?" he squeaks through his fingers. "H-how . . . Evvy . . . I'm so sorry!"

Gasping and coughing as he sucks in air, Evius shakes his head and sputters out, "No, no—Ash . . . It’s not, not your fault." He hefts himself to his knees and catches his breath.

Once his body has settled again, he scoots closer to Ash, reaching out to hold his panicked face. "You didn't do anything wrong. I'm perfectly fine, I promise,” he soothes. “I'm alright, you're alright. Everything is okay. It was my spell that pushed you so far. I think we can safely say the tattoo works, though.”

The driving pull Ash had been feeling the whole fight finally started to make sense. But even so, to know he’s capable of something so terrifying—it rattled Ash. He could see the bruises he left and the drips of blood along Evius’ throat. It nauseated him.

“You used a spell on me? And it . . . it made me do that?” He gestures to the claw marks and bruises, afraid to actually touch them with his fingers. He looks up to Evius with pleading eyes. “Why? I . . . I could’ve—“ he clamps his hand back over his mouth, too horrified to finish that thought.

"There was never any real danger,” Evius assures him. “If I lost consciousness or if you took any damage, the spell would end. You couldn't have killed me, no matter how far it went." Evius chuckles breathily, continuing, "Besides, I wanted to give you a chance to stretch your legs a bit. You've not been able to let loose in. . . well . . . a while. And I did want to know if the barrier tattoo was effective."

“So you commanded me to try to murder you?” The horror begins to subside knowing that the stakes weren’t quite so high, but the hurt remains. “Evvy . . . what the hell were you thinking?! Even if you just passed out, that’s still . . . Ugh!” He groans in frustration, unable to even articulate how baffled he is. Evius has made stupid, impulsive decisions before, but this is a new level.

He takes a couple deep breaths to steady himself, but as he does so, he notices Evius’ expression begin to glaze over. It’s clear to him that Evius is beginning to check out mentally, running away from his feelings as he usually does. But then . . . he’s gotta be scared too, right? Ash realizes. And in pain . . .

Shaking off his residual anger, Ash gets to his feet, gently pulling Evius up with him. “C’mon, you’re hurt. You need to rest.”

Wordlessly, Evius cloaks himself in a veil of invisibility, shaking off Ash's hand in the process.

Ash frowns. “ . . . I know you’re there, Evvy. Just let me help you.” He searches for the faint blue outline he was taught to identify, quickly spotting the slender blur a few paces away. “Please.”

Without waiting for a response, he scoops up the outline of Evius, feeling the invisible weight falling into his arms. He hears a faint “ow” from his chest, and his heart aches with guilt.

"What happens now?" Evius murmurs, as if only to himself.

Ash laughs in spite of his frustration, surprised that Evius said anything at all.

“Well, I’m gonna take you to your room, and make sure you rest and heal.” He ponders for a second, then continues, “I think it's also time we talked about a few things . . . ”

Where there had appeared to be nothing in Ash's arms, there was now a disheveled and bruised Evius. He lets his head relax into Ash's chest, Ash's pounding heartbeat thudding in his ear. His cheeks dimple into a resigned smile.

"Yeah, I think so too."

[callmeblake]

September 2nd, 2016

from  @funeraIhome

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

tuxedo iii, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: It’s the next morning. Your cat is still a man. Fuck. He still thinks he owns the place, including you. Sigh. Well, you still have to do your job, because, yikes, your cat-man has spent a small fortune on new clothes (spending like he’s got a black card, what’s up with that?). Ah, but... maybe both of you are starting to finally acknowledge that he might be a more man than cat – at least for the time being...?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; mentions of and a tiny bit of smut (fem reader, spanking, doggy, unintentional??? voyeurism, dry humping / thigh riding); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft slightly cocky Jeon Jungkook (+drama!!!) and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin; breaking of the fourth wall; are YOU a furry? yeah, I kinda think you are

*deep breath* I reference a certain boat that was stuck in the Suez Canal, Yoongi's livestream where he poked himself in the nose with the coffee straw, his love for tangerines, too many Twitch chat memes, that time his mom called him a boiled dumpling, 'BST' pink pajama Yoongi, DTS, TXT's 'Cat & Dog', etc...

–

part i | part ii

-

You woke up slowly. 

A perfect, peaceful morning. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Neck cradled by your memory foam pillow? Check. Back well supported by your soft mattress? Check. Not sleeping on your sofa and destroying your spine? Check. Hey, you’re moving up in life! Ah, what a normal day already. You opened your eyes a crack; vision blurred from the morning sunlight filtering through your curtains. Bundled in your minty-green duvet? Check. Wearing your extra soft black-and-white striped pajamas? Check. 

Large pale human hand firmly gripping your right titty? Check. 

Wait… 

What?

Your eyes snapped open and flew to your left. 

Min Yoongi's face was centimeters from yours, buried into your pillow, messy bedhead sticking out everywhere. Black choker with the tiny silver bell around his neck. Still had those black velvety pointed cat ears and glowing pale skin, pretty pink lips ever-so-slightly upturned, warm exhale against your ear. 

Your cat still a disturbingly handsome man?

Ah, yup, check. 

His hand was on your right breast, fingers molded to the soft curve. A quick glance and, whew, he was still fully dressed in his black t-shirt and sweatpants from yesterday. Yes, fully, completely dressed. Shit, what if he caught you staring? You quickly flickered your eyes up at the ceiling, hastily wiping the drool away from your mouth. Whoa there. That would be embarrassing if he caught that.

Also, kind of gross. Don’t be gross. Keep it together.

Hahaha…

Well, yup, this was still awkward, the whole hand-on-the-titty thing, hahaha, but not as awkward as it would be if, hahaha, you accidentally, oh, don't know, hahaha, got really, really, really disgustingly drunk and, hahaha, had somehow lost all impulse control and, hahaha, fucked your cat?

Man.

Cat-man. 

Hahaha, that would never happen. You’d make sure of that.

... 

Unless?

No, no, no, stop, he's your cat, your cat, he's literally been a (cat) man for one fucking day, albeit a incredibly hot, deliciously built (cat) man who put your facial massager on your nipple and let you touch his human dick in the shower and he was hard for a hot second, so... no, no, no, stop, you are not a desperate thot, get a fucking grip – well, you kind of are – but not him, for fuck’s sake, you still don't understand what the fuck is going on or if he even remotely likes you and, let's face it, he probably doesn’t because you almost paid a guy to chop off his nuts–

"Are you dying?"

You choked on air and lurched sharply at the sudden deep, raspy voice. The grip on your right breast tightened, preventing you from moving away. You did what any sensible human being would do in this situation and wheezed like you were on the verge of passing out. 

"Urk!"

"Do you have high blood pressure?" Yoongi yawned calmly, turning his face to the side to avoid breathing in your face, thereby pressing his body even closer to you. Your neck and ears heated to five billion degrees. "Your heart's beating abnormally fast. Maybe you should see a doctor."

You definitely needed to see a doctor for something as well as several gallons of holy water and a priest to get an exorcism for that horny demon inside you. 

"Y-Your hand!"

Yoongi grunted. "What about it?"

What about it???

"It's on my tits!" you squeaked.

Yoongi lifted his head, squinting. "It is." Then his head dropped and he closed his eyes again. 

HELLO, Min Yoongi? That's ALL you have to say???

"Is there a problem?"

IS THERE A PROBLEM???????

"I've always slept like this," he mumbled.

That's... true though. Your tuxedo cat, previously named Shooky until you realized he had his own name, did used to always sleep next to you, when he wasn’t trying to murder you by sitting on your chest, that is (he was adamant on letting you know when he needed breakfast). Usually, your cat was splayed out by your left side, his long body extended and pressed against you, his white, sock-like paws encircling your arm. Shooky had basically been a small furry heater that kicked you sometimes in his sleep. 

Keyword: small.

"Y-You w-were a cat!" you sputtered.

"I'm still a cat."

"No, you're a man! With arms!"

"The reach is a little farther. Who cares?"

WHO CARES???????

Before you could very loudly inform Yoongi who exactly cared – that’s you, by the way, yes, you – he wrapped his arms around you and yanked your body to his, turning you into a red-hot chili pepper with the amount of heat your face was now emitting. Then his free hand grabbed your other titty. Without asking! Without even so much as buying you dinner or, hell, giving you a goddamn cracker! You didn't need to be wined and dined, but at least a single fucking snack before using your tits like his own personal stress ball!

Yoongi pressed your back into his chest.

You froze. 

He pressed his crotch into your ass, shivering slightly.

Your soul left your body. 

"Ugh, this human body is terrible," Yoongi muttered. "Always so cold. I need this extra body heat or I'll die."

You'll die? YOU’LL DIE?

You were pretty sure that you were already dead. Rest in peace.

Hang on. 

Something was stuck in a very specific place, quite similar to a far-too-large boat in a narrow canal.

"Um."

Er...

"What?" your cat-man grunted.

"Your..." You gulped. "Dick."

"What about it?"

"You, uh... have morning wood."

"Is that a human euphemism?" he grumbled impatiently, clear annoyance in his tone. "I don't understand your species. Wouldn't it be easier to be straightforward and explain yourself clearly?"

A muscle in your eye twitched, reaching breaking point.

"Your dick is rock-hard and you're shoving it between my ass cheeks!"

"Yeah, so? It's cold too."

Your irritation fizzled out at Yoongi’s self-assured, completely calm response. In fact, he sounded borderline bored and exasperated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His hard dick was cold, so he put it in the warmest place he could find, your ass, duh. Nothing weird about it, of course. Your mind reeled, unable to compute what the fuck was going on. Thus, your body did what it did best in these moments where you did not want to give a response that would most certainly expose you and your dire need to get dicked.

Not deal with it, of course.

You fainted.

-

"Fuck!"

You shot out of bed at the harsh yell, tangled in the covers, barely registering that Yoongi no longer had a death grip on your tits – in fact, he was no longer in bed at all – and stumbled towards the source of the sound, highly disoriented, your earlier fainting spell turning you into a bumbling mess.

Admittedly, not that different from your usual self.

(Ouch, roasted.)

"What, what, what?" you croaked, running into the doorframe of the bedroom and nearly taking yourself out. 

Might as well, maybe it would have been a blessing in disguise, considering the way your life was going. 

You finally tumbled your way to the kitchen, where your cat-man was hissing at the pan on the stove. 

"I was trying to make eggs," Yoongi spat, pointing accusingly at the frying pan. His ears were flat and his tail was sticking straight up. "And then it attacked me."

If you had three functioning brain cells, you would have remembered Yoongi putting his morning wood between your ass cheeks this morning, but alas, you only had two at the moment – you did run into the doorframe, might have lost one there – so instead you nudged him aside and rolled up your sleeves, taking the pan and shaking it so the eggs wouldn't burn. 

"Was it the oil? Sometimes it pops," you asked as Yoongi continued death glaring at the pan.

"I saw you doing this yesterday. You didn't seem bothered," he mumbled, finishing with a low, angry hiss as if the pan was sentient and mocking him. The oil popped and seared your forearm, but at this point you maybe had five hair follicles total on your arms with how many times hot oil had splattered in you. It used to bother you when you were a kid, but years of cooking had desensitized the feeling, turning it to nothing more than a mere annoyance. Yoongi stayed behind you, intermittently letting out hisses of rage as you cooked.

"I told you, my dad's a chef. You get used to it," you said, tipping the pan and flipping the thin egg pancake with ease. 

"That's bizarre," Yoongi muttered. "No normal animal gets used to pain."

Normality was starting to become a bit of a foreign concept to you.  As for being an animal, well…

You took the pan off the heat and rolled the egg onto a plate with a spare set of chopsticks, turning it into a log shape. A literal egg roll, ready to be sliced into bite-sized pieces. You took a sniff. It seemed to be seasoned already. Had Yoongi simply copied what you did yesterday? His observation skills were insane.

"Then again, you seem to enjoy–"

"Yoongi," you blurted, not wanting to know what he thought you seemed to enjoy, but very sure it was going to be one-hundred-percent embarrassing and only for you. "There's some leftover beef and vegetables in the fridge you can have with the egg and rice."

He raised his eyebrows. "Beef? Why didn't you say so earlier?"

Because I was asleep and maybe half-dead? "Did you brush your teeth?' you asked suddenly. 

Yoongi scowled. "Unfortunately."

"Right, so should I, goodbye now."

You marched away hurriedly, trying not to think about how your cat had surely witnessed you getting spanked while being fucked from behind by none other than, surprise, surprise, his not-so-favorite human being, Jeon Jungkook. Tattoo guy strikes again. The worst part was, you couldn't lock the door on your cat either, because then he would meow incessantly while you were getting deep-dicked and that was even worse. 

"Your cat really likes you, huh?" Jungkook mused as you yanked open the bedroom door to the black-and-white tuxedo furball. 

"Like is a strong word," you muttered at your cat, who yawned and sauntered past you to his cat tree, acting like he owned the damn place. 

"I like you."

"Hah... wait, what?"

Jungkook grinned as your eyes found his. Took a while. You were a little distracted by his nakedness. His tattoos up his right arm. His tan skin. His muscles. His white teeth biting on his lower lip, tiny mole underneath flashing. His long black hair, framing dark chocolate eyes and teasing, cocked eyebrow. 

"I like you," he repeated, voice deep and sexy.

You turned red and made the most coherent noise you could. 

“... Urk?”

“Noona.”

Why did he look so fucking hot and disrespectful at the same time when saying an honorific?

Jungkook came up to you, hand cupping your head and tangling his fingers in your hair. He brought his face close to yours, lips brushing against your swollen ones, taking your breath away.

"Wanna go back to me spanking you while you get off on my dick?"

Respectfully, of course. 

"How much rice do you want?"

You started, poking yourself in the nose with your toothpaste-covered toothbrush and smearing mint up your nostril – almost as bad as poking a coffee straw up your nose during a livestream in front of millions of people, yikes – as Yoongi appeared behind you, breaking you out of the memory. Your cat-man watched you with mild disgust and displeasure as you coughed and dunked your head into the sink, hurriedly rinsing off your burning nose.

"Whatever, I'll just fill it halfway."

And he left you sputtering, pajamas and hair soaking wet in your haste.

Awesome. 

-

“I’m ordering some groceries,” you announced in between bites of rice and egg. You tapped lightly at the phone screen as you spoke. Green onions, tofu, cucumbers… “Do you want anything?”

“Meat.”

You swiped rapidly and added packages of chicken, pork, and beef into your cart. Why the fuck not? You like meat. All kinds of–

“Yes, Yoongi, I’m getting meat. Anything else?”

“What else is there?”

You made a face and handed him your phone. “All sorts of things. Household products too, in case you don’t want to smell like my soap.”

“Your soap is preferable,” he said absentmindedly, scrolling through the online grocery app. You continued eating, shoving things in your mouth and none of it dick. Sad. At least it tasted good. Your cat-man had seasoned the egg well. You jumped as Yoongi spoke again. “I want these.” He turned the phone around.

You squinted at the screen, staring at a picture of orange balls. “Tangerines? Why?”

He turned the phone back to him. “They’re small, round, and look tasty.”

You blinked at him, then shrugged. “Sure, why not? I guess your palette might have changed. Try whatever you want.”

He pursed his lips and pressed a few buttons as you ate. You realized you needed to order more groceries now that your cat was a man eating your human food and no longer a cat eating his rather expensive cat food. Sigh. You had put Shooky’s cat bowls in a cabinet earlier this morning before sitting down to eat. It seemed weird leaving them out on the floor like that. Kind of offensive, maybe, now that your cat was a man and all…

“Okay, I ordered it.”

“Ah, okay, that’s good. They’ll probably come later this week.”

-

After breakfast, you spent nearly half an hour with Yoongi trying to pick out something for him to watch from your various streaming services, only for him to select a historical drama series. Like what? You cat (man) wanted to watch historical drama out of all things? Instead of learning about the modern world, he wanted to watch a depiction of the past?

Whatever, it had seventy-seven episodes, so at least he would be occupied for a while.

You let him be and went to your computer, intending on getting some editing done. Sure, the universe decided your cat was a man now, but you still needed to pay for said cat-man’s existence. You still didn’t know what you were going do to with all that cat food, cat toys, cat tree… ugh, this was all a problem for future you, not present you.

Present you needed to splice five-hundred images of PepeHands together and overlay it over a League of Legends one-shot compilation.

Uh, so, it was this meme of a green frog named Pepe holding up his anthropomorphic hands in despair, therefore coining the term PepeHands for a particular Twitch chat emote… never mind, it just meant you were spending some time video editing for a gaming YouTuber and it required concentration, shitty memes, and well-timed captions. And you were getting paid good money to do this.

Yeah, it’s a weird world.

You sat at your desktop and got to work, doing the rough cuts of the video first. Thankfully, the YouTuber had already sent you the timestamps of the noteworthy moments, therefore making your job a lot easier. You spent several hours compiling the clips before adding your extra flair and effects. You had a library of images and sound bites that you commonly used (including Goofy singing Evanescence's ‘Bring Me to Life’) and was in the middle of grayscaling a video clip and adding the familiar audio of all around me are familiar faces before being scared shitless.

“Woof.”

You swore someone was singing ‘Mad World’ as they were narrating your life right now.

“Gah!”

You jerked in your seat to see Yoongi leaning over behind you, eyebrow raised as you gawked at him.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you exclaimed, pulling back an earcup of your headset.

He frowned. “How can I sneak up on you?” He flicked the silver bell on the black choker around his neck, making it jingle cheerfully. “You put stupid thing on me, remember?”

You winced. “Well, I’d take it off, but there’s some kind of voodoo magic on that shit – and hey, don’t change the subject! You have that weird cat thing where you’re silent no matter what.”

Yoongi looked unbothered. “Weird cat thing? Thought you said I was a man?”

“Thought you said you were a cat?” you shot back.

You glared at him and he gave you a blank expression. Then he cocked his head to your desk.

“Your phone is flashing.”

You jerked your head to see your phone screen flicker. You grabbed it off you desk and unlocked it, checking your messages. Five messages from – ah, but of course – your best friend. Kim Seokjin.

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

You pursed your lips. With the pandemic and all, you hadn’t visited Seokjin in forever, but every week he would text you, asking for a photo of your cat and he would send you a picture of his sugar glider. With every week being the same and nothing interesting of note happening, it was hard to think of conversation topics. Therefore, Seokjin and you came up with this weekly event so your friendship wouldn’t deteriorate. Also, both of you were serious introverts, so he spent most of this pandemic playing MapleStory while you spent most of it on your couch watching Netflix with your cat. It was a miracle you two hadn’t morphed into actual potatoes yet.

You glanced at Yoongi, who was inspecting his nails and picking at them. You frowned and batted at his hand. He frowned back and smacked yours, harder. You glared at him. He gave you a vacant stare, as if he had done nothing.

“Why are you picking at your cuticles?” you muttered, going back to your phone and sending Seokjin an old picture of Shooky. You couldn’t exactly send him a picture of current Shooky. He was… well, currently not a cat. You stared at the picture of the fluffy tuxedo cat curled into a ball, asleep in your lap on the couch.

That moment wasn’t even that long ago.

Somehow, it felt like ages since you had last petted that furry butt.

“Hm, dunno. Occupies my hands, I guess,” Yoongi replied distractedly.

“Well, you shouldn’t. It’s not good for you.” You noticed you had another message from the local delivery service, saying a package had arrived at your doorstep. You stood, placing your phone on the desk and looked at Yoongi, who was staring at his old cat tree, the one by the window. When he was a cat, he used to poke his head between the curtains and look outside, watching the birds. It was his favorite haunt.

Now…

“Why’d you say woof?” you asked abruptly, giving him a quizzical look. “I thought you were a cat.”

Yoongi shrugged, tearing his eyes away from the cat tree to give you an uninterested stare. “Thought it would surprise you more. You’ve heard meow for long enough.”

You furrowed your brow. “Why would you want to surprise me?”

He shrugged again. “I was bored.”

“… You were bored so you decided to sneak up and scare the shit out of me?”

He paused, black tail swishing back and forth, pointed ears perked. Then he nodded.

“Yup.”

Sigh.

-

You lugged in the huge cardboard box, Yoongi standing out of sight of the front door as you huffed and puffed with your weak arms. Okay, it wasn’t even that big, but it was quite heavy and you weren’t exactly John Cena. Your arms were about as strong as a bowl of overcooked ramyeon noodles and that was putting it kindly. You weren’t the working out type. People who worked out diligently were dog people. People who preferred sleeping as their primary workout regimen had cats. What were the kinds of people who had cat-men then? The kind of people who like sleeping, but also needed a…

(You already know the answer.)

Yoongi snapped the door closed the second you managed to pull it on far enough to do so.

“You look like a boiled dumpling,” he commented.

“At least I’m delicious food,” you wheezed, inspecting the box. You recognized the clothing brand. “Is this the stuff your ordered? How did it come so fast?”

“I selected next-day delivery.”

You paled.

“I need clothes as soon as possible, don’t I? Or should I go back to being naked, since you’re a pervert?”

You choked, ears burning. “I’m not a pervert!”

“Mhm.”

You tried not to think about the hit on your wallet as you grabbed your keys from the side table and opened the box, seeing all the plastic packages inside. Monotone, in white or black. Figures. You tipped the box to the side and the clothes spilled out, tumbling all over the floor. It took a firm shake to dump it all on the ground. You got on your hands and knees to spread them out, tossing the cardboard aside carelessly to shift through the items. Hopefully, Yoongi had read the listings and selected the correct sizes. From your brief glance, you noticed the tops were quite oversized. Maybe he liked that fit? He had been quite a fluffy cat.

You spotted the packing slip with all the prices listed. You fished it out and then heard a thunk-thunk-thunk, the sound of cardboard on hardwood. Huh?

You looked up to see Yoongi swatting the box around.

“What… are you doing?”

He shrugged. “Investigating.”

You blinked. “Investigating what?”

“Don’t know. I simply feel the need to investigate, thus I am doing so.”

You stared at Yoongi for several minutes as he continued to… uh, investigate (???) the cardboard box, holding it this way and that, smacking it around, watching the flaps bounce in the air as it rolled. His velvety ears perked upwards, sleek black tail swishing with interest.

His expression was completely neutral.

For the first time since becoming a human, you thought Yoongi was more cat than man.

“Uh… okay…”

You glimpsed down to the paper in your hands, seeing the total cost.

You felt the color drain out of your face.

My… wallet…

F in the chat.

You fainted.

-

You felt someone poking you in the head.

“Are you dead?”

You gasped and jerked up like a drown victim coming up for air, still in mild shock of the sudden financial hit of your cat becoming a man. It was okay. You weren’t poor. You just didn’t expect Yoongi to be a shopping like he owned a fucking black card.

“Did I spend too much?”

You snapped out of your stunned state at his soft tone. Yoongi wasn’t looking at you. He was kneeling on top of the pile of clothes, dark eyes on the paper in your shaking hands. With a start, you realized his words were heavy with guilt, his ears pointing downwards and tail tucked against the ground.

“No,” you said quickly, putting the receipt down. “No, Yoongi. I asked you to buy clothes, remember? And besides, it’s better for you to buy things you like and are interested in, rather than me wasting money on things you’ll never wear.”

He raised his head a little, eyes darting from your face to your hands.

You smiled at him, reaching up to pat his head and stroke the fur on his ears. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s only money. Money will never be more important to me than you, okay?”

For a second, you saw something flicker in Yoongi’s eyes. It was so fast that you barely caught it. Relief? Gratitude? Fondness? Then he ticked his head out of your hand, fair cheeks flushing pink.

“You… you don’t have to do that,” he muttered.

“O… oh.” For some reason, you felt a pang in your chest at his words. “R-right.”

Yoongi made eye contact with you, dark brown orbs guarded. He spoke quietly, without emotion.

“Do you wish this never happened?”

“What?” You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?”

He gestured to himself, waving a hand up and down carelessly. “This. Human me.”

Human me.

You answered instantly.

“No.”

Yoongi gave you the disbelieving side-eye.

You let out a sheepish puff of air. “I always kind of wished you were human.” You scratched the back of your head aimlessly. “No one listened to me like you did. Even if I was having the shittest day of all time, you always made it better. You were the best cat ever.” You chuckled, smiling up at him. “Sure, your species changed, but you’re still the same, right?”

His eyes shifted, his cheeks still a light pink. “I’m still a cat,” he mumbled awkwardly.

You raised your brows. “Mhm, is that why you were playing with the box?”

“I wasn’t playing with the box,” Yoongi huffed, sounding insulted.

“Then I’ll break it down and recycle it.”

“No,” he snapped firmly. “It’s useful. We’re keeping it.”

“We don’t need a box, Yoongi.”

He tutted. “Hmph, humans. So wasteful. A perfectly good box should be reused.”

“Right.”

You tried to hide your laugh as Yoongi refused to look you in the eye.

-

You left Yoongi to examine his new wardrobe on the floor. You tried to pick them up but he stubbornly remained on the pile of clothes, not letting you move them. When you stood up to leave, you asked him when he was going to move – he replied with, "When it feels right", just cat things, you supposed – and hurried off to export the edited video you were working on earlier. The due date was today and you had to review it for quality.

A certain quality. 

A certain quality of... of... 

Needing the money.

Because your cat (man) had spent fat chunk of it on clothes, only to be more interested in the box they came in and sitting on said clothes rather than the actual items themselves. 

Sigh. 

-

"I ordered the wrong color."

"Oh?" you muttered distractedly, clocking on the export button. You'd been going cross-eyed for the past two or three hours – had it really been that long? shit – and checked your phone to see Gukmul, Seokjin's white sugar glider, peering up at the camera on a white fluffy blanket. You smiled, typing a response to praise his cuteness, completely ignoring the fact that Seokjin had also stuck his handsome face in the photo, smiling with a thumbs-up next to his pet. 

The reply was instant. 

hello, acknowledge my BEAUTIFUL FACE

You deliberately didn't answer right away to piss Seokjin off even more. 

"What's wrong with it?" you asked, looking up. 

Your jaw dropped. 

You dropped your phone. 

Yoongi, your cat-man with excellent reflexes, made absolutely no move to catch it. 

It smacked you in the calf and hit your toes – fucking ow, holy shit – before clattering to the floor. You had a protective phone case on it with a cute tuxedo cat graphic. The screen wouldn't crack with the protector on it. In this moment, however, you didn't give a shit about your smartphone, Kim Seokjin, or even the blinding pain in your foot. Nope. 

You were ogling at Min Yoongi in pink silk pajamas.

-

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to–

Oi!

No, don't you dare scroll past! You think you're clever or something?! Hm? Advertisements always happen at the most crucial parts, you say? 

This is just an ad? 

Look here, Lemona Vitamin C Powder can provide a lot of benefits, including providing natural energy and boosting your immune system in, say, a worldwide pandemic–

STOP TRYING TO SCROLL PAST!!!

-

Jeon Jungkook stared at his phone. 

At a very specific number. 

He put it down, sighing a little, looking out the window instead. It was a nice day, but he couldn't enjoy it the way it was meant to be enjoyed. Pandemic and all that. He frowned, looking at the urban jungle surrounding him. Had he made a mistake moving here to the big city? Sometimes he wondered. Back then, he had moved to finish school and pursue his ambitions. Back then, his choice had seemed full of opportunities, but now.

What did he have, really?

A tiny apartment with a kind and understanding landlord. The world at his fingertips from his computer. Still a decent amount of savings left. Online courses that he needed to finish to get his film degree. 

Loneliness.

He delved into his memories, smiling at the recollection of confused looks, awkward smiles, indignant huffs. So very unlike him to tease so much, but it was too fun and he hadn't felt the usual nervousness and shyness he had around others. There was something comforting about that smile, that apartment, and that fluffy tuxedo cat that loved to interrupt everything. 

He shouldn't have played it off.

He shouldn't have distracted.

Not after he admitted it.

"I like you."

Jungkook said it to the air, to the memory. So vivid that he reached out to touch those lips, but then it all disappeared, just like that. 

Ah.

He looked at the back of his phone, wondering. But now he was too nervous and shy to pick it up again. Why was that? When he was there, being seen by those surprised eyes, he could do and say shameless things. But far away, when he was alone, Jungkook was hesitating, suddenly afraid.

Sigh. 

-

You sneezed. 

Very loudly and jerking your head away from your cat-man in luxurious pink silk, jamming your nose into your elbow.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. 

You sniffed, rubbing your nose. 

"Someone must be thinking about me..." you muttered. 

Yoongi looked down, plucking the collar of the pajamas. "The cotton shirts are the same size, but for some reason this one fits tighter. Why is that? Is there no regulated sizing in human fashion?"

Dude, be glad you're not a girl, you thought dryly. "Might be the fabric," you coughed distractedly. Distractedly because you were staring at quite possibly the most gorgeous man in the history of men and you stared at a lot of men in your short lifetime, so you had experienced eyeballs.

Wait. 

Man or cat-man?

Well, Yoongi was definitely the most gorgeous cat-man considering you were pretty sure there was only one in current existence.

His pointed ears stood straight up in interest, black hair messy from taking clothes on and off, fair cheeks and nose flushed pink, perhaps from physical exertion. Dark brown eyes sheepish, not quite looking at you. The black leather choker stood out on his neck, silver bell gleaming against his collarbones. The material was a mauve-pink silk, clinging to his lean body, showing off his shoulders and long limbs. The button-up shirt created a rather deep v-neckline, a sliver of pale chest visible. And his legs! His slim legs reminded you of a nimble dancer, ending in fuzzy black slippers. 

There was a weird lump in one of the pant legs, going down his thigh. 

Whoa. 

"W-Why did you pick them?" you tried to ask in the least awkward way possible, attempting – and failing – to not to stare at his delectable thighs. 

Yoongi shrugged. "They looked like the ones you have. I meant to get black, but I suppose I didn't read the listing closely enough. They're comfortable though," he mused before making a face. Your eyes bulged as there was a sudden jerk in his pants, creating a large tent in the crotch. 

Alarms sounded off in your head, arousal shooting up like a rocket. 

Oh. 

Oh??? 

Oh!!!!!!!

"My tail is stuck," Yoongi grunted, lowering the back of the pink silk pants. The sleek black cat tail slid out, swishing in the air, tent in his pants gone. 

Oh…

Right. The tail.

Because he's a cat... man.

Your inner thot was sad. Your dignity smacked you upside the head, highly disappointed in you for falling for that, then calmly shot down your arousal rocket with your shame. Oof.

"Can you show me how to sew so I can fix my own clothes from now on?" Yoongi asked as he readjusted the front of the silk shirt. 

You bent down to pick up your phone, trying to do something with your face and hands to disguise your embarrassment and burning ears. "Yeah, of course." You placed it on your desk and turned back to face him. 

Yoongi was right next to you. 

Literally so close that you could feel his body heat. 

"... Urk!"

You jumped in your seat, banging your knee against your desk and howling in pain, computer chair rolling and making you lose your balance, ass about to slip before Yoongi grabbed your chair and shoved it into the table, making you trip and fall back into the seat, head hitting the headrest a little too hard, seeing stars and rubber duckies for a second. 

Wait, were they rubber duckies? They were white and glittery, almost as if they were made from snow…

Yoongi slapped you in the face.

“Ow!”

You rubbed your cheek, blinking rapidly to clear your vision before glaring at him.

“Checking if you were alive,” was his placid response.

Alright, it wasn’t that hard, but the unexpectedness of it still hurt. You frowned, only for the pain to slowly melt away, quickly being replaced by something else as you realized Yoongi was still half-leaning over you, a knee on your computer gaming chair to prevent it from rolling. The sting in your knee was temporarily forgotten. Yoongi spoke again, his voice low and deep, almost a sensual purr.

“You hit yourself pretty hard.”

He doesn’t know what’s he’s doing. It’s just a coincidence. A kitty-incidence, Seokjin would say.

Your eyes widened as Yoongi closed in, peering at your unfocused gaze. Now you could see down his shirt. Holy shit. Were you so deprived that you were getting mad horny from seeing Yoongi’s fucking clavicle and sternum?

Is that even a question?

Yes.

Yes, you were.

“You look like you did last night.”

“What?” you breathed, still unabashedly looking down his shirt.

“Your pupils are dilated.”

You froze. His cool fingertips were on your neck.

“Heartrate increased.”

You wanted to pull back, say, no, wait, don’t do that, but Yoongi was too close and his exhale was too feathery, brushing against your lips, and you couldn’t move, trapped in your chair, between him wrapped in pink silk and your mind reeling, him still playing fucking doctor while you were trying not to jump his half-covered ass.

“And that smell.”

You finally tore your gaze away, eyes drifting up to his.

You swallowed.

“S… smell?”

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

Ohnoohshitwhatifhecansmellmypus–

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, surveying you closely. He was so close you couldn’t see his lips, only his dark brown orbs. He didn’t say anything. He smelled like your soap, reminding you of his naked body pressed against you in the shower. Your heartbeat was leaping to your throat, threatening to choke you with your own horniness. Honestly, at this point, would you even be surprised?

You chuckled nervously, clinging onto your last shreds of self-preservation, which, admittedly, were rapidly yeeting out of your hands.

“Hahaha… but you’re… a cat… yeah?”

Right?

Seconds passed.

Right???

Minutes passed.

RIGHT???????

Yoongi’s lashes lowered, not quite looking at your eyes. Staring at your lips.

“I’m a man too,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes widened.

Yoongi kissed you.

You were so shocked that you swore your eyes nearly left your head.

It was a soft kiss, his eyes closed, tilting his head slightly to fit better against yours, pressing you back into your chair. Your head hit the headrest and you gasped, your tongue lightly flicking his lips and they parted, his own tongue sliding against yours, gentle licks, your brain malfunctioning, but body remembering, hands coming up to grab his shirt and yank him closer, pressing back against him. He backed up a little at your suddenness, exhaling hard. Your eyes snapped open, suddenly aware of how forceful you were.

Yoongi looked away, pointed black ears flicking back and forth uneasily.

You kissed your cat. Man. Cat-man.

He’s been a man for not even two days and you just tried to make out with him like a demented beast!

“A-ah, Yoongi, no, I’m so sorry, I-I… please, I didn’t mean to…” you stuttered, letting go of him quickly, but also not wanting to let go, but you should, your hands getting confused by your mental signals, repeatedly clasping and unclasping the pink silk, not realizing that he wasn’t even trying to move away.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Yoongi said slowly.

You clutched his shirt, staring at your white knuckles, unable to look at him directly.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… you’re so handsome, but I’m your owner… and I cracked…”

“What you are is a desperate, sexually deprived human.”

You jerked your head up, seeing his unreadable expression. “I-It’s been over a year–”

All of a sudden, Yoongi lowered his knee and grabbed you by the ass, scooting you down on the rolling chair. You yelped at the swift movement, gasping as your crotch collided with his thigh, wincing as you heard the squelch of your panties jamming into your soaked core.

Yikes.

Welp, you can’t hide that shit now.

“You like things like this, don’t you?” Yoongi murmured.

Your cheeks heated. “T…Things like w-what…?”

Oh, you knew what. You knew very well what, but you also couldn’t form coherent sentences.

His fingers sank into your ass and he pressed you into his thigh, rolling it into your heat. The whines tore out of your throat involuntarily, grabbing his arm and staring up at him with shaking eyes, seeing his curious gaze looking down at you.

“B-But, Yoongi… I’m your o-owner,” you panted, resolve slipping with every second, your hips already rocking into his thigh, the slippery thin fabric doing nothing to hide his lean muscle, your own thighs clamping around his leg. “I’m supposed to t-take care of y-you…”

And last more than two days, fucking shit, get it together!

But you couldn’t get it together, especially not as Yoongi’s voice dropped to a lower octave, one side of his lips curving upwards.

“It’s a little different now, isn’t it?” he drawled softly, lashes lowering, eyebrows raising, his black hair darkening his gaze. “Since I am now capable to take care of you too.”

You whimpered, losing it.

Just started freely humping his leg, self-preservation completely gone. Did he even know what he was capable of, really? Did he have any idea what he could do? Surely not.

Surely, he had no idea how good he could make you feel.

Yoongi bit the side of his lip, frowning. “How will can I make it feel better? I’m only cop…” He trailed off, furry ears anxiously flicking.

You tugged on his arm, getting his attention. “Angle your leg a little more downwards… Y-Yeah, like that…” He did as you instructed, his thigh now pressing down on your clit and your rocking hips moving faster, clinging to his arm and setting your jaw, moaning at the added pleasure. “A-ah… yeah, fuck… yes, I c-can… like this…”

“You can what?” Yoongi breathed, watching your face closely, firmly holding the armrests of the chair so it wouldn’t slide.  

Your head tipped back a little, bucking harder into his thigh, so wet your juices were soaking through your leggings and drenching the pink silk, turning it darker, the strong scent of your sweet arousal clearly evident. Your eyes drifted to Yoongi’s dark orbs covered by black hair, vision hazy, noticing the slight inquisitive upturn of his upper lip. There was no point in hiding it anymore.

“Can cum, Yoongi, fuck, I’m going to cum…” you moaned, inhaling his scent, his presence, saying his name and looking up at him, the stimulation and touch of another enough to get you there, eyelids fluttering as your orgasm swept down, taking you away and filling you with serene satisfaction, crashing waves soaring through you, washing away the sand of your dry spell, a different kind of euphoria than when you were on your own, pulling Yoongi close, kissing him deeply, breathing hard.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Was it nice?” he murmured. “Was I what you needed?”

“Yeah…” You kissed his soft lips again, semi-breathless. “I–” The wave of guilt came now, your words dropping, brows furrowing, a sharp pang in your chest. Rising, rising. Panic. Yoongi lowered his head, black hair and soft pointed ear rubbing against your eyebrow, nuzzling your cheek. Once. Twice. Again, headbutting you lightly, smoothing the worry away from your forehead, a small laugh bubbling from your throat.

“What are you doing?” you chuckled, patting his arm, smoothing out the wrinkles you had made while furiously humping him. Your eye caught the dark mark now on one of his thighs. Welp. You lasted less than ten minutes.

Pink pajama Yoongi was dangerous.

“You liked this,” he mumbled. “When you were upset.”

You chuckled, instinctively reaching up and caressing his velvety ear. “You were a little smaller then.”

“Only a little.”

He slowed until he came to a full stop, dark eye staring into yours, cheek to cheek.

“I have to look after you, my clumsy human.”

-

part iv

--

masterpost

[agerefandom]

(Are we on the death note train? Completely diff anon) little light being dressed up and adored by misa? Pwease and thankie

This is a request from before my hiatus, but I wrote it just for fun, and it made me really happy!

So here’s some pure fluff: Light dressing up in clothes chosen by Misa and everything is happy ^-^

Words: 590

--

“Come on, Light, try the skirt as well!” Misa’s voice was enthusiastic but not insistent: Light knew he could refuse if he wanted to, but he didn’t.

So Light accepted the pile of fabric from Misa and clumsily stepped into it. Misa had put him in buckled black platform shoes, and he felt very off-balance, like he was walking with bricks on his feet.

Nevertheless, it was fun: Light felt both silly and daring. As he pulled the skirt over his hips and felt the fabric settle around his thighs, he almost started laughing.

“Oh my gosh, Light, you’re so cute!”

That was Misa again, tugging Light’s hand so that he would follow her.

Light stumbled forwards in his fashionable brick shoes, feeling the skirt swish around his legs as he moved. Misa pulled him onto the carpet and waved at the mirror she’d set up in the middle of the room.

“Ta-da!” she exclaimed, clearly expecting Light to look at himself.

Light was a little nervous to look into the mirror. He felt pleasantly far away from himself, escaping into a world that he and Misa made together, where there were no responsibilities and playtime lasted forever. But if he looked at himself in the mirror, it might break the spell. Feeling silly might turn into feeling embarrassed, and Light was no good with embarrassment.

On the other hand, if Light refused, then he’d be admitting he was scared….

Light took a deep breath and stepped towards the mirror, raising his eyes to meet his reflection’s.

His face was familiar: he’d refused Misa’s offer to do his makeup. He didn’t want to look like someone else today, and makeup always made his face look like a stranger’s. His hair was ruffled by Misa’s affectionate hands, not artfully styled like it was when he was… older. There was a black flower crown nestled in his hair, the dark petals contrasting the honey brown of Light’s hair and eyes.

The rest of his reflection was entirely new. Misa had chosen well.

Light was wearing a black shift with a ruffled collar and buttons leading down the front. The three-quarter sleeves ended in trailing fabric, falling by his sides and moving when Light raised his arms. The skirt went down to his knees, and he wore striped tights underneath, leading down to the black platform shoes with their shiny silver buckles.

He looked… elegant. Like he could be Misa’s twin. It pleased Light that he was able to look so different than he was used to. He knew that he could change back into his own clothes at any moment, but he could also be like this, dressed in dark fabric that Misa had chosen, the kind of clothes he never would have let himself think of wearing.

Light raised his arms and twisted them in the air, watching the long sleeves of his shirt wave like ribbons in a parade. Misa laughed and clapped.

Light could see a smile growing on his face in the mirror. He spun around, his sleeves swirling after him, and was surprised when his skirt billowed out around him, a blur of rippling fabric.

Delighted, Light kept spinning until he was dizzy and stumbling and Misa dove forwards to catch him. He fell into her, allowing her to support his weight.

Misa smiled and kissed the top of his head, just above the flower crown. Light closed his eyes as the world spun around them, feeling an unfamiliar calmness in her arms. He might even call it… happy.

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

35. Every inch of you

Prompt used- kissing their bruises and scars| implied smut | angst | dedicated to @irrelevantdrarry and @riana-drarry and @weirdvibeskid for bringing a smile upon my face.

" one night, Draco that's all I asked! Molly worked soo hard on the dinner, the entire Weasley family was nothing but nice to you even though they've practically hated you and you didn't even have a little courtesy to say thank you for the dinner. You know what Molly said it to me, I'm sorry harry if you both felt like we intruded into your little world because Draco didn't seem to enjoy it, what was all that about ? I thought you wanted to know the people who practically raised me " Harry snapped as soon as they entered the flat

" who said otherwise that I wasn't nice to them ?" Draco rolled his eyes storming into the bedroom

" oh I don't know, maybe the fact that you didn't laugh at even a single joke Arthur said, or the fact that you didn't appreciate Molly's cooking or the fact that you didn't even offer any of them even a single smile !" Harry exclaimed following him into the bedroom

" I was nice-"

" oh yeah, I'm sure not offering a smile is not being nice. They're my family Draco, the least you could do is say thank you-"

" and I did say thank you when you weren't around "

" you did? Then how come Molly asked me if you didn't enjoy the dinner or something ?" Harry threw his hands in the air aggressively

" I don't know, maybe one thank you wasn't enough-"

" what ? You're actually blaming-"

" I didn't mean it " Draco sighed collapsing over the bed

" you better not because you can insult me for once but not them. They're my everything, they mean much more to me than anything else. I'm not mad at you Draco, I'm just upset that you didn't made them feel welcome "

" well what do you want me to do? Hang a bloody welcome sign over my neck ?" This time Draco threw his hand in the air aggressively

" I- you know what- I can't have this conversation-"

" you're not walking out " Draco interjected locking the door with a spell

" oh so now I can't walk out because my beloved boyfriend doesn't want to tell me what was the actual reason he was being an arse ?" Harry crossed his arms in front of his torso, watching Draco tentatively.

" I was never an arse harry- "

" you were and don't even try to deny that. What happened to you when you reached there? You were so excited to meet everyone, nervous even but as soon as you step in and they welcome you, it seemed as if you didn't want to be there ?" Harry asked timidly.

" Because I didn't belong there harry, I never will. I was excited to meet everyone but the moment I step in I realised that those can never actually love me-"

" but they do!! " Harey exclaimed enclosing the distance between them

" no harry. Nobody does, I'm a death Eater remember. They might forgive me but they will never forget that I am and will Always be tainted by this unfortunate scar that defines my entire life " draco snapped standing up, facing harry.

Harry's face immediately etched into confusion " no they don't draco. I've grown up with them, I know they would never feel that way about you "

" what If they do? You don't know that harry"

" yes, yes I do and they do not think of you that way. If I can move on and love you, then so can everyone"

" but that's the problem harry, I don't deserve you. You love me and that is the biggest problem of them all, you're in love with death Eater, how can you possibly love me ?" Draco's voice broke

Harry stood there in silence, contemplating how the visit to his so called family have erupted a volcano of thoughts of how draco didn't deserve him. It has been 2 months since they got together and somewhere harry Always knew that draco felt that way about himself, that he was too good for him but it was far from truth. He didn't care if he was too good for himself or if he himself was too good for draco, he cared more about how draco understood him more on the nights when harry had no one, he cared more about completing his bucket list with the only person who had managed to bring up a smile upon his face when no one else could, he cared more about how draco loved him like he was the only person in the world and that was more than enough for harry.

Harry extinguished the distance between him and draco and slowly by looking in draco's eyes, uncuffed his sleeves.

" what- what are you doing harry ?" Draco nervously asked

" doing exactly what I should do " harry didn't put a single moment in vain in bringing draco's left arm to his lips and kissing his dark mark

" harry -" draco's eyes reflected the light glare coming from the window, a glint of surprise and sadness in them

" I love you nonetheless of who you were, who are you and who you're going to be. I've made my decision and I don't give a tiny rats ass about how you don't deserve me. I think I can make my decision of who deserve me or not and I've made my decision, to stay, forever " harry poured into the grey orb of draco's eyes, looking for any sign of argument he might bring upon and when he didn't, he pressed his lips against that of draco's..

" why do you love me so much ?" Draco breathed In between the kiss

" because if I could take one person to that cupboard under the stairs where I lived, I'd take you out of everyone to vanish all of those bad memories and create new ones " harry replied mumbling against his lips. Draco stopped for a moment, a tear dropping from his eyes onto his cheeks, his forehead pressed against harry's.

" I love you " was the only thing Draco could muster up to say.

" I know " and harry kissed Draco more firmly now. From the sweet kisses they had shared in the past, their kiss had taken a road which became more messy, more tongue and more lust. Without thinking twice, draco bought Harry's hand to the Button's of his shirt. Getting the hint harry unbuttons draco's shirt and let his gracefully fall behind.

" are you sure ?" Harry breathed

" I am. Are you ?"

" yes, I am " and Harry's hand roamed the bear soft chest of Draco's, tracing the lines of scars and bruises from the war but more beautifully as if he was touching a mural art over a canvas. Draco himself didn't waste time in unbuckling Harry's belt and letting it drop to the ground.

" this changes everything " harry mumbled again

" and I want It to " and with that harry didn't ask further and simply, more rapidly unbuckled draco's pants and pushing it down his legs. Realising they had been standing for Long, harry softly pushed draco onto the bed behind, letting him have a heavenly fall before him. And as beautiful as it was to see Draco sprawled on the bed with just his boxers, Draco didn't have that. He pulled harry the waist of his pants, letting him collapse over him.

" you've got absolutely no idea, how bloody perfect you are" harry mumbled as draco pushes Harry's pants down his legs.

" I love you " draco moans as harry harshly pressed his lips against draco's neck, kissing softly all over to find his sweet spot.

" I love you " harry hummed as he licked a stripe over his neck. In a sweet saviouring moment, he was desperate to hear the sound of draco moaning again so he started sucking softly over his neck to find that one sweet spot and just when Draco erupted a moan more loudly than before, harry attacked that spot more, only to hear him moaning over and over again. The moans leaving draco's soft lips were sending sparks all over his body, flaming a sudden urge in him to pin draco to bed and want to do absolute sinful things to his body until he's withering.

" fuck " draco moaned, his eyes rolling in the back of his head, shooting flames inside Harry's right to his bottom. Sucking more painfully erotically, draco put his hand into Harry's hair as an unknown reflex and grasped them to find an unknown leverage but it resulted in Harry violently moaning against draco's neck.

" fuck- harry- just- need you " draco moaned as he bought Harry's face to his lips for a sloppy, haste and Messy kiss. He swiftly but hastily unbuttoned Harry's shirt and threw it somewhere in the room, leaving them both in boxers and briefs.

" I love you " harry mumbled as he started pressing soft kisses down his neck until in a glimpse he noticed a mark on draco's chin.

" Where did you get it from ?" Harry asked as he supported himself by his elbow to watch draco from a distance.

" Accidental magic. I think i was 10, i accidentally picked up a shirt from the ground but somehow it tangled on my leg and i fell over the side of the bed " draco told, harry looked at the mark before he bowed down a little and kissed the scar.

" what was that for ?" Draco asked smiling

" To remind you I love you nonetheless your scars or bruises " and with that harry kissed draco's finger, knowing he had accidentally got a paper cut a few days ago, then placed a soft kiss over the top of his head from a bruise he got yesterday when he hit the door too hard..

" This is to remind me of how much I hate myself for doing this to you "

" I forgave you a long time ago " draco reassured

" I know" and harry softly kissed against draco's sectum semptra scars, his eyes moistening up at the memory.

" Hey, look at me. It happened a long time ago. It's fine " draco cupped Harry's face, making him look into his eyes. And Harry nodded.

Draco kissed softly over Harry's nose " this is for kicking you in the face in 6th year, I didn't like doing it but shit was it good "

Harry chuckled, leaning down to kiss his lips..

" I want to kiss you " draco mumbled

" You are "

" No I want to kiss every inch of you. I want to kiss every part of your body because it has been through so much. I want to kiss all of it away to put new memories " draco softly. Harry looked at him in awe, not believing he has actually said something like that. Struck in unknown saddening surprise Harry leaned into draco neck and let his feelings create little sobs.

" It's alright harry, it's alright " draco mumbled as he softly brushed Harry's hair.

" I want to kiss you too, every inch of you "

" Then lets do it " draco smiled and incadascently they briskly fell into the intimacy of taking away a part of one another tainted with painful memories, replacing them with love and creating hocruxes in every inch so a part of their souls lived forever in another.

Requests open | masterlist to all prompts now available

Sorry for the delay, I'm traveling so it would hard for me too keep up but I am very thankful for all the sweet responses in the past few days, it helps me to keep going.

Day 34- bath with me | Day 36 - angel

[callmeblake]

Taken July 2016, used in Kerrang #1634

credit

[sizeshiftingdeath]

Ends and Starts (MCYT G/T Exchange!)

Hello there sizeshiftingdeath! I received your prompts for the gift exchange, and while I tried to start pretty close to your prompt, my ideas kind of spiraled out of control, I hope you don't mind ^^' I can make something else with another prompt if it doesn't fit what you were hoping for, though! There's also a little bit of extra information down the bottom with some stuff I thought of about the au I accidentally made.

Prompt given: ‘A human caught in the rain finds a giant in the forest’

<please put a read-more here!>

The world is pockmarked with evidence of the tragedies of the past. Of warped land that paints the horrors that befell things that came before. The living reminders of them continue to live on in perpetuity, as immortal creatures that were wreathed in the horrors that life on Earth had endured in the past. 

Bask in their horrible might.

There is the Death from Burning and Fire and Falling from the Sky and Cold Choking Death, the End of the Cretaceous. A massive beast, the bloody end of an era of enormous fauna. A destruction made all the more powerful by how quickly it was achieved. It stalks the land and sea and, where it steps, the plants die of lack of sunlight and the ground turns to tar.

There is the Death from Ever Hunting and Chasing and Too Warm Too Bright - Tech, the man-shaped leviathan, death in the shape of something familiar to mankind, the Killer of the Pleistocene. The death of great megafauna in an icy world from the encroaching warmth of a new era, the sharp point of a spear. It hunts the world with spears and arrows of fire and, in the depths of its nest, all water has turned to vapor and the earth itself has become a wasteland. 

There is the Death of Falling Frozen Seas, of a primordial sea strangled to death under a glacier lock, Her Lady of the primaeval oceans, the Death of the Ordovician. The tail-end of an explosion of life, stretched too far by their own hubris. And yet, despite being a beast with a hundred trilobite and eurypterid faces, one that has a herald in the form of a human by Her side, for reasons that have yet to become known. Maybe, just like every other esoteric thing that such beasts may do, it shall remain a mystery forever.

Look and see. A new immortal is emerging from its eggshell of tragedy. The unstoppable bomb and burning oilfield. The death through hubris and a slow choking unraveling of your very being. The death of man from crackling radiation and tainted iridescent-film water and ash filled smoke. The destruction of the Anthropocene.

Except. This is a creature who was born prematurely. Because man is not dead nor feeling its own final throes. It was not born wreathed in the screams of the damned, only the fears held in the hearts of the still-living. It is naïve and curious and did not yet have the star of a hundred million species’ souls to power it yet. It was stunted.

And that is why the first human the newest apocalypse met was so important.

  …

  The forests are deep and dark. Quiet yet shivering with life. Constantly moving and yet trapped in some space between time. Most of all, they expected nothing more from you than for your own two legs to be able to travel. Ranboo liked that. 

It certainly was nicer than what he had to deal with outside of the forest at least. Here he could continue walking and listening and breathing for as long as he still could move forward. This forest in particular was a favorite, with a constant twilight quality to it that played into its timelessness. 

He stumbled over a log, slipping slightly on the slick moss, and focused as strongly as he could on his surroundings. It was hard when he could so quickly slip into his thoughts. He needed to enjoy his surroundings. He needed to stay in the present and not phase out like fog.

Ironically, it was his attempts to ground himself that prevented him from noticing what was slowly growing more wrong in the forest around him. The scent of ash in the air. The lack of birdsong or rustle of leaves. The trees, growing darker and more burnt-looking, and the dead logs that were bristling with fungi.

But when he stepped out into a clearing with an enormous rock embedded into the middle of it, Ranboo really couldn’t help but realize all of the discrepancies. The illusion of an eternal twilight had been broken with the red light that streamed down. The ground was distressingly clear of ground cover, instead dusted with ash. 

Forest fire? He hadn’t heard of any in the area but… What else would it be?

Ranboo looked up at the sun, which had meandered towards the west since he had entered the forest. There were dark clouds gathering above him in worrying amounts, and the air was a little hard to see through with the particles suspended in it. He frowned at it. 

Something was wrong here, he could sense it in a deeply animalistic kind of way. As if there was something screaming in his hindbrain to run.

He didn’t run. This was the forest that he has walked a hundred times before, when did this happen? Why had this happened? He needed to find out.

Overhead, thunder rumbled. A droplet of curiously dark water fell on his face.

Ranboo stepped towards the other side of the forest clearing that should not have been there.

And that's when a living embodiment of a mass extinction came shambling out of the ashen trees.

  Ranboo didn’t know which detail he noticed first about this rogue apocalypse beast. Was it the limp brown hair that was almost black with iridescent oil slick? Was it the enormous horns that curled jutting from its face and looked more like scrap metal than keratin? Was it the uranium-glass green stripes that criss-crossed like cracks in ceramic along it’s skin? 

Or was it the fact that this one was shaped like a man? 

The apocalypse beasts always most resembled the myriad that had died in their creation. The death of the Ice Age looks vaguely like a man,  if squinted at, mostly because so many cousins to humanity had died in its formation. It was more like an enormous boar-beast on two legs that had the arms of a man, if anything. This one did not look remotely like the death of the Ice Age. 

Ranboo took a flying leap from horror and realization to hysteria. This is the death of humans. The death by nuclear bombs and smoke and oil. The fabled next apocalypse beast, the bringer of the end of the world, was already here.

For a moment of absolute blinding terror he wondered if this meant that all other humans on Earth were dead now. That today was the day the entirety of humanity died, leaving just him wandering the forest endlessly. That nuclear armageddon occurred and he was out there worried about keeping himself grounded enough to admire the birds.

The beast - and he was never in doubt that this was an apocalypse beast, even if he had never seen any of the others in person before something shook like a leaf in his soul simply from being near it - loomed over him. It watched him like a bug under a glass with nuclear hazard yellow-and-black eyes, and the spell of frozen muscles snapped in Ranboo. He bolted towards the boulder in the middle of the clearing and pushed his way into a space between it and a smaller boulder at its base, scrambling to find a smaller crack to squeeze himself into to just get himself out of reach of the beast, of the black water, of everything.

He could hear a rasping, clicking-crackling sound. (A Geiger Counter.) He could see glowing green-striped fingers reach under the edges of the rock he had wedged himself under. Could see, in the sickly chartreuse light they cast, fingernails larger than his head catch the rock. Felt the weight of the boulder lift from his back. 

Ranboo was left crouching and shaking, so scared he couldn't breathe (or maybe it was the ash or the slimy water that couldn’t be rain), as the apocalypse beast crouched down further. It crackled and clicked with a mouth that seemed all too human to be able to make those noises, and then it. Crooned? With a voice that was more like a siren shriek turned down, weirdly echoey as if speaking from far away, it clicked and whined and Ranboo was so confused he didn’t even see the hand reach down and pick him up by the back of his shirt.

He screamed and flailed, imagination jumping into overdrive about what horrifying things the beast could do, and just as quickly, he was dropped with a whoomph to the ground and the death of Mankind jerked back. Ranboo gasped and sputtered as half of face got thoroughly soaked with ash-water mud, and hoisted himself up again to get away from the apocalypse beast.

Who was crouching over him, luminous trefoil eyes barely a foot away from his own, still crooning that awful siren tone. From this close Ranboo could faintly see radiation burns pockmarking its skin, and a horrible scar of curled and ridged skin along its face, as if it was victim to a close-range bomb explosion. 

It tilted its head, leaning a tiny bit closer, and Ranboo threw his arms up to cover his face. God, it itched where the ash water had splashed on him. Why was it itching so much?

The death of Mankind stopped again, looking up into the sky and then down at Ranboo again. It seemed to come to a conclusion, because it then slowly - oh so slowly, why was it being careful? - cupped its hands out in front of it and held them out to him.

It… Wanted him to climb on. Into the grasp of a literal specter of death specifically designed with the destruction of his own species in mind.

Ranboo, in a moment of blind panic and stupidity, climbed on. It looked polite, he reasoned. He was already going to die just from being close to this thing. 

It continued to… yes, it definitely was cooing now, in that horrifying voice, and for a moment Ranboo wondered if maybe he misinterpreted. Maybe this thing wasn’t meant to represent the nuclear apocalypse.

His eye had started to itch where the water touched it. He rocked himself in the grasp of this giant, feeling footholds in the craggy radiation-worn skin, and felt the side of his face. 

The moment e touched it, a white-hot flash of horrible burning pain hit him like a truck, knocking him into a stupor of yelling. It was as if his face was burning, was twisting and gnarling just as much as the apocalypse beast’s horns did. Under his hand, stiff with pain and unable to move away, he could feel skin slough off, could feel the cells themselves die off in droves, in response to whatever radiation or toxin was in the ash-water. 

He couldn’t even register the sensation of fingers larger than his torso curling around him and holding him steady, of him being pressed up against a vast chest that beat unsteadily like a stuck clock, of the vast thumps of footfalls against a diseased forest floor.

All he could feel is pain, burning coiling tunneling pain that tried to tear out his face, his hands, his neck, burning him bright and radiant like a star. 

  …

  The creature was screaming in its hands. It hadn’t stopped screaming for a long time. 

It was small and writhing and melting. Creatures usually didn’t like melting. 

The death of Humanity wasn’t sure how to make it stop. It had dashed out of the black-rain (that seemed to make the melting worse, maybe it’ll stop once it’s out of the rain?) to its home cave, hoping that perhaps it could figure something out in the comfort of its own home. 

The creature’s screams had died down, though whether it was from its pain being alleviated or their voice giving out, the death of Humanity couldn’t tell. All it could tell was that it wasn’t getting up, wasn’t looking at it with those wide curious scared-but-interested eyes. 

Most animals ran from the death of Humanity. Land-creatures would yell in fear and flee, birds would rise up into the sky in huge swarms only to be struck down by the black-rain. Even insects would twitch and die when they got near, which led so many to flee this part of the forest entirely. It was a lonely existence. But this human hadn’t run like the other animals had. It had hid, yes, but it had viewed the death of Humanity in all of its glory and it almost, almost, was ok with it being picked up. 

And then something had happened and now the human was dying just like all of the other animals and the Nuclear Apocalypse didn’t know what to do.

Be well. Be alright. Be just like you were before, it thought, delicately laying the twitching human on the ground out of reach of the dripping black-water puddles, in a nest of dried grasses and leaves that had swept into the cave over the years. It prodded the human with a finger, whining softly when all it did was spasm like a dying insect. It wasn’t dying, right? It was just hurt? It couldn’t be hurt, the death of Humanity wouldn’t allow it. Not when it was so curious and didn’t flee like the others. Not when the death of Humanity had a chance to learn from it. Even now, writhing in its palm, it could feel the frantic beating of life and warmth, things it had so rarely seen before.

You will be well. You must be well. I will make you well.

  ...

  When he came to, it was to complete darkness.

Well, no. Not totally. There was a faint glimmer of far away light somewhere to his left. A shuffling shadow, a faint sickly green glow.

His right was totally dark though, and he couldn’t quite open his eye. He almost brought his hand up to touch it before violently flinching as he remembered what had landed him here in the first place. Would it start burning and melting horribly like it did before? That he was even awake to wonder that is a miracle in of itself... Or the start of the second round of his torture.

Horrible curiosity pushed him to touch, as lightly as possible, the skin on his right cheek. It… He couldn’t feel it. Or rather, he could feel the sandpaper surface of extremely rough skin, but he couldn't feel the pressure, the burning bright pain. The entire area was dead to the touch.

Ranboo threw himself as upright as he could make himself, which ended up only being a half kneel before falling back over into a sit. His breath hitched and he felt his face more firmly, the rough scratchy surface of skin that splattered like paint over the right side of his face, over his eye, down his neck and onto his arm. The muted tingling where it met smoother skin along his shoulder and the bridge of his nose. In an act of desperation he even poked at his eyelid, trying to pry it open to see if he could ever see from that eye again. 

His hand passed in front of his working eye in that moment, and at this point his focus had sharpened enough to make out vague colors in the dim light. His hand… It was a black far darker than any human could naturally produce, with a grey-green cast that made him look sickly. 

I feel sickly, he reasoned to himself. What is going on? He waved his hand a little frantically, as if the new midnight shade was something that was just stuck to his skin. Desperately he held up his other (totally numb to the touch) hand, hoping it hadn’t changed too.

Well, good news - it wasn’t midnight black.

Bad news - it was a shade so pale that it looked totally devoid of blood. And the raspy surface he could feel didn’t look any prettier to the eye. It didn’t have that same grey-green tint to it though, which was nice, because it would’ve shown up really well on this pure white canvas.

Why was he even thinking about looks right now? He was in the den of an Apocalypse Beast Ranboo get your head together! This was absolutely not the right time to space out - he needed to stay in the moment!

His hands were shaking uncontrollably as he tried to get himself upright. He had only just gotten himself steady when he felt the rattle of large footsteps shake through the ground. Before Ranboo could even think to run though, the shadows out of the corner of his eyes resolved into the beast, which made its way all too quickly towards him. 

He couldn’t run if he wanted to. And besides, the damage done to him would probably kill him. He was on borrowed time as is. What did he have left to do but to see what the beast did?

It slowed as it came closer, reaching out a vast clawed hand towards him. Despite his resignation towards his fate, Ranboo flinched back as it came way too close way too fast. A movement that the beast obviously didn't notice or interpret or care about, because he was scooped up into its palm without a moment's hesitation. 

“No!” He yelled, wriggling and pushing away from the cage of fingers around him. The beast paused in bringing him up to its face, and if Ranboo was being generous he could call the look on its face a frown. 

In less than a blink the face of the beast was so close way too close and he almost punched it (for all the help that would do) out of reflex. It blinked at him with those lucent yellow-black eyes, laser sharp in their focus upon him. He felt for all the world like an ant being peered at through a magnifying glass. Maybe he’ll be fried like one too. 

“What do you want with me?” He asked, voice cracking in fear. “What is it you want?” 

It didn’t answer in that siren tone again, but instead shifted its weight to the side and turned its palms so that Ranboo was standing squarely in one of them. The other was drawn up and one sharp-clawed finger was pointed at Ranboo. Or, well. The side of Ranboo’s face that he couldn’t see from just yet. 

He trembled with the anticipation of the jagged nail at the end of the beast’s outstretched finger spearing forward. But all it did was touch, very gently, under the damaged eye. The beast frowned even more. 

Then it jabbed at him, hard enough to bruise but not much else, directly into Ranboo’s damaged eye. He yelped and jumped away, tumbling off his feet in the cup of the beast’s fingers and slapped a numb hand over numb face. Even if he couldn’t feel the area, it still surprised him enough to believe for a moment he could sense it again. Except… was that still his imagination? The eye under his pale skin was starting to itch and water, the first sensation he felt from it since he had woken up, and with a gasp he was able to open his eye. 

Fuzz. That’s all he could see from that eye. The beast leaned forward and poked at his face again, softer this time, and when he opened his eye again the world had snapped into focus, tinged with red around the edges. He blinked a few times, and felt a trail of something wet leak from that eye onto his cheek.

What had happened? “You… You healed me?” He asked up at it. It was still frowning even as he had two working eyes again, and muttered softly in a voice that sounded like something crumbling into splinters. Then it poked him for a third time, this time on the shoulder, and Ranboo held back a yell of pain as the area lit up in a blaze of sensation that felt like liquid fire. As he watched, the black skin around the edges of the wound cracked and veins of bright green glowed beneath.

Just… Like… The beast…

Oh no.

The pain of his nerves coming back to life was nothing when compared to the cold horror that had bubbled into his stomach. There was a single case of a human managing to gain immortality as a result of an apocalypse beast. One of the first beasts, Her Lady of the Primordial Sea, the beast of the Ordivician extinction, had taken pity upon an ancient human who was trapped in the glacial ices that herald her path across the Earth, and had gifted it with immortality and a pair of wings that made him as beastly as the Lady he served.

Nobody knew exactly why the Angel of the Deaths had been spared, and why not a single human had ever had that happen before or since. All that was really known about him was his violence, and that he had an uncanny ability to be where an apocalypse beast would be travelling to next. He was just as inhuman and alien as the beasts themselves, if in a smaller form.

It had only ever happened once. Until now, obviously.

Ranboo stared at his white hand, prickling with waking nerves under the surface and twisting with green strands that trailed under his skin like angry snakes, and knew that he was a monster now. Somehow, it was freeing. Like he finally got an answer to a question he had asked over and over. Why him, why now, why is he still alive, why is he not afraid enough…

He stared back up at the apocalypse beast and it blinked down at him. It was no longer frowning, only looking thoughtfully now. “You’re not going to hurt me.” It wasn’t a question.

It reached a hand back up, maybe to poke him again, but this time rubbed his hair very lightly. He did not flinch this time, steeling up his willpower to allow this touch (It won’t hurt him. He needs to keep repeating it until it is true. It won’t hurt him. He was its now it wouldn’t hurt him).

It made that soft crooning noise again, like it had before lifting the rock he had been hiding under, and despite it being underlaid with sounds specifically designed to inspire fear in humans, he could find himself getting used to it. (Would have to. He’s an abomination now after all. The second angel.)

“You’re not so bad, are you…” He slowly pushed himself to his feet, flexing his newly sensated hand carefully. “I still don’t know what you are or why you are here now but…”

The beast tipped its head curiously and warbled exactly the same words back at Ranboo. He froze, because it was so much like his own voice except under deep layers of static, before shaking his head. Best get introductions out of the way - this creature was obviously smart. It was the death of Humanity after all.

He pointed to his chest. “Ranboo.” He gave it a few pokes for emphasis, and the beast poked him too before mimicking his name. He wasn’t entirely sure it actually got what that meant but, well. Baby steps. 

Then he pointed at it. It blinked a few times (and Ranboo really couldn’t help but anthropomorphize its reactions - this thing was just too uncannily human to not) and chirped out another ‘Ranboo.’ He gestured more firmly, pointing at the beast. 

It continued to look with (probably) bafflement for a few moments, before letting loose a cacophony of sounds that sent Ranboo’s hands slapping over his ears. It was all of the sounds of falling trees, of squawking birds, of the blazing sun and frigid cold and most of all the explosive fire and cold falling ash-water and death from sickness. It was everything and more that wrapped up the death of Humanity in a nutshell. 

Ranboo blinked. That might take a while to learn how to pronounce.

  He decided to call it Tubbo for short. 

<End> There we have it! I hope that you enjoyed this - I hope it didn't betray too much how much stuff like this interests me and that this was potentially also 3000 words of me nerding out about mass extinctions.

Anyways, here's some details I had added but had no way of explaining naturally within the story that i was a little proud of ^^'

The Anthropocene apocalypse beast is also called the unstoppable bomb and burning oilfield. Shortened to TUBBO. Ha.

There’s 7, now 8 apocalypse beasts (Great Oxidation Event, Ordovician, Devonian, Permian, Triassic, Cretaceous, Pleistocene, and now Anthropocene). I originally intended there to just be 5 (for the big five mass extinctions) and then a 6th Anthropocene apocalypse beast, but then I thought I really should add in the great oxidation event that almost caused extinction of all non-oxygen breathing creatures on a very early earth, and the death of most megafauna in the Pleistocene era. 

Society is way different with these living eldritch abominations just shambling across the globe, causing a trail of destruction behind them. A lot less large cities, for one.

The Ordovician apocalypse beast is Kristin, yes. She’s uplifted Phil into something similar to what Ranboo is now. I kinda want to think more about her and her story with Phil.

The Pleistocene apocalypse beast is Techno. Idk why I chose to do that but it seemed to fit. Especially since the leading theory on Pleistocene megafauna death is humans hunting them, which I think fits Techno pretty well

The rain is black rain - rain full of radioactive fallout. Bad Stuff, definitely not what you should seek out if you want to keep your body in working order.

I kept referring to sirens in Tubbo’s speech. Just imagine every emergency warning broadcast sound except even more terrifying 

So Ranboo’s skin is majorly fucked up. For one, he’s suffered major radiation damage to the side that is now white (healed over brand new skin). The black half is much more interesting though. Did you know there are types of fungi that can feed off of nuclear radiation? They protect themselves from the effects by secreting a LOAD of melanin, making them extremely dark. Anything that wasn’t newly healed on Ranboo had now become akin to those fungi now. Feeding rather than harmed by the nuclear radiation Tubbo naturally puts off. Perfect for a newborn Angel of the deaths.

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Thank you so much for this story submission!! I really love this idea and how well you wrote it! this is so amazing! ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

[tyforthevnm]

Death Spells at Broadcast, Glasgow, Scotland on August 9, 2016 | Ryan Johnston for Dork

[callmeblake]

Frank Iero - 2017 (edit of promo slider)

Kerrang Issue # 1634

Magazine Release Date: August 24th, 2016

Issue label: August 27th, 2016

Read the article

[cursestothemoon]

Yellow Face Paint Smudged With Tears

Requested: yess

Cedric x fem!hufflepuff!reader

warnings: blood, mentions of a wound, mentions of death

summary: Y/n is beyond herself with nerves as she waits for Cedric to come out of the maze. When he does it’s not how she pictured it, nor having pictured the possibility had having to say goodbye in streaked yellow face faint

word count: 2074

_______________________________________________________________________

The crowd's chants were loud but it seemed as though the sound of your heart beating in your ears was louder. The hedges of the maze had just closed, Cedric had turned to give you a final wave before entering, but you were already anxious for him to make it back out.

You started dating during your fourth year, he had stumbled into arithmancy with a shy smile and frazzled hair, apologies falling from his lips with a charming smile. He had been ten minutes late and the only open seat was behind you, conveniently enough. It was the classic case of friends to lovers, both of you thinking your feelings were unrequited. A couple dozen late night common room talks later, he tried his luck and asked you to Hogsmeade.

Obviously you gladly accepted his request.

The connection having been strong since then, never prone to the stereotypical teen romance of break ups and jealousy. He was yours and you were his, and everyone knew it. That’s what made watching him disappear into the dark maze that much more frightening, you had never really prepared for a life without him and something about the eerie mist settling over the tall green hedges made you sick.

“He’ll be alright, Y/n, it’s Cedric.”

The comment didn’t calm you down, but you tried your best to give Hannah Abbott a weak smile. You shifted on your feet, something not letting you sit down just yet, and adjusted your yellow scarf and Cedric pin.

He had made sure to make it clear who you had been rooting for that morning, not only making you wear your yellow Hufflepuff scarf but adorning your clothes and scarf with his pins, yellow face paint, and the last touch being the sweater you were wearing. His own of course, but he had charmed it to read ‘I’m with Diggory’ on the back. At first you felt a bit ridiculous but right now? You couldn’t be bothered to split your attention between the maze and what you were wearing, Cedric was only lost in one of those and it wasn’t the one you preferred.

“Come on, darling, the yellow face paint will tie it all together.” Cedric pouted, hand holding up a pot of bright yellow face paint.

You screwed your face together already knowing you’d be losing this argument, “Fine but don’t go crazy Diggory, I still want to look alright.”

He beamed, leaning in to place a soft kiss to your lips before shaky (nerves for the task awaiting him) hands dipped into the pot to paint two yellow stripes under your eyes, “You’ll always look more than alright to me, flower.”

It had been well around three hours since the start of the task when you heard Fleur’s screams and red sparks fly into the air, she forfeited. The way she came out panicked, pale, and frantic was no help to your nerves making your knees bouncing. Many of yours and Cedric’s friends had gotten quite rowdy at the forfeit of the Beauxbatons girl, it meant a better shot for Cedric. You, also, couldn’t help but feel lighter at the news, it would be over sooner now, Cedric would be out sooner.

“I’ll be alright.” Cedric smiled, trying to reassure you.

It was moments before he had to go out to the start of the maze and you had to find your seat. You bit your lip anxiously as you looked at him, his thumb coming to tub your lip away from your teeth.

“Just-” You took in a breath. “Just don’t try to be a hero, Ced. If something goes wrong, promise me you’ll get out of there?”

He pulled you into his arms, lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he rested his cheek there.

“Nothing is going to go wrong.”

At the time you failed to notice that he failed to make the promise.

Viktor Krum was the next to forfeit, coming out pale and sweaty, something was definitely not right with the way he was shaking it. He didn’t strike you as a guy who would scare easily.

The time was nearing four hours now and you worried you’d have to wait all night for Ced, something you were more than willing to do. Fortunately, it seemed to end earlier than anticipated though once you saw the two figures land on the floor you really wished you could stare at the hedges just a little while longer.

“Help! Somebody help him!” Harry yelled, gripping Cedric’s shirt.

The music was loud, too loud, no one seemed to notice Harry’s pleas or the way Cedric was lying motionless on the ground. But you did. Your scream was what got everyone’s attention, and you rushing toward the boys on the floor was sure to attract some attention but your mind was on other things.

As you got closer, the blood seeping out of Cedric’s side made you give a choked gasp as you fell to your knees next to him. His black and yellow shirt growing a sickly maroon spot.

“Cedric, Cedric, baby wake up.”

Nothing.

“Harry what happened?”

Professor Dumbledore had made his way to where you were but you were far too concerned for formalities right now. Your hands were cradling Cedric’s face, one dipping down to feel his side only to come up coated in blood.

“Help him! Please, he’s bleeding. Do something!” You cried, anger evident in your voice as Dumbledore seemed to not be moving fast enough.

The atmosphere seemed to get more frantic as Amos Diggory, Cedric’s father, tried to push his way through the crowd of people that had now gathered.

“That’s my son!” The desperation in his voice making your cries louder.

Amos came down next to you, hand grabbing Cedric’s, “That’s my boy!”

“It was the cruciatus curse. He- he lost consciousness while Voldemort used the cruciatus curse on him and I couldn’t get to the cup fast enough, a spell nicked his side. He’s back, Voldemort’s back.” Harry’s words were scrambled and thick with emotion.

As more people moved toward the castle and the professors along with Madam Pomfrey helped take Cedric’s body to the infirmary, you were pushed further and further away until you were too far to see him. This didn’t stop you from taking long steps, wanting to reach the infirmary quickly to see what was happening with your boyfriend.

--

“Can’t you make an exception? I’m his girlfriend!” You yelled annoyance toward Madam Pomfrey clear with every word.

Not only was the healer not telling you anything about Cedric’s state but she was also refusing to let you see him.

She huffed, “I’ve told you already, we have a strict close family rule when it comes to something as serious as what Mr. Diggory has been through.”

“Well... it’s a stupid rule.” You fought back whilst crossing your arms.

Madam Pomfrey gave you a look, “It’s a good thing, then, that you have no say when it comes to the rules here. Now please, Ms. L/n leave before I have to call someone to remove you.”

“That won’t be necessary, Pomfrey.”

Amos was now by the older lady’s side. His face looked tired, eyes droopy and skin dull, emotionally exhausted by the day's events no doubt.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Diggory. I tried to tell her to leave but she’s being rather… bratty.” The healer directed her words toward you, attitude strong.

Amos put a hand on Madam Pomfrey’s shoulder, “As well she should, if it were my wife in here and I was left out to worry I’d be a brat too.”

He then looked to you with a soft smile, “Come in, Y/n, he’d want you to be there when he woke up.”

You followed him in making sure to give a smug look to Madam Pomfrey as you walked past her to Cedric. You wished the feeling of the small victory had lasted a little longer as you saw Cedric. He was grey, sunken looking, his usual radiant smile was replaced by straight lips.

“Luckily, Madam Pomfrey knew what to do. Says that he will probably be alright but we won’t know for sure until he wakes up… if he wakes up.” Amos’ voice faded as he looked away, you were glad he did so, not wanting him to witness the rapid tears cascading down your cheeks.

It took a moment for you to find your voice,when you did it came out quiet and raspy, barely recognizable.

“Can- can I sit with…”

Amos quickly nodded, “Go ahead, my wife has gone down to get food from the hall I should too.”

The chair scraped against the stone floor as you pulled it closer to yourself, sitting on it. Amos left as you reached to grab Cedric’s hand, it was cold making you let out a quiet whimper. His hands were always so warm.

“Cedric… I don- I’m not sure what to say.” You cried, bringing his knuckles up to your lips.

“Come on Ced. You are going to be just fine. Come back to me.” Your voice cracked, words muffled by Cedric’s hand that you kept to your lips.

With a look to his closed eyes you whispered, “You were it for me, Ced. You own my heart wholly and completely, and if you were- if I were to lose you…”

Your head dropped to his bed, words lost in the possibility that this could be it. Tears streaking through cracked yellow paint stripes under your eyes, and pins flashing with your love’s name you’d be forced to say goodbye.

The mumble you heard was low and you would’ve missed it if you didn’t have a hand on his chest to feel the vibration. Your head shot up to look at him, his eyebrows now furrowed as he groaned again. The pain was evident on his face as he fought to open his eyes, fortunately the infirmary wasn’t as bright as it would’ve been if it were midday.

“Ced…”

He turned to you and pushed the hand you had let go of toward you, silently asking you to take it again.

“I should go get Madam Pomfrey.” You moved to stand before your sentence was finished resulting in a grunt from him.

“No. Not yet. M’fine, just a little sore.”

You gawked at him, “You had a chunk missing from your side, I’m going to get-”

“It’s back now?”

“Pardon?”

His thumb ran over your knuckles as he closed his eyes again, eyebrows still drawn together, “The chunk, s’back now?”

“Well, yeah, they wouldn’t just lea-”

“Good, don't leave.” He opened his eyes to look at you again, forehead relaxing.

Flabbergasted. Flabbergasted was the word you’d use to describe how you were feeling due to his stubbornness but made no attempt to leave him, as he wished.

“I thought you were gone.” You breathed out.

Cedric pulled you by the arm to sit on the bed with him, on his good side of course. He’d never tell you but it did, quite literally, feel as though someone tore out a piece of his torso. He let you get comfortable, one of your legs folding under you and the other hanging off the bed as you faced him.

His hand came up to your face slowly and you couldn’t stop yourself from dipping down to place a kiss on his lips, Cedric happily complying. It was only when you pulled away that he really took a good look at you, gently dragging his thumb under your eye he let out a quizzical ‘hmph’.

“You’ve messed up my work.”

You laughed, a breathy, relieved laugh as you smiled at him. Oh how you adored this kind boy. And he was probably right, his work was most likely ruined.

“Sorry, I was busy crying over my boyfriend.”

Cedric made a face, “Oh he must be a right git, your boyfriend. Making you worry like that.”

“Yeah but it’s alright, I love him a lot.”

You were being guided down to his lips but before he could get what he wanted you pulled away.

“I love him so much so that I want to do what's best for him. I’m going to get Madam Pomfrey.” You stated, getting up to walk to the healers room.

“I almost won that one.” Cedric said, voice still quiet and gravelly but a smile ghosting over his lips.

[mariniacipher]

Gone In Sparks And Light

My gift for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange - this was written for @genderqueer-turtle. I really hope you had a merry Christmas and that you will enjoy this gift! 

Summary:  Looking at an artefact he's stolen from the archaeology lab, Remus finds a way to travel back in time, to a place where he might belong- to the people who could be meant for him.

WC: 3,830

Ships: Remus/Virgil/Logan, ment. Roman/Janus 

Warnings: mentions of resurrecting dead animals 

ao3 

~

Remus leaned over the examining table and fiddled with his microscope to examine the shard of periwinkle glass. There had been runes carved into them, and the archaeology lab was being so possessive over it. Something about him destroying the delicate work. As if he’d ever be so careless with something so delightfully strange!  

He scoffed and let his scalpel run over the glass without leaving even the hint of a mark. “No, I wouldn’t,” he muttered, looking back through the lens of the microscope. He’d stolen it after hearing about the commotion they’d all made- he just had to take a look at it! 

Remus startled as he finally recognized the marks on the glass. Fiddled with the microscope’s lens. Examined the piece of glass again. Cursed. 

His scalpel traced over the last rune in a sequence of antiquated letters and numbers and signs that could’ve come from his own lab, if it wasn’t for the fact that whoever had carved this had gone even farther in the convergence of spatial displacement with interplanar conjuring than he ever did. And he’d already revolutionized the field with his out of the box ideas. 

His hands started shaking where they still traced over a small mark in the glass. A small mistake had been made there that set the equation off, a single line missing to turn it into the very formula he’d dedicated his life to discovering after he got his doctorate. 

And now he was just one line away from finishing it, thanks to whoever it was that had carved the periwinkle glass. A laugh escaped him, hysterical and hopeful and disbelieving, shaking his body and- the noise of this scalpel scratching the glass was almost inaudible, but to Remus’ ears it sounded deafening. 

He’d perfected the formula, he realized a moment later. He’d perfected it! He’d finished his life’s work at 27, all thanks to that mysterious soul, that mysterious carver of periwinkle glass whose body must’ve left a trace of DNA on this glass. Who had to be replicable and revivable. They had to be! 

Remus was ready to take apart the glass and grind it into molecular pieces to enlarge and search through, looking for any trace of DNA he could give the necromancy department and bring them back to life, or get the spectral summoning folks on the case- anything! 

This person, this carver-of-periwinkle-glass, they were the only one who could be his match, in a field filled with industrious dimwits and lazy, narrow-minded geniuses. And this shard of glass could lead him to a person with whom he could share his lab. A person who was actually his match, who knew what they were doing just like he did. 

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment and murmuring the formula to himself, recognizing the inherent rhythm in it- a spell’s melody. Wrapping his arms around himself, he rocked back in his chair, almost hearing the symphony of magic meeting its capturing, of strings weeping and rejoicing. 

Without noticing, he raised his left hand in the air, as if conducting the magical energy with the scalpel he still held. The tight bracelet around his wrist started to glow, indicating magic to be near him. Remus didn’t notice that though, too focused on repeating the discovery- their shared discovery! After so many years of solitary work, he’d found a worthy partner, perhaps even a potential friend. No matter that time and space had tried to separate them.

He couldn’t imagine what their life had been like, what they had lived like- if they’d been just as lonely, just as severed from the world around them- if they’d wished for a companion just as much as he did. 

His wish, his desire, sent the magic innate to him outward, and the formula gave it a direction. They twisted together and converged to create a beautiful braid of light and sparks, green and dark blue and purple combining with silver thread to hold it all together. It circled in the air, being woven into a circular tapestry that flickered between aether and reality. The silver sparks reflected the light like mirrors, before showing- everything. 

Worlds and universes and planes he’d never imagine before and some he had, so different and bright Remus’ breath stopped as he saw it. 

But he kept repeating the formula, kept thinking of how its creator must’ve lived, and he saw how the silver mirrors showing the growing portal’s destination shifted, narrowing down their focus: First to only showing images of their plane, then to running back in time, then to finally showing him a small village from hundreds, maybe thousands of years ago. Remus could almost see himself there, could almost taste the air and feel the breeze and hear the rain that was pattering down from the sky. 

And just as his yearning reached its zenith, the silver sparks started to migrate into the centre of the circular tapestry, moulding and growing it. The portal turned into a single image of the small village, each raindrop glittering silver, framed by a braid of blue, green and purple that bled together at the edges. Remus stopped for a moment to admire it, the breath stolen from his lungs. 

Then he took a running start and jumped through it. 

~ 

Virgil rightened the wool cape over their shoulders and fidgeted with the broad scarf they’d wrapped around their shoulders and head. They were still drenched to the bone, the rain not giving them any hint of reprieve. The wool weighed heavily, damp and disgusting against their skin. Why did the market have to be so far away? They’d left their village when dawn had still been streaking the night sky with pink and purple stripes, to find the parts that Logan claimed he needed. 

Now, hours later, they were weighed down with a heavy bag filled with scrap metal, it was almost dusk and they were more than ready to let their husband hang up the woollen layers they were wearing and detangle their hair to braid it out of their face with warm, calloused hands afterwards. Their tired muscles ached for Logan’s familiar touch, to kiss and hold-

Why was Roman outside?

The rain and the darkness would usually drive him inside, to work on his costumes or his lines, and besides that Roman had been glued to Janus’ side ever since they confessed. And the snake was nothing if not consistent in their distaste for anything that went against their hedonistic desires. Virgil would know, they loved to watch them pout as they were dragged out of their comfort zone by Roman, pretending not to enjoy it, just like Roman pretended to dislike it when Janus forced him to take a break. If it didn’t devolve into them making out half the time, they would’ve even called the couple cute.  

But Roman seemed to be alone out here, and in what had to be a new costume- it was a stark white robe that shone against the drab houses the storm had turned their village into. It went down to their shins, with a similar white shirt underneath, and Virgil cursed under his breath. Light fabric was expensive, and if his friend had gotten in over his head for his creative vision again- 

“Hey, whatcha watchin’ for, hot stuff? You wanna get a piece of this?” The person- not Roman, not at all Roman- grinned, so wide it looked almost painful, shaking his hips in a way that was probably supposed to be suggestive but just let Virgil worry about his thin figure. There was a weird tension in his frame that Virgil couldn’t name. 

They frowned, hauling their bag higher up their arm to cross them before their chest. “I’ve never seen you here before, are you passing through?”  The white robe wasn’t protecting him from the rain at all and Virgil hoped he had friends in town to take him in. 

But the man shook his head. “Yeah, you could say that…,” he paused, before perking up with sudden enthusiasm. “Would you happen to know any scientists?”  

Virgil mouthed the strange word to himself before shaking their head. “No, I’ve never heard of that- what language even is that? I never… you’re not part of a cult, right?” They changed their grip around their bag again, this time to have a sharp piece of metal in arm’s reach. 

“No! I just- wait, let me think how you’d call it… maybe I should have studied history a bit, before- well, too late now.” The stranger hummed to himself. “I’m looking for a person who’s researching magic! Trying to understand and tame it, all that!” 

Virgil sighed. Of course, the maybe-cultist would look for someone of Logan’s profession; they ignored the curiosity the stranger had piqued within themself. “Then come along.” They led the way up their village’s main street and discarded the potential weapon in their bag. “My husband and I’s house is on the edge of town, and I don’t want you to freeze to death because the others think you’re possessed or something.” 

The stranger followed him, an obvious bounce in his step. “Does that happen often? I heard about possession, but never managed to get it right! I called on so many serial killers, you wouldn’t believe- the whole ritual is so disgusting, imagine how it’d look if it actually worked!” The smile on his face was positively gleeful. “Everything I read sounds positively horrid, absolutely gruesome and-” Virgil bit back a grin at the other’s open excitement. It’d been a while since they’d let themself be so excited about the more macabre side of magic. 

“Oh, you should’ve seen the reception at our wedding. I had gotten a bunch of emus and charmed them to come alive again, to carry some drinks. You should’ve seen the faces of the guests, man, it was great. And they were way better at serving the drinks than the chickens Logan wanted-” Virgil cleared their throat, suddenly growing aware of what they’d said. “Just so you know,” they added, grumbling, shoulders hitching up. 

Remus’ grin didn’t soften, but they perked up, finding the other to mirror his own interest in the dirty parts of magic and science. He leaned forward as he caught up to them with an expectant smile. “I do know now,” they said, “but you didn’t mention what spell you used at all! How am I supposed to reanimate my own flock of emus? Let alone my own flock of geese!” The scientist cackled at the idea of unleashing a flock of geese onto the archaeology department. It would be glorious and he had to get back to the present to do it at least once!

Virgil snorted, imagining their own friends’ reaction if they had to cope with a pack of wild geese. “I think you’d be run out of town for that one,” they muttered, but they were unable to hide their smile, small as it might’ve been. 

“Oh, like that hasn’t happened before! Do you know I’ve been banned from a different mall on each of my birthdays since I turned 13?” Remus bounced on his feet, rubbing his hands together as if he were a supervillain about to explain his devious plan, just to do something with them. 

“I’m Remus,” he added, a moment later, “and I’m pretty sure you’ve no idea what a mall is.” 

Virgil shook their head, but they were smiling. “Nah, but like, they can’t be that good, if they’d throw you out.” 

Remus froze, turning distinctly pink. “Okay. If you say so.” It wasn’t like he didn’t know what flirting was; in the monster romance books he secretly read there was a lot of flirting! He just. Hadn’t really ever been on the receiving end of it. But… looking at the stranger and their smile, their eyes shimmering with mirth, he’d really like to learn. 

Virgil cleared their throat, blushing too. The darkness thankfully did its best to hide it. “I’m Virgil,” they said and hoped they could convince Remus to stay a while. “And my husband’s name is Logan- you’ll love him, he’s great. As long as he’s not forcing me into a storm for his experiments, at least.” They chuckled, more fond than bitter. 

Remus nodded eagerly at the reminder of what had brought him here. “You mind telling me about those?” He leaned forward, “I’d love to hear about it.” 

Virgil laughed, “don’t tell me you’re another one of those logicians- I’ve already got enough with Logan and his attempts to anger the spirits.” 

Remus sputtered. “I don’t want to anger them! Just… get to the bottom of them. Are you honestly telling me that you’re happy with just accepting the ways they work? Just like that?” 

“No, I just- c’mon, we’re almost home, talk to Logan about your attempt to get struck by lightning.” But their smile belied the disinterest of Virgil’s words. Just what they needed, really, another person to anger the ones above and below. 

The two of them had arrived at the top of the hill the village stood on and could look below: the cliff coast, steep and jagged, the grey sea crashing against it, with a small cottage standing at its edge. The thatched roof was dark with rain and the garden around it seemed to be filled with herbs and flowers, some of which Remus had only seen in archaeological texts. 

The scientist ran forward as he spotted those, gasping as he cradled the bloom of a dark blue lily that had supposedly been used to dye clothes with its blooms and season potions with the dried leaves. Remus was almost cackling with glee as he imagined what the people at the archaeological department would say if they heard about missing out on this. 

He turned around from where he’d crouched down on the ground to face Virgil, not paying attention to the house. “What’re these?” 

“My mother always called them gunny’s blossoms,” came the reply from behind him, and Remus could see Virgil roll their eyes before turning around and standing up to face the other man- Virgil’s husband, most likely. 

The man was short- shorter than Remus and definitely shorter than his spouse, wearing a too-big woollen coat that probably belonged to Virgil, under which Remus could spot embroidered robes. He could’ve sworn he recognized some of them from either his textbooks or the designs still so popular in churches and temples, but they were covered up by the man’s crossed arms. “And what should I call you?” 

“Remus!” he introduced himself with a bow, exaggerated and clumsy, but he carried it with confidence. “I cannot say how happy I am to meet you- is it right that you are working with making magic make sense? Your spouse mentioned, but- I’ve got to be sure.” 

Logan looked over at Virgil, face creased with confusion. His spouse merely shrugged. “I am working on capturing the powers that be into clear, replicable form, yes. Are you in the field as well?” 

Remus laughed at the question. “In the field, yes- pioneered a good deal, back in-'' he looked around himself as if fearing to be struck by lightning when speaking his breaking of the laws of time and space aloud. “Can I come in? I’d love to talk to you- you both.” He rocked back and forth on his heels; this was the furthest he’d come in making new frien- acquaintances, right now, he reminded himself, even though it hurt- and he was weirdly jittery. Nerves firing and pores excreting sweat. He would’ve been delighted at the grossness had it been any other time. 

But Logan nodded, his curiosity seeming piqued as he exchanged a look with his spouse. There was a new light in his eyes and even though this was the first time Remus saw it, he wanted to keep it there for as long as possible. Judging by the softness that gentled Virgil’s expression, he wasn’t the only one. 

“Of course,” Logan finally said, turning back to the door. “You’re free to pick some gunny’s blossoms if you’d like. We have more than enough.” 

Remus made a high-pitched noise at the back of his throat, grabbing a handful of them and holding them to his nose. It coloured his face blue and Virgil snorted, not as derisive as they’d wanted to. 

“It tingles!” Remus rubbed at the pollen and colour on his face. 

“Yeah, that’ll be the rash you’re about to get,” Virgil smiled, as though they weren’t already reaching for one of the vials attached to their belt. “Lo, do you-” 

“Yes.” Logan already stood next to them with a rag, wetting it with the tincture Virgil had brewed for their husband less than a week before. They both led Remus inside with ease and the scientist would’ve looked around himself if he hadn’t been so focused on the couple now sitting him down on a chair that had to be freed of fabric- “Virgil, you said you’d clear another chair- and what if someone sat here? The magic you embroidered into this would be completely corrupted!” 

“Well, you didn’t notice until now, did you?” Virgil shook their head, “I’ll bet you didn’t eat lunch either. Besides, my magic isn’t so fragile-” 

“-It is nonetheless worthy of protection!”  

Virgil grumbled in reply to that, but Remus could swear there was a redness to their cheeks that couldn’t be attributed to the cold outside. They crossed the room, folding the piece of fabric as they went. 

Remus tried to catch a look at what was painted onto it- were those runes pre-roman?- but Logan stepped into his line of sight, holding the same rag as before, but now it was covered with some kind of liquid. It was kind of sizzling the wool but didn’t seem to burn it. 

“Do not worry, Virgil’s version is only so bubbly because it is more fitted to human skin- I’d know, I’ve got it on me at least twice a week.” Logan smiled, fond and soft and so close. Remus watched him, for the first time in his life completely stunned, as the other man gently wiped off the colour from the flowers. He didn’t even notice how his grip on those still in his hands slackened until a few hit the floor. But the wood was already so stained- from potion accidents, runic accidents and cooking gone wrong- that it didn’t make a real difference. 

“You, ah-” Remus caught his breath, looking Logan straight in the eyes. They were light brown- a mundane colour, but, for the first time, it reminded Remus of amber, of acorns in the summer, of wilderness in a seemingly calm form. But only seemingly, as the house around him proved. “What’re you working on?” 

Logan’s smile grew at that, his eyes shining. “Oh, it’s fascinating- I’m trying my hand at abstraction! You might’ve heard of some magicians in the cities doing it, and I’ll admit their research gave me the base idea, but, looking at their works I’d noticed how contained they all were by only using the written word-” 

“-as they should,” Virgil interrupted, but it bore no heat and only caused Logan to continue, louder and decidedly looking away from his spouse. 

“BUT by applying some runes and numbers to it I started to get much further ahead- I’m just trying some thought experiments now.” 

Remus nodded. “Yes! Are you by any chance working on travelling spells? Because I found some, in-” he rocked back and forth in his chair, fiddling with the flowers’ stems in his hands- “some glass with inscriptions of it, and it led me here when I wished for its creator- I’m from the future, y’see, and I,” he smiled, looking around the house again. Looking at the work desk covered in glass and gems and fragile tools, the corner covered in heaps of fabrics, and thread and needles alongside paints and brushes. Looking at an easel leaning against the construction of glass and metal that looked like a telescope, the tapestries hanging from some walls with painted and embroidered runes, words and old spells. He could spy into another room that was filled with vials and kettles, a chemist’s lab from a long time ago, and he wondered if Virgil’s paints were magic in themselves. 

“You?” Logan asked as Remus was captured by the house around him, curious in a gentle way. Remus melted at it, leaning into the hand still cradling his head, despite the blue from the flowers already being gone. 

“I’m from the future,” he replied, and something crashed in the background as Virgil turned around quicker than light. 

“You’re what?” Their eyes were wide with wonder and they stalked over to them as fast as their legs would take them. 

“You have to tell us everything- you said you were working on abstracting magic too?” Logan started flapping his hands as he thought, and the obvious stim made Remus rock again, elated to find the other man was like him. “Oh, would you work alongside me? I’ve been simply stuck at trying to find a way to define a natural element and-” 

“-oh, the Gregorian Dilemma? I solved that just a few weeks ago, but you, you figured out how to travel through time and space- you have to explain your process!”

“How do you- I was just about to finish my fine-tuned carving of it-” 

Remus nodded- “on periwinkle glass?” 

“Yes, how did you-” 

“- I found it! It’s what led me here in the first place.” 

Logan laughed, stunned and delighted and Remus joined him easily. 

Virgil snorted fondly at the display. “But, Lo, you didn’t hear the most important thing yet- he never summoned a thing- they lost it, apparently, in the future. I have to show you how we do it, you would love it-” 

“-Yes!” Logan exclaimed. “And you’d get to use-” 

“- The new tapestry of luminous elation? I’d thought so too-” 

“- “what, like the spirit,” Remus interrupted, and the spouses easily slid into explaining and inviting, just as Remus started explaining and accepting. The three of them didn’t even notice how the time went by until the food Logan had prepared before started boiling over, and they all hurried to the kitchen to clean up the mess and Remus ate slightly-burnt stew with them like it was normal, the three of them making space on the dinner table. 

Remus put away the periwinkle glass, enlarged thanks to the cloth it’d been placed on, the formula he’d see through a microscope just hours before now easily legible. It was a magic he had never heard of before, and as he asked Virgil explained, interrupted by additions by Logan and Remus alike but always listened to. 

And Remus found himself fitting right in. 

[chilling-seavey]

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - 12

A/N Narrowing in

Warnings: This story is centered around a murder so there will be graphic descriptions of blood, death/manslaughter, dealing with corpses, possible domestic abuse (physical/verbal), crime/covering up a crime, shock/grief, and other possibly heavy or triggering topics. Please read at your own discretion.

My mind had been telling me lots of things over the prior twenty-four hours, dear reader, trying to force me to piece together a memory I didn’t remember. But there was something all too familiar about the realization that came over me while sitting on the side of the resort bathtub with Avalon’s hand in my own. I could hear her soft gasp as the glass hit the kitchen floor as clear as day, I even heard it in my mind that morning but the pieces weren’t fitting until now. 

She never threw her glass at me. I never followed her screaming into the studio. Hell, I didn’t even know where the knife set was among the neatly stacked array of wedding gifts until I woke up that morning with one laying next to me.

I vowed to love her until the end of time and, although I couldn’t trust myself at first, it came back to me so obviously that I never would have hurt her - never would have laid a finger on her yet alone took her life - no matter how much we disagreed. 

Jonah returned to the hotel room with buckets of ice to find me sitting in a complete mess of tears on the side of the tub, clutching Avalon’s hand until my knuckles were nearly turning white. He left the bucket of ice on the counter and hurried over to me, setting his hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” Jonah asked in that gentle voice he could always put on when someone needed consoling.

“I didn’t do it!” I cried, turning to lean into him as he stood beside me. “I-I don’t know who did, but I didn’t kill her! We fought and she went to sleep in the studio and…and I-I should have…I should have fucking followed her…protected her…I’m such a fucking asshole for ever thinking I was ever better than her!”

Jonah simply stayed quiet, rubbing his hand over my shoulder in consolable stripes as I cried out my grief. The fact that he wasn’t correcting my slight self-deprecation was proof enough that he saw my faults throughout the past four years too. Everyone seemed to see them but me, and I only saw them once it was too late.

“I gotta tell you something, bro.” Jonah said softly.

I looked up at him through my tears.

“When I was getting the ice in the lobby…” he licked his lips nervously as if to buy himself time, “The news reported that they found your bloody handprint on the piano in your studio. The missing persons case has been switched over to a homicide investigation.”

The irony of the blood draining from my face was nearly comical and looking back now it truly was. If finding Avalon’s body that morning caused my heart to stop in my chest, the news that the police now thought I did it when I had just pieces together that I was innocent truly felt like I was experiencing death just as strongly. I felt sick. I wasn’t safe anywhere. It was often cases like this locked up the innocent and if my memory served me correctly, the numbers still weren’t on my side.

“I-I didn’t do it though!” I stumbled out.  

“I know.” Jonah said calmly, “Come on. We gotta get her in some ice and then we can decide on our next steps.”

“I…I can’t.” I breathed.

“Daniel, you can’t shut down on me. I know you’re scared and…and sad but…” Jonah raked his hand through his hair as we stared down at Avalon laying in the empty tub. “Shit.”

His own obvious slight panic weighed heavy on my heart.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you.” I said shakily, “Should have never gotten you into this.”

“No. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.” Jonah said strongly. He pried my hand out of Avalon’s, “But we gotta keep moving if we’re going to figure out what we need to do next.”

I nodded. I really had nothing else to say. What was there to say? I could cry and scream and try to point fingers all I wanted but nothing was going to bring her back. She was dead. And I was a widow.

“Daniel.”

I looked up at Jonah again. The concern on his face was unmissable.

“Why don’t you go lay down? Try and get some sleep and I’ll finish up out here.”

“Where are we going to put the rug?” I asked. I hadn’t even realized I was thinking about that. All the evidence in my car? Nothing was on my side here.

“We can bury it in the desert or something on our way to the lodge tomorrow.” Jonah suggested.

“And the knives too.” I added. I looked back to Avalon but spoke to Jonah again, “What are we going to do with her?”

“I…don’t know. Depends on if you find the person who did this.”

“Fuck!” I swore loudly, balling my hands into fists and held them in front of my face to hide my onset of fresh tears, “I’m so fucked!”

“Okay, Daniel, just go lay down. I’ll take care of it.” Jonah helped me to my feet from the side of the tub and I couldn’t help but fall right into him, throwing my arms around his shoulders and embraced him tightly. He patted my back gently and let me cry into his shoulder, clutching onto the back of his shirt as I let out all the sorrows of the previous hours, the evil mix of grief and relief and fear swirling in my mind.

I didn’t remember getting into bed. Apparently I had a tendency to forget aspects of my days but I woke up in the hotel bed to Jonah turning off the bedroom light and getting into his own bed beside mine. I stayed still to make it seem like I was still sleeping. I wasn’t ready to face in the influx of “are you okay?” questions that I honestly wasn’t sure how to answer.

I stared at the ceiling, wide awake, mind whirling, as I heard Jonah’s breathing eventually fall into a steady rhythm and his soft snores started to fill the quiet hotel room. Sleep felt nice. I envied him a little. I was exhausted but I was not tired in the slightest. The bed felt terribly empty.

I hadn’t slept alone in a long time. Well, not counting the few times Avalon made me sleep on the couch.

I didn’t want to waste one more moment when I could be figuring out how to prove my innocence in this situation that seemed to turn against me so quickly. How could I have been so stupid as to forget to wipe down the piano? The prints were all over the damn place. I was only hoping that whoever was behind this was at least a fraction of as stupid as I was and left some sort of trace behind for the detective team.

With Jonah fast asleep, I slunk quietly out of bed and over to the desk across the room. I turned on the small lamp to light up the corner and sat down with the hotel paper and pen to try and collect my thoughts. The silence of the night was eery and I couldn’t get my mind away from the thought of my wife’s dead body just beyond the thin wall across the room from me. With the paper left blank, I got up from the desk and grabbed my laptop bag from beside the wall, pulling out my phone as well as Avalon’s to search through.

The bathroom was dark and if I listened hard enough I could hear the faint cracking of the melting ice that filled the tub. My heart was beating hard in my chest with nervousness as my hand hovered over the light switch. I felt just as nervous as I had the day I asked her to marry me but now, I was nervous for a whole other reason. I hated nothing more than seeing her like this.

I turned on the light and stalked over to the side of the tub. Her eyes were still closed, and she still looked peaceful and yet a terrifyingly pale.

“Hey, honey.” I spoke softly as if she could hear me. As if it would make this any easier.

I brushed my hand hesitantly over her tangled hair and angled her phone towards her face. The screen unlocked. I hurried to change the setting to keep her phone from locking again before leaning down towards her habitually. I froze a few centimeters from her head but still managed to work up enough nerve to press a gentle kiss to her temple.

Back at the desk in the hotel room, under the light of the single table lamp, I laid out Avalon’s phone, my phone, and the blank pad of paper in front of me. I copied Jonah’s idea with writing each name at the top of the sheet. I started with Jack.

Motives:

-She was the reason he can’t see his daughter

-She was the reason he was evicted

-She was the reason his business flopped

-Revenge

-Knows the human body, has a collection of scissors and blades

-Has been to our house

I moved onto Zach.

Motives:

-We took away something important to him, so he could want to do the same back

-Wanted to hurt me

-Knows his way around knifework

-Knows our address

-Seems to have no remorse or empathy for human life

I hovered my pen over the paper for a moment, re-reading my notes so far. I set the pen down and picked up Avalon’s phone to go into her messages. I found Christian’s contact and opened the message thread, seeing only a bunch of unanswered texts from him from just before the wedding to even during our honeymoon. Things such as:

Stay away from Daniel.

Going through with this wedding will be the last thing you will ever do; I swear to God.

I refuse to let you fuck up his life anymore.

You and I need to have a serious talk when you guys get home. I’m not going to tolerate your whiny bullshit about his career just because he’s successful and you’re not.

I set her phone face down on the desk with a shaky inhale, stunned to silence with the few messages I had read. I knew my brother had a dislike for Avalon but calling her out and sending her aggressive texts was a level I didn’t think he would stoop to. And the fact that she didn’t think she could trust me or confide in me enough to tell me what he was saying to her hurt even more.

The pen glided itself across the paper, spelling out Christian’s name under Zach’s list of motives. I continued the list for my own brother:

Motives:

-Strange hatred for her

-Aggressive and threatening texts

-Clingy in regard to my whereabouts consistently

-Gifted the knives to us and knew where they were

I clicked the pen closed as I scanned the list of three names again. Honestly, I was more than relieved I didn’t have to write my own name but this was far from over. I wasn’t safe until someone came clean…or I forced the truth out of them.

The warm light of the desk lamp glinted off the gold band around my left-hand ring finger. I slid the ring off gently and it came off with ease since it hadn’t been on very long at all. The light reflected along the metal and I turned it over in my hand to see the engraving on the inside, dated with 25/07/20 and her name in soft curling letters beside it. Avalon. My one true love ripped from my hands before I even had a moment to truly appreciate what I had. It’s true, dear reader; you really do not know what you have until it is gone.

I fell asleep at the desk while rereading my list for the nth time, the exhaustion from the day having finally caught up to me. The wedding ring stayed clutched in my hand.

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee​ @randomlimelightxxx​ @stuffofseaveyy​ @hopinglimelight​ @tempus-ut-luceant​ @br4nd1s​ @xkelsev​ @hiya-its-amber​ @sexyseavey15​ @the-girl-who-cried-wolf​